"My first object was to ascertain where I was, and what the direction of the vast pile before me. I found, to my particular satisfaction, that I was within two miles of Ripley, and that the edifice was moving towards London—the result was, an involuntary spring upon the shafts of the vehicle, and a look at the waggoner, which, by the light of his revolver, was perfectly intelligible. The gun, the gaiters, the grace, and the gentility, spoke the gentleman, and he gave me leave to assume the post which he himself was prevented by Act of Parliament from occupying. All my sorrows fled the moment I felt myself moved along without any personal exertion, and the smiles which had nearly been exhausted during my toil and trouble, returned, as Moore sings, to 'gild my brow.' 'I have had walking enough,' said I to myself, 'and grieving enough—nunc est ridendum.'"
"Excellent wag!" said I.
"Excellent waggon, rather," said Daly, "for so it proved; and after three-quarters of an hour's hard tugging by the 'bell assemblée' before me, I was dropped, gun, gaiters, bag, and all, at the door of the Talbot—facing the Green. I tipped my driver—bade adieu to the tilt—and began knocking loudly at the door of mine ostlery."
"And a nice enough inn it is," said I.
"It turned out to be past midnight," said Daly; "and, by the merest luck in the world, the exemplary widow who then occupied it had not gone to her rest, or roost. She personally answered my call, and replied to my knock. After a few preliminary 'Who's there's?' she opened the door; and the moment she recognised me—for I was well known upon the road—her delight, as you may conceive, was unspeakable.
"'Bless my heart, Mr. Daly,' said the widow, 'what a time o' night to be strolling about with your gun! Why, where do you come from?'
"'That,' said I, 'is about the last question in the world I can answer satisfactorily. I have been wandering across a country with which I am not particularly well acquainted—have tired myself to death, and fallen asleep.'
"'Fallen indeed,' said mine hostess, 'into a ditch, Mr. Daly, I should think. Why, dear me, what a condition you are in!'
"'Exactly,' said I; 'recumbent repose in October under an oak, is not particularly delicate; however, my darling, give me some supper, some hot brandy and water, and order me the most comfortable bed in the house, for I am a-tired.'
"'Why, sir,' asked the dear woman, 'where is your servant with your clothes—you cannot think of sleeping here in that condition?'