walked across the river on the ice above against it! Had Murphy any means of bridge, and roasted an ox, I believe, at a foreseeing a period of long-continued insort of fair, which was held for many days tense frost? because that is the only kind and nights off Rotherhithe. The next ques- of weather which could continue uniform tion was" Will the day selected prove the all over the kingdom. His own theory, if I coldest ?" It came, and lo, " Murphy right rightly remember it, was, that the sun and again!" People fetching water from plugs certain planets exercise an electric influence, inserted in the mains were sheeted with ice and so produce hot weather in summer and while drawing it. Doctors mixing medicine dry weather in winter; and that the moon found it frozen before they could put it in a and certain other planets exercise a magbottle; and people seated at breakfast, be-netic power, and so produce cold (not mere fore a good fire, found the milk solidifying absence of caloric, but a positive force in in the milk-jug. Just six weeks, as Murphy itself); and that, therefore, if you ascertain had predicted, the frost continued; but, which bodies are electric and which magalas! directly it departed, his charm was netic, and calculate which of the two classes broken, for all the rest of the year he was will be in the ascendancy at any given day, as conspicuously wrong, as he had been you will know what the weather will be at marvellously right at first. However, he that time. Of coure, I always considered had become a celebrity, netted a large amount, and established an almanac, which was a very good one for every purpose except foretelling the weather. this precious "theory" as a broad Irish grin; but, for aught I know, Mr. Murphy may have believed in it. He doubtless played off a joke by adding to his name on his title-page the letters "M.N.S." They stood, I believe, for "Member of No Society," but would have done equally well for "Member of the Newtonian Society," had his success been permanent, and thus enabled him to found one. Besides, if his theory had anything to do with the correctness of his prediction, why was he always unsuccessful afterwards? There are two questions of some interest arising out of these inexplicable facts. The first is, was Murphy the real author of his almanac, or merely a mask, behind which was concealed some well-known scientific name? Many would have it that Sir John Lubbock was the man. All I can say is, that I never knew anyone in the matter except a big, good-humoured-looking Irishman, calling himself P. Murphy, and not The above may be relied on as a faithful caring to conceal that he was poor and un-account of what came under my own obserknown before his astonishing achievement vation in this most puzzling matter. Where brought him money and fame. I believe I have used such phrases as "I believe," or he did not many years survive his good "I think," I have every reason to suppose fortune. the facts to be as indicated, but have not the certainty of personal knowledge. The whole story is so singular and unique, that I thought it would bear recalling to the memories even of those who were acquainted with it before. The next question is, how was such a surprising forecast arrived at? Was it a "slice of luck ?" It seems incredible that mere chance should verify such predictions, printed many weeks before they were tested. The probabilities must be millions to one S. S. T. DEAR THE ODD BOY AT EPSOM. EAR MR. EDITOR,-I have been to Epsom. Say you everybody has been there? to which I cry Amen, like a clerk in church. But I have been to Epsom yesterday, and driven over all the famous sites on that celebrated spot. I have been in Covent Garden Theatre, when there was only a little ray of daylight localized with the marine cherub that sits up aloft. I have seen a pit so dull and vast that it might be bottomless. I have seen a chandelier in a brown holland pinafore, and rows of empty boxes with seats that seemed as if Banquo's ghost was sitting in each one of them. I have stood at the very edge of the abysmal orchestra, where the musicians were conspicuous by absence. I have paced the stage, to pace which Buskin and Sock have sighed in vain--(they wanted an audience: I did not). I have been in the green-room of old Drury, and seen octagon reflections of my own ugly self, with nobody there but me. They say Sir Walter Scott, going through Pompeii, kept muttering, "The city of the dead! the city of the dead!" I have thought of that in a deserted play-house many a time. All life gone where life should be the very corpse of pleasure! I have been in a school-room during a holiday recess; and the vacant places, the