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Wirt 
 
 JOHNA.SEAVERNS 
 
THE TAME EOX 
 
 AND OTHER SKETCHES. 
 
i..-^ 
 
 J4uR3T Af^D ^Px^ACKETT, |.IMITED, 
 
 London. 
 
 All Rights Reserved. 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 TO ROMER WILLIAMS, ESQ. 
 
 Dear Romer Williams, 
 
 It never occurred to me until 
 the other day how much in common, Law and 
 Sport have with one another, and that therefore, in 
 dedicating this book to you, who have so much 
 to do with both, I was unwittingly paying you a 
 double-barrelled compliment. 
 
 Take Stag-hunting, for example. Where would 
 the ' about to be ' hunted stag be, I would ask, 
 without his modicum of LAW before the hounds are 
 laid on? 
 
 The Fox, too, when run to ground. Is not that 
 hardened sinner dependent on the pleasure of the 
 M.F.H. for his chance of a Respite '? 
 
vi DEDICATION. 
 
 Don't Divorces occur by the dozen every day in 
 the hunting-field, with heavy DAMAGES, or the 
 reverse, as the case may be ? 
 
 Shooting, again. What true Lawyer, standing in 
 a ride ' at attention ' as the magic cry of ' Mark 
 Woodcock !' is borne towards him on the breeze, 
 does not mutter a pious ' Ne Exeat Regno,' ere he 
 raises his gun at the ' bird with the stick in its 
 mouth,' as it makes a dash for freedom over his 
 head? 
 
 Despite this fraternity betwixt the two caUings, 
 1 may tell you at once that only one of the pair 
 makes its appearance in these pages — viz., Sport ; 
 but, as I have heard you say you prefer Pigskin to 
 Sheepskin any day of the week, and seeing that 
 there is a strong soupcon of the former to be 
 detected all through the book, you won't like it any 
 the worse for that. 
 
 At least, such is the hope of 
 
 Yours very sincerely, 
 
 THE AUTHOR 
 
COISTTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Tame Fox 1 
 
 The Huntsman's Dodge 13 
 
 Lavender Jim 24 
 
 The Babes in the Wood 40 
 
 Mrs. Harrison's Coup D'etat 70 
 
 Shooting the Coverts 85 
 
 A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing 103 
 
 Tit foe Tat 124 
 
 Sold Again ! 144 
 
 Angels on Horseback 167 
 
 A Derby Meeting 184 
 
 TuBBT, OR not Tubby 196 
 
 My Doctor's Prescription 208 
 
 The Pretty Horsebreaker 222 
 
 Shadowed 244 
 
 An Emperor : the Story of his Downfall . . . 253 
 
 A Fancy Bet 269 
 
 The L.\dy at the Dragon 286 
 
 A Terrier's Tale 300 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Persimmon Wins .... Frontispiece— jmge M 
 Do I LOOK LIKE A Rabbit, Sir? . . 2" o face ,, 100 
 
 Hooray for the Baron . . . . ,, ,,120 
 
 Angels on Horseback .... ,? ,» 173 
 
 Tubby makes the Running ... :, ,-, ^05 
 
 The Lady at the Dragon ... ,, „ 292 
 
THE TAME FOX, 
 
 I YIELD to no one breathing in my regard for 
 the fox. Indeed, I should consider myself a 
 most ungrateful person were it otherwise — and 
 I detest ingratitude — seeing that the noble 
 animal in question contributes largely to my 
 amusement in the course of the year, and 
 generally speaking at considerable personal 
 discomfort to himself. 
 
 When I add that, after months and months 
 of anxiety and doubt, I find my wildest hopes 
 realized and myself the happiest man in Eng- 
 land for the time being, inasmuch as the 
 loveliest of her sex has consented to be mine 
 (a gold-mine, ha, ha !) at no distant date, and 
 that for this desirable consummation I am 
 
 B 
 
2 THE TAME FOX. 
 
 mainly indebted to a fox, it is not to be won- 
 dered at that my reo;ard for the whole of the 
 Reynard family, always very great, is stronger 
 now than ever it was. 
 
 Curiously enough, the only fox I ever took 
 a dislike to was the very identical animal 
 who has since proved such a good friend to 
 me. 
 
 Well, it loas aggravating, when you come to 
 think of it, on going a-courting as I usually 
 did about six days a week when hunting was 
 over, exclusive of Sundays, to Popham Priory, 
 where dwelt, in company with her widowed 
 mother, the Queen of my Heart, to find myself 
 playing second fiddle to a fox all the time. 
 Presented to her when a very young cub, by 
 the M. F. H. himself, my lady-love made 
 such a pet of ' Slyboots,' as she called her 
 latest acquisition, as quite put the noses out 
 of joint, as the saying is, of all her other 
 favourites, who, much to their disgust, now 
 received the cold shoulder in favour of a 
 rival whom they looked upon as a natural 
 enemy. 
 The same with myself. Instead of the con- 
 
THE TAME FOX 3 
 
 versation, when we were alone, running to Love, 
 as I hoped and expected it would, it invariably 
 ' ran to Fox,' and it would be, 
 
 ' Oh, I wonder how dear old Slyboots is ? 
 Let's go and talk to Slyboots !' 
 
 ' Hang Slyboots !' I would mutter for the 
 thousandth time. I wanted her to talk to me^ 
 not Slyboots ! Once he nearly bit my finger 
 off. 
 
 Did I get any pity ? Oh, dear, no ! On the 
 contrary, I was promptly made the subject for 
 a silly joke. 
 
 'Did I feel like having Foxyphobia?' Li 
 the event of my doing so, she wondered if I 
 should fancy I was a fox, and go and take hen 
 pheasants off their nests, and steal ducks and 
 chickens and things, and run away from the 
 hounds like other foxes ; and, wound up my 
 mistress — and this was the cruellest cut of all 
 — as she fondled — not me, but that brute 
 Slyboots, 
 
 ' I forgot, though, he's too fat to go far, isn't 
 he. Slyboots ? He'll be chopped in covert f 
 And then she laughed ready to kill herself at 
 the notion. 
 
 B 2 
 
4 THE TAI^IE FOX. 
 
 Well, this sort of thing went on, and on, and 
 on, until I really thought I should go mad, 
 and, if the huntino; season had not come round 
 when it did, I believe I should have. An un- 
 hol}^ notion once came into my head of shoot- 
 ing the detested Slyboots and settling myself 
 in the same way afterwards. But music hath 
 charms to soothe the savage breast, and, being 
 peculiarly susceptible in that direction, a de- 
 lightful little morceau of Greig's, exquisitely 
 played by my charmer, all unconscious of the 
 danger her pet was in, very soon knocked 
 ' Felo de se ' on the head. 
 
 Hunting had now set in in earnest, and I 
 was hard at it five and six days a week, mak- 
 ing Popham Priory a one day a week coun- 
 try. Driving up to the house one Sunday as 
 usual, and going through the stereotyped form 
 of enquiring whether the ladies were at home, I 
 was considerably astonished when the butler 
 informed me with a very wry face that, though 
 at home, neither mother nor dau2:hter were 
 visible ; the former having a bad attack of neu- 
 ralgia, and the latter— well, the butler could 
 not really say what was the matter with Miss 
 
THE TAME FOX. 5 
 
 Violet, but he thought it was nerves. She had 
 been confined to her room, he said, ever since 
 Wednesday last, when she discovered her 
 
 loss 
 
 ' Her loss !' I exclaimed. ' What loss ?' 
 'Oh, you don't know then, sir?' asked the 
 worthy Binns, ' I ought to have explained, but 
 I thought you was aware. The fox — Miss 
 Violet's tame fox. Slyboots, sir, got loose some- 
 how or other last Wednesday, and when Miss 
 Violet went out directly after breakfast as usual 
 to feed him, he was gone, and the poor young 
 lady was well-nigh distracted in consequence. 
 Fainting-fit on the spot, with hysteria to follow 
 at intervals throughout the day. Doctor Dill had 
 ordered complete rest, with change of air when 
 able to be moved, and that was all he could tell 
 me.' 
 
 ' And quite enough too,' thought I ' for one 
 day.' 
 
 An interview with my charmer was evi- 
 dently out of the question, so I contented my- 
 self with repairing to the drawing-room, and, 
 having fortified myself with a glass of the 
 widow's famous brown sherry, wrote what I 
 
€ THE TAME FOX. 
 
 considered a really beautiful letter of con- 
 dolence to the unhappy mistress of the errant 
 Slyboots, in which I hinted that possibly she 
 might feel consolation in the possession of 
 another pet — myself, for instance. An answer 
 came back — a miserable little scrawl. 
 
 ' I am inconsolable,' she wrote, ' and no two- 
 legged pet can ever replace my darling Slyboots 
 in my affections.' 
 
 ' Damn Slyboots,' said I to myself, as I 
 once more mounted my dog-cart and drove 
 moodily off. 
 
 n. 
 
 It is a dangerous thing to be late for a meet of 
 the hounds. 
 
 I once lost one of the very best gallops of the 
 season through taking things too easy. It was 
 the old story : no sooner had the hounds been 
 thrown in at one end of the very first covert 
 they had to draw, than out went the fox at the 
 other, and away they went at score. 
 
 So did I when I turned up some ten minutes 
 afterwards, but, though I rode the line, I never 
 
THE TAME FOX. 7 
 
 caught them until I met them trotting along the 
 road to draw for a second fox, having rolled 
 their first over in the open after a brilliant 
 forty minutes without a check. 
 
 This should have been a lesson to me, and 
 was, and I have never been late at any meet I 
 have ever attended since, until the day follow- 
 ing my visit to Popham Priory, when the 
 departure of Slyboots on French leave was 
 broken to me. 
 
 I was upset — not so much at the ungrateful 
 behaviour of Slyboots, as at the consequences 
 it might have on myself. For women are 
 ' kittle cattle,' as some Celtic philosopher very 
 truly observed once upon a time, and when 
 their apple-cart gets upset, there is no saying 
 what they will not be up to. I could read m}^ 
 Violet by this time, I flattered myself, like a 
 book, and a girl of her temperament would 
 think no more, if anything occurred to thwart 
 her, of retiring to a convent for the rest of her 
 days, having previously made a will leaving an 
 income to found a home for — destitute foxes, 
 let us say — than just nothing at all. 
 
 True, Vi was a bit of a Sybarite, she had a 
 
8 THE TAIME FOX. 
 
 decided weakness for ice-pudding, and was not 
 amiss to a glass of champagne, and did not ob- 
 ject at all to a cigarette, and I fancy they bar 
 those luxuries in convents as a rule. 
 
 Yes, I repeat, I was upset, and the con- 
 sequence was, I did as nine men out of ten do 
 when they are in a plight, namely, called in 
 stimulants to my aid. Champagne is an 
 excellent thing in its way, so is a brandy and 
 soda, so is a cigar, but an immoderate indul- 
 gence in all three is apt to tell on the nerves in 
 the morning, and not at all the sort of treat- 
 ment a hunting-man should mete out to him- 
 self, if he means riding the next day. 
 
 Therefore it was that on being called in the 
 morning, instead of getting up at nine as I 
 ought, seeing that I had ten miles or more to 
 ride to covert, I turned round and indulged in 
 another nap, the intended ten minutes running 
 into three quarters of an hour. Therefore it 
 was that after a hasty breakfast — what a 
 miserable affair that is ! — and a still more 
 hasty ride, I arrived at the covert-side to find 
 my groom with my impatient hunter waiting 
 for me, a few of the inevitable loafers standing 
 
THE TAME FOX. 9 
 
 on the top of a bank gazing into space, and 
 'the hounds gone away this ten minutes or 
 more.' 
 
 One thing was very certain: it was not the 
 slightest use attempting to catch them up by 
 riding the line, they had got too far ahead for 
 that. No, my only plan was to ride to a point 
 in the direction the fox was most likely to 
 make for, on the chance of meeting with them ; 
 and Avith that view, having mounted my dis- 
 gusted hunter, I set off at a canter for Black- 
 grove, a big, straggling wood, whither I 
 fancied the hunted fox was most likely making 
 for. On I went, increasing my pace to a 
 gallop when I was lucky enough to get a good 
 stretch of grass at the side of the road. 
 
 I was nearing Blackgrove, and had just 
 pulled up to listen if I could hear anything of 
 them, when a baker drove up in his cart. 
 
 ' Had he seen anything of the hounds ?' 
 
 ' Had he not ! Why, he had only just left 
 them half-a-mile off, having run the fox into 
 a drain. And he had seen the fox — passed 
 right under his pony's nose it had, and made 
 him turn round and almost upset the cart. 
 
10 THE TA^IE FOX. 
 
 and,' added the excited baker, 'poor old 
 Charlie seemed quite bewildered like, and 1 
 fancy, you know, sir, he must ha' 'scaped from 
 some menaggery or summat, for blowed if he 
 hadn't got a collar on like a dog ! Maybe ' 
 
 But I waited to hear no more, and, sending 
 my horse along post-haste, arrived at the scene 
 of action just as the second whip galloped up 
 with a pickaxe borrowed from a neighbouring 
 farm over his shoulder. 
 
 ' Don't dig ! take the hounds away, for God's 
 sake !' I gasped out, almost breathless with 
 haste and excitement, as I pulled up by the 
 side of the astonished master. And then I 
 explained the situation to him. 
 
 ' Of course I'll call the hounds off, my boy^ 
 and at once, too,' said he ; adding, like the 
 good fellow he was, 'And I'll leave Bob, the 
 second whip, to help you get Miss Goldthred's 
 fox out; for get him out you must, if you stop 
 here all night. I know all about it, you see,' 
 he whispered, with a knowing wink. 
 
 True to his word, away he went with his 
 hounds and their followers, and I was left in 
 iDy glory with the whipper-in and a game- 
 
THE TAME FOX. 11 
 
 keeper, who turned up 'promiscuous like' 
 just at the right moment. 
 
 There is little more to tell. Suffice it to say 
 that with the aid of a sack sent from the farm, 
 and a very small terrier, we made a capture 
 of poor Slyboots with very little trouble. 
 
 The next step was to restore him to the arms 
 of his disconsolate mistress at Popham Priory, 
 and this I determined should be carried out 
 under my own personal supervision. Accord- 
 ingly, the accommodating tenant of the farm 
 was once more called upon for help in the 
 shape of a loan, which took the form this time 
 of a dog-cart. Into this we popped Slyboots, 
 and, the keeper taking the reins, off we drove 
 Avith a mounted escort, consisting of Bob, the 
 whipper-in, and myself, trotting along by the 
 side of him. 
 
 ' For all the world like royalty,' as the man 
 of velveteen remarked, with a grin. 
 
 Need I dwell upon the reception we received 
 at Popham Priory ? A glow of conscious pride 
 thrills my very soul when I think of it. 
 
 How Slyboots was caressed and made much 
 of, to that extent that if he did not feel 
 
12 THE TAME FOX. 
 
 ashamed of himself for his escapade, he 
 certainly ought to have. 
 
 How the keeper and Bob, after a visit to the 
 servants'-hall from which they emerged with 
 very red faces, were sent oiF rejoicing, each 
 with a five-pound note in his pocket. 
 
 How finally, when I ventured to enquire 
 mildly what form the reward for my services 
 was to take, Somebody by way of reply threw 
 her arms round my neck and whispered, ' ME.' 
 
13 
 
 THE HUNTSMAN'S DODGE. 
 
 There is no better company in this world, as 1 
 fancy most sporstmen will allow, than a hunts- 
 man, and my old friend Dick Sterling, who, 
 having passed half a century or more of his 
 existence in connection with the ' noLle science ' 
 with various packs of hounds, first as whipper- 
 in, and then as huntsman, and finally settled 
 down as host of the ' Fox and Hounds Hotel ' 
 at Droxford, was no exception to the rule. 
 Therefore it was, that I never visited the little 
 town — which I did, by the way, regularly once a 
 week, usually on a Saturday — without smoking a 
 cigar with the veteran in his sanctum before I 
 started for home, listening the while with delight- 
 ed ears to the recollections of past runs he had 
 seen, sportsmen he had known in the field, and 
 
14 THE HUNTSMAN'S DODGE. 
 
 so on. With all this sort of thing his memory- 
 was well stored, and he would recite his tales 
 with a zest and raciness quite indescribable. I 
 had only got to mention a name, and off would 
 go old Dick at score, with some recollection 
 well worth listening to, you may depend. 
 
 It was during one of these weekly visits of 
 mine to the ex-huntsman's bar-parlour that I 
 drew from him the following beautiful remin- 
 iscence. 
 
 ' Did I hunt the hounds when Sir Harry 
 Wildoats had 'em?' he exclaimed, in answer to 
 a query of mine. ' No, I didn't ; but I whipped- 
 in to Tom Clinker, as did, and it was whilst I 
 was in Sir Harry's service, and just before he 
 gave the hounds up, that I had one of the best 
 larks I ever remember to have had in my life. 
 Didn't I ever tell you about it? Well, I must, 
 then. Lor' bless me, I can call it to mind just 
 as if it wer' yesterday. What a game it was, 
 to be sure !' 
 
