Unhappily this potent refreshment wiped away from the
tablets of his memory the necessity of paying some attention to the
distresses and difficulties of his rear-file, Goose Gibbie. No sooner had
the horses struck a canter, than Gibbie's jack-boots, which the poor
boy's legs were incapable of steadying, began to play alternately against
the horse's flanks, and, being armed with long-rowelled spurs, overcame
the patience of the animal, which bounced and plunged, while poor
Gibbie's entreaties for aid never reached the ears of the too heedless
butler, being drowned partly in the concave of the steel cap in which his
head was immersed, and partly in the martial tune of the Gallant Grames,
which Mr Gudyill whistled with all his power of lungs.
The upshot was, that the steed speedily took the matter into his own
hands, and having gambolled hither and thither to the great amusement of
all spectators, set off at full speed towards the huge family-coach
already described. Gibbie's pike, escaping from its sling, had fallen to
a level direction across his hands, which, I grieve to say, were seeking
dishonourable safety in as strong a grasp of the mane as their muscles
could manage. His casque, too, had slipped completely over his face, so
that he saw as little in front as he did in rear. Indeed, if he could, it
would have availed him little in the circumstances; for his horse, as if
in league with the disaffected, ran full tilt towards the solemn equipage
of the Duke, which the projecting lance threatened to perforate from
window to window, at the risk of transfixing as many in its passage as
the celebrated thrust of Orlando, which, according to the Italian epic
poet, broached as many Moors as a Frenchman spits frogs.
Pages:
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93