empty forms, the unused slates, the deserted desks, the everything that should be in active requisition, left all alone has been something sad. Oh, for a row of unruly boys! Oh, for a choice spirit, who would stick a pin into his neighbour's calf! Oh, for a domine that would use his cane, and let not his soul spare for all the cryings of his impatient patients! Oh, for a rush into the bright light and the living air, for a driving in of wickets! Oh, for anything but the dread presence of departed boys in the sepulchre of schools! I have waited out a feast, and been in at the death when the candles burnt low and the fire turned to dust and ashes; when the guests that had come in their bravery had gone away by pairs in their spoiled frippery. I have stopped viciously to watch the faces of my fagged host and hostess, and seen their jaded eyes look at me with the full expression of, "If Master Odd Boy does not soon retire, we'll turn him out neck and crop!-no, no; ring for his brougham, that is more polite!" To everything there is a season; but I dearly love to see things out of their season. I know what it is to be "got ready." You know your sister Jemima would not for the world be seen adjusting her chignon, with its brood of gregarines. Well, I like to see people "doing their back-hair up." When I was a very young boy I got friendly with a lot of policemen, and it was jolly to see them off duty, to play with their bulls'-eyes— eyes which had peered into mystery and discovered murder; to carry their truncheons— truncheons which had brought quiet to many an unquiet brain, keeping the peace by knocking it into pieces; it was grand to fit on accoutrements a world too wide, and arrest even the cat on a charge of felony. Say you very likely yawning as you say it what has this to do with Epsom? Much, very much. I like to see and play with things off duty-and when I went to Epsom it was off duty-there was nobody there! There was the going down. No crowdno bustle-no confusion; only the mild confusion of a driver, who seemed to think it very odd indeed to go to the Downs when there was nothing to be seen but emptiness and snow. But it was very jolly—and oh, so cold! We drove through all sorts of lanes, where tender foliage on the hedges was nipped in the bud by frost; we passed big houses, silent as the halls of Balclutha; we saw "publics," with their blinds half shut, as if they were asleep, and drowsy dormouselike hostlers, yawning as they opened their eyes to look at us. This was going down the road, this was, with a vengeance-nay, but with the best of good will. Here we are at Sutton, and pass the gate unques tioned; but a toll-collector wakes up at the sound of our retiring wheels, and shouts after us for his toll. Well, he has a run for it that will do him good. Finally we get to Epsom town, and have some dinner. A nice snug room, with a score of volumes of the "Racing Calendar." Everything bright and clean, but as quiet as a hermitage; a landlady who is herself most attentive to our wants, and makes up the fire, and draws a good old Indian screen round us, and gives us something good to eat, and something particularly good to drink, in the form of "Cliquot!" One bottle-only one -very moderate: the notion of one cork breaking the dread silence as it leaps to the ceiling! Now to the Downs!--just about a mile. "On to the Downs, sir? says the driver, with a look perplexed. "On to the Downs --and quick!" So we rattle sharp over the ground again-ground wont to be so crowded; we meet nobody but one man, and he stares | at us as if ours were a phantom trap, the owners having lost largely had been unable -even in ghostly shape to leave the scene of their losses. I wonder whether ghosts do hunt the Derby course! If they are found elsewhere, why not there? course? Not I. If you want to see it, go and see it when the time comes, or go and see Flying Scud" now. To me it is all barren; green covered with patches of dazzling snow, big skeleton piles of seats, a grand deserted stand, long perspectives of white posts. I remember a man telling me it was a great delight to him to sit in the Roman Colosseum and see, in imagination, one of the Nero or Caligula festivals—a fight of wild beasts. I can understand these feelings very well, though I do not think I should like it. But on the Epsom Downs it was jolly! Go at the right time and you can't do as you will; you are shoved about, half waited on--or not waited on at allpenned out there, penned in here--seeing at last a rush of horses-two or three to the fore, and a miserable wretch a long way behind them. 66 They are off!" a flash of colour; a dread suspense, that seemed sometimes to last a second-sometimes