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