ed itself violently round the lamp-post, like a shattered
remnant, as if resolved, before perishing, to strangle the author of all
the mischief. As to the pony, it stopped, and seemed surprised at first
by the unexpected finale, but the look quickly changed--or appeared to
change--to one of calm contentment as it surveyed the ruin.

But what of the fair little charioteer? Truly, in regard to her, a
miracle, or something little short of one, had occurred. The doctrine
that extremes meet contains much truth in it--truth which is illustrated
and exemplified more frequently, we think, than is generally supposed.
A tremendous accident is often much less damaging to the person who
experiences it than a slight one. In little Diana's case, the extremes
had met, and the result was absolute safety. She was shot out of her
basket carriage after the manner of a sky-rocket, but the impulse was so
effective that, instead of causing her to fall on her head and break her
pretty little neck, it made her perform a complete somersault, and
alight upon her feet. Moreover, the spot on which she alighted was
opportune, as well as admirably suited to the circumstances.

At the moment, ignorant of what was about to happen, police-constable
Number 666--we are not quite sure of what division--in all the plenitude
of power, and blue, and six-feet-two, approached the end of a street
entering at right angles to the one down which our little heroine had
flown. He was a superb specimen of humanity, this constable, with a
chest and shoulders like Hercules, and the figure of Apollo. He turned
the corner just as the child had completed her somersault, and received
her two little feet fairly in the centre of his broad breast, driving
him flat on his back more effectively than could have been done by the
best prize-fighter in England!

Number 666 proved a most effectual buffer, for Di, after planting her
blow on his chest, sat plump down on his stomach, off which she sprang
in an agony of consternation, exclaiming--

"Oh! I have killed him! I've killed him!" and burst into tears.

"No, my little lady," said Number 666, as he rose with one or two coughs
and replaced his helmet, "you've not quite done for me, though you've
come nearer the mark than any _man_ has ever yet accomplished. Come,
now, what can I do for you? You're not hurt, I hope?"

This sally was received with a laugh, almost amounting to a cheer, by
the half-horrified crowd wh