The late master of Clare Hall, Cambridge, Dr. Torkington, was one
evening stopped by a footpad or pads, in the neighbourhood of
Cambridge, when riding at an humble pace on his old Rosinante, which
had borne him through many a long year. Both horse and master were
startled by the awful tones in which the words, "Stand, and deliver!"
were uttered, to say nothing of the flourish of a shillelah, or
something worse, and an unsuccessful attempt to _grab_ the rein. The
horse, declining acquiescence, set off at a good round pace, and thus
saved his master; an act for which the old doctor was so grateful,
that he never suffered it to be rode again, but had it placed in a
paddock, facing his lodge, on the banks of the Cam, where, with a
plentiful supply of food, and his own daily attentions, it lingered
out the remnant of life, and "liv'd at home at ease."
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