a thousand years. "They are in!" and then it's over. Now here was I having it all my own way. Here are my horses, sound in wind and limb, with impeccable jockeys. Weigh them in your scales of justice. Here is Truth, here is Goodness, here is Beauty, here are more, and more, and more. I shall stake heavily on all. Excellent horses your other horses may be in their way, but they are not in my way. I choose my own A fine, healthy, breezy place, with the snow on the ground, and snow on the rows and rows and rows of empty seats, and on all the exposed edges of the Grand Stand-way. My three horses must win-all win. all vacancy, all emptiness-nobody there but a man who halted as he went, and a north-east wind blowing. Shut your eyes. How many horses are entered for the Derby? Turn round three times-catch what you may! (Probably bronchitis or inflammation in the lungs.) Now see, in your mind's eye, the great ground, course, and concourse. Am I going to describe the Derby race As they fly along together they lose their individual identity, they change like a pantomime trick. Truth, Beauty, Goodness become one, and beat everything. Cold raw wind blowing-everything very bleak. Why did I come here? Why should I stand here in the cold? Why not come at the right time-why? Why, because I'm THE ODD BOY. I CHAPTER VII. HAD already made up my mind to spend the night here, so I got about my supper at an early hour, and soon carried a good stock of wood to my camp, with which to keep up my fire during the night. I slept soundly, and thoroughly refreshed, was ready to pursue my way at dawn. My road led into the river again, on whose rippled surface the night mist rolled along with the current. But on further reflection I saw how many obstacles now stood in my way. The current was very powerful, and the waves broke against my horse's strong chest; the bottom, covered with loose boulders, rendered his footsteps unsteady, and constantly put it in danger of falling. At length I reached the bed of rocks which blocked the entire breadth of the river, over which Czar had clambered with such agility: it now seemed to me purely impossible that a horse could achieve such a feat, although the marks of his shoes proved to me the contrary. I would not venture, however, to make my horse leap it again, but took my axe out of its sheath, entered the water, which was shallow here, and cut away the creepers and bushes hanging over the bank, and thus formed a much better path beneath them over a very few large but flat stones. I led Czar across, and then slowly walked on, constantly thrusting on one side the vines, hanging with a length of fifty feet over the water, in order to force myself through them. After great exertions I at length reached the buffalo path by which I had crossed the river on the previous day but one, and followed it again to the skirt of the wood, but this time with greater caution. I left Czar behind in the thick bushes, and crept out alone to the edge of the prairie, and examined the latter carefully with my glass. The grassy expanse before me, far as I could see, was covered with countless buffaloes and numerous deer, which were grazing quietly and carelessly, and I recognized at a great distance a large troop of wild horses, which must consist of several hundreds. These were the surest signs that no Indian had shown himself on this day upon the plain, so I returned to my horse, and pursued my journey northward through this prairie. In about an hour I drew near the horses, which were giving vent to their playfulness by rearing, kicking, and galloping about. I rode along a hollow under the hill, in order to get as near them as I could, in which I perfectly succeeded, as the wind was favourable. I rode to within a short distance of them under the hill on which they were standing, when Czar scented them, suddenly raised his head, and expressed his delight at the friendly meeting by a loud snort. In an instant the troop dashed up to greet the stranger. It was led by a coal-black, very powerful stallion, whose mane, some five feet in length, flew wildly round his broad neck. The thunder of their hoofs rolled along like a tempest towards me, till we faced each other at a distance of about twenty paces. The black stallion fell as if struck by lightning, and the nearest horses fell upon him in the wildest confusion, while Czar gave them to understand, by a friendly whinny, that there was really no reason for such fear. It was a wondrously beautiful sight, when these noble, powerful animals rose again and flew over the grassy sea, like smoke before the blast, the black horse with wildly flying mane, flashing eyes, and scarlet nostrils at their head. I