by bridge and ferry—and passing over extensive plains. What a beautiful country is England! People run abroad to see beautiful countries, and leave their own behind unknown, unnoticed—their own the most beautiful! And then, again, what a country for adventures! especially to those who travel it on foot, or on horseback. People run abroad in quest of adventures, and traverse Spain and Portugal on mule or on horseback; whereas there are ten times more adventures to be met with in England than in Spain, Portugal, or stupid Germany to boot. Witness the number of adventures narrated in the present book—a book entirely devoted to England. Why, there is not a chapter in the present book which is not full of adventures, with the exception of the present one, and this is not yet terminated.
After traversing two or three counties, I reached the confines of Lincolnshire. During one particularly hot day I put up at a public-house, to which, in the evening, came a party of harvesters to make merry, who, finding me wandering about the house a stranger, invited me to partake of their ale; so I drank with the harvesters, who sang me songs about rural life, such as—
‘Sitting in the swale; and listening to the swindle of the flail, as it sounds dub-a-dub on the corn, from the neighbouring barn.’
In requital for which I treated them with a song, not of Romanvile, but the song of ‘Sivord and the horse Grayman.’ I remained with them till it was dark, having, after sunset, entered into deep discourse with a celebrated ratcatcher, who communicated to me the secrets of his trade, saying, amongst other things, ‘When you see the rats pouring out of their holes, and running up my hands and arms, it’s not after me they comes, but after the oils I carries about me they comes;’ and who subsequently spoke in the most enthusiastic manner of his trade, saying that it was the best trade in the world, and most diverting, and that it was likely to last for ever; for whereas all other kinds of vermin were fast disappearing from England, rats were every day becoming more abundant. I had quitted this good company, and having mounted my horse, was making my way towards a town at about six miles’ distance, at a swinging trot, my thoughts deeply engaged on what I had gathered from the ratcatcher, when all on
a sudden a light glared upon the horse’s face, who purled round in great terror, and flung me out of the saddle, as from a sling, or with as much violence as the horse Grayman, in the ballad, flings Sivord the Snareswayne. I fell upon the ground—felt a kind of crashing about my neck—and forthwith became senseless.
CHAPTER XXXI
NOVEL SITUATION—THE ELDERLY INDIVIDUAL—THE SURGEON—A KIND OFFER—CHIMERICAL IDEAS—STRANGE DREAM
How long I remained senseless I cannot say; for a considerable time I believe; at length, opening my eyes, I found myself lying on a bed in a middle-sized chamber, lighted by a candle, which stood on a table; an elderly man stood near me, and a yet more elderly female was holding a phial of very pungent salts to my olfactory organ. I attempted to move, but felt very stiff—my right arm appeared nearly paralyzed, and there was a strange dull sensation in my head. ‘You had better remain still, young man,’ said the elderly individual, ‘the surgeon will be here presently; I have sent a message for him to the neighbouring village.’ ‘Where am I?’ said I, ‘and what has happened?’ ‘You are in my house,’ said the old man, ‘and you have been flung from a horse. I am sorry to say that I was the cause. As I was driving home, the lights in my gig frightened the animal.’ ‘Where is the horse?’ said I. ‘Below, in my stable,’ said the elderly individual. ‘I saw you fall, but knowing that on account of my age I could be of little use to you, I instantly hurried home; the accident did not occur more than a furlong off, and procuring the assistance of my lad, and two or three neighbouring cottagers, I returned to the spot where you were lying senseless. We raised you up, and brought you here. My lad then went in quest of the horse, who had run away as we drew nigh. When we saw him first, he was standing near you; he caught him with some difficulty, and brought him home. What are you about?’ said the old man, as I strove to get off the bed. ‘I want to see the horse,’ said I. ‘I entreat you to be still,’ said the old man; ‘the horse is safe, I
assure you.’ ‘I am thinking about his knees,’ said I. ‘Instead of thinking about your horse’s knees,’ said the old man, ‘be thankful that you have not broke your own neck.’ ‘You do not talk wisely,’ said I; ‘when a man’s neck is broke he is provided for; but when his horse’s knees are broke he is a lost jockey, that is if he has nothing but his horse to depend upon. A pretty figure I should cut at Horncastle, mounted on a horse blood-raw at the knees.’ ‘Oh, you are going to Horncastle,’ said the old man seriously, ‘then I can sympathize with you in your anxiety about your horse, being a Lincolnshire man, and the son of one who bred horses. I will myself go down into the stable and examine into the condition of your horse, so pray remain quiet till I return; it would certainly be a terrible thing to appear at Horncastle on a broken-kneed horse.’
He left the room and returned at the end of about ten minutes, followed by another person. ‘Your horse is safe,’ said he, ‘and his knees are unblemished; not a hair ruffled. He is a fine animal, and will do credit to Horncastle; but here is the surgeon come to examine into your own condition.’ The surgeon was a man about thirty-five, thin and rather tall; his face was long and pale, and his hair, which was light, was carefully combed back as much as possible from his forehead. He was dressed very neatly, and spoke in a very precise tone. ‘Allow me to feel your pulse, friend?’ said he, taking me by the right wrist. I uttered a cry, for at the motion which he caused a thrill of agony darted through my arm. ‘I hope your arm is not broke, my friend,’ said the surgeon; ‘allow me to see. First of all, we must divest you of this cumbrous frock.’