made a point of sitting down before they had gone many yards, preferring
to take the fall in a milder form than it would have assumed at a later
period in the journey. To the bolder spirits, however, every trip was
like leading a forlorn hope, none expecting to return from the
enterprise unscathed. The pace was terrific: on nearing the playground
wall, all the events of a lifetime might have flashed across the memory
as at the last gasp of a drowning man; and if fortunate enough to whiz
through the doorway, and pull up "all standing" on the level stretch
beyond, it was to draw a deep breath, and regard the successful
performance of the feat as an escape from catastrophe which was nothing
short of miraculous. The unevenness of the ground made it almost
impossible to steer a straight course. A boy might be half-way down the
path, when suddenly he felt himself beginning to turn round; an agonized
look spread over his face; he made one frantic attempt to keep, as it
were, "head to the sea;" there was an awful moment when house, garden,
sky, and playground wall spun round and round; and then the little group
of onlookers, their hearts hardened by their own sufferings, burst into
a roar of laughter; while Acton slapped his leg, crying, "He's over!
What a stunning lark! Who's next?"

At the end of an hour and a half most of the company were temporarily
disabled, and even their chief had not escaped scot free.

"Now then for a regular spanker!" he cried, rushing at the slide.
A "spanker" it certainly was: six yards from the commencement his legs
flew from under him, he soared into the air like a bird, and did not
touch the ground again until he sat down heavily within twenty paces of
the bottom of the slope.

One might have supposed that this catastrophe would have somewhat damped