Tagrag's spear hit the right place; for it carried off the Baron's helmet, plume, rose-wreath and all; but his Excellency hit truer still— his lance took Tagrag on the neck, and sent him to the ground like a stone.
"He's won! he's won!" says Jemmy, waving her handkerchief; Jemimarann fainted, Lady Blanche screamed, and I felt so sick that I thought I should drop. All the company were in an uproar; only the Baron looked calm, and bowed very gracefully, and kissed his hand to Jemmy; when, all of a sudden, a Jewish-looking man, springing over the barrier, and followed by three more, rushed towards the Baron. "Keep the gate, Bob!" he holloas out. "Baron, I arrest you, at the suit of Samuel Levison, for——"
But he never said for what; shouting out, "Aha!" and "_Sapprrrristie!_" and I don't know what, his Excellency drew his sword, dug his spurs into his horse, and was over the poor bailiff and off before another word: he had threatened to run through one of the bailiff's followers, Mr. Stubbs, only that gentleman made way for him; and when we took up the bailiff, and brought him round by the aid of a little brandy-and-water, he told us all. "I had writ againsht him, Mishter Coxsh, but I didn't vant to shpoil shport; and, beshidesh, I didn't know him until dey knocked off his shteel cap!"
I'll have an excursion, a bit of desertion, September diversion, and where shall I go? If pleasure you mean, sir, at Windsor's the Queen, sir, I'd have you go in, sir, and see all the show.—At once, gay of heart, then for Windsor I start, and at Paddington see me _in train_ to depart; and as steam's all the go, as you very well know, if we go _slow_ to Windsor, we'll go _quick_ to _Slough_.—The engine's a great 'un (at desperate rate on, 'twill speed us nor heed us, while we laugh and scoff), all happy go merry, like gunpowder, werry, as soon _as it's fired_ the train _will go off_!—How rapid our pace is! I swear all the places, like horses at races, do seem to fly by! Oh! how precious quick now, and see if you're sick now, there's _Ealing_ to cure you, so physic's my eye! See old Mr. Zitters, who dotes upon bitters, and, in the West Indies, put _wormwood_ in shrubs: behold him alight now, to get appetite now (still bitters for ever!) at famed _Wormwood Scrubs_.— Here's Hanwell, where Smilem now weeps in th' Asylum; through _moonshine_ and _credit_ his trade cut its stick; woe followed his laughter, his wits they went after; a lunatic victim to _Luna_ and _tick_!—Well now we're at Slough, and no farther need go, our _raillery's_ over, the train has cried "_wo!_"—But the "bus," out and in, stows away thick and thin; dirt and clean, fat and lean, there for Windsor they pack; the sorry nags speed, very sorry indeed, with a whip at the flank and a load at the back.—Now all in a bustle, we rush to the Castle, and here comes the Queen ever smiling and gay, Hurrah! and God save her! she could not look braver; but those jockies in livery, pray _who are they?_—Oh! keep back your sneers, and hold in your jeers, they're her Majesty's ministers, princes, and peers. With their dingy blue jackets, and collars of red, their old Windsor uniforms, looking so dead; they might well pass for "_Uniform Postmen_" instead!—Now farewell and adieu to the Queen's retinue: for onward we strode, in the Royal abode, where fine ancient paintings, paraded to view, are shown by an ignorant thick-headed dunce, whose brogue murders Masters and English at once.—"Look, here is, an' plase ye, _Paul-very-unaisy_, and bad luck if there an't a rale _Remembrant_:" so if _Dan_ did but follow the old fellow's tail, he'd be quite pleased to hear him call Raphael "_Rapale!_"—But it's going to rain, and although, to a man, we would have the Queen's reign be as long as it can; yet as soaking's "no go," we must rush back to Slough, where panting and gasping for breath we are dinn'd, sir—with "What is the matter? you're quite out of _Wind-sir_."