exposition, which seemed to find immense favour
in the eyes of all the gentlemen who had recently
been unhandsomely dealt with by the M. H.

"Who's the other one?" inquired the man
with the bird's-eye neckcloth, not unwilling to
start a new subject. "Him with the gaiters."

"That man's one of the best 'orsemen in this
country," replied the other. " He's Mr. Grantham's
rough-rider."

"What's that Bill Stunt?" inquired an
equestrian hero-worshipper.

"Yes, that's Bill Stunt, young man, and it's a
pity there ain't more like him."

"Is he a better rider than Mark?" asked the
neophyte, eagerly.

The little man with the angry nose made no
reply to this question for some time, and then
he said, "No, he ain't," but in a manner to forbid
any more remarks.

And now, after a little conversation with
the two showmen, and after a good deal of pressing,
such as modest performers require before
they will undertake to favour the company with
a song, the renowned Mr. Mark Gripper advances
with a confident smile towards tire invention of
Colonel von Hamel, and putting his left foot
into the stirrup is presently on horseback.

The word of command to start the machinery
is now transmitted without delay to the mechanical
department below, and Mr. Gripper, still
smiling, is rocked gently backwards and
forwards two or three times, in a sort of preliminary
exercise. That done, the M. H. seems
to think it time to declare his intentions a little,
and accordingly he raises himself into an erect
position, and Mr. Gripper has to practise all he
knows in order not to slip off ignominiously over
the animal's tail. This danger overcome, the
M. H. tries our friend the other way, and gets his
hind-legs so well up into the air, that the back of
Mr. Gripper's head—Mr. G. still smiling—almost
touches his horse's quarters. This exercise is now
repeated several times with increased rapidity,
but still our friend keeps his seat, and murmurs
of triumph circulate among the initiated.

These straightforward up and down
movements on the part, of the M. H. turning out a
failure, this noisome beast goes to work with
those side jumps and twists which are set forth
in exercises Nos. 11 and 12 of Colonel von
Hamel's list. These are evidently found to be
more trying to the seat of our rough-rider, and
Mr. Gripper is observed on more than one
occasion to forget his accustomed smile for a
moment or two. Still he keeps on, in so
creditable a manner that the gentleman with the
bird's-eye cravat evidently thinks that he will
yet triumph over him of the glowing nose,
while the unhorsed ones believe that they are
about to be avenged at last.

But now the machinery seems to work
something quicker than it did at first; the
different exercises, instead of succeeding each
other with some approach to an interval between
each, appear to be disordered, and, as it were,
jumbled together. The Mechanical Horse is
evidently becoming desperate, and his plunge
and side jumps are so violent and incessant that
Mr. Gripper loses his smile altogether, and
begins to wear a harassed appearance, and to
show what are called in sporting language
unmistakable symptoms of "distress." It is
painful to relate, moreover, when we reflect upon
this gentleman's reputation, that sometimes
when the M. H., after rushing violently to the
right, suddenly turns round and goes off to the
left, there seems for a moment every probability of
his rider's not accompanying him back, and it is
a fact that at such times a considerable amount
of daylight is to be seen between Mr. Gripper's
"point of gravitation" and his saddle. At length
Mr. Gripper gets more and more heated, and
more and more distressed, the space between
himself and the saddle gets more and more alarming
for the security of the point of gravitation, and
finally, after one particular swerve to the right
on the part of the M. H., which swerve is characterised
by an especial virulence and malignity,
Mr. Gripper's "point of gravitation" goes
altogether, the mattresses receive another victim, and
the Mechanical Horse achieves a new triumph.

The rough-rider gets up, having regained his
smile now that it is all over, and acknowledges
himself beaten in a manner that defies criticism.
But the sensation among the initiated ones is
profound in the extreme, and exhibits itself in a
more marked disparagement of the Mechanical
Horse as a test of equestrian prowess than, has
hitherto been elicited. As to the little man with
the red nose, the triumph of his powers of
prophecy is so complete, that he feels it unnecessary
to put it into words, but he turns round to the
discomfited one with the sporting neckcloth,
and favours him with a look far more eloquent
than speech.

As to the glee of the Life Guardsman, it is so
great that he is obliged to unbutton his jacket
and take out what one had thought was chest,
in order to wipe the dew of rejoicing from his
brow. That done, he rises to the full extent of
the capabilities of the loft, looks triumphantly
down the stripe on the outside of each of his
legs, and marches out with a great jingling of
spurs. He is, upon the whole, looked upon as
having achieved a success.

The defeat of the eminent Mr. Gripper did
not daunt his companion, whom we have heard
described as rough-rider to Mr. Grantham.
This hardy adventurer took his turn at the new
invention with a sanguine countenance and every
appearance of hopefulness. It soon became
apparent, however, that this one's point of
gravitation was by no means more secure than
his friend's had been. His efforts to maintain
it were indeed noble and heroic in the extreme,
but it was not to be, and in due time he shared
the fate of all the rest. There never was a more
undaunted rider, for he was up again and again
on the horse's back in no time. His courage was
not rewarded. The famous "side jump and
twist" were resorted to with the usual deadly
result, and after a second tumble this excellent
and courageous man seemed to think that he had
had enough of it, and retired.