By a man and a horse, thirty leagues at a bout.
I’ve no story to tell; it’s a matter of course
When a Briton on duty bestrides a good horse.
Plunx (Mr. George Heaton).
Second Prize.
I sprang to the stirrup; my friend the D.T.
Should gallop right fast if he meant to beat me.
“Good luck!” cried the rearguard, as past them I sped.
“There are Zulus about; keep a bright look ahead!”
’Twas noontide, and near the full heat of the day,