 And dear old Dick chuckled so at the bare 
 recollection that his weather-beaten countenance 
 assumed quite an apoplectic hue in consequence, 
 and a prolonged sip at the glass of whisky-and- 
 
THE HUNTSIHAN'S DODGE. 15 
 
 water at his elbow was necessary ere he could 
 commence his story. 
 
 ' Sir Harry, sir,' said he, ' was one of the 
 openest-hearted, highest-spirited young men as 
 ever I came across. Indeed, I don't think I 
 ever came across his equal. And such a good 
 un to go ! — cross-country, I mean. Dear, dear ! 
 I was sorry when I heard he was dead ; 
 and not thirty neither. They said it was drink 
 killed him, but I don't believe it. A broken 
 heart was much more likely, in my opinion. 
 He was forced to live over in Boulogne at last, 
 and I ask you, sir, how could a high-born 
 gentleman like Sir Harry, who had been used 
 to luxury all his life, live over there in comfort 
 and happiness amongst those nasty foreign 
 chaps, with none too much money to spend, 
 and — worst of all — no hunting ? No, you may 
 depend his heart was broke, sir, and no 
 wonder. 
 
 ' He was quite a young man when he took 
 this country — not five-and-twenty, indeed — and 
 he did it in line style, I can tell you. The 
 best of hounds and horses weren't o;ood enouorh 
 for him, nor for us servants neither, and I 
 
16 THE HUNTSMAN'S DODGE. 
 
 was mounted as I have never been before or 
 since. 
 
 ' Appleby Hall was taken for him — a pretty 
 good-sized place, as you know, sir — and. Lor' 
 bless you, it was never empty whilst he had it. 
 "Well, sir, he kept the game alive for five years, 
 and then people began to shake their heads 
 and say as it wouldn't last much longer. 
 
 ' A long string of race-horses, with very few 
 good uns amongst 'em, and a lot of what I call 
 rubbish living upon you all the year round, 
 don't make any man the richer, and it didn't 
 Sir Harry, sir, you may depend on 't. He 
 had a tremenduous favourite for the Cam- 
 bridgeshire that year, a four-year-old mare 
 named Salamanca, and they said that if she won 
 it would just about straighten Sir Harry, so 
 heavy had he backed her. She only got fourth, 
 though, which wer' no good to anybody, except 
 to the ring, and the^people began to talk more 
 than ever, as you may imagine. Sir Harry, 
 though, wore a smiling face, notwithstanding 
 the facer he had got, and came down to Apple- 
 by Hall with a houseful of guests, just as if 
 nothing had happened. 
 
THE HUNTSMAN'S DODGE. 17 
 
 ' Well, it only wanted a week to the 1st of 
 November, when, just after breakfast, Tom 
 Clinker, who was huntsman then, sent one of 
 the men round to say he wanted me at once, 
 very particular. So round I went to his house, 
 and a pretty long face Tom had on when he 
 opened the door to me, I can tell you, sir. 
 
 ' " What's up now, sir?" said I, seeing some- 
 thing was wrong. 
 
 ' " Why, just this," said Tom : " there's the 
 devil and all to pay up yonder " — ^jerking his 
 thumb, as he spoke, in the direction of the Hall 
 — " and what to do I don't know, I'm sure." 
 And then he told me all about it. 
 
 ' A young nephew of his wife's, it seems, was 
 in a lawyer's office in this very town, and he 
 had found out in the course of business that the 
 sheriffs were coming down the very next day 
 to seize all Sir Harry's horses, and, like a goo 
 boy, he had given his uncle the ' griffin ' at once. 
 
 ' " And what's to be done," said Tom, " I'm 
 sure I don't know. We can't hunt next 
 Thursday, that's very certain, if those beggars 
 walk in and seize all the nags, unless we goes 
 out on ' Shanks's ponies,' and I'm but a poor 
 
 c 
 
18 THE HUNTSMAN'S DODGE. 
 
 hand at that sort of game, and always was. Sir 
 Harry's away, and I ain't got no one to ask the 
 advice of, except my wife and you,' said Tom, 
 almost blubbering as he spoke. 
 
 ' " And what's your good lady say on the sub- 
 ject?" I inquired. 
 
 '" Well, to tell the truth. I haven't pro- 
 perly put the question to her, as yet," replied 
 Tom. 
 
 ' " Then," said I, " the sooner you do so the 
 better, for I'll back Mrs. Clinker for good advice 
 under all circumstances against anybody in this 
 country, or any other you please to name." 
 
 ' " By George ! I believe you're right, lad," 
 exclaimed Tom, with a slap of his thigh. 
 
 ' " I'm sure I am," said I. 
 
 ' And without another word Tom goes out in 
 search of his wife, and back he comes in five 
 minutes with her and some pipes, and some 
 'baccy and some ale, and the three of us sits 
 down in his parlour to consult over the matter, 
 and hear especially what Mrs. Clinker's advice 
 was upon the subject. 
 
 ' Well, sir, first Tom suggested a plan, then I 
 thought of another, but neither seemed to do; 
 
THE HUNTSMAN'S DODGE. 19 
 
 and at last Mrs. Clinker, who hadn't spoke a 
 word as yet, gave tongue. 
 
 ' '' How many horses did you say there are in 
 the stables ?" she asked. 
 
 ' " Just forty, including hacks," replied Tom. 
 
 " ' Including hacks, in course," she said, with 
 a toss of her head, as much as to say, " I was 
 quite aware of that, stupid-head !" 
 
 ' Next she asked, 
 
 ' " How many cart-horses have they got up at 
 Naylor's Farm, think you, Thomas?" She al- 
 ways called her good man Thomas when she 
 was put out or there was any extra excitement 
 on. 
 
 '"How many cart-horses'?" repeated her 
 husband, looking astonished. 
 
 '" I said cart-horses, didn't I?" replied the 
 dame, with a frown. 
 
 ' " Oh, about a dozen or so — may be fifteen," 
 said Tom. 
 
 '" And how many at Telmer's ?" 
 
 ' " About the same — more, if anything, I 
 should say." 
 
 '"And I know my brother John, up at the 
 Hill Farm, has got ten," she said. 
 
 c 2 
 
20 THE HUNTSMAN'S DODGE. 
 
 ' " And what if he has ?" replied her husband, 
 sharply ; " that won't get us out of our difficulty, 
 will it?" 
 
 ' " What if he has !" returned his wife, with 
 asperity. " Why, a good deal. Can't we bor- 
 row them for a while, and send the hunters to 
 their farms for safety? Now perhaps you see, 
 Thomas." 
 
 ' " Well, dash my buttons !" exclaimed her 
 husband, with a hearty slap of his thigh, " if 
 that ain't a] good notion, too, and, what's more, 
 I think I can improve upon it. They'll all 
 lend their horses fast enough, for they'd go 
 through fire and water for Sir Harry ; at the 
 same time, it would be unfair to ask 'em to do 
 so just now." 
 
 '"Anything '11 do to stick in the stables, 
 and we must just go and collect all the old 
 rubbish in the way of horseflesh we can." 
 
 ' '• Bravo, missus ! your head's worth two of 
 mine any day in the week, and I always said 
 so," wound up Tom, giving his wife a hearty 
 kiss. 
 
 ' Well, sir, that settled, out we went to 
 talk matters over with Dapper, the stud-groom. 
 
THE HUNTSMAN'S DODGE. 21 
 
 Dapper was a liot-temperecl chap, and was all 
 for receiving the bailiffs with pitchforks and 
 punches of the head, and that sort of thing. 
 We brought him, however, at last, to our way 
 of thinking, and then off Tom and I started on 
 horseback : he to visit the different farms and 
 arrange for the horses to be taken in, and I to 
 collect all the old screws I could lay my hands 
 upon to put in the stables and loose-boxes, in 
 place of their usual occupants. 
 
 ' And a queer-looking lot they w^ere when 
 I got 'em together, I do assure j^ou, sir. Bless 
 you ! I wouldn't have given eighteenpence 
 apiece for the lot, except for boiling. 
 
 ' Well, sir, sure enough, at eleven o'clock the 
 next morning, down came the sheriff's officers 
 in force, and found Tom, and me, and Mr. 
 Dapper all ready to receive 'em, as polite as 
 possible. I don't know that ever I was more 
 polite in my life ; and so, indeed, wer' all of us, 
 for the matter of that. 
 
 '" Want to inspect the horses, gentlemen?" 
 said Dapper. " Certainly. Walk this way, 
 please." 
 ' And they did walk this way, and you 
 
22 THE HUNTSMAN'S DODGE. 
 
 should have seen their faces, sir, when they 
 saw Sir Harry's hunters. They didn't say a 
 word until they came to an old worn-out black 
 brute I had borrowed from Ellam, the under- 
 taker in West Street here, and at sight of him 
 the head-bailiff could keep his tongue to him- 
 self no longer. 
 
 ' " You call this a hunter, I s'pose ?" said he, 
 turning to Dapper, 
 
 '"A hunter!" replied the stud-groom; "I 
 should rather think I did indeed. That's Sir 
 Harry's favourite horse, that is, and I don't 
 believe he'd take a thousand for him if you 
 offered it to him to-morrow. A hunter ! Why, 
 this is the horse as was third — or was it 
 second, for the Leger, Tom — four years ago ?" 
 turning to Tom Clinker as he spoke. But Tom 
 was pretty nigh beside himself with laughter, 
 and couldn't speak if he wanted to, nor more 
 could I. 
 
 ' Oh ! the bailiffs were wild at being sold, 
 and they showed it, too, as much as they 
 dared. 
 
 ' I don't think I shall ever forget the sight 
 of that old hearse horse as he turned round 
 
THE HUNTSMAN'S DODGE. 23 
 
 and looked at us, as grave as possible, as 
 much as to say, " I ain't the sort of animal 
 you ouc^ht to make game of, I ain't, indeed." 
 
 ' How did it all end ? Oh, Sir Harry squared 
 matters somehow or another the next day, and 
 the hunters were all back in their own stables 
 again in time for the first meet of the season. 
 
 ' The crisis was only staved over for a time, 
 though. Sir Harry gave up the country, to 
 everybody's regret, both high and low, at the 
 end of the season, and the horses and hounds 
 were sent up to Tattersall's. It wasn't a bad 
 idea, sir, that of ours, was it, now?' 
 
24 
 
 LAVENDER JIM. 
 
 My late father, whenever I fired at a rabbit too 
 close to his gaiters, or failed to let the pheas- 
 ants rise to the extent he deemed compatible 
 with the safety of the other guns and himself, 
 was accustomed to wait until, at the end of the 
 beat, he got me all to myself, when, taking me 
 affectionately by the arm, he would first laugh- 
 ingly ask me whether he was really like a cock 
 pheasant that I shot at him so often, and then 
 go on to warn me in his playful manner for the 
 fiftieth time, that, so far from my deriving an}'' 
 profit from his premature decease, the reverse 
 would be the case, as I should inevitably find 
 myself a pauper. 
 
 Unfortunately, I never believed him — which 
 was hardly surprising, seeing that my parent 
 
LAVENDER JIM. 25 
 
 invariably lived as if he had the Bank of Eng- 
 land at his back; and it was not until his 
 death, which took place when I was ' rising ' 
 thirty, as the horse-dealers say, and was the 
 result of an overdose of chloral, accidentally 
 administered by himself, and not of the charge 
 of No. 6 he had always prophesied he should 
 some day receive at my hands, that I discover- 
 ed the fact that at such a pace had the family 
 coach been running down hill, that it was little 
 or no use attempting even to ' steady the 
 leaders.' 
 
 With the tastes of a millionaire, and less 
 than a hundred and fifty a year to gratify them 
 upon, the question was, what ought I to do by 
 way of earning a livelihood ? 
 
 I really do not precisely know what I ought 
 to have done, but I have a very accurate know- 
 ledge of what 1 did^ and that was to go a-fish- 
 ing for a whale with such few sprats as I 
 possessed; in other words, I went for the 
 gloves on Sir John Barleycorn for the Derby 
 — Sir John Barleycorn, who started one of the 
 hottest favourites on record, and who everybody 
 declared could not lose if he tried. 
 
•26 LAVENDER JIM. 
 
 Couldn't he ! 
 
 I will not go into detail, but will content my- 
 self with saying that, try or not, he succeeded 
 so well, that a month after the race saw his 
 owner disporting himself at a cheap continental 
 resort, and myself driving a hansom cab about 
 London for a living. 
 
 Yes, and not a bad one either ; and as for 
 the life, there was a sense of independence 
 about it, (both cab and horse were my own 
 property, having been purchased with the few 
 sprats left to me after my futile shy at the 
 whale,) not to mention the novelty of the thing, 
 that suited me down to the ground. And how 
 I did ' gammon ' my fares ! 
 
 There were very few people of importance 
 of either sex that I did not know — by sight, at 
 all events — and of this advantage I made full 
 use, you may be sure. 
 
 You should have seen the Duchess of Dash- 
 emdown stare when, addressing her as ' your 
 grace,' I handed her that morning's Sjyortsman 
 as she settled herself in my cab. She positively 
 grinned Avith pleasure at the attention, and at 
 the end of the drive, not only took down my 
 
LAVENDER JIM. 27 
 
 address, but gave me a sovereign over and 
 above my fare to put on her mare Sweet 
 Jasmin, for the One Thousand Guineas. The 
 duchess from that day forth Avas one of my 
 staunchest patrons, and constantly sent for me 
 to drive her about. 
 
 Once she made me a present of a cast off 
 from her racing-stud, and a real good one he 
 was, too. I could have got a couple of hun- 
 dred for Tattoo any day of the week. 
 
 Then, did I not make a conquest of the fair 
 Lady Flexible, the recognised champion of all 
 dumb animals, by respectfully asking permis- 
 sion to give the collie dog, her constant com- 
 panion, a biscuit? I always carried a bit of 
 biscuit about in my pockets for the dogs, I told 
 her. The collie always wags his tail when he 
 sees me now, and her ladyship, bless her heart! 
 invariably doubles my fare, and what is better 
 still — for she is a very pretty woman — vouch- 
 safes me her sweetest smile. 
 
 ' How much, cabby ?' inquired Tommy Tit- 
 mouse, the fashionable light-weight jockey, as 
 I deposited him at Euston Square one afternoon, 
 en route for Liverpool. 
 
28 LAVENDER JIM. 
 
 * Couldn't dream of taking anything from you^ 
 Mr. Titmouse,' was my reply. 
 
 ' Come and have a drink, then,' said Tommy. 
 
 I had no objection to that, and the result 
 was, that when I hopped nimbly up into my 
 perch again. I had information regarding the 
 forthcoming Liverpool Cup locked up in my 
 bosom that would have made the fortune of 
 any punter. 
 
 Oh, yes, I had a ' way with me,' there is no 
 mistake about it. No wonder I was known in 
 the profession as Lavender Jim. 
 
 Well, two years soon rolled by, and found 
 me still driving a hansom in the old sweet way, 
 more honeyed than ever in my speech, and 
 twice as smart in my turn-out. 
 
 Behold me then at ten o'clock in the morn- 
 ing of last year's Derby Day that ever was, 
 slowly perambulating Piccadilly in search of 
 a fare bound to Epsom. 
 
 It may seem odd that such a swell as myself 
 should be without one on this particular day, 
 but it is explainable by the fact that the youth- 
 ful sportsman who had engaged my services 
 the day before, had managed to make himself 
 
LAVENDER JBI. 29 
 
 SO extremely 'pleasant' the same night, that he 
 was quite unfit to journey to the famous 
 Downs, much to the disgust of his servant, 
 who wanted to be off on his own account, and 
 was now, of course, prevented. 
 
 I was disappointed as well ; for, knowing as 
 I did how poorly patronised the road is now 
 compared to what it used to be, especially by 
 the west-end division, it appeared highly prob- 
 able that my only fare down to Epsom would 
 be myself. 
 
 In vain did I scan eagerly every likely figure 
 that passed along. In vain did I endeavour to 
 catch the eye of some swell about town whom I 
 recognised as having driven in my cab at one 
 time or another. Either they were going by 
 train, or perhaps not going at all. Anyhow 
 they would have none of me ; and it seemed a 
 pity, for though I say it that should not, a 
 better turn-out than my cab was not to be seen 
 in London that May morning. 
 
 Eleven o'clock, and I was just debating in 
 my mind whether I should not make a start on 
 my own account, or drive home, put up the cab 
 and go down by train, when a crossing-sweeper 
 
30 LAVENDER JIM. 
 
 suddenly sang out to me, ' Hi ! Jim, there's a 
 " lidy " wants yer over the way !' 
 
