iled more feebly than
ever, now including me in his intelligent purview. After other and
diverse attempts to draw him into conversation, including the pulling of
the horse and cart into the middle of the road, and the making of a
feint to start it off at full gallop, it became painfully clear that the
old gentleman had, at sight of the balloon, gone clean out of such
senses as he had ever possessed, and as there was a prospect of losing
the train if we waited till he came round again, nothing remained but to
help ourselves to the conveyance. So Burnaby got up and disposed of as
much of himself as was possible in a hamper on the top of the cart. I
sat on the shaft, and taking the reins out of the old gentleman's
resistless hand, drove off down the road at quite a respectable pace.

After we had gone about a mile the old gentleman, who had been employing
his unwonted leisure in staring at us all over, broke into a chuckle.
We gently encouraged him by laughing in chorus, and after a brief space
he said,--

_"I seed ye coming."_

As I had a good deal to do to keep the pony up and going, Burnaby
undertook to follow up this glimmering of returning sense on the part of
the old gentleman, and with much patience and tact he succeeded in
getting him so far round that we ascertained we were driving in the
direction of "Blackmore." Further than this we could not get, any
pressure in the direction of learning whether there was a railway
station at the town or village, or whatever it might be, being followed
by alarming symptoms of relapse on the part of the old gentleman.
However, to get to Blackmore was something, and after half an hour's
dexterous driving we arrived at the village, of which the inn standing
back under the shade of three immemorial oak trees appeared to be a fair
moiety.

We paid the old gentleman and parted company with him, though not
without a saddening fear that the shock of the balloon coming down
under his horse's nose, as it were, had permanently affected his brain.
At Blackmore we found a well-horsed trap, and through woods and long
country lanes drove to Ingatestone, and as fast as the train could
travel got back to civilisation.

This was the beginning of a close and intimate friendship, that ended
only with Burnaby's departure for the Soudan. He often talked to me
of himself and of his still young life. Educated at Harrow, he thence
proceeded to Germany, where, under private tuition, he acquired an