ay, now that, in chase of it. Over and over again it is driven
close to the fatal posts at either end--the being driven between which
scores the first goal of the game--only to be sent again in the reverse
direction by the back-player. Then comes a regular scrimmage in the
centre of the ground, and the ball is dribbled amongst the ponies'
legs, first a little this way, and then that, but never more than a few
yards in any direction. Suddenly it flies far away from the _melee_,
and Jim Bloxam races after it, hotly pursued by one of the white and
scarlet men. Jim fails to hit the ball fair, and it spins off at a
tangent. His antagonist swerves, quick as thought, to the ball, and by
a clever back-stroke sends it once more into the centre of the field;
another short _melee_, and then the Monmouthshire men carry the ball
rapidly down on the Hussar goal. The back-player of the Hussars rides
forward to meet it; but a dexterous touch from the leader of the white
and scarlet men sends it a little to the right, and before any of the
Hussars can intervene, a good stroke from one of the Monmouthshire men
galloping on that side sends it between the posts, and the first goal
is credited to the white and scarlet.

Dr. Johnson, when asked by Boswell what a shining light of those days
meant by a somewhat vague remark, surmised that the speaker must have
"meant to annoy somebody." The Doctor was probably right, being a
pretty good judge of that sort of thing. There are many unmeaning
remarks made, the why of which it is difficult to explain, unless we
put that interpretation upon them. It must have been some such
malicious feeling that prompted Mr. Cottrell to observe,

"Poor Jim! He seems destined always to play second fiddle. As at
Rockcliffe, he is just beaten again."

"Defeats such as Captain Bloxam's," exclaimed Sylla, "are as much to
one's credit as easily-obtained victories. He was just defeated at
Rockcliffe after a gallant struggle. I have seen some polo-playing
before at Brighton, and don't think I ever saw a harder-fought goal
played."

It was with somewhat amused surprise that Mr. Cottrell found his dictum
disputed by a young lady in her first season, and he shot a sharp
glance at Mrs. Wriothesley, to see what that lady thought of the
spirited manner in which her niece stood up for the vanquished Hussar;
but she and Lady Mary were just then engaged in welcoming Lionel
Beauchamp, and the observation consequent