rsemen, amongst
them Banks on a mount of Mr. Fox's. They shouted when they saw me,
Colonel St. John calling out that he had won another hundred that I
was not dead. Sir John Brooke puffed and swore he did not begrudge his
losses to see me safe, despite Captain Lewis's sourness. Storey vowed
he would give a dinner in my honour, and, riding up beside me, whispered
that he was damned sorry the horse was now broken, and his Grace's
chance of being killed taken away. And thus escorted, I came in by the
King's New Road to avoid the people running in the Row, and so down to
Hyde Park Corner, and in among the chaises and the phaetons, where there
was enough cheering and waving of hats and handkerchiefs to please the
most exacting of successful generals. I rode up to my Lord March, and
finding there was a minute yet to run I went up the Row a distance and
back again amidst more huzzaing, Pollux prancing and quivering, and
frothing his bit, but never once attempting to break.

When I had got down, they pressed around me until I could scarce
breathe, crying congratulations, Comyn embracing me openly. Mr. Fox
vowed he had never seen so fine a sight, and said many impolitic things
which the duke must have overheard.... Lady Carlisle sent me a red rose
for my buttonhole by his Lordship. Mr. Warner, the lively parson with my
Lord March, desired to press my hand, declaring that he had won a dozen
of port upon me, which he had set his best cassock against. My Lord
Sandwich offered me snuff, and invited me to Hichinbroke. Indeed, I
should never be through were I to continue. But I must not forget my old
acquaintance Mr. Walpole, who protested that he must get permission to
present me to Princess Amelia: that her Royal Highness would not rest
content now, until she had seen me. I did not then know her Highness's
sporting propensity.

Then my Lord March called upon the duke, who stood in the midst of
an army of his toadeaters. I almost pitied him then, tho' I could not
account for the feeling. I think it was because a nobleman with so great
a title should be so cordially hated and despised. There were high words
along the railing among the duke's supporters, Captain Lewis, in his
anger, going above an inference that the stallion had been broken
privately. Chartersea came forward with an indifferent swagger, as if to
say as much: and, in truth, no one looked for more sport, and some
were even turning away. He had scarce put foot to the sti