 Sure enough just across the way stood a lady 
 attired in black, beckoning to me with her 
 umbrella. She looked so like Exeter Hall all 
 over, that under ordinary circumstances I 
 should have pretended not to have seen her, 
 hut she so steadily declined the services of 
 several other cabs Avho came bustling up, that 
 I could not resist the compliment I imagined 
 was being jDaid me, and lOst no time in driving 
 to the spot. 
 
 ' I am very much afraid, miss,' (I always 
 address them as ' miss ' when in doubt,) said I, 
 as I politely doffed my hat, ' that I can't do 
 myself the honour of driving you this morning, 
 I ' 
 
 ' Are you engaged, then ?' snapped the 
 lady, who, by the way, though stern and 
 very determined-looking, with coal-black hair 
 and eyes, was decidedly prepossessing in ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 ' Well, no, miss, not exactly engaged, 
 but ' 
 
 ' Good heavens, man ! don't prevaricate so,' 
 
LAVENDER JIM. 01 
 
 broke in my interrogator with, I thought, un- 
 necessary rudeness. 
 
 ' I want,' she continued, with an impatient 
 stamp of her foot — a remarkably neat one I 
 noticed, and very well shod — ' I want to go to 
 the Derby. I want to know if you are willing 
 to take me there, and I want to know " how 
 much?"' 
 
 I do not know what I replied, but I suppose 
 it was all right, for before I could recover my 
 scattered senses, my friend the crossing-sweeper 
 was helping ' Neat Boots ' into the cab. 
 
 1 was just about to open the trap-door in the 
 roof for final instructions when a vicious dig 
 from my fare's umbrella forestalled me, and hit 
 me in the eye at the same time with consider- 
 able force. 
 
 For the iirst time her face softened. 
 
 ' Oh, I am so sorry,' she exclaimed. ' How 
 stupid of me, to be sure !' 
 
 ' Don't mention it, miss ; I'm not in the least 
 hurt, I assure you,' was my reply, though I 
 could in reality hardly see out of ray eye, it 
 watered so. 
 
 ' I'm glad of that,' she said. Then she went 
 
32 LAVENDER JIM. 
 
 on, ' What I wished to tell you when I so 
 thoughtlessly opened the trap-door was that I 
 want you please to stop on the way at No. — 
 Pall Mall. 1 have to pick u]} a gentleman.'' 
 
 The second startler — not counting the blow 
 in the eve — that I had received in the course 
 of live minutes. 
 
 Oh, this was going to be something like a 
 Derby ! 
 
 And away I went to Pall Mall, all agog to 
 see what ' our friend ' was like. 
 
 I had not to wait long, for he was standing at 
 the door as I drove up. A stout young man 
 with a white flabby face set off by a red nose of 
 the snub pattern, little pig eyes of a roving dis- 
 position set deep in his head, and sandy hair. 
 
 Dress : grey frock-coat and continuations, 
 black straw hat on his bullet head, and instead 
 of the usual race-glasses, a bag of a courier 
 pattern slung over his shoulder. I knew I 
 should not like him before I saw him, and I was 
 right — I did not. 
 
 I liked him less when 1 noticed the effusive 
 and oily greeting he bestowed on ' Neat Boots ;' 
 less still when he hoisted his unwieldy carcase 
 
LAVENDER JIM. 33 
 
 into the cab, and flopped himself down on the 
 seat beside her with such a bang as nearly to 
 break my springs. ' 
 
 ' What is the brute ?' I asked myself, as once 
 more I drove off, for I could not hit him off at 
 all. 
 
 He did not look like a sportsman — certainly 
 not a gentleman. And what on earth had he 
 got in that courier bag of his ? 
 
 It was impossible to guess, so I gave it up as 
 a bad job at last, and dismissing both bag and 
 its owner from my mind, for the nonce at all 
 events, drove steadily on, thinking alternately of 
 nothing at all, like the late Mr. Dibdin's young 
 Waterman, and the historic race to be run in a 
 couple of hours' time, and in which I had some 
 slight pecuniary interest. 
 
 ' Shall I drive to the grand stand or the pad- 
 dock, sir ?' I inquired of Flabbyface through the 
 trap-door, as, having passed through the town 
 of Epsom, we neared the famous Downs. 
 
 ' Neither, thank you,' was the reply ; ' we 
 wish to mingle with the crowd, so put us down 
 anywhere you like.' 
 
 This was somewhat vague, as there was a 
 
 D 
 
34 LAVENDER JBl. 
 
 pretty average mob as far as you could see. 
 So I just suited my own convenience, and 
 pulled up at the rear of the Downs Hotel, and 
 out got my two fares, giving me instructions, 
 as they -walked away, to be at the same spot 
 with my cab just before the last race of the 
 day. 
 
 Having watched the pair out of sight, and 
 thought, as I did so, what a pretty ligure 
 ' Neat Boots ' had, and how well she carried 
 herself, I proceeded to take their place inside 
 the cab, and enjoy the simple luncheon I had 
 brought down with me in the shape of a 
 packet of sandwiches and a pint bottle of cham- 
 pagne, which latter would have been improved 
 by what I had not got, namely, some ice. Next 
 I took my horse out, and, having seen him 
 made comfortable, lit a cigar and walked off to 
 look about me and see what there was to be 
 seen. 
 
 The Derby all over but shouting, and every- 
 body in the best of humours, myself included, 
 for I had backed Persimmon in the w^inter to 
 win me a comfortable little sum, I took a stroll 
 along the course to while away the time, and 
 
LAVENDER JIM. 35 
 
 had not gone far before I became aware that 
 something out of the common was happening. 
 People were yelling, mounted policemen were 
 shouting, and to add to the noise the bell was 
 clanging loudly to clear the course. It was 
 quite a Pandemonium. Thinking it was prob- 
 ably a case of a welsher and his creditors, as 
 the crowd came nearer I stood aside to let 
 them pass. 
 
 Sure enough, a man, with his clothes rent 
 to ribbons, and his face covered with dust and 
 blood, was flying for his life. 
 
 It is not a pleasant sight to witness at the 
 best of times, and as it would have been of no 
 possible use to interfere, under ordinary cir- 
 cumstances, I should have passed on. 
 
 What was my horror, however, when in the 
 passing glimpse I got of the fugitive I recog- 
 nised the features of the detested Flabbyface ! 
 Then, as the mob closed in, the thought flashed 
 across my mind, Where is 'Neat Boots'? 
 
 Rushing forward, I elbowed my way right 
 and left, regardless of the consequences, and 
 by and by found myself carried along by the 
 crowd in the direction of the rails abuttins: the 
 
 D 2 
 
36 LAVENDER JIM. 
 
 stand, where evidently there was something 
 out of the common to attract them. 
 
 As I expected. There was ' Neat Boots ' at 
 bay, with her back to the railings and a ' never- 
 say-die ' expression on her pale face that I 
 shall never forget, defending herself as best 
 she could with her umbrella, now very much 
 the worse for wear, against the indignities she 
 was suffering from a mob of the lowest vaga- 
 bonds of both sexes to be found on the course. 
 In less time than it takes to write this I was 
 by her side and hitting out right and left with 
 great effect at the hideous faces round me, and 
 I continued to hit and be hit in return until 
 the arrival of the police, who dispersed the 
 crowd, at last, with some difficulty. Then with 
 the aid of a cabman friend of mine, who turned 
 up at the right moment, and a sympathising 
 policeman, I succeeded in getting the now 
 fainting ' Neat Boots ' to my cab, where, with 
 the aid of sundry restoratives from the hotel 
 close by, I quickly brought her to her senses. 
 
 Flabbyface, I ascertained, had been taken to 
 the police-station, it was no use therefore wait- 
 ing for him ; so putting the horse ' to ' with all 
 
LAVENDER JIM. 37 
 
 possible dispatch, away I drove for London. 
 
 It was not until I had landed my charge 
 safely at her charming house at Kensington 
 that I ascertained the cause of the disturbance 
 on the race-course. 
 
 Left a large fortune some years before by 
 her father, whose only child she was, ' Neat 
 Boots,' by way of amusing herself, had a 
 finger in the pie of all the philanthropic move- 
 ments of the day. 
 
 Her latest fad was the anti-gambling mania. 
 
 Horrified by the dreadful stories which had 
 reached her ears of ruined homes, wives and 
 children deserted, and tills robbed, she deter- 
 mined, independently of the League — ' Neat 
 Boots ' was nothing unless independent — to 
 strike a blow at the very root of the evil on 
 her own account. With mistaken zeal, she 
 imagined she could not do better than visit 
 Epsom Downs on the Derby Day, and warn 
 the wicked gamblers assembled there of the 
 wrath to come if they persisted in backing 
 favourite or outsider, as the case might be. 
 
 With this object in view, she enlisted Mr. 
 Flabbyface, a distant relation of her own with 
 
38 LAVENDER JIM. 
 
 designs on her heart — some said her purse — 
 into her service, with the result that, as I have 
 related, the pair travelled down to Epsom in 
 my cab. 
 
 The courier bag Flabbyface carried, and which 
 so excited my curiosity, contained the fiery 
 little tracts and pamphlets which were des- 
 tined, poor ' Neat Boots ' hoped, to strike re- 
 morse, not to say penitence, into the hearts of 
 the assembled sportsmen, from the members 
 of the Jockey Club to the grocer's boy, ' with a 
 pocket full of money taken from his master's 
 till.' 
 
 Directly after the Derby, the pair selected 
 what they considered a desirable position oppo- 
 site the stand. ' Neat Boots ' preached, and 
 Flabbyface distributed the ' Brands for the 
 Burning.' 
 
 Unfortunately they what is called ' queered 
 the pitch ' of a professional tipster. Result, A 
 Row — in the course of which Flabbyface bolted, 
 leaving his companion to shift for herself. 
 
 Under the circumstances it was the worst 
 thing he could have done, for the moment he 
 started to run, some one immediately cried 
 
LAVENDER JIM. 39 
 
 * Wei — sher!' at the top of his voice, with the 
 result that Flabbyface had a rougher time of it 
 than any fox who ever faced the open with the 
 hounds at his brush. This was bad enough in 
 all conscience, but worse was to come. 
 
 '• Neat Boots ' formed so poor an opinion of 
 his courage that she declined all further ad- 
 vances on Flabbyface's part. 
 
 ' None but the Brave deserve the Fair,' she 
 declared, and the Brave in this case was dis- 
 tinctly a hansom cabby. 
 
 ' What price. Lavender Jim ?' 
 
40 
 
 THE BABES IX THE WOOD. 
 
 An unrequited attachment is a terrible thing. 
 
 So thought Mr. Burlington Bellamy, the mil- 
 lionaire from Manchester, who had no sooner 
 discarded business and set up as a country 
 gentleman in Upsydownshire than he had 
 fallen head over ears in love with pretty Laura 
 Lightfoot, and got nothing but chaff, and plenty 
 of it, in return for his devotion. 
 
 And so thought Mrs. Kitto, the lively but 
 impecunious widow, who had fallen in love 
 with Mr. Burlington Bellamy — or rather his 
 money — before she had ever set eyes on him, 
 but could make no more impression on her 
 victim than a pin would on the hide of a rhin- 
 oceros, though she ' went ' for him tooth and 
 nail, armed with all the cajoleries and artifices 
 she was mistress of. 
 
THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 41 
 
 ' Oh, you great, fat, stupid, selfish man, you !' 
 the disappointed lady would exclaim to herself. 
 * I don't believe you have got a particle of sen- 
 timent about you ! And ^ had such a terrible 
 letter from my brokers this morning ! Oh, 
 Burlington, Burlington, why are you so blind? 
 Why can't you see what is good for you ?' 
 
 But Burlington was not blind a bit, and, 
 being quite aware of the fair widow's little 
 game, did his best to get out of her way on all 
 possible occasions. He admired her uncommon- 
 ly, and no wonder, seeing that she was a very 
 pretty woman ; and there is no saying that, had. 
 he been heart-whole, he might not have taken 
 ' Kittums,' as the wags of the county irrever- 
 ently called the widow, into partnership. But 
 the fair Laura intervened, as we have explained, 
 and though the latter's fat lover was fully 
 aware that she was generally supposed to have 
 more than a regard for a certain impecunious 
 and reckless young hussar named Frank Hop- 
 wood, he had as yet by no means given up all 
 hope of success, but bided his time patiently, 
 on the oiF- chance of his rival coming to grief 
 pecuniarily, or breaking his neck in a steeple- 
 
42 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 
 
 chase, either of which events he fancied might 
 come off any day of the week. Poor man ! how 
 devoutly he hoped they would. 
 
 Well, for such a time did this game of cross 
 purposes go on, that there really seemed no 
 possibility of a victory for any of the players. 
 The broken-hearted Mr. Burlington Bellamy, 
 driven to desperation at last, threw out dark 
 hints to Laura Lightfoot, at the Timmins's gar- 
 den-party, of his intention of shortly renounc- 
 ing the Avorld, and spending the rest of his days 
 — days that were numbered, most likely — in 
 strict seclusion. 
 
 ' I shall become aTrappist,' he said, gloomily. 
 
 ' A Trappist !' exclaimed the fair Laura. 
 
 ' Yes, a Trappist,' repeated the blighted 
 being who addressed her. ' La Trappe is a 
 monastery in France, to enter which means 
 farewell for ever to the outer world. It is a 
 perpetual fast with the brethren all the year 
 round, and at the first sign of approaching 
 dissolution you are set to dig your own grave. 
 /,' wound up the unhappy Bellamy, with a 
 choke in his voice, ' shall probably begin to 
 dig mine before I have been there a week/ 
 
THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 43 
 
 ' Oh, what fun !' exclaimed the unfeeling 
 Laura, clapping her hands. ' When you talked 
 about a Trappist, I thought you meant some- 
 thing in the rat-catching line. But just fancy 
 having to dig your own grave ! I'd give any- 
 thing to see you ! Here comes Mabel Vane ; I 
 tnust tell her! Mabel dear,' as that young lady 
 approached, ' what do you think ? Mr. Bel- 
 lamy's going to belong to a sort of burial club 
 in France, where the members play at being 
 undertakers.' 
 
 ' What a dreadful idea !' exclaimed her friend, 
 
 ' Dreadful !' laughed the lively Laura, ' I call 
 it highly original, on the contrary, and most 
 clever of Mr. Bellamy to hit upon such a novel 
 idea for killing time. But I want to hear 
 further particulars of this wonderful establish- 
 ment,' continued his tormentor. ' Do you 
 brush your own clothes, black your boots, and 
 so on?' 
 
 'The brethren wear neither clothes nor boots,' 
 replied her victim, with a groan. 
 
 ' What ! No Oh, Mr. Bellamy !' and 
 
 the fair Laura and her friend, burying their 
 faces in their laced handkerchiefs, went into 
 
44 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 
 
 such paroxysms of laughter as to attract to the 
 spot some of the other guests anxious to know 
 what the joke was, whilst the wretched Bellamy 
 went off in search of champagne cup. 
 
 Then ao;ain, if Laura Lio;htfoot would not 
 have anything to say to Mr. Bellamy, that 
 gentleman was equally unfeeling to the fair 
 ' Kittums,' whose society he avoided more than 
 ever, much to her indignation. 
 
 In spite of all these drawbacks there came 
 at last a Crisis ; as of course it was bound to, or 
 this story would never have been written, and 
 it is a most curious circumstance that our hero 
 and heroines all three should have made up 
 their minds the very same day to bring off the 
 coup they had had so long in contemplation, or 
 perish in the attempt; 
 
 First : Laura Lightfoot had noticed with 
 trepidation that her gallant gay hussar paid 
 fiir more attention than was necessary to her 
 bosom friend Mabel Vane at the infirmary ball, 
 and determined accordingly that it was high 
 time to bring matters to a crisis with that 
 young gentleman. 
 
 Secondly : Mr. Bellamy, mad with love and 
 
THE BABES IX THE WOOD. 45 
 
 jealousy, determined to bring Ms little affair to 
 a crisis, by putting it plain and plump, as he 
 expressed it, to Miss Laura. 
 
 Thirdly : ' Kittums ' had had another most 
 annoying letter from her brokers, and had 
 found two grey hairs in her well-shaped head. 
 
 ' I mean business this time,' she said to her- 
 self, as attired in the best-fitting habit imagin- 
 able she started on her chestnut mare Goldfinch 
 to meet the Upsydownshire hounds at Topping- 
 ton cross-roads. ' Yes, I mean business this 
 time,' she repeated, as she took Goldfinch on 
 to the turf at the side of the road, and put her 
 into a canter; 'and mark me, Mr. Burlington 
 Bellamy, if you run away from me to-day 
 when we get in the forest, / shall come after 
 you.' 
 
