I had not dismounted, we should probably
have rolled back together.

When I reached the top of the bank, rather
out of breath, I looked back, and saw David
making piteous signs, as he moved off rapidly,
for me to push along. But this was easier
said than done; the brown horse would not
let me come near him. Round and round he
went, rearing and plunging, until I was quite
exhausted. Coaxing and threatening were
alike useless; every moment it was getting
darker. Once I thought of letting the brute
go, and swimming back to David. But when
I looked at the stream, and thought of Laura,
that idea was dismissed. Another tussle, in
which we ploughed up the sand in a circle,
was equally fruitless, and I began to think he
would keep me there to be drowned, for to
cross to Parkgate on foot before the tide came
up strong, seemed hopeless. At length, finding
I could not get to touch his shoulder, I
seized the opportunity, when he was close to
the bank of the stream, and catching the curb
sharply in both hands, backed him half way
down almost into the water. Before he had
quite struggled up to the top, I threw myself
into the saddle, and was carried off at the rate
of thirty miles an hour toward the sea.

But I soon gathered up the reins, and, firm
in my seat, turned my Tartar's head toward
the point where I could see the white windmill
gleaming through the twilight on the
Cheshire shore.

I felt that I had not a moment to spare. The
sand, so firm in the morning, sounded damp
under my horse's stride; the little stagnant
pools filled visibly, and joining formed shallow
lakes, through which we dashed in a shower
of spray; and every now and then we leaped
over, or plunged into deep holes. At first I
tried to choose a path, but as it rapidly grew
darker, I sat back in my saddle, and with my
eyes fixed on the tower of the windmill, held
my horse firmly into a hand gallop, and kept
a straight line. He was a famous deep-chested
long-striding little fellow, and bounded along
as fresh as when I started. By degrees my
spirits began to rise; I thought the danger
past; I felt confidence in myself and horse,
and shouted to him in encouraging triumph.
Already I was, in imagination, landed and
relating my day's adventures to Laura, when
with a heavy plunge down on his head, right
over went the brown stallion, and away I
flew as far as the reins, fortunately fast
grasped, would let me. Blinded with wet
sand, startled, shaken, confused, by a sort of
instinct, I scrambled to rny feet almost as
soon as my horse, who had fallen over a set of
salmon-net stakes. Even in the instant of my
fall, all the horror of my situation was
mentally visible to me. In a moment I lived
years. I felt that I was a dead man; I
wondered if my body would be found; I
thought of what rny friends would say; I
thought of letters in my desk I wished burned.
I thought of relatives to whom my journey to
Parkgate was unknown, of debts I wished
paid, of parties with whom I had quarrelled,
and wished I had been reconciled. I wondered
whether Laura would mourn for me, whether
she really loved me. In fact, the most serious
and ridiculous thoughts were jumbled
altogether, while I muttered, once or twice, a
hasty prayer; and yet I did not lose a moment
in remounting. This time my horse made no
resistance, but stood over his hocks in a pool
of salt water, and trembled and snorted—not
fiercely, but in fear. There was no time to
lose. I looked round for the dark line of the
shore; it had sunk in the twilight. I looked
again for the white tower; it had disappeared.
The fall and the rolling, and turning of the
horse in rising, had confused all my notions
of the points of the compass. I could not
tell whether it was the dark clouds from the
sea, or the dizzy whirling of my brain; but
it seemed to have become black night in a
moment.

The water seemed to flow in all directions
round and round. I tried, but could not tell
which was the sea, and which the river side.
The wind, too, seemed to shift and blow from
all points of the compass.

Then, "Softly," I said to myself, "be calm;
you are confused by terror; be a man;" and
pride came to my rescue. I closed my eyes
for a moment, and whispered, "Oh Lord, save
me." Then with an effort, calmer, as though
I had gulped down something, I opened my
eyes, stood up in my stirrups and peered into
the darkness. As far as I could see, were
patches of water eating up the dry bits of
sand; as far as I could hear, a rushing tide
was on all sides. Four times, in different
directions, I pushed on, and stopped when I
found the water rising over the shoulders of
my horse.

I drew up on a sort of island of sand, which
was every minute growing less, and gathering
all the strength of my lungs, shouted again
and again, and then listened; but there came
no answering shout. Suddenly, a sound of
music came floating past me. I could
distinguish the air; it was the military band
playing "Home, sweet Home." I tried to
gather from what quarter the sound came;
but each time the wind instruments brayed
out loudly, the sounds seemed to come to me
from every direction at once. " Ah!" I thought,
"I shall see home no more." I could have
wept, but I had no time; my eyes were staring
through the darkness, and my horse plunging
and rearing, gave me no rest for weeping.
I gave him his head once, having heard that
horses, from ships sunk at sea, have reached
land distant ten miles, by instinct; but the
alternation of land and shallow and deep
water confused his senses, and destroyed the
calm power which might have been developed
in the mere act of swimming.

At length, after a series of vain efforts, I
grew calm and resigned. I made up my mind
to die. I took my handkerchief from my