you work for it--Groggyboy
was a crack horse in his day. But come, there goes the bell, and we are
wanted at the starting-post."

The remainder of my story is short.

"Ready, gentlemen?--Off!" and away we went, Spontaneous Combustion
leading, Miss Frolic and Groggyboy next, Randolph and myself following,
and Hargate bringing up the rear on Loupowerher, who never had a chance.
After the first few seconds, when all was mist before my eyes, I felt
considerably easier. Masaniello was striding out vigorously, and I
warmed insensibly to the work. The pace became terrific. Spon. Bus.
gradually gave way, and Groggyboy took the lead. I saw nothing more of
Randolph. On we went around the race-course like a crowd of motley
demoniacs, whipping, spurring, and working at our reins as if thereby we
were assisting our progression. I was resolved to conquer or to die.

Round we came in sight of the assembled multitude. I could even hear
their excited cries in the distance. Masaniello was now running neck and
neck with Groggyboy--Miss Frolic half-a-length before!

And now we neared the stand. I thought I could see the white fluttering
of Edith's handkerchief--I clenched my teeth, grasped my whip, and
lashed vigorously at Masaniello. In a moment more I should have been
ahead--but there was a crash, and then oblivion.

Evil was the mother that whelped that cur of a butcher's dog! He ran
right in before Masaniello, and horse and man were hurled with awful
violence to the ground. I forgive Masaniello. Poor brute! his leg was
broken, and they had to shoot him on the course. He was my first and
last charger.

As for myself, I was picked up insensible, and conveyed home upon a
shutter, thereby fulfilling to the letter the ominous prophecies of
Nelly, who cried the coronach over me. Two of my ribs were fractured,
and for three weeks I was confined to bed with a delirious fever.

"What noise is that below stairs, Nelly?" asked I on the second morning
of my convalescence.

"'Deed, Maister George, I'm thinking it's just the servant lass chappin'
coals wi' yer swurd."

"Serve it right. And what parcel is that on the table?"

"I dinna ken: it came in yestreen."

"Give it me."

"Heaven and earth! Wedding-cake and cards! MR AND MRS ROPER!"

DEVEREUX HALL.

BY MRS SOUTHEY.

[_MAGA._ OCTOBER 1832.]

CHAPTER I.

"Do you remember that pretty cottage we passed in our ride round
Silvermead, last Tuesday?" inquired my friend L--