 A meet of the hounds is hardly the occasion 
 one would pick out as a rule on which to trans- 
 act important business, but Skelperdale Forest, 
 where the hounds always trotted straight off 
 to from Toppington cross-roads, was an ex- 
 ception ; and in selecting it for this purpose, 
 our three lovesick friends showed that they 
 knew very well Avhat they were about. It is 
 
46 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 
 
 true a fox — probably because he thought a 
 little exercise would do him 2:ood — occasion- 
 ally had been known to take it in his head to 
 leave its vast recesses, and take to the open, 
 but in nine cases out of ten the hounds rarely 
 left it until it was time to go home. For all 
 that, it was rather a popular fixture than not 
 Avith the members of the hunt Generally, who 
 voted it not at all bad fun on a fine day, gallop- 
 ing about the great broad rides, and chaffing, 
 and laughing, and joking, and smoking in the 
 intervals. 
 
 It was uncommonly easy, too, to lose your- 
 self in the forest, as many an ardent lover with 
 a genius for spelling ' opportunity ' could 
 testify. Its patriarchal oaks had been silent 
 witnesses to the ratification of many a matri- 
 monial engagement, and ' popping the ques- 
 tion,' with the usual accompaniments, must 
 have been as familiar sounds to them as the 
 hoot of the owl, or the coo of the wood- 
 ])[geon. 
 
 Our three friends had laid their plans, like 
 the good generals they were, before they started, 
 and here they are : — 
 
THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 47 
 
 Miss Laura Lightfoot : ' I shall get Frank 
 into a corner immediately^ and have it out with 
 him. He ought to be ashamed of himself!' 
 (A few tears, and sundry drops of red lavender 
 and sal volatile.) 
 
 Mrs. Kitto : ' Must get Fatty into the re- 
 cesses of the forest, and faint. If that don't 
 bring my Burlington to book, nothing will.' 
 
 Mr. Burlington Bellamy : ' Must lure my 
 ownest own into a quiet corner, and threaten 
 to commit suicide unless she consents. If 
 she asks how — which she's very likely to — 
 shall tell her my sandwiches are made with 
 rat-poison expressly for the occasion. This 
 surely cannot fail !' 
 
 These were the three plans — we will now 
 see how they succeeded. 
 
 Within ten minutes of the hounds entering 
 the forest, Laura had ' cornered ' her young 
 man. In spite of his recklessness the heau 
 sahreur was very soft-hearted where a pretty 
 girl was concerned, and when that pretty girl 
 upbraided him for his cruelty, and looked piti- 
 fully into his face, with a tear glistening in 
 each violet eye, what was to be done but to 
 
48 THE BABES IN THE WOOD, 
 
 put his scarlet arm round the slender waist, 
 and — well, you can guess the rest. Suffice it 
 to say that as they walked their horses slowly 
 back to join the rest of the field, they met our 
 fat friend, Mr. Bellamy, who had been wander- 
 ing about in search of Miss Laura, and won- 
 dering wdiere she had got to. They put him 
 out of his misery at once, so he had not a 
 chance of bringing the poisoned sandwiches on 
 to the tapis. He congratulated the happy pair, 
 and asked the bridegroom-elect which was the 
 nearest way home. 
 
 ' Straight along as far as ever you can go., 
 and then bear to the right,' replied Frank, 
 though in reality he did not know from 
 Adam. 
 
 ' Mr. Bellamy ! Oh, I'm so glad I've met 
 you ! I've got out of the beaten track. I don't 
 know where the rest are ! And, oh, Mr. Bel- 
 lamy, I'm so frightened ! You luill take care 
 of poor me, won't you ?' 
 
 It was Mrs. Kitto, who, having witnessed 
 the parting from Laura, and making a pretty 
 shrewd guess at what had happened, had, after 
 
THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 49 
 
 giving her quarry plenty of ' law,' as she con- 
 sidered, laid herself on, so to speak, and now 
 ran into her deer. (' Kittums ' knew how to 
 spell ' opportunity ' as well as the best of 
 them.) 
 
 ' I'm — I'm not feeling very well, Mrs. Kitto, 
 so I am going home, otherwise I should be 
 delighted, I'm sure, to help you search for the 
 others,' said Mr. Bellamy, gallantly. 
 
 ' Oh, that does not matter at all, my dear 
 Mr. Bellamy,' replied the widow ; ' as long as I 
 am with you I don't care which way I go in 
 the least. Indeed,' she added, ' I feel rather 
 " so-so " myself, if the truth must be told, and 
 would just as soon go home as not.' 
 
 ' Hang the woman !' thought poor Mr. 
 Bellamy ; ' there's no getting rid of her now, I 
 can see.' So adapting himself to circumstances 
 he proceeded to make himself agreeable. First 
 he gave her a sandwich, then some orange 
 brandy, lit a cigar for himself, and next pro- 
 ceeded to give his best attention to the sad tale 
 ' Kittums ' had to unfold about the dreadful 
 letter she had received that very morning from 
 her brokers. ' The widow's up a tree, and a 
 
 E 
 
50 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 
 
 pretty tall one too, it strikes me,' he thought. 
 
 The story took quite a long while to relate, 
 and Mr. Bellamy gave his opinion, and then 
 they finished Mr. B.'s sandwiches, and had some 
 more orange brandy, and the widow said she 
 would give anything for a cigarette, and then 
 it struck both of them that they did not know 
 in the least where they were. 
 
 They pulled up short and listened, but could 
 hear nothing but the harsh cry of a jay, dis- 
 turbed at their approach. Trees to the right of 
 them, trees to the left of them : they were in 
 the very thick of the forest, and apparently as 
 near to the outskirts of it as they were when 
 they started. The day was closing in, too, as 
 days have the knack of doing in November. 
 
 ' If we should be benighted in the fastnesses 
 of this dreadful forest,' exclaimed Mrs. Kitto, 
 piling up the agony, ' what shall we do ? and, 
 above all, what loill people say ?' And, ap- 
 parently horror-struck at the thought, the 
 widow out with her handkerchief and burst into 
 tears. 
 
 ' Ch-ch-cheer up ! Mrs. Kitto,' stammered her 
 wretched companion, pale in the face at the 
 
THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 51 
 
 bare notion of spending the night in the wood. 
 ' Ch-ch-cheer up and have some more orange 
 brandy, and then we'll make a fresh start. 
 That wretch said, " Bear to the right," which is 
 evidently all wrong. Supposing we bear to 
 the left, eh?' So they had some more orange 
 brandy, and, ' Kittums/ having dried her tears 
 they started on a fresh voyage of discovery. 
 
 Darkness was now setting in with a vengeance. 
 The rooks were coming home, so were the 
 wood-pigeons, whose fiip-flaj) could be heard in 
 all directions as they settled for the night in 
 their favourite fir-trees ; whilst every now and 
 again the cheerful crow of the cock-pheasant 
 was heard as he betook himself to his accus- 
 tomed perch. Mr. Bellamy's horse stumbled 
 over a root, and nearly sent his rider over his 
 head. 
 
 ' Damn the horse !' blurted out his rider, as 
 he recovered his seat, apologizing the next 
 instant to his fair companion. 
 
 ' Don't mention it, dear Mr. Bellamy,' replied 
 ' Kittums.' ' I often, do you know, say a mild 
 little D myself, if anything puts me out. 
 You're not shocked, are you? If I was with 
 
 E 2 
 
52 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 
 
 anyone else but you, I think I should use one 
 now,' she added, as Goldfinch stumbled over 
 something, and nearly came down, for which 
 her mistress cropped her heartily. 
 
 It was quite dark now, and to make it worse 
 they had got amongst the fir-trees. At last 
 they pulled up in despair, and Mr. Bellamy 
 shouted as if he was being murdered. No one 
 answered it though, except a large white owl 
 who flew suddenly out of a tree almost into 
 Mr. B.'s face, nearly frightening him to death, 
 and making his horse shy violently. After 
 that he got ofi", and went stumbling along on 
 foot. Suddenly a cry from his companion made 
 him halt. 
 
 'What is that?' she said, pointing with her 
 whip to an opening in the fir-trees. ' A build- 
 ing of some sort, surely? Sir Charles Flutterby 
 — who owns the forest, you know — gives most 
 wonderful luncheons at his shooting-parties, so 
 they say, and I shouldn't w^onder a bit if this 
 is not one of the places he gives them in. If 
 so we can take refuge for the night in it. What 
 luck to be sure if it is, for I am getting terribly 
 tired.' 
 
THE BABES IN TPIE WOOD. 53 
 
 The widow was right. Sir Charles had several 
 large luncheon huts scattered over the forest, 
 and the building which Mr. Bellamy, with the 
 aid of the handle of his hunting-whip and his 
 foot, was now doing his level best to break 
 into, was one of them. The door, luckily, was 
 not a very strong one, neither was the lock, 
 consequently not many minutes elapsed before 
 a more vigorous application than usual of the 
 brave 'Bellamy's great shoulder had the effect 
 of sending in the door with a crash, precipitat- 
 ing the amateur cracksman into the room head 
 foremost. 
 
 ' Thafs all right !' cried Mrs. Kitto. 
 
 ' Yes, that's all right !' puffed her fellow- 
 traveller, picking himself up and feeling his 
 nose to see if he had broken it in the fall. 
 
 ' And now, will you help me off, please ?' said 
 the widow, in the most matter-of-fact way ; 
 'and then, if you've a match about you, we'll 
 reconnoitre a bit. Thanks very much ! What 
 a relief to stretch one's legs ! Now, if you 
 don't mind fastening Goldfinch up somewhere. 
 Yes, that will do admirably ; she's very quiet — 
 like her mistress. And did you say you had 
 
54 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 
 
 a matcli? How lucky! 1S\0W we shall see 
 what we shall see.' 
 
 And, Mr. Bellamy having struck a light, the 
 pair marched inside the hut. It proved to be 
 a good-sized room, fitted with a fireplace, a long 
 deal table, and plenty of Windsor chairs, 
 whilst — best of all — on the mantelshelf stood 
 two brass candlesticks with candles in them. 
 These were promptly lighted on the spot. 
 
 ' Nothing to eat here,' observed Mr. Bellamy, 
 with a sigh. 
 
 ' Don't be too sure about that,' replied the 
 widow, cheerfully. ' I see a cupboard over 
 yonder, and who knows what it may not 
 contain.' 
 
 With that she took a candlestick, and made 
 for the receptacle in question. 
 
 An exclamation of delight quickly brought 
 Mr. Bellamy to her side. 
 
 ' Look !' she said, pointing to the shelves. ' A 
 pate de foie gras^ a cake, cheese, butter — I don't 
 see any bread, though — five bottles of cham- 
 pagne, and two of something else — sherry, 
 most likely — and a whole army of soda-water 
 bottles. We shan't starve, that's very certain. 
 
TPIE BABES IN THE WOOD. 55 
 
 1 wish there was some bread, though, and they 
 might as well have washed the plates whilst 
 they were about it. And now, Mr. Bellamy, if 
 you'll go and see to the horses, I'll lay the 
 cloth for dinner.' 
 
 And so saying the widow, having relieved 
 herself of her hat, bestowed on her companion 
 one of her most bewitching smiles, and pro- 
 ceeded to bustle about in very energetic 
 fashion. 
 
 First she set a light to the fire ; and then, 
 being on her knees, Mr. Bellamy gave her a 
 ' hand up,' as she called it — a very small soft 
 hand, he noticed — for which she thanked him 
 with another smile. 
 
 ' What lovely teeth !' he thought. 
 
 Then she picked up the hearth-rug and a 
 door-mat, and bade him put them over the 
 horses' loins. 
 
 ' I am afraid it's not much of a covering, 
 poor dears!' she said, 'but it's better than 
 nothing at all, isn't it?' 
 
 ' Kind to animals,' thought Mr. Bellamy. 
 * I like her for that.' 
 
 ' And now,' she said, ' let ns sit down to 
 
56 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 
 
 dinner. I am dreadfully hungry, and I am 
 sure you must be as well. And if you don't 
 mind, Mr. Bellamy, I think T should like to 
 begin with a glass of champagne, if you will 
 kindly open a bottle. Have you your — your 
 drunkard's companion with 3'OU?' 
 
 Mr. Bellamy had, and soon unwired a bottle. 
 
 ' Pol Roger, '80,' he remarked, as he 
 poured out the wine, which bubbled, and 
 sparkled, and danced as much as to say, 
 ' Here's a lark !' ' Sir Charles has got a pretty 
 taste in champagne, at all events. Here's his 
 very good health !' he added, raising his glass 
 to his lips. 
 
 'What! before mine? Oh, Mr. Bellamy!' 
 pouted the fair widow. 
 
 ' My dear Mrs. Kitto, do forgive me ! Your 
 very good health, of course !' replied her com- 
 panion, ' and — and — may your shadow never 
 be less, you know, and all that,' he added, at 
 his wits' end for a compliment. 
 
 ' Thanks, the same to you,' said Mrs. Kitto, 
 tossing off her glass with great satisfaction. 
 ' And now,' she went on, ' what will you have? 
 Some foie gras and cake, or some cheese and 
 
THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 57 
 
 cake? Foie gras? So will I. What a pity- 
 there is no bread, isn't it? Sir Charles won't 
 find many truffles left, it strikes me. I'm aw- 
 fully fond of truffles, aren't you ? I wonder 
 if I dare have a bit of cheese ? Not a bad cake, 
 is it, Mr. Bellamy ? might be a wee bit fresher, 
 but still, filling at the price— and, yes, I think 
 another glass of champagne won't do either -of 
 lis any harm.' 
 
 Thus the widow ran on, whilst Mr. Bellamy 
 ate and drank, and thought what a trump his 
 companion was. 
 
 ' I like to see a man enjoy his dinner,' ob- 
 served Mrs. Kitto, pleasantly, as she eyed Mr. 
 Bellamy pegging away at the stale cake with 
 every symptom of satisfaction. 
 
 ' Yes, I was always what they call " a good 
 doer," ' replied that gentleman, complacently, 
 as he wiped his lips, and leaned back in his 
 chair in token of having finished. 
 
 ' So it seems,' thought the widow. 
 
 ' Well, I have enjoyed my dinner, awfully,' 
 she said, ' have you^ Mr. Bellamy ?' 
 
 ' I never enjoyed a meal so much in 
 my life,' was the gallant reply. ' I wish,' 
 
58 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 
 
 he added, ' we were going to stay here for a 
 week.' 
 
 ' Oh, you don't mean that, I feel sure,' said 
 the widow, with a blush. 
 
 ' I give you my word I do P exclaimed Mr. 
 Bellamy, pouring himself out another glass of 
 champagne. ' And what's more, I'll go fur- 
 ther than that, and say I wish we were on 
 a desert island together, and not a soul on it 
 besides ourselves !' 
 
 'What? you like being all alone with poor 
 me so much,' murmured the widow, softly. 
 ' Why, my dear Mr. Bellamy, I am sure I must 
 have bored you to death ! If it was Laura, 
 now ' 
 
 ' Hang Laura !' retorted Mr. Bellamy, with 
 an angry snort. 
 
 ' Poor Laura,' murmured the widow. ' But 
 really, joking apart, Mr. Bellamy, it is very 
 sweet of you paying me such a compliment. 
 I have enjoyed myself also immensely, and 
 shall be quite sorry, I assure j^ou, when day- 
 light comes. There is only one thing I am 
 afraid of.' 
 
THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 59 
 
 ' What's that?' asked Bellamy. 
 
 ' Why, I am thinking what the neighbours 
 will say when they hear of our escapade — 
 people will talk, you know.' 
 
 ' Let 'em talk ! I don't care,' he replied, 
 recklessly. 
 
 ' Yes, but 1 do,' said the widow, looking him 
 knowingly in the face. 
 
 ' Ko, you don't !' shouted Mr. Bellamy, rising 
 to his feet excitedly. 'No, you don't! If 
 they say anything, tell 'em — tell 'em we're 
 engaged ^ 
 
 Mrs. Kitto : 'But you haven't asked me 
 yet!' 
 
 Mr. Bellamy : ' But I do now, and I'm sorry 
 I didn't long ago. Mrs. Kittums — Mrs. Kitto, 
 I mean — Emmeline^ — say — will you marry me, 
 and make a forlorn bachelor happy for life ?' 
 
 Mrs. Kitto : ' You have taken me so much 
 by surprise that I hardly — I suppose, though, 
 it must be as you wish, dear Mr. Bellamy.' 
 
 Mr. Bellamy (embracing the widow) : Bur- 
 lington, please.' 
 
 Mrs. Kitto: ' Burlington, then.' 
 
60 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 
 
 ' And now, Burlington,' said Mrs. Kitto, 
 ' suppose you have a cigar. If you had a cig- 
 arette in your case I would join you, but as 
 you haven't I must do without.' 
 
 ' A small cigar wouldn't do, I suppose ?' en- 
 quired Mr. Bellamy. 'I have a "Princesa" here, 
 if you like.' 
 
