Great Britain -- History -- Restoration, 1660-1688 -- Fiction
I must indeed suppose that I did myself choose my path and guide in
it the gallant little horse; but, were I to trust merely to the
memory of feeling, I should believe that I sat in the saddle like one
in a dream, while Charley, with the inward knowledge of some homing
pigeon, galloped straight for the place where lay all my hopes and
fears. 'T was but twice that I had any sight of my escort--first,
turning in my seat as Charley reached the level of the meadow-land
below the hill that falls away from the home paddock, I beheld them,
close massed in a body, rounding the bend of the fence away to the
right above me, and just about commencing the descent; and once
again, after the roan had leaped into, and well-nigh miraculously
scrambled out of, an ugly and broken gully that lies near half-way
between Royston and my father's house. For as Charley heaved his
body with a tearing, scratching, and clinging most wondrous cat-like
upon the safe ground of the further bank, I looked back once more and
spied them bearing off to the left for lower ground and easier
passage; but by this they were a straggling rout covering much
ground, so hardly already had the pace and distance with the
differing weight of riders told upon the various mettle of the
horses. Indeed, the next two miles did tell not a little even upon
Charley, being a rising stretch of ploughed land in condition very
grievous for his smallness of hoof; but coming thereafter to grass,
he was mightily refreshed, and cleared two fences and a little bank
of earth with bushes atop in his old gay and light-hearted manner.
And after this we were not long in coming to the road, which being in
good condition for the season and weather that it was we made the
remaining miles at a very pretty pace.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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