the Strand we attracted comparatively little notice.  In driving, the English turn out to the left instead of to the right, as is the custom here, and I was obliged to cross the westward-bound line of vehicles before I could fall in with that which would bring me to my boys.  I decided to make a “carom” of it, and nearly took the heads off a pair of horses, and the pole off the omnibus to which they were attached, as I dashed through.  Turning to the right, I soon lost the torrent of invective hurled after me by the driver and conductor of the discomfited ’bus, and in less than two minutes—­which seemed to me an age, for the pursuit was drawing near—­I reached my boys, dropped them a half sov. apiece, which I had ready in my hand, and bolted for my hairdresser’s, the boys leading the horse in the opposite direction, as previously ordered.

It was none too soon, for as I ran up stairs I saw three or four policemen running toward the horse, and there was a gleam of dancing plumes and shining helmets toward Whitehall.  My false beard and complexion were changed with marvelous rapidity, and, assuming my promenade costume, I sauntered down stairs and out upon the sidewalk in time to see the whole street jammed with a crowd of excited Britons, while the recaptured horse was turned over to the Guardsmen, and the two boys were marched off to Bow street for examination before a magistrate.

A private room and an elaborate dinner at the United Service Club closed the day; and I must admit that my military friends swallowed their evident chagrin with a very good grace.  Of course I was told that I could not do it again, which I readily admitted; and that there was not another man in the troop whom I could have unhorsed—­an assertion which I as persistently combated.  The affair was officially hushed up, and probably not more than a few thousand people ever heard of it outside military circles.

How I escaped arrest and punishment to the extent of the law I did not know for many years, for the duke of Wellington, who was then commander-in-chief, had only to order the officers concerned under arrest, and I should have been in honor bound to come forward with a voluntary confession.

My giant was sent for to the old duke’s private room the day after his overthrow, and questioned sharply by the adjutant, who, with pardonable incredulity, suspected that bribery alone could have brought about so direful a catastrophe.  The duke was from the first convinced of the soldier’s, honesty and bravery, and presently broke in upon the adjutant’s examination with—­“Well, well! speak to me now.  What have you to say for yourself?”

“May it please yer ludship,” said the undismayed soldier, “I’ve never fought a civilian sence I ‘listed, an’ yer ludship will bear me witness that there’s nothing in the cavalry drill about resisting a charge of foot when a mon’s on post at the Horse Guards.”

This speech was delivered with the most perfect sincerity and sobriety, and although it reflected upon the efficiency of the army under the hero of Waterloo, the Iron Duke was so much impressed by the affair that he sent word to Lieutenant-Colonel Varian, commanding the regiment, not to order the man any punishment whatever, but to see that his command was thereafter trained in view of possible attacks, even when posted in front of army head-quarters.