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nsity, its trill of self gratulation that it had not been born a man. Even the cattle appeared to regard the youth as a sort of ornithological curiosity, for the sentiment, "Well, you are a goose!" was clearly written on their mild faces as he flew past them. Over the hill-top he went--twelve miles an hour at the least--until he reached the slope on the other side; then down he rushed again, driving at the first part of the descent like an insane steam-engine, till the pace must have increased to twenty miles, at which point, the whirl of the wheel becoming too rapid, he was obliged once more to rest his legs on the handles, and take to repose, contemplation, and wiping his heated brow--equivalent this, we might say, to the floating descent of the sea-mew. Of course the period of rest was of brief duration, for, although the hill was a long slope, with many a glimpse of loveliness between the trees, the time occupied in its flight was short, and, at the bottom a rustic bridge, with an old inn and a thatched hamlet, with an awkwardly sharp turn in the road beyond it, called for wary and intelligent guidance of this lightning express. Swiftly but safely to the foot of the hill went John Barret (that was the youth's name), at ever-increasing speed, and without check; for no one seemed to be moving about in the quiet hamlet, and the old English inn had apparently fallen asleep. A delicious undulating swoop at the bottom indicates the crossing of the bridge. A flash, and the inn is in rear. The hamlet displays no sign of life, nevertheless Barret is cautious. He lays a finger on the brake and touches the bell. He is half-way through the hamlet and all goes well; still no sign of life except--yes, this so-called proof of every rule is always forthcoming, except that there is the sudden appearance of one stately cock. This is followed immediately by its sudden and unstately disappearance. A kitten also emerges from somewhere, glares, arches, fuffs, becomes indescribable, and--is not! Two or three children turn up and gape, but do not recover in time to insult, or to increase the dangers of the awkward turn in the road which is now at hand. Barret looks thoughtful. Must the pace be checked here? The road is open and visible. It is bordered by grass banks and ditches on either side. He rushes close to the left bank and, careering gracefully to the right like an Algerine felucca in a white squall, dares the l
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