, and, as the stranger checked his horse
when he was nearly by my side, I turned towards him, and beheld Sir John
Tyrrell.

"Well," said he, "this is really fortunate--for I began to fear I should
have my ride, this cold evening, entirely to myself."

"I imagined that you had long reached Chester Park by this time," said
I. "Did not you leave the course with our party?"

"No," answered Tyrrell, "I had business, at Newmarket, with a rascally
fellow of the name of Dawson. He lost to me rather a considerable wager,
and asked me to come to the town with him after the race, in order to
pay me. As he said he lived on the direct road to Chester Park, and
would direct and even accompany me, through all the difficult part of
the ride, I the less regretted not joining Chester and his party; and
you know, Pelham, that when pleasure pulls one way, and money another,
it is all over with the first. Well--to return to my rascal--would you
believe, that when we got to Newmarket, he left me at the inn, in order,
he said, to fetch the money; and after having kept me in a cold
room, with a smoky chimney, for more than an hour, without making his
appearance, I sallied out into the town, and found Mr. Dawson quietly
seated in a hell with that scoundrel Thornton, whom I did not conceive,
till then, he was acquainted with. It seems that he was to win, at
hazard, sufficient to pay his wager. You may fancy my anger, and the
consequent increase to it, when he rose from the table, approached me,
expressed his sorrow, d--d his ill luck, and informed me that he could
not pay me for three months. You know that I could not ride home with
such a fellow--he might have robbed me by the way--so I returned to my
inn--dined--ordered my horse, set off--en cavalier seul--inquired my way
of every passenger I passed, and after innumerable misdirections--here I
am."

"I cannot sympathise with you," said I, "since I am benefitted by your
misfortunes. But do you think it very necessary to trot so fast? I fear
my horse can scarcely keep up with yours."

Tyrrell cast an impatient glance at my panting steed. "It is cursed
unlucky you should be so badly mounted, and we shall have a pelting
shower presently."

In complaisance to Tyrrell, I endeavoured to accelerate my steed. The
roads were rough and stony, and I had scarcely got the tired animal into
a sharper trot, before--whether or no by some wrench among the deep ruts
and flinty causeway--he fell suddenly l