"Don't do to go wooing in," he said, with a chuckle, as he got in and took the reins; and certainly it did not look like the chariot of love, for it was a little, low basket carriage, big enough to hold one, and shaped very much like a bath-chair. It was drawn by a very large, grey, well-clipped donkey with enormous ears, quite an aristocrat of his race, with his well-filled skin and carefully blackened harness. "Thankye, John. Thankye, Mrs Roberts," said his lordship, as he shook the reins. "Go on, Balaam." Balaam went deliberately on, and just as they were going out of the great iron gates, and his lordship was indulging in a pinch of snuff, there was the rattle of wheels to his right, and Cora Dean came along with her ponies at a smart trot, her mother looking like an over-blown peony by her side. "Juno, by Jove!" said his lordship, preparing to raise his hat. But just then--it was a matter of moments--Balaam stood stock still, drew his great flap ears forward and pointed them at the ponies, and staring hard, lifted his tail, and, showing his teeth, uttered with outstretched neck a most discordant roaring--_Hee-haw--Hee-haw_! Cora's ponies stopped short, trembling and snorting. Then, with a jerk that threatened to snap the harness, and as if moved by the same impulse, they plunged forward and tore down the road that, a hundred yards further on, became busy street, and went down at a sharp angle right for the pier. "Betsy!" shouted Mrs Dean. Cora sat firm as a rock, and caught up the second rein to pull heavily on the curb, when--_snap_!--the rein parted at the buckle, and with only the regular snaffle rein to check the headlong gallop, the driver dragged in vain. The road became street almost like a flash; the street with its busy shops seemed to rush by the carriage; a bath-chair at a shop door, fortunately empty, was caught, in spite of Cora's efforts to guide the ponies, and smashed to atoms, the flying pieces and the noise maddening the ponies in their headlong race. It was a steep descent, too, and with such bits even a man's arm could not have restrained the fiery little animals as they tore on straight for the sea. "By Jove!" panted Lord Carboro', jumping out of his little carriage, and, forgetful of all infirmities, he began to run; "they'll be over the cliff. No, by all that's horrible, they'll go right down the pier!" Volume One, Chapter XVII. MISS DEAN'S PONIES. Richard Linnell was very blind as he walked down the pier, stopping here and there to lay his hand upon the slight rail, and watch the changing colours on the sea, which was here one dazzling sheen of silver, there stained with shade after shade of glorious blue, borrowed from the sky, which was as smiling now as it was tearful but a few days back, when it was clouded over with gloom.