looked after them for a long time, and regretted that I could not risk leading a captured horse home, as I could have easily thrown my lasso over the stallion. Czar was beside himself that he was not allowed to join in the race, and tried for a long time to check the speed of the fugitives by his snorts; he danced, threw his croupe from one side to the other, and furiously tore at the bit, but it was all of no use, and serfdom still lay on his broad neck, even though with rosy bonds. was a very heavy fat bear, and I was really sorry that I could turn it to so little account. Not very far from this spot I found the stream, and resolved to pass the night on its bank, as the forest on the other side seemed very extensive, and it was doubtful whether I should find there good provender for my horse. I watered Czar, filled my bottle, and rode back to the bear, from which I cut a paw, the tongue, and some ribs. I then camped in the forest at a spot where the most splendid wild oats awaited my horse. The paw was put to cook in the ashes for the next morning, but the ribs were to make their appearance on the supper-table. A roasted bear's rib is indubitably one of the greatest dainties which the desert can offer the hunter, and I enjoyed it the more because I had been riding all day and had eaten nothing since my very early breakfast. A The sun was rather low on the horizon when I found myself about five miles from what seemed to be a very large forest, behind which rose the mountains which I had noticed a few days previously in the azure distance when I took my first glance at this valley. I leapt from my horse, hobbled it, and crawled through the grass after two very old stags, one of which was quietly grazing behind a fallen mosquito tree, while the other, as if it had noticed something, thrust its thick neck over the stump in my direction. I had left my hat with Czar in order to attract less attention, and the sun shone hotly on my head; but what will not a hunter readily endure if it enables him to draw nearer the game? At length there was about one hundred yards between us, and I had reached a small patch of flower-man soon grows used to this mode of life, ing jalap-trees which covered me. I raised myself on one arm, and fired, aiming at the head. I saw that the deer was hit close to the heart: it ran about fifty paces with its comrade, and then fell dead. which is necessary in the case of violent exertion in the hot sun, as it is very easy to bring on a fever by riding with a full stomach. The night was dark, and rendered the After reloading, I rode up to the deer and light which my fire cast upon the dark laid in some days' supply of meat, hung it green roof above my head all the more on the saddle, and continued my journey to attractive; while the giant brightly illuthe forest, which I entered about sunset by mined trunks looked like pillars supporting a very broad open buffalo path. I was sure it. I lay on my tiger skin, and amused myself that the forest was traversed by a stream, with counting the blood-red funnel-shaped and resolved to seek the latter, ere I selected flowers of the bignonia, which swung in long my night quarters. I followed the path drooping festoons from one tree to the with my rifle on the saddle-bow, when sud- other, and, lit up by my fire, resembled so denly my horse gave a start, and a very old many red glass lamps. Around me a numbear entered the path hardly twenty yards ber of whip-poor-wills strove to outvie each ahead of me, stopped, and with its head other in uninterruptedly uttering their turned from me, began nibbling at the roots name, and frequently circled round my of a few small bushes. It took scarce a fire. At the same time fire-flies and huge moment to raise my rifle and pull the glow-worms glistened. and flashed in all the trigger, and in the next I pulled Czar round, and rode for the prairie. On looking round, however, I perceived that the bear had only sprung a few yards after me, and was now half sitting, half lying on the path, and showing its savage teeth. When I slowly approached it, I noticed that its fury was heightened with every step I took, and only its inability to rise prevented it from attacking me. I, therefore, rode close up and sent a second bullet through its head. It bushes, and the rustling of the adjoining stream supplied the music for this Italian night. My eyes gradually closed, the pictures of dreams became more and more blended with those of reality, until a calm sleep fell on me to strengthen and refresh me. Day was breaking when I opened my eyes, and the scene which had so sweetly lulled me to sleep had faded away: the fire was out, and instead of the glow-worms a |