 ' The very thing,' said the widow, taking it 
 from him. 
 
 ' I suppose my ownest own wouldn't like to 
 bite the end off her Burlington's cigar for him, 
 would she?' enquired the bridegroom-elect, 
 with his most eno-acrino; o-rin. 
 
 ' Well, I mighty if I was asked prettily,' re- 
 plied his companion, with an arch look into his 
 face. 
 
 There were two arm-chairs in the place — only 
 wooden ones, it is true, but still arm-chairs — 
 and in these, with their legs up on another, 
 our pair of lovers disposed themselves on each 
 side of the fire. There was not much conversa- 
 tion, for Mrs. Kitto was so drowsy she could 
 scarcely keep awake, and dropped her cigar 
 out of her mouth so often that Mr. Bellamy got 
 
THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 61 
 
 quite tired of picking it up. Finally, Mr. Bell- 
 amy dropped off himself, with his cigar in his 
 mouth, and dreamt that he was one of the 
 Babes in the Wood, and very indignant with 
 sundry small birds for covering him with wet 
 leaves against his will. 
 
 ' Go away ! none of your larks !' he cried. 
 
 ' We're not larks, we're robins,' was the reply ; 
 and with that the birds sent such a shower of 
 leaves over him as to give him a fit of cold 
 shivers, and he awoke with a start and an 
 exclamation, causing the w^dow to awaken 
 also. 
 
 ' What a noise you were making !' said his 
 fiancee^ rather querulously, Mr. Bellamy thought. 
 
 ' I was dreaming, love,' he replied, humbly. 
 ' Dreaming that you and I were the Babes in the 
 Wood, and being smothered by Cock Robins.' 
 
 Mrs. Kitto lauo-hed. 
 
 'That's what everybody will call us, see if they 
 don't,' said she. ' The Babes in the Wood ! Ha ! 
 ha! ha! Burlington, put some more coals on 
 the fire, and don't talk, please.' 
 
 ' H^ni ! Losing no time in donning the ichat- 
 
62 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 
 
 fVye-call-ems!'' thought Mr. Bellamy, as he made 
 play with the coal-scuttle. 
 
 There was a certain elderly person of nomadic 
 habits and dirty exterior who for many years 
 past had haunted Upsydownshire known as 
 ' Flint Jack.' Nobody knew what his name 
 was — he probably did not know himself — and 
 nobody knew where he lived when he was at 
 home. It was popularly supposed indeed — at 
 all events by the children — that he slept in 
 hollow trees and existed entirely on black- 
 berries and beech-masts. By profession he 
 was what he called a ' Hantiquary,' which 
 meant that he dealt largely in flint arrow-heads, 
 fossils, etc., the former mostly manufactured 
 with great skill by himself, so skilfully, indeed, 
 as to deceive some of the most distinguished 
 savants in England. Hence his nickname. He 
 was learned in botany, too, and there was not 
 a fern or a herb that he would not procure if 
 given the commission. Probably no one was 
 more familiar with the intricacies of Skelper- 
 dale Forest than Flint Jack, who had marauded 
 all over it in his fern-hunting expedition for 
 
THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 63 
 
 years past, and it may be taken for granted 
 therefore that he was aware of the existence of 
 Sir Charles Flutterby's luncheon huts. For 
 some days previous to the meet of the hounds 
 at the cross-roads, Jack, having an order for 
 some ferns obtainable in the forest, had taken 
 up his residence in one of its hollow trees, so 
 as to be near to the scene of his labours. An 
 early bird, and a restless one. Jack was up at 
 daybreak, and having all the day before him 
 what was more natural than that he should 
 bend his steps towards one of Sir Charles's huts 
 which lay that side of the forest, just to see 
 whether the door had been left unlocked 'by 
 mistake ? 
 
 On reaching the spot, what was his astonish- 
 ment to find a couple of hunters, one with a 
 side-saddle on, looking extremely uncomfort- 
 able, and fastened by their bridles to an ad- 
 jacent fir-tree ! His wonder was still further 
 increased, when, on looking through the win- 
 dow of the hut, he discovered a gentleman 
 in a red coat and a lady in a riding-habit fast 
 asleep in two arm-chairs in front of an expiring 
 fire. Jack for once was completely puzzled. 
 
64 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 
 
 He could not make it out at all. He thought 
 for a moment, and then he gave a subdued 
 chuckle — a chuckle of intense amusement. It 
 had suddenly occurred to him that here was 
 an escapade in high life which the principal 
 actors therein would like kept dark, and that 
 consequently there was money to be made. 
 They were in his hands, and would have to 
 pay handsomely for their fun. He wagged his 
 disreputable old head nearly off at the notion, 
 and such an expression of cunning and wicked- 
 ness stole over his weather-beaten features as 
 is impossible to describe. When he had sub- 
 dued his merriment he proceeded to action. 
 
 His first move was to open the door very 
 quietly and creep in. His second was to lay 
 hands on a half-emptied bottle of champagne, 
 take it outside, and drink it. 
 
 ' That's good P he muttered, as he crept back 
 and replaced the bottle where he had found it. 
 Next he pocketed a cigar he saw lying on the 
 table, and then — having thought for a second 
 — he gave vent to an asthmatical cough, which 
 had the desired effect, viz., awakening the 
 sleepers. 
 
THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 65 
 
 Mrs Kitto gave a little scream, and Mr. 
 Bellamy a stupid stare, as on opening their 
 eyes they saw the old scarecrow standing grin- 
 ning at them. 
 
 ' What do you do here, fellow ?' enquired 
 Mr. Bellamy with dignity, as soon as he had 
 found his tonsrue. 
 
 Flint Jack chuckled and grinned, and wag- 
 ged his aged head ere he replied. 
 
 ' It's what do you do here ? I'm a-thinkin', 
 master. What am I a-doin' ? Why, seekin' 
 for ferns, that's what poor old Flint Jack's 
 a-doin'. What are you and my lady a-doin' ? 
 Wh}^, makin' love to be sure ! He ! he ! he !' 
 
 ' How dare you say such a thing? you nasty, 
 horrid old man !' exclaimed Mrs. Kitto, colour- 
 ing with anger. 
 
 ' Yes, what do you mean by it ? you old 
 vagabond !' chimed in Mr. Bellamy, taking up 
 his hunting-whip by way of striking terror into 
 his visitor. 
 
 * What do I mean ? You knows very well 
 what I mean. An' Lor' bless yer ! Avhat of it ? 
 Why, I've done the same thing many a time 
 when I was your ^age, ay, and would now if 
 
66 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 
 
 a pretty gal giv' me the charnce.' And the 
 old sinner was so tickled at the idea that he 
 nearly choked himself with laughter. ' But, 
 bless yer two lovvin' 'arts,' he continued, when 
 he had recovered his breath, ' Flint Jack ain't 
 the boy to go and blow the gaff, so long as 
 yer be'ave as a gen'elman and lady should do 
 to him.' 
 
 ' You impudent rascal !' exclaimed the now 
 indignant Mr. Bellamy. ' This lady and I, 
 when out hunting yesterday, lost our way in 
 the forest, and being benighted had to put up 
 here for the night, very much against our will, 
 I can assure you. We want to find our way 
 out as quickly as possible, and, if you show us, 
 you shall be rewarded handsomely. On the 
 other hand, if you give utterance to any more 
 of your insolent remarks, you shall have a taste 
 of this !' and Mr. Bellamy shook his whip 
 meaningly as he spoke. 
 
 ' Blessee, I don't want to be 'ard,' was the 
 benevolent reply. ' Gi' each other a kiss, and 
 git on yer 'osses, and poor old Flint Jack '11 
 take you Aout of the forest and put 'ee on the 
 
THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 67 
 
 road for 'ome gladly, so as ye'll get back to 
 
 your breakfastses an ' 
 
 ' There, that will do,' interrupted Mr. Bellamy, 
 tired of his verbosity, 'just wait outside, and 
 we'll come to you when we're ready.' 
 
 In a very few minutes Mrs. Kitto, as bright 
 and fresh as if she had slept in her own bed all 
 night instead of in a Windsor chair, tripped out 
 of the hut, followed by Mr. Burlington, looking 
 decidedly bilious after the pate de fois gras and 
 cake ; and the horses, who Flint Jack had un- 
 fastened from the fir-tree, being led up to the 
 door, they quickly mounted, and the distin- 
 guished antiquary leading the way, chattering 
 and chuckling at his own pleasantries the whole 
 of the time, they proceeded to make the best 
 of their way towards home and breakfast. 
 
 My story is nearly done. Flint Jack having 
 performed his part of the contract, and been 
 dismissed with a handsome douceur^ made his 
 way back to the forest and Sir Charles's hut 
 with all possible despatch, for he had an object 
 in view. 
 
 The object was to remove any eatables and 
 
 F 2 
 
68 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 
 
 drinkables that he could lay his hands upon, to 
 his lair, for home consumption. Three bottles 
 of champagne, two of whisky, and one of brown 
 sherry was by no means a bad haul in one 
 morning. The pate de fois gras he tried and 
 did not like, so left it behind ; the cake he put 
 in his wallet. There was a considerable 
 amount of 'tapping' going on during the next 
 day or two in the hollow oak-tree, and it was 
 not the woodpecker of immortal memory who 
 caused it. 
 
 Mr. Bellamy wrote a polite letter to Sir 
 Charles, apologizing for the free use he had 
 made of his hut and its contents, and explain- 
 ing the circumstances, very much to the amuse- 
 ment of the baronet. The latter was still more 
 amused — to say nothing of being astonished — 
 when he was informed of the number of 
 ' empties,' as the wine merchants term them, 
 left behind by his uninvited guests. 
 
 ' I wonder that they were able to ride home,' 
 he remarked. Of course he Avas not to know 
 that Flint Jack, after having disposed of their 
 contents, had been generous enough to return 
 the bottles. 
 
THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 69 
 
 The story oozed out, as of course it was 
 bound to, and lost nothing in the telling, you 
 may depend. 
 
 Miss Laura Lightfoot's present to Mr. Bellamy 
 on his marriage was a book of fairy tales, with 
 a page turned down at ' The Babes in the Wood.' 
 And it did make Mr. B. so wild ! 
 
MRS. HARRISON'S COUP D'ETAT. 
 
 Mrs. Harrison could not make it out at all. 
 Something was the matter with her James, and 
 what that something could be she was forced to 
 acknowledge was a complete puzzle to her. 
 
 ' It's either,' she said, ' the influenza a-comin' 
 on, or else he's got a skelinton as he's a-keepin' 
 in his cupboard unbeknown to me — me, his 
 lawful wife, who he didn't ought to 'ave no 
 secrets from, let alone skelintons.' 
 
 And certainly her husband's despondent 
 appearance, day after day, quite warranted his 
 loving helpmate in being uneasy about him. 
 
 She had formerly served as cook in the same 
 Belgravian mansion where James Harrison was 
 
 footman, and such an impression did his fine 
 
MRS. HARRISON'S COUP D'ETAT. 71 
 
 figure (now, alas ! somewhat run to seed) and 
 undeniable calves and whiskers leave upon her 
 heart on her first introduction to the great 
 man, that she made up her mind on the spot to 
 win him for her own, before long, or perish in 
 the attempt. 
 
 The sight of him one day, silk-stockinged 
 and cocked-hatted, waiting to accompany the 
 daughter of the house to the Drawing-Room at 
 Buckingham Palace, ' finished her ofi^,' as she 
 ex]3ressed it. 
 
 She felt she could no longer do without him, 
 and accordingly made up her mind not to beat 
 about the bush any longer, but to ' go ' boldly 
 for her man that very same evening. 
 
 A weak-minded creature as James Harrison 
 was, his whole strength seeming to lie in his 
 whiskers, had very little chance with a strong- 
 minded, determined woman such as Sarah 
 Brown, and ten minutes' quiet conversation in 
 the cook's private room settled the business. 
 The weapons used in this short engagement 
 being a most artistically prepared ' Ris de veau 
 a la financiere' the lady's bank-book ; and last, 
 but not least, a glass of hot gin and water, so 
 
72 MRS. HARRISON'S COUP D'ETAT. 
 
 strong as to bring tears into James's great 
 stupid eyes and make him cough. 
 
 The giant was not a bit in love with ' Sairah,' 
 as he called her, her ' profeel ' not being quite to 
 his liking, in fact in his heart of hearts he would 
 have much preferred it had Mademoiselle 
 Marie, my lady's smart little French maid, 
 been his antagonist in the battle of love. But 
 the inducements held out to him — the snug 
 greengrocer's shop in the little street off May- 
 fair, and the promise that he should have 
 nothing to do in the shape of hard work, so 
 entirely fell in with his views of what true 
 earthly bliss should be, that he capitulated at 
 once, and agreed to give notice to leave the 
 very next morning. They had now been 
 married three years, and Mrs. James Harrison, 
 like the good woman she was, had kept her 
 word to the letter. The little greengrocer's 
 shop in Mayfair was a most flourishing concern 
 under her management, and deservedly so, 
 seeing how hard she worked; whilst all her 
 lazy husband had to do was to sit in the back 
 parlour, smoke his pipe, and read the paper. 
 Living, so to speak, in the lap of luxury, 
 
MRS. HARRISON'S COUP D'ETAT. 73 
 
 anyone would have thought that the ex-flunkey 
 would have been the happiest of men, hut it 
 evidently was not so, and Mrs. Harrison, eyeing 
 her great soft-faced husband watering his gin 
 and water with his tears, was at a complete loss 
 to what cause to attribute such behaviour. We 
 are sorry to say he had evinced of late a great 
 passion for the juice of the juniper, notwith- 
 standing his wife's remonstrances, on the plea 
 of its being lowering to his ' cistern.' 
 
 So persistently indeed did she allude to the 
 subject that at last, one fine day, the usually 
 placid James fairly lost his temper, and so far 
 forgot himself as to exclaim in angry accents, 
 * Cistern be blowed !' a remark so unfeeling and 
 uncalled-for, that poor Mrs. Harrison, strong- 
 minded as she was, found herself quite unable 
 to restrain her own tears. Yes, for the first 
 time since her marriage, she wept. 
 
 ' Oh ! there must be something terribly wrong 
 with James,' she thought. ' I don't think he's 
 ill,' she said to herself, ' or he wouldn't eat so 
 hearty as he does. No, he's got a " skelinton " 
 a-worritin' of him, I feel certain sure. Only let 
 me get at it, that's all, and it will be worse for 
 
74 MRS. HARRISON'S COUP D'ETAT. 
 
 it!' And Mrs. Harrison raised an extremely 
 useful-looking right arm in a menacing manner 
 as she spoke, looking so extremely vicious the 
 while, that we will venture to say that had the 
 ' skelinton ' in question put in an appearance 
 just then, it would have experienced an ex- 
 tremely bad quarter of an hour. 
 
 II. 
 
 Harmony no longer prevailed at the green- 
 grocer's shop in the little street off Mayfair. 
 
 James Harrison grew more melancholy, and 
 watered his Geneva with his tears more fre- 
 quently than ever. Indeed, he was in a more 
 or less maudlin state the greater part of the day, 
 now. Mrs. James, too, had changed from a 
 good-tempered, bustling woman, to a shrill- 
 voiced scold, with a tendency to knocking the 
 vegetables about as if they were personal 
 enemies of her own, and boxing the errand 
 boy's ears on all occasions. 
 
 She had not discovered the ' skelinton,' yet, 
 
MRS. HARRISON'S COUP D'ETAT. 75 
 
 that she felt morally certain was in James's 
 cupboard. 
 
 It was a funny ' skelinton,' too,. for occasion- 
 ally James would partially cheer up for perhaps 
 a couple of days, and would then relapse into 
 his old state again, and become more despond- 
 ent than ever. 
 
 At lenojth arrived the festival of all others so 
 dear to the Cockney heart — the Derby. For 
 three years — three happy years — a tear started 
 up in each of Mrs. Harrison's bright brown 
 eyes at the thought of it — a van had started from 
 the shop door, loaded to the muzzle with mem- 
 bers of either sex, all in the best possible spirits, 
 with a cornet player on the box, and no end of 
 what the gentlemen and lady passengers ele- 
 gantly called ' prog,' stowed away inside for 
 their delectation, both en route and when they 
 arrived, if ever they did arrive, that is to say, 
 on the historic Downs. Huge joints of beef 
 and hams, with monster lettuces from the shop, 
 that did your heart good to see, not to mention 
 barrels of beer and stout to lay the dust, and 
 sundry suspicious-looking stone bottles con- 
 
76 .MRS. HARRISON'S COUP D'ETAT. 
 
 ainins; the wherewithal in case one of the 
 lady passengers wanted a ' little something ' 
 on the way, or felt cold coming back. There 
 were four horses too, rather ' so-so ' about the 
 legs certainly, but still four horses all the same. 
 There was no doubt about it, the Harrisons's 
 Derby van was as stylish a turn-out as any on 
 the road, and, as a consequence, seats in it came 
 to a premium for weeks before, such a name 
 had it acquired in the neighbourhood. And 
 now another Derby Day had arrived, and the 
 much-troubled Mrs. Harrison found herself 
 wondering whether her James would take 
 charge of his party on the morrow as he always 
 had hitherto. With trembling hands she laid out 
 the clothes that had been hidden from the light 
 since the last anniversary — the white hat, the 
 green veil, the dust-coloured coat, white waist- 
 coat, and plaid continuations — in which it was 
 his pride to adorn himself on that festive occa- 
 sion, and a flush of joy diffused her counten- 
 ance as he donned them one by one. 
 
