Novel Situation — The Elderly Individual — The Surgeon — A Kind Offer — Chimerical¹ Ideas — Strange Dream

How long I remained senseless I cannot say; for a considerable time I believe; at length, opening my eyes, I found myself lying on a bed in a middle-sized chamber², lighted by a candle, which stood on a table; an elderly man stood near me, and a yet more elderly female was holding a phial of very pungent³ salts to my olfactory⁴ organ. I attempted to move, but felt very stiff — my right arm appeared nearly paralyzed, and there was a strange dull sensation in my head. ‘You had better remain still, young man,’ said the elderly individual, ‘the surgeon will be here presently; I have sent a message for him to the neighbouring village.’ ‘Where am I?’ said I, ‘and what has happened?’ ‘You are in my house,’ said the old man, ‘and you have been flung from a horse. I am sorry to say that I was the cause. As I was driving home, the lights in my gig frightened the animal.’ ‘Where is the horse?’ said I. ‘Below, in my stable,’ said the elderly individual. ‘I saw you fall, but knowing that on account of my age I could be of little use to you, I instantly hurried home; the accident did not occur more than a furlong off, and procuring⁵ the assistance of my lad, and two or three neighbouring cottagers, I returned to the spot where you were lying senseless. We raised you up, and brought you here. My lad then went in quest of the horse, who had run away as we drew nigh. When we saw him first, he was standing⁶ near you; he caught him with some difficulty, and brought him home. What are you about?’ said the old man, as I strove to get off the bed. ‘I want to see the horse,’ said I. ‘I entreat⁷ you to be still,’ said the old man; ‘the horse is safe, I assure you.’ ‘I am thinking about his knees,’ said I. ‘Instead of thinking about your horse’s knees,’ said the old man, ‘be thankful that you have not broke your own neck.’ ‘You do not talk wisely,’ said I; ‘when a man’s neck is broke he is provided for; but when his horse’s knees are broke he is a lost jockey, that is if he has nothing but his horse to depend upon. A pretty figure I should cut at Horncastle, mounted on a horse blood-raw at the knees.’ ‘Oh, you are going to Horncastle,’ said the old man seriously, ‘then I can sympathize with you in your anxiety about your horse, being a Lincolnshire man, and the son of one who bred horses. I will myself go down into the stable and examine into the condition of your horse, so pray remain quiet till I return; it would certainly be a terrible thing to appear at Horncastle on a broken-kneed horse.’

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