now on the side of the posts, now
against the bricks, and then I gave myself up.

Heaven put a last expedient into my head, that I had once heard Mr.
Dulany speak of. I braced myself for a pull that should have broken the
stallion's jaw and released his mouth altogether. Incredible as it may
seem, he jarred into a trot, and presently came down to a walk, tossing
his head like fury, and sweating at every pore. I leaned over and patted
him, speaking him fair, and (marvel of marvels!) when we had got to the
dogs that guard the entrance of Camden House I had coaxed him around and
into the street, and cantered back at easy speed to the church. Without
pausing to speak to the bunch that stood at the throat of the lane, I
started toward London, thankfulness and relief swelling within me. I
understood the beast, and spoke to him when he danced aside at a wagon
with bells or a rattling load of coals, and checked him with a word and a
light hand.

Before I gained the Life Guard's House I met a dozen horsemen, amongst
them Banks on a mount of Mr. Fox's. They shouted when they saw me,
Colonel St. John calling out that he had won another hundred that I was
not dead. Sir John Brooke puffed and swore he did not begrudge his
losses to see me safe, despite Captain Lewis's sourness. Storey vowed
he would give a dinner in my honour, and, riding up beside me, whispered
that he was damned sorry the horse was now broken, and his Grace's chance
of being killed taken away. And thus escorted, I came in by the King's
New Road to avoid the people running in the Row, and so down to Hyde Park
Corner, and in among the chaises and the phaetons, where there was enough
cheering and waving of hats and handkerchiefs to please the most exacting
of successful generals. I rode up to my Lord March, and finding there
was a minute yet to run I went up the Row a distance and back again
amidst more huzzaing, Pollux prancing and quivering, and frothing his
bit, but never once attempting to break.

When I had got down, they pressed around me until I could scarce breathe,
crying congratulations, Comyn embracing me openly. Mr. Fox vowed he had
never seen so fine a sight, and said many impolitic things which the duke
must have overheard . . . . Lady Carlisle sent me a red rose for my
buttonhole by his Lordship. Mr. Warner, the lively parson with my Lord
March, desired to press my hand, declaring that he had won a dozen of
port upon me, which he had set his best ca