scape a smart
rap from a stone which one of Tom's heels flung back with such unlucky
accuracy as to hit Brady right in the mouth, knocking out one of his
eye-teeth (which, I do not recollect). Brady clapped his hand to his
mouth, and bawled, as any man might do in such a case, so loud, that
Miss Dosy checked Tom for a minute to turn round, and there she saw him
making the most horrid faces in the world, his mouth streaming blood,
and himself painted green from head to foot with as pretty a coat of
shining slime as was to be found in the province of Munster. 'That's the
gentleman you just leapt over, Miss Dosy,' said I, for I had joined her,
'and he seems to be in some confusion.' 'I am sorry,' said she, 'Bob,
that I should have in any way offended him or any other gentleman, by
leaping over him, but I can't wait now. Take him my compliments, and
tell him I should be happy to see him at tea at six o'clock this
evening, in a different suit.' Off she went, and I rode back with her
message (by which means I was thrown out); and would you believe it,
he had the ill manners to say 'the h----;' but I shall not repeat what
he said. It was impolite to the last degree, not to say profane, but
perhaps he may be somewhat excused under his peculiar circumstances.
There is no knowing what even Job himself might have said, immediately
after having been thrown off his horse into a green pool, with his
eye-tooth knocked out, his mouth full of mud and blood, on being asked
to a tea-party.

"He--Brady, not Job--went, nevertheless--for, on our return to Miss
Dosy's lodgings, we found a triangular note, beautifully perfumed,
expressing his gratitude for her kind invitation, and telling her not
to think of the slight accident which had occurred. How it happened, he
added, he could not conceive, his mare never having broken down with him
before--which was true enough, as that was the first day he ever mounted
her--and she having been bought by himself at a sale of the Earl of
Darlington's horses last year, for two hundred guineas. She was a great
favourite, he went on to say, with the Earl, who often rode her, and ran
at Doncaster by the name of Miss Russell. All this latter part of the
note was not quite so true, but then, it must be admitted, that when we
talk about horses we are not tied down to be exact to a letter. If we
were, God help Tattersall's!

"To tea, accordingly, the ensign came at six, wiped clean, and in a
different set-out