before the dogs, cannot be brought to absolute flight.

Henry, seeing this state of things, spurred his horse and advanced
far before the rest of the party, up towards the scene of Oliver
Proudfute's misfortune. His first task was to catch Jezabel by
the flowing rein, and his next to lead her to meet her discomfited
master, who was crippling towards him, his clothes much soiled
with his fall, his eyes streaming with tears, from pain as well as
mortification, and altogether exhibiting an aspect so unlike the
spruce and dapper importance of his ordinary appearance, that the
honest smith felt compassion for the little man, and some remorse
at having left him exposed to such disgrace. All men, I believe,
enjoy an ill natured joke. The difference is, that an ill natured
person can drink out to the very dregs the amusement which it
affords, while the better moulded mind soon loses the sense of the
ridiculous in sympathy for the pain of the sufferer.

"Let me pitch you up to your saddle again, neighbour," said the
smith, dismounting at the same time, and assisting Oliver to scramble
into his war saddle, as a monkey might have done.

"May God forgive you, neighbour Smith, for not backing of me! I
would not have believed in it, though fifty credible witnesses had
sworn it of you."

Such were the first words, spoken in sorrow more than anger, by
which the dismayed Oliver vented his feelings.

"The bailie kept hold of my horse by the bridle; and besides,"
Henry continued, with a smile, which even his compassion could not