Had You Lived In Breakneckshire Twenty Years Ago, Or Even Any Where In
The Midlands, It Would Be Superfluous To Tell You Of Carew Of Crompton.
Every Body Thereabout Was Acquainted With Him Either Personally Or By
Hearsay. You Must Almost Certainly Have Known Somebody Who Had Had An
Adventure With That Eccentric Personage--One Who Had Been Ridden Down By
Him, For That Mighty Hunter Never Turned To The Right Hand Nor To The
Left For Any Man, Nor Paid Attention To Any Rule Of Road; Or One Who,
More Fortunate, Had Been "Cleared" By Him On His Famous Black Horse
_Trebizond_, An Animal Only Second To His Master In The Popular Esteem.
There Are As Many Highly Colored Pictures Of His Performance Of This
Flying Feat In Existence As There Are Of "Dick Turpin Clearing The
Turnpikegate." Sometimes It Is A Small Tradesman Cowering Down In His
Cart Among The Calves, While The Gallant Squire Hurtles Over Him With A
"Stoop Your Head, Butcher." Sometimes It Is A Wagoner, Reminding One Of
Commodore Trunnion's Involuntary Deed Of "Derring-Do," Who, Between Two
High Banks, Perceives With Marked Astonishment This Portent Flying Over
Himself And Convoy. But, At All Events, The Thing Was Done; Perhaps On
More Than One Occasion, And Was Allowed On All Hands Not Only As A Fact,
But As Characteristic Of Their Sporting Idol. It Was "Carew All Over,"
Or "Just Like Carew."