 When the van started from the door at ten 
 to a minute, the sun shining brightly, the cor- 
 
MRS. HARRISON'S COUP D'ETAT. 77 
 
 net player playing a popular air, and all the 
 little boys in the neighbourhood shouting 
 ' hooray !' Mrs. Harrison returned to her sum- 
 mer cabbages and new potatoes with as light a 
 heart as could be found in Mayfair. At four 
 o'clock the news-boys came along, shouting as 
 usual, ' The winner ! the winner of the Der- 
 bee!' and she bought a paper out of curiosity — not 
 that she cared in the least what had won. The 
 favourite, after the manner of favourites, she read, 
 was not ' in it,' and an outsider had won at 40 to 
 1. Well, she was sorry for that, for many poor 
 people had no doubt lost their money, but after 
 all, what did she care ? Her James had long 
 ago promised her faithfully never to bet, so 
 what was the result to her ? And she drank 
 her tea and ate a plateful of shrimps with 
 an extra relish, and enjoyed a pleasant little 
 nap afterwards, dreaming of her James, no 
 doubt. 
 
 Darkness set in, and with it arrived the van ; 
 the four horses done to a turn, and more ' so-so ' 
 about the legs than ever, poor things ! And 
 James ! — well, the less said about James the 
 
78 MRS. HARRISON'S COUP D'ETAT. 
 
 better. The company departed, and, the van 
 driver settled with, poor Mrs. Harrison betook 
 herself to the little parlour where sat her errant 
 spouse wdth his head on the table, shedding 
 floods of tears. 
 
 ' No, Mrs. Harrison, he is not ill, so bear up, 
 my good creature, and don't alarm yourself on 
 that score. A trifling affection of the chest — 
 the money chest — that is all. Your husband, 
 like a good many others, has lost his money. A 
 hundred pounds of your hard-earned savings 
 has gone in backing the favourite, ma'am.' 
 
 ' Hiccup — the favourite !' yells out the mis- 
 erable James. 
 
 III. 
 
 In the adjoining street to the Harrisons's (you 
 see we still stick to Mayfair) — -just round the 
 corner, in fact — is a tobacconist's shop, the 
 inscription over the window informing the pub- 
 lic in general, and the inhabitants of Mayfair in 
 particular, that it is kept by one H. Parker, 
 importer of foreign cigars. 
 
MRS. HARRISON'S COUP D'ETAT. 79 
 
 If this latter assertion be true, it may be 
 taken that the proprietor of the establishment 
 must warehouse his goods elsewhere than in 
 his shop, for there they certainly are not. 
 
 He has any amount of tobacco and cigarettes, 
 and a large variety of pipes, but the foreign 
 cigars are represented by a few boxes of Manilas, 
 such others as he has on view being of unmis- 
 takable home manufacture. 
 
 It is eleven o'clock in the morning, on 
 the Saturday after the Derby, and Mr. Parker 
 himself, with a smile of contentment pervading 
 his countenance, is reclining on the fubsy sofa 
 in the little parlour, the while he tots up the 
 figures in his betting-book, occasionally vary- 
 ing the entertainment by a pull at a tumbler at 
 his side containing brandy-and-soda — for the 
 excitement of the past week had made him a 
 bit feverish — and thinking what a good thing 
 it would be for everyone in his line of business 
 — himself in particular — if the favourite would 
 always take it into his head to come in last 
 instead of firs'- when the ' tinkle, tinkle ' of the 
 shop-door bell announcing the entry of a cus- 
 
80 MRS. HARRISON'S COUP D'ETAT. 
 
 tomer interrupted him in his arithmetical 
 calculations, and caused him to rise hastily 
 from his recumbent position and go and see 
 who it was. His visitor turned out to be no 
 less a person than our friend Mrs. Harrison — 
 Mrs. Harrison with a particularly stern ex- 
 pression of countenance, and that in her eye 
 which Mr, Parker, who prided himself on be- 
 ing somewhat of a judge of physiognomy, 
 noted with some alarm boded neither him nor 
 anybody else any good. He was a little man, 
 too, and his visitor was the reverse — big enough 
 to eat him, in fact, as he remarked afterwards. 
 However, though he was trembling in his 
 shoes all the while, he put on as cheerful an 
 air as he could assume under the circumstances, 
 and begged to know how he could serve his 
 lady customer. 
 
 ' How can you serve me, Mr. Parker?' re- 
 plied Mrs. Harrison, in an awful voice, banging 
 an umbrella of important dimensions down 
 upon the counter the w^hile she shook her 
 green-gloved forefinger at him. ' How can you 
 serve me, sir?' she repeated. ' I will tell you 
 in a jiffy. By refunding to me instantly, this 
 
MRS. HARRISON'S COUP D'ETAT. 81 
 
 very minute, the hundred pounds^the hun-dred 
 pounds — d'ye hear, Mr. P. ? — you've bin and 
 robbed my poor silly 'usband of over that 
 beastly Derby, which I wish with all my 'art 
 'ad never bin invented, that I do.' 
 
 ' But, my dear madam,' began Mr. Parker, 
 whose face — all but his nose, which Avas red — 
 had assumed a greenish, yellowy tint, in his 
 most insinuating manner. 
 
 ' Don't " madam " me ! Mr. Parker, sir, I do 
 request,' answered Mrs. Harrison, with asperity, 
 and speaking in a louder tone as she went on. 
 ' When my pore addle-headed 'usband came to 
 me with his fictishus story of having a sick 
 friend — a retired butler he said he was, and 
 named him and everything — who he wanted to 
 lend a hundred pounds to for three months, 
 and was to git twenty pounds for the accommoda- 
 tion, I said, " Yes, James, certingly ; for such a 
 deserving objic nobody would grudge it to you, 
 let alone Sarah Harrison." And 1 went straight 
 away and drawed it out of the bank and give 
 it to him — for his sick friend, ha! ha! His 
 sick friend John Brown, alias Mr. Parker! 
 ' Oh, you nice man !' exclaimed the now 
 
 G 
 
82 MRS. HARRISON'S COUP D'ETAT. 
 
 furious green-groceress, brandishing her um- 
 brella in a threatening manner over the tobac- 
 conist's head. ' Restore my hundred pounds 
 you and James 'ave swindled me out of,' she 
 screamed, ' or I'll rouse the Avhole street first, 
 and call the pelisse afterwards. Which shall 
 it be ? Come, make up your mind, for I've no 
 time to waste on such creatures as you. If 
 you don't decide before I count ten I'll screech 
 the place down. One — two — three ' 
 
 ' Sto]} /' exclaimed the wretched tobacconist, 
 the fear of a police prosecution in his mind's 
 eye. ' Stop ! it's very hard on me. It ain't my 
 fault that the cussed favourite didn't win, but 
 I'll pay the money back if only for peace and 
 quietness' sake, if you'll wait a minute.' 
 
 ' That's enough for me,' replied the victorious 
 Mrs. Harrison, fanning her now crimson face 
 with a not particularly clean white handker- 
 chief, and deliberately seating herself, whilst 
 her victim retired to the back premises in order 
 to procure the money. 
 
 He returned almost directly. 
 
 'There, ma'am,' he exclaimed, ' there's your 
 
MRS. HARRISON'S COUP D'ETAT. 83 
 
 hundred pounds — ten tens ! I think you'll 
 find it correct, and — excuse me for saying so — 
 I hope I shall never see you or your husband 
 a^ain inside my shop. I consider I've been 
 robbed — fairly and squarely robbed. Put that 
 in your pipe and smoke it, ma'am !' And with 
 that the injured Mr. Parker bounced out of the 
 shop and into his parlour, slamming the door 
 violently behind him, whilst Mrs. Harrison, 
 with a hideous laugh of triumph, slowly gath- 
 ered up the notes, counted them carefully 
 one by one, placed them in her ' ridicule,' as 
 she called her hand-bag, and then walked with 
 head erect and shoulders squared out of the 
 shop. 
 
 There was something extra for supper that 
 night in the greengrocer's back-parlour, you 
 may depend, and a glass or two of some- 
 thing comfortable after it to ' celebrate the 
 event.' 
 
 ' And. James, my dear,' said the now amiable 
 clidielaine of the establishment, as, seated by 
 his side on the sofa, she imprinted a loving 
 kiss on her husband's fat, unmeaning counten- 
 
 g2 
 
84 MRS. HAERISON'S COUP D'ETAT. 
 
 ance, ' don't you ever come to me in future for 
 any more money to lend to a sick friend, be- 
 cause if you do you won't get it.' 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 If your income is a limited one, don't have 
 anything to do with the favourite for the 
 Derby. 
 
85 
 
 SHOOTING THE COVERTS. 
 
 When my friend Hartiboy — John Atkinson 
 Hartiboy, J. P. — John after his male parent, 
 Atkinson after a rich bachelor ancle, who it 
 was thought would leave him his fortune, but 
 unfortunately didn't — the old gentleman, with 
 the perversity that had distinguished him 
 through life, taking it into his head shortly 
 before his death to espouse his cook instead — 
 when ray friend Hartiboy, I say, shoots his 
 coverts — or rather I should say his covert, for 
 he has but one of any importance — for the first 
 time, it is a very serious matter, I can assure 
 you, a very serious matter indeed. Hartiboy, 
 who, let me tell you, is one of the best fellows 
 in existence, is the proud proprietor of a snug 
 little estate of some five hundred acres all 
 told, situated in what the auctioneers are 
 
86 SHOOTINa THE COVERTS. 
 
 j)leased to term ' the favourite county ' ot 
 Cowslipsliire; and out of his small estate my 
 friend, I'll be bound, gets as much fun during 
 the year as his neighbour, my lord, whose 
 acres are to be counted by the thousand. The 
 number of pleasant days' sport it affords its 
 owner in the course of the year, indeed, is 
 really surprising. The partridge-shooting over, 
 little coursing-parties, consisting of some half- 
 a-dozen of the neighbouring farmers, Avith their 
 greyhounds, may be seen disporting themselves 
 over the estate, its jolly owner on his pony at 
 their head. For, though no courser himself, 
 he always keeps his hares for his friends the 
 farmers, as he calls them, an attention much 
 appreciated by the latter, you may depend. 
 
 Another day that dashing young Cantab, 
 Harry Fludyer, with his pack of beagles, will 
 be ' all over the place,' as the keeper graphic- 
 ally expresses it. 
 
 Yet again, the squire, with a friend, perhaps, 
 and a couple of spaniels, may be seen beating 
 the hedgerows for rabbits, occasionally varying 
 the entertainment by visiting a small spinney 
 in hopes of finding a stray pheasant or two, or 
 
SHOOTING THE COVERTS. 87 
 
 tramping across such turnips as there are left 
 in the ground, on the off-chance of a covey of 
 partridges allowing themselves to get within 
 shot — an expectation seldom realised, by the 
 way; a partridge towards the end of October, 
 as most sportsmen are aware, being a very un- 
 approachable bird indeed. All this sort of 
 thing is very good fun, of course, ' pour passy 
 ler tong,' as my friend — who is very fond of 
 airing a stray bit of French now and again — 
 says, and serves admirably to keep him up to 
 the mark until November arrives, and with it 
 the shooting of his one big covert, described 
 on the ordnance map with the euphoniously 
 sounding title of ' Nightingale Wood.' 
 
 That opening day, if one only knew, has been 
 on its anxious owner's mind for certainly the 
 last six weeks. 
 
 To begin with, there are the pheasants 
 themselves. 
 
 What aggravating creatures they are to be 
 sure ! Why cannot they stop where they are in- 
 stead of wandering away, as they will persist in 
 doing day after day, in search of acorns ? What 
 on earth can they want with acorns at all? 
 
88 SHOOTING THE COVERTS. 
 
 Why cannot they be content with the stack of 
 barley erected expressly for their benefit in 
 the centre of the wood ? 
 
 The keeper's time is almost entirely taken 
 up in driving them back, and even then they 
 beat him occasionally ; some of the wretched 
 birds persisting in flying over to Mr. Gossett's 
 fir-plantation on the other side of Harper Lane, 
 where, if old Gossett, who is one of the most 
 selfish, jealous old beggars unhung, and always 
 prowling about with his dog and gun on his 
 small territory, does not have them, the 
 chances are somebody else will. 
 
 There are the poachers, too, to be considered. 
 Notwithstanding that his keeper, and one or 
 two labourers on the estate are supposed to be 
 on the watch every night, that maroons, which 
 on being exploded go off with a report like a 
 young cannon, are set all round the wood — 
 every precaution taken, in fact, that can be 
 thought of — poor Hartiboy lives in perpetual 
 dread of a nocturnal visit from these gentry. 
 
 He is continually waking up in the night 
 and fancying he hears guns, or a maroon 
 going ofi*, much to the annoyance of Mrs. 
 
SHOOTING THE COVERTS. 89 
 
 Hartiboy, who vows for the thousand-and-oneth 
 time that she really must take to occupying a 
 separate apartment if ' this sort of thing ' is to 
 go on. 
 
 Will the leaf be oiF, too, in time ? Shoot he 
 must the first week in November, because of 
 the hounds coming the week after, and, fond 
 though he is of shooting, Mr. Hartiboy would 
 no more dream of writing to put off the hounds 
 than of ne2:lectinoj to shave himself of a morn- 
 ino; ; a feelino; which is all the more creditable 
 to him, seeing that he is not a hunting man — 
 that is, in the strict sense of the word — and one 
 which might be copied with great advantage 
 by a good many owners of coverts we wot of. 
 
 Then comes the most important question of 
 all, viz., whom to ask. And there is much 
 biting of Mr. Hartiboy's quill pen and much 
 rumpling of Mr. Hartiboy's hair before it is 
 satisfactorily answered. 
 
 There was Harry Bosanquet, a heavy swell 
 in the Foreign Office, whose extensive ' get-up ' 
 at the covert-side was always a source of won- 
 der and admiration to his friends, who had 
 been a standing dish for years past at Mr. 
 
90 SHOOTING THE COVERTS. 
 
 Hartiboy's first shoot. He would of course 
 expect to be asked as usual. Besides, he liked 
 Harry. That gentleman's name accordingly 
 headed the list. 
 
 Then he had promised his wife to ask that 
 free-and-easy young cousin of hers, ' Doddy ' 
 Clayton; he must have an invitation, he 
 supposed. 
 
 ' I only hope he'll behave himself, that's all,' 
 observed Mr. Hartiboy, with a doubtful shake 
 of his head, as he wrote down the volatile 
 Doddy 's name against No. 2. 
 
 Next he considered whether old Henry Doyle 
 was sure to invite him for his first day in 
 Berry Grove. ' Wouldn't ask him if he thought 
 he didn't intend to. Must chance it,' he s'posed. 
 And down went Mr. Doyle's name. 
 
 General Chorks came next. The General 
 required a lot of consideration, he being not 
 only of an irascible disposition and the most 
 jealous of shots, but a decided bore as well 
 with those Indian tiger-shooting stories of his. 
 He was a near neighbour, though, and always 
 made a point of asking Mr. Hartiboy to his 
 shooting-parties. No, he did not see his way 
 
SHOOTING THE COVERTS. 91 
 
 to getting out of asking the General at all. 
 
 Then came the question, 'Would five guns 
 be sufficient, or should we have a sixth ?' He 
 would prefer five himself. His keeper, how- 
 ever, on being consulted put forth so many 
 arguments in favour of the extra gun (with a 
 view to an extra ' tip,' of course,) that his mas- 
 ter decided to issue one more invitation. 
 
 Again came the vexed question, ' Who was 
 to be the lucky sportsman ?' 
 
 His final choice lying between old Dottrell- 
 Dottrell, of Hawksnest, and Captain Lacquers 
 — ' Haw dammy ' Lacquers, as he was called — 
 late of the Queen's Roans, the newly-appointed 
 adjutant of the Cowslipshire Yeomanry, who 
 had lately come to Farley Grange. And the 
 former gentleman being a martyr to gout, and 
 as likely as not to be incapacitated just now 
 from shooting, in consequence, the diplomatic 
 Mr. Hartiboy determined to write to him first, 
 and keep the gallant Captain Lacquers as a 
 reserve to fall back upon in case of accidents. 
 
 The reader must now imagine the important 
 day to have arrived. Everything, for a won- 
 der, has gone as it should do. 
 
52 SHOOTING THE COVERTS. 
 
 The leaf is well off; the pheasants are re- 
 ported safe ; not one of the guns has disap- 
 pointed — not even Mr. Dottrell-Dottrell, who, 
 for a wonder, has not got the gout — and, with 
 a day made as it were expressly for the 
 occasion, Mr. Hartiboy may well be excused 
 for feeling on uncommonly good terms with 
 himself. 
 
 At half-past ten, Baggs, the keeper, waiting 
 anxiously outside Nightingale Wood in com- 
 mand of a strong force of beaters drawn up 
 two deep, catches sight of his master and his 
 guests making their way towards him from 
 the house, and, immediately turning to his 
 army, proceeds to read them a lecture on the 
 necessity of keeping well in line, and of tapping 
 their sticks instead of talking to each other — 
 all of which remarks, delivered with an air of 
 much gravity, are received with a series of the 
 broadest possible grins. 
 
 Field-marshal Baggs has served formerly in 
 the militia, and it is his pleasure on these 
 occasions to imj)ort as military a tone to the 
 proceedings as possible. It is a treat to see him 
 salute the company on their arrival at the 
 
SHOOTING THE COVERTS. 93 
 
 covert-side ; it is a still greater treat when his 
 polite enquiry of, ' Har you ready to begin, 
 gentelmen ?' is answered in the affirmative, to 
 hear him roar out, as he places himself at the 
 head of his brave army, ' To the r-r-right about 
 tu-r-r-r-n ! Quick mar-r-ch !' 
 
 Mr. Baggs is a very great man this day, you 
 may depend ; a far greater man than his master 
 — in his own opinion, at least. 
 
 The beaters consist of the usual varied assort- 
 ment one always sees on these occasions. 
 There, for instance, clad in a shooting-jacket, 
 his regulation inexpressibles tucked into a pair 
 of yellow gaiters, with, of course, a piece of 
 plaid cloth or flannel round his neck invariably 
 affected by the members of the force when off 
 duty, is the village policeman. 
 
 Close to him is another of Her Majesty's 
 servants in the shape of that useful functionary 
 the postman of the district. 
 
 The elderly person in the smock frock, with 
 the roguish leer in his watery grey eyes, and a 
 tongue perpetually in motion, is ' Soldier ' Bar- 
 ton, as he is always called, the greatest old 
 reprobate in the neighbourhood. He would 
 
94 SHOOTING THE COVERTS. 
 
 not be here to-day but for Mr. Hartiboy, 
 Ba^gs and he being on anything but friendly 
 terms ; the former having strong reason to sus- 
 pect the ' Soldier ' of setting a snare or two 
 whenever he gets a chance. 
 
 He is a plausible, cleverold rascal is ' Soldier ' 
 Barton, and an amusing one withal. Come 
 across him on one of his blackberry-picking or 
 sloe-gathering expeditions — for he never does 
 any regular work — and it will be odd indeed if 
 he does not wheedle you out of half-a-crown in 
 exchange for the amusement he is well con- 
 vinced he has afforded you with his abominable 
 lies about the Crimean War, and the battles of 
 the Alma and Inkerman, both of which great 
 victories, if he himself is to be believed, were to 
 be attributed in a great measure to his presence 
 in the field. 
 
 He warms to his work as he goes on, and by- 
 and-by will tell you how Lord Raggylan came 
 ' trotting hup to 'im in the thick of the fight 
 with the inquiry, " Barton, 'ave you seen any- 
 thing o' the Bufi*s lately?" 
 
 This little imaginary episode in his military 
 career he finds exceedingly profitable, its 
 
SHOOTING THE COVERTS. 95 
 
 relation seldom failing to procure a coin from 
 the admiring stranger for whose benefit he has 
 been trotted out. 
 
 'What! never seen "Soldier" Barton?' I 
 fancy I can hear my friend Hartiboy exclaim- 
 ing to one of his guests. ' Oh, dear me ! you 
 must not go away without being introduced to 
 " Soldier " Barton. You mustn't really ! Such 
 a character, you know !' 
 
 Whilst as for the ladies — bless their hearts ! 
 — they invariably speak of the old sinner as 
 ' dear old " Soldier " Barton !' And now the 
 great Mr. Baggs having posted his guns — more 
 than insinuating to each as he does so that his 
 is the best place in the beat — the fun begins. 
 
 Tap, tap, tap, go the sticks of the beaters 
 against the hazel stems, setting the hares and 
 rabbits in movement at once. The day is a still 
 one, and they can be heard plainly as they 
 come pattering along through the dead leaves 
 that strew the ground. 
 
 ' Hare to the reet ! rabbut to the left !' shout 
 the beaters. 
 
 ' Cock fizzint, forward !' cries the post- 
 man, as a fine cock bird darts from under his 
 
96 SHOOTING THE COVERTS. 
 
 feet, just missing a blow from his stick, and, 
 scuttling forward a few paces, gets up with 
 a crow of defiance. 
 
 Bang ! bang ! goes a gun. General Chorks 
 has missed him both barrels. 
 
 Bang ! goes another gun immediately after- 
 wards, and, alas ! down he comes this time, 
 nearly landing in the branches of an oak-tree 
 as he falls. That young wretch ' Doddy ' 
 Clayton has ' wiped the general's eye,' much to 
 that gallant officer's disgust, who has already 
 taken an intuitive dislike to the young gentle- 
 man in question. 
 
 Bang ! bang ! bang ! bang ! go the guns all 
 alonof the line. A most successful beat this. 
 Everybody is shooting well, too, as is proved 
 by the imposing array of pheasants, hares, and 
 rabbits laid out in rows along the ride by Mr. 
 Baggs and his myrmidons. 
 
 • That is all, is it?' now inquires Mr. Harti- 
 boy, Avith his chin in the air, as much as to 
 say, ' It's not half as much as I expected.' 
 
 And, Mr. Baggs answering in the affirmative 
 with a deferential touch of his hat, the squire 
 proceeds to jot down the list of killed in his 
 
SHOOTING THE COVERTS. 97 
 
 note-book. ' Doddy ' Clayton busying himself, 
 while he is doing so, by getting up a half- 
 sovereign sweep for the woodcocks. 
 
 ' I'm wonderfully lucky with 'em,' he re- 
 marks, cheerfully, to the other guns when he 
 has attained his object. ' If there's a cock in 
 the place, he makes for yours truly as safe as 
 paint.' 
 
 ' Humph,' growls General Chorks, ' that ac- 
 counts for your anxiety to get up the sweep- 
 stakes. Young jack-a-napes !' mutters the 
 general, as he turns away, ' he sha'n't win my 
 money if I can help it.' 
 
 Once more does Mr. Baggs place the sports- 
 men in position, and the work of destruction 
 proceeds. 
 
 They have hardly begun before the magic 
 cry of ' Mark woodcock !' is heard. And see ! 
 here he comes sailing along, and sure enough 
 making for Doddy Clayton. That gentleman 
 is just hugging himself at his good luck when 
 the bird, apparently changing his mind, flies 
 oif at a tangent straight to where General 
 Chorks is standing. Bang ! goes the general's 
 gun, as the woodcock comes over his head. 
 
 H 
 
^8 SHOOTING THE COVERTS. 
 
 He misses him clean, however, and, over- 
 balancing himself just as he is about to turn 
 to give him the second barrel, falls over on his 
 back in the ride, getting on to his legs just as 
 a loud bang ! followed by a stentorian shout of 
 victory from Doddy, proclaims the unwelcome 
 fact that that gentleman has finished the wood- 
 cock for him. 
 
 ' I say, mon brav' general,' shouts the irre- 
 pressible Doddy, holding up the woodcock in 
 derision, ' I'll trouble you for ten bob !' 
 
 ' You be d d,' growls the disgusted gen- 
 eral, as he levels his gun at a hen pheasant. 
 ' Confound the fellow !' he exclaims, stamping 
 his foot on the ground with vexation, as he 
 misses the bird with both barrels. ' I should 
 have killed that time to a certainty if it had 
 not been for his chattering !' 
 
 And the general growls and grumbles, and 
 is evidently so much put about, that his host 
 secretly gives orders to Mr. Baggs to put him 
 in the best place in the forthcoming ' hot 
 corner.' And the pheasants getting up in 
 clusters all round him, and presenting such 
 easy shots that he cannot very well miss them, 
 
SHOOTING THE COVERTS. 99 
 
 the general blazes away until his gun is red 
 hot, with so much satisfaction to himself, that 
 when the luncheon-cart makes its welcome ap- 
 pearance soon after, he is actually in a good 
 humour — at least, the nearest approach to a 
 o^ood humour he ever allows himself to be in. 
 
 It is an extraordinary coincidence, but true, 
 nevertheless, that a decided change comes over 
 everybody after lunch. 
 
 The shooting has become erratic, not to say 
 wild ; the beaters, too, are nothing like so 
 steady as they were, making far too much, noise, 
 and taking little pains to keep their line. 
 
 Mr. Baggs prognosticates solemnly that 
 ^ Summun '11 be shot afore long.' 
 
 The words are hardly out of his mouth, be- 
 fore a loud yell, proceeding from the ride along 
 which the guns are posted, proclaims the keeper 
 at once a prophet in his own country. 
 
 The two glasses of cura9oa he rashly con- 
 sumed after luncheon have so impaired the 
 vision of Doddy Clayton, that he has mistaken 
 General Chorks for a rabbit, and shot him in 
 the leg. 
 
 Luckily the general's gaiters are twill, so 
 
 h2 
 
100 SHOOTING THE COVERTS. 
 
 there is not much damage done ; the gallant 
 officer is desperately angry, though, all the 
 same. 
 
 ' Took me for a rabbit, indeed !' he exclaimed, 
 as he shook his fist at Doddy. 'Now I just 
 ask you or anybody else, do I hole like a rabbit, 
 sir?' 
 
 The day is now rapidly closing in, and the 
 sport is almost at an end. There is now only 
 a corner of the wood to beat, and then the fun 
 will be over. 
 
 Field-marshal Baggs posts his guns — three 
 in the little grass meadow outside the wood 
 three in the ride — and then he and his men 
 plunge into the covert. The pheasants, having 
 been driven towards this point all day, are 
 there in force, and get up almost too quickly 
 for the shooters, -who are all one-gun men. 
 
 Bang! bang! bang! bang! A perfect fu si- 
 lade ! It reminds ' Soldier ' Barton of the ' battle 
 of Hinkerman,' he says. 
 
 The last cock-pheasant gets up ; the last of 
 the beaters steps into the ride ; the day's sport 
 is over, and all there is to do now is to count 
 the spoil and go home. 
 
m 
 
 5 
 
 CQ 
 < 
 CC 
 
 UJ 
 X 
 
 8! 
 
SHOOTING THE COVERTS. 101 
 
 A hundred and fifty pheasants, thirty hares, 
 seventy-five rabbits, two woodcock and a wood- 
 pigeon — such is the bag, and not a bad one 
 either. Mr. Hartiboy receives the congratula- 
 tions of his friends and Mr. Baggs his tips, 
 which latter we hope are commensurate with 
 the sport he has shown. The day, however, 
 is not destined to pass ofi* without a slight 
 co7itretempf!. 
 
 Mr. Hartiboy and his guests, having lit their 
 cigars, are just about to start for home, when 
 a sudden commotion in the rear causes them to 
 halt. 
 
 The great Baggs has detected ' Soldier ' 
 Barton in the very act of pocketing a rabbit. 
 
 ' It's no use your attempting to deny it,' says 
 Baggs, ' cos here it is in your pocket.' 
 
 But the ' Soldier' had not the least intention 
 of doing anything of the sort. 
 
 ' When I sor,' said he, ' that theer rabbit 
 a-lyin' on the ground all shot to bits, just as 
 I've seen many an' many a pore feller in the 
 Rooshan war, a feelin' come over me as if a 
 woice from above was a-saying to me, " that 
 theer rabbit, bein' so knocked about, ain't no 
 
10^ vSHOOTINa THE COVERTS. 
 
 more good than nothin' at all to a gentleman 
 like Squire Hartiboy. I should put it in my 
 pocket if I was you, Barton, he won't say nothin' 
 to you, you may depend." ' 
 
 In spite of Mr. Baggs's remonstrances, I 
 should be inclined to bet that ' Soldier ' Barton 
 will be found amongst the beaters the next 
 time my friend Hartiboy shoots Nightingale 
 Wood. 
 
103 
 
 A WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING. 
 
 I. 
 
 There is no better hunting country in all 
 England than the renowed Vale of Hog wash, 
 and I know of no better quarters for a gentleman 
 desirous of disporting himself and his horses 
 over those renowned pastures than that snug 
 little hostelry, the ' Peacock,' at Burford 
 Bridge, a sort of straggling, overgrown village 
 — you could hardly call it a town — situated in 
 the heart of the vale. Not only is it very snug 
 and ' comfey ' in itself, but — oh, rarity in 
 country inns ! — the cooking and wines are both 
 as good as can be. No need to bring your own 
 champagne and claret with you to the ' Pea- 
 cock,' I can assure you. These advantages 
 may be easily accounted for from the fact that 
 James BoUand, the landlord, before he turned 
 
104 A WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING. 
 
 Boniface, had been butler to the late General 
 Sir George Gobbler, K.C.B., a worthy old 
 warrior, who, having given up soldiering, took 
 to devoting his entire energies to the noble 
 science of gastronomy. Now, eating and drink- 
 ing are very pleasant amusements in their way, 
 but when carried on to an excess by an elderly 
 gentleman of full habit, the consequences are 
 apt to be disastrous. 
 
 It was so in this case. A surfeit of canvas- 
 backed duck (a present from a friend in 
 America), washed down by an overdose of cham- 
 pagne, gave the jolly old general his coup de 
 ^rac^, with the result that James Bolland found 
 himself out of place at extremely short notice. 
 He and the general's plump housekeeper, how- 
 ever, had long had a secret understanding with 
 one another, and they both agreed that the time 
 had now arrived for them to join forces. This 
 they accordingly did, and, on comparing notes, 
 finding that, what with their joint savings and 
 the handsome legacy apiece the general had 
 left them, they had got quite a handsome sum 
 of money at their backs, they proceeded to 
 look about them for a safe investment for the 
 
A WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING. 105 
 
 same. And the ' Peacock,' on which the 
 ex-butler had long had his eye, falling vacant 
 just then, the newly-married pair promptly 
 took it on a long lease, and in due time entered 
 into possession, with, as I have just said, the 
 happiest results. 
 
 It is just four years ago since I first made 
 acquaintance with the 'Peacock.' Being a 
 migratory bird as regards my hunting, seldom 
 honouring any particular pack with my patron- 
 age longer than one season, or at most two, 
 I determined to try the Vale of Hogwash by 
 way of a change this time, and accordingly 
 sent my man down to Burford Bridge to see 
 what sort of quarters there were to be had. 
 He returned with so favourable a report of 
 the ' Peacock,' that I at once wrote to secure 
 rooms and stabling. My groom had not in the 
 least exaggerated matters. I had not been a 
 couple of days in the place before I came to 
 the conclusion that I had not been so comfort- 
 able for a very long while. 
 
 The third night, a certain curry Mrs. Bolland 
 sent up by Avay of a finale to a most excellent 
 dinner, and which gave a peculiar relish to as 
 
lOG A WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHINa. 
 
 good a bottle of dry champagne as I ever drank, 
 settled the matter, and over a big cigar in the 
 easiest of easy-chairs afterwards, I decided 
 in my own mind that I had never been so 
 comfortable before in my life. 
 
 The place was first-rate ! (I thought of the 
 curry.) Quite perfect, by Jove ! (I thought of 
 the champagne.) 
 
 There was onl}^ one thing wanting, and that 
 was company, and company I determined to 
 have, and of my own choosing as soon as possi- 
 ble, if not sooner. 
 
 Accordingly the next day — it was the Sabbath 
 — what a favourite day, by the way, Sunday is 
 for everybody to do their correspondence upon 
 — down I sat and wrote to all the good fellows 
 I could think of amongst my hunting friends, 
 expatiating quite in the guide-book style upon 
 the virtues of the ' Peacock,' and begging them, 
 one and all, to join me there. 
 
 It was late in the day rather, or no doubt I 
 should have got more fish to my net. As it 
 was, I landed three before Christmas. What 
 a time we had of it ! What with the good sport 
 we had had ; the^ hospitalities we had received 
 
A WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING. 107 
 
 from everybody around, the duke included ; 
 and last, but not least, the comforts of the ' Pea- 
 cock,' we all four agreed as we departed, the 
 hunting at an end, one fine morning in March, 
 en masse for Liverpool, for the purpose of doing 
 the Grand National, that we had found Utopia 
 at last. As for hunting anywhere else but in 
 the Vale, or staying anywhere else but at the 
 ' Peacock ' in future, it was not to be thought 
 of for a moment. 
 
