File:Twice round the clock; or, The hours of the day and night in London (1859) (14592261230).jpg

Identifier: twiceroundclocko00sala (find matches)
Title: Twice round the clock; or, The hours of the day and night in London
Year: 1859 (1850s)
Authors: Sala, George Augustus, 1828-1895 McConnell, William, 1833-1867
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Publisher: London, Houlston and Wright
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: The Library of Congress

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ke a turn in RottenRow, if I only knew how to accomplish the equestrian feat; but I amrealty afraid to adventure it. There are some people who do thingscapitally which they have never been taught; and who ride and drive,as it were, by intuition. Irishmen are remarkable for this faculty,and I do not regard as by any means a specimen of boastfulness, thereply of the young Milesian gentlemen to the person who asked himif he could play the fiddle, that he did not know, but that he daredsay he could, if he tried. But I am afraid that the mounting of theeasiest-going park hack would be too much for your obedient servant,and that the only way of insuring security, would be to get inside theanimal and pull the blinds down; or, that being zoologically impos-sible, to have my coat skirts nailed to the saddle ; or to be tied to thebody of my gallant steed with cords, in the manner practised in theremotest antiquity by the young men of Scythia on their first intro- TATTERS ALL S AND THE PARK. 197
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4 ?\^ 198 TWICE KOUO THE CLOCK. duction to a live horse, and their commencement of the study of equita-tion. I passed three days once at the hospitable mansion of a friendin Staffordshire, who, the morning after my arrival, wanted me to dosomething he called riding to hounds. I said, Well out of it,respectfully declined the invitation, and retired to the library, whereI read Roger de Wendovers Flowers of History till dinner time.I daresay the ladies, who all rode like Amazons, thought me a milk-sop ; but I went to bed that night without any broken bones. Ihave an acquaintance, too, a fashionable riding-master at Brighton,a tremendous creature, who wears jack-boots, and has a pair ofwhiskers like the phlanges of a screw-propeller. He has beenobliging enough to say that he will mount me any time I comehis way, but I would as soon mount the topmost peak of Chim-borazo. I beg to state that this short essay on horsemanship is apropos ofHyde Park and notably of Rotten Row, into which I wand

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