im as a barb"--seemingly as gay, as ardent, and as haughty
as the boyrider. And the manly, and almost herculean form of the elder
Beaufort, which, from the buoyancy of its movements, and the supple
grace that belongs to the perfect mastership of any athletic art,
possessed an elegance and dignity, especially on horseback, which rarely
accompanies proportions equally sturdy and robust. There was indeed
something knightly and chivalrous in the bearing of the elder
Beaufort--in his handsome aquiline features, the erectness of his mien,
the very wave of his hand, as he spurred from the yard.

"What a fine-looking fellow my uncle is!" said Arthur, with involuntary
admiration.

"Ay, an excellent life--amazingly strong!" returned the pale father,
with a slight sigh.

"Philip," said Mr. Beaufort, as they cantered across the paddock, "I
think the gate is too much for you. I will just take Puppet over, and
then we will open it for you."

"Pooh, my dear father! you don't know how I'm improved!" And slackening
the rein, and touching the side of his horse, the young rider darted
forward and cleared the gate, which was of no common height, with an
ease that extorted a loud "bravo" from the proud father.

"Now, Puppet," said Mr. Beaufort, spurring his own horse. The animal
cantered towards the gate, and then suddenly turned round with an
impatient and angry snort. "For shame, Puppet!--for shame, old boy!"
said the sportsman, wheeling him again to the barrier. The horse shook
his head, as if in remonstrance; but the spur vigorously applied showed
him that his master would not listen to his mute reasonings. He bounded
forward--made at the gate--struck his hoofs against the top bar--fell
forward, and threw his rider head foremost on the road beyond. The
horse rose instantly--not so the master. The son dismounted, alarmed and
terrified. His father was speechless! and blood gushed from the mouth
and nostrils, as the head drooped heavily on the boy's breast. The
bystanders had witnessed the fall--they crowded to the spot--they took
the fallen man from the weak arms of the son--the head groom examined
him with the eye of one who had picked up science from his experience in
such casualties.

"Speak, brother!--where are you hurt?" exclaimed Robert Beaufort.

"He will never speak more!" said the groom, bursting into tears. "His
neck is broken!"

"Send for the nearest surgeon," cried Mr. Robert. "Good God! boy! don't
mount that devilis