uld be in the neighbourhood of any inhabited place,
he might be heard and assisted. He accordingly practised this expedient,
which was not altogether without effect; for he was immediately answered
by an old friend, no other than his own steed Bronzomarte, who, hearing
his master's voice, neighed strenuously at a small distance. The knight,
being well acquainted with the sound, heard it with astonishment, and,
advancing in the right direction, found his noble charger fastened to a
tree. He forthwith untied and mounted him; then, laying the reins upon
his neck, allowed him to choose his own path, in which he began to travel
with equal steadiness and expedition. They had not proceeded far, when
the knight's ears were again saluted by the cries of Crabshaw; which
Bronzomarte no sooner heard, than he pricked up his ears, neighed, and
quickened his pace, as if he had been sensible of the squire's distress,
and hastened to his relief. Sir Launcelot, notwithstanding his own
disquiet, could not help observing and admiring this generous sensibility
of his horse. He began to think himself some hero of romance, mounted
upon a winged steed, inspired with reason, directed by some humane
enchanter, who pitied virtue in distress. All circumstances considered,
it is no wonder that the commotion in the mind of our adventurer produced
some such delirium. All night he continued the chase; the voice, which
was repeated at intervals, still retreating before him, till the morning
began to appear in the east, when, by divers piteous groans, he was
directed to the corner of a wood, where he beheld his miserable squire
stretched upon the grass, and Gilbert feeding by him altogether
unconcerned, the helmet and the lance suspended at the saddle-bow, and
the portmanteau safely fixed upon the crupper.

The knight, riding up to Crabshaw, with equal surprise and concern, asked
what had brought him there? and Timothy, after some pause, during which
he surveyed his master with a rueful aspect, answered, "The devil."--"One
would imagine, indeed, you had some such conveyance," said Sir Launcelot.
"I have followed your cries since last evening, I know not how nor
whither, and never could come up with you till this moment. But, say,
what damage have you sustained, that you lie in that wretched posture,
and groan so dismally?" "I can't guess," replied the squire, "if it
bean't that mai hoole carcase is drilled into oilet hools, and my flesh
pinched