 True to our vows, the next November saw us 
 all four back at Burford Bridge, with an addi- 
 tion of two more friends. And six being a nice 
 number, and just enough to fill our sitting-room 
 without over-crowding, we determined for the 
 future not to go out of our Avay to encourage 
 fresh visitors. 
 
 Another November arrived, and still the same 
 company. (We looked upon the inn by this 
 time in the light of our own property, and Mr. 
 and Mrs. Bolland, bless them ! as domestics in 
 our own pay.) 
 
 And now came a surprise — rathe r a shock, in 
 fact. 
 
 The fourth season drew nigh, and once more 
 
108 A WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHINa 
 
 did I book myself by rail for Burford Bridge 
 with all the pleasurable anticipation imagin- 
 able. My trusty groom was on the platform 
 waiting for me as the train drew up. 
 
 ' Any of the other gentlemen arrived yet, 
 Richard?' I inquired as I alighted. 
 
 ' Not yet, sir,' was the reply, ' but there's 
 another gent come last night, a German he is, 
 of the name of AVolif — a Count, I think Mr. Bol- 
 land said he was. Six 'osses and an 'ack he've 
 brought along with him, and more coming, I 
 b'lieve. Extraordinary rich they say he is, 'wound 
 Tip Richard, in a tone that implied that in his 
 opinion the possession of wealth constituted all 
 that was desirable for complete happiness in 
 this world. 
 
 ' And where have they put him ?' I asked. 
 
 ' His bed-room's at the hend of the passage, 
 and he hoccipies the settin'-room next door but 
 one to where you and the other gentlemen are, 
 sir. ^0. 4. The room where the stuffed hotter 
 is, if you recollect, sir.' 
 
 ' He's been smokin' cigars and playin' the 
 pianner and singin' all the day a'most,' contin- 
 ued Richard. ' Got a remarkable fine voice too, 
 
A WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING. 109 
 
 seemingly,' he added, with the air of a connois- 
 seur ; ' we could hear him quite plain right out 
 in the stables.' 
 
 ' Hang the fellow !' I muttered to myself, as, 
 in order to put a stop to my servant's loquac- 
 ity, I bundled into the hired fly in waiting and 
 was driven off to the ' Peacock,' my mind full 
 of misgivings. I am afraid my looks must have 
 proved an index to my feelings, for hardly had 
 I exchanged greetings with my worthy land- 
 lord, than he went off at score on the subject 
 of the baron. 
 
 ' Hoped he wouldn't annoy us by his presence 
 in the house, being " foreign" in his habits,' (I 
 was rather at a loss to know what Mr. Bolland 
 meant by that, unless it was that the baron 
 was dirtier than the ordinary run of mortals), 
 ' and terribly musical, I'm sorry to say,' he add- 
 ed, shaking his head, as a prolonged ' yodell- 
 ing ' to the accompaniment of a piano, from a 
 room above, greeted our ears as we entered the 
 house. 
 
 ' No need to tell me that,' I thought to my- 
 self as I ascended the stairs, just in time to run 
 against two of the maid-servants of the estab- 
 
110 A WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING. 
 
 lishment listening in the passage with great 
 delight to the song of the WoliF. 
 
 One of the fair damsels expressed her opinion 
 that it was lovely ; the other, evidently a good 
 judge, declared the baron's 'yodelling' re- 
 minded her of nothing so much as the cry of 
 a London milkman. 
 
 ' Clever girl, that,' I thought to myself. 
 
 An hour afterwards the rest of our party 
 arrived, and universal was the look of dismay 
 that appeared on the faces of one and all, I 
 can tell you, when they heard of the new 
 arrival in our midst. 
 
 Our dinner that night was a particularly 
 pleasant one. We had none of us met for some 
 time, and consequently were so busy comparing 
 notes, and had so much to talk about, that we 
 clean forgot that there was such a person as 
 this obnoxious baron. We were soon to be 
 reminded, however, for no sooner did coffee 
 make its appearance, and we had settled our- 
 selves down for a quiet cigar and a great talk, 
 than crash ! went all the notes at once of the 
 piano in No. 6, and away went the baron at 
 score with one of his wretched German ditties. 
 
A WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING. Ill 
 
 Son^i^ after song did he favour us with, until 
 he drove us nearly mad. It was not until we 
 were nearly ready for bed ourselves, that the 
 noise of the piano being closed with a bang an- 
 nounced that the baron had finished his vocal 
 exercises for the night. 
 
 ' Thank goodness for that !' exclaimed Jack 
 Rapid, ' and,' added he, shaking his fist in the 
 direction of the baron's apartments, ' I sincerely 
 hope you'll break your neck, you noisy brute, 
 the first time you go out hunting.' Which 
 cheerful sentiment we one and all most heartily 
 endorsed. 
 
 Sleepy though we were, we agreed that bed 
 was out of the question until some plan w^as 
 devised for getting shot of the baron. 
 
 At last, after a lengthened debate, it was 
 agreed that there was but one thing to do, and 
 that was to ask our enemy to join our dinner- 
 party of an evening. 
 
 ' He cant sing then,' observed Peter Lovell, 
 ' for the very good reason why, there's no piano.' 
 
 Accordingly it was settled that I, as head of 
 the party, should call on the baron after break- 
 fast the following day, and request him to 
 
112 A WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING. 
 
 honour our mess with his presence during his 
 sojourn at the ' Peacock.' 
 
 II. 
 
 ' The baron would be jarmed ! he would be 
 delided ! Next do 'onting, he liked nodding zo 
 moch as goot gompany.' 
 
 And so 'bleazed' was the great man at the 
 comphment paid him, that, when T rose to go, 
 he made as if he would kiss me on both cheeks, 
 after the manner of his countrymen, and no 
 doubt would have succeeded but for my agility 
 in getting away. 
 
 That evening he joined us at dinner for the 
 first time, and it is hard to say which astonish- 
 ed us the most when he appeared in our midst, 
 the gorgeousness of his apparel, or his free-and- 
 easy manners. 
 
 The baron was a big, burly-looking customer 
 of middle height, with a scrubby black beard 
 and moustache. His round bullet head was 
 cropped close, whilst a very red nose of the 
 snub pattern, and a pair of little pig eyes, 
 which were always on the twinkle, either with 
 
A WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING. 113 
 
 merriment or cunning — it was hard to say 
 which — served to light up his great round face. 
 Take him altogether, his appearance was not 
 so prepossessing as one might have expected 
 from such a swell. 
 
 How he chattered and talked during dinner, 
 and how he ate, (with his knife,) and drank ! 
 Such a hand at ice-pudding I do not think I ever 
 did see ! 
 
 Talk about smoking, too ! He commenced 
 with the largest cigar I ever beheld, and that 
 finished, he sent to his room for his pipe, an 
 enormous meerschaum, with a cherry-wood 
 stem, holding apparently about a quarter of a 
 pound of tobacco when filled. At this he 
 smoked away, literally like a chimney, the 
 whole of the evening. 
 
 Hunting, or ' 'onting,' as he called it, he evi- 
 dently knew little or nothing about, judging 
 from the absurd questions he put to us regard- 
 ing it ; his principal reason for taking the field 
 being, as he naively said, because his doctor 
 told him it was ' 'elthy,' and ' goot ' for his 
 liver. 
 
 * Besides which,' he added, ' I gallop and 
 
 I 
 
114 A WOLF IX SHEEP'S CLOTHING. 
 
 joinp moch in Shermany : I am of zem very 
 fond!' 
 
 On inquiry it turned out that his galloping 
 and jumping had taken place, as a rule, in the 
 riding-school. After all this information, need- 
 less to say we awaited the ingenuous baron's 
 dehut in the hunting-field with the greatest 
 anxiety. Everybody in the neighbourhood, 
 too, had heard of the great man's descent upon 
 the county, and such marvellous stories of his 
 vast wealth had got about, that his appearance 
 as he cantered becomingly uj) in company with 
 my five friends and myself to the opening meet 
 of the season of the V.H.W., or Vale of Hog- 
 wash Hounds, created a genuine sensation. 
 
 What a get-up, too, was his ! A velvet cap, 
 a bright blue tie with flowing ends, a diamond 
 stud as large as a walnut in his shirt-front, and 
 a pair of patent-leather jack-boots, combined to- 
 gether to make such a swell of their wearer as 
 was seldom seen in those parts. 
 
 If the baron's costume, however, was not 
 altogether what it should be, the hunter he be- 
 strode was quite correct. In fact, I thought, as 
 I cast my eye over him, that a cleverer-looking 
 
A WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING. 115 
 
 horse I had seldom seen. Charming manners, 
 too : the equanimity he displayed whilst his 
 mouth was being trifled with being really 
 marvellous, the baron as often as not drooping 
 the snaffle altogether, and riding on the curb 
 alone. The sight of him doing so aggravated 
 me to that extent that at last I ventured mildly 
 to hint that his horse probably would be very 
 niuch obliged to him if he reversed the order of 
 things. 
 
 lie did so immediately like a good boy, 
 merely remarking that he thought ' one vas de 
 same as de oder.' 
 
 But if his general appearance and dress 
 astonished the natives, what shall be said about 
 his performance when the hounds found and 
 went away ? Such a ' customer ' had not been 
 seen in those parts for many a long day. 
 
 Gates — oxers — bullfinches — nothing came 
 amiss to the baron, and though he appeared to 
 shoot up into the air every time his horse rose 
 at his leaps, he never came off somehow. How 
 he stuck on indeed was a marvel. 
 
 Stick on he did though, and when the hounds 
 rolled up their fox in a hedgerow at the end of 
 
 i2 
 
116 A WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING. 
 
 a very fast forty minutes, we all agreed, includ- 
 ing tlie master, (who presented him with the 
 brush,) that the baron had far and away the 
 best of it throughout. He was a credit in fact 
 to the ' Peacock,' and we all felt proud of him. 
 
 A festive dinner-party was ours that night, 
 in the course of which the baron's health was 
 drunk with enthusiasm. 
 
 To all appearance he had taken quite as 
 much champagne as was good for him, for in 
 tanking his goot friends in reply, he shed tears 
 copiously. As, however, he won three hundred 
 at ' egarde,' as he called it, afterwards from Jack 
 Rapid, it may be taken for granted that he knew 
 tolerably well what he was about. The next 
 day we all felt rather so-so, with the exception 
 of the baron, who was as fresh as a lark, and 
 rode harder than he had done the day before, if 
 that were possible. 
 
 Young Midas the millionaire, asked him, at 
 the end of the run, if he would take three 
 hundred for the chestnut he was on. 
 
 ' I love this 'orse as I vould my own son if I 
 'ad von,' replied the baron, patting his neck 
 affectionately ; ' but he is not up to my veight, 
 
A WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING. 117 
 
 and I vill 'im sell to you, sare, for vife 'undred 
 pounds.' 
 
 ' Subject to a veterinary surgeon's examina- 
 tion, done with you !' answered Midas. 
 
 But the baron had never heard of such an 
 animal as a vet., and could not be made to 
 understand what it meant. The more Midas 
 tried to explain, the more confused was the 
 baron. 
 
 ' Ach ! I do not understand,' said he. ' You 
 say to me, Vill you sell your 'oss ? I say. Yes ! 
 I vill. Ver goot. 'Ere 'e is ! Vill you 'ave 
 'im ? Yes or no?' 
 
 Tliere was a general laugh at this, and Midas, 
 driven into a corner, agreed, sorely against his 
 will, to give the baron his price. 
 
 The next day he accosted me at the meet 
 with, ' I say, old fellow, that baron of yours is 
 a devilish sharp chap. He sent the chestnut 
 horse over this morning before I was out of 
 bed, and told his man to wait for an answer — in 
 other words, to wait for the money. 
 
 ' I sent him back a cheque, and now my 
 fellow tells me the horse is a regular screw — 
 got spavin, ring-bone, and goodness knows 
 
118 A WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING. 
 
 what besides. Tidings of comfort and joy to a 
 poor devil like me, ain't it?' And poor Midas, 
 who is as mean as he is rich, rode off despond- 
 ently to tell some one else the sad tale. 
 
 Meanwhile, our German friend was not the 
 man to allow himself to run short of horseflesh, 
 so by means of that fine invention the electric 
 telegraph, the five-hundred-guinea hunter was 
 quickly replaced by another, with two more in 
 addition. 
 
 To my query as to what horse-dealer he 
 honoured with his custom he answered, in a 
 tone of lordly indifference, ' That he did not 
 know. He left all such tings to his groom.' 
 
 AVell, things went on pretty much the same 
 up to Christmas. The baron rode as hard one 
 day as he did another, and kept selling his 
 horses at large prices in the field, and replacing 
 them the next day. He kept up his singing, 
 too, and his hand in at ecarte as well, as poor 
 Jack Rapid, who could ill afford to lose, and 
 one or two more of us, knew to our cost. 
 
 At last one Monday morning in came the 
 baron to breakfast with a very long face in- 
 deed. In answer to our query, ' What's the 
 
A WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING. 119 
 
 matter, baron?' he informed his goot friends 
 that he was sorry to say he would have to leaf 
 them ad de end of de veeg. He was summoned 
 to Shermany,' he said, 'on imbordant business.' 
 
 We expressed our regret, of course, though 
 in our hearts we were secretly glad, especially 
 Jack Rapid, who by this time had had more 
 than enough of him. That week the baron 
 quite outdid himself in the riding way, and the 
 fence apparently was not made that could stop 
 him. When he cantered up to the meet on his 
 farewell day in the Yale of Hogwash he had 
 sold every one of his horses except the grey 
 he bestrode. He pounded the field in the 
 course of the morning over some posts and 
 rails in a corner, and at the end of the run 
 tossed young Midas what he, Midas, should 
 give him, vour ' 'undred or noting,' for the grey, 
 and the baron won. 
 
 And as we watched the baron's fly out of 
 sight the following morning. Jack Rapid ob- 
 served, quietly, 
 
 ' I say, you fellers, if that chap had been an 
 Englishman, what a shocking snob every one 
 would have said he was, eh?' 
 
120 A WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING. 
 
 We heard nothing more of the great man 
 after his departure, and he was soon forgotten, 
 except by those who had purchased his horses, 
 which proved as a rule very dear bargains to 
 their new owners. Meeting an attache of the 
 German Embassy one night at dinner, I asked 
 him if he knew or had ever heard of such a 
 person. No, he never had. So, like the rest, 
 I never expected to see or hear of him again. 
 As it turned out, however, I was to do both in 
 a most unexpected manner. 
 
 Being in want of a couple of horses for the 
 ensuing season, and hearing that a dealer 
 living a short distance from London — down 
 Willesden way, indeed — had some likely ones, 
 I journeyed out there one day in a hansom 
 cab, to see if he had got anything to suit me. 
 
 ' Most happy to show you what I've got in 
 my boxes, sir,' said the polite Mr. Thorough- 
 pin. ' Meanwhile, my head man's just taking 
 a five-year old I bought in Ireland last week, 
 over the fences. He's a charming young 'oss, 
 and might suit you ; p'raps you'd like to se e 
 him jump?' 
 
o 
 
 < 
 
 UJ 
 X 
 
 o 
 
 < 
 
 o 
 o 
 
 X 
 
A WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING. 121 
 
 Accordingly we made our way to the field 
 at tlie back of the premises, to view the animal 
 in question. But, eh ? AVhat ! Surely I have 
 seen that man with a beard, who, now rising 
 in his stirrups, now sitting well down on his 
 saddle, hands the five-year old from Ireland 
 over the fences, one after the other, in masterly 
 style, somewhere before ! Where on earth could 
 it have been ? 
 
 And, as I was racking my brains to think, 
 the man in question, having finished his jump- 
 ing lesson, passed close to us as he proceeded 
 to take the five-year old back to his stable. 
 Then it was that I recognised him. 
 
 It was the baron — Baron Wolff, of good- 
 ness knows where, in ' Shermany ' — and no 
 other ! 
 
 ' Who is that fellow ?' I enquired of the 
 dealer. 
 
 ' That, sir ? Oh, that's Joe Brown, my head 
 man and rough rider, and a first-rater he is, 
 too ! He's been in the racing-stables in Ger- 
 many and other foreign parts nearly all his 
 life, and only came over here a couple of years 
 ago. Capital chap he is to sell a horse. I send 
 
122 A WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING. 
 
 him down with my horses to different hunting 
 quarters now and again, and he invariably gets 
 rid of them all, and precious well too.' 
 
 ' H'm. Did he ever go dowm into the Vale 
 of Hogwash, do you know?' I asked. 
 
 