H. B. Marriott Watson,
Diogenes of London (collection…
(1893)
“ Loosened by my leap, the plague-stricken, dusty body slipped from the stirrup and rolled full into the moonlight upon the gravel. I dashed my hands at the reins, spurred at the reeking beast, and faced the night bareheaded, clattering for the cliffs. The horse, overworn with the hard riding of her dead master and smitten, maybe, with something of the panic of that fearful countryside, shivered and trembled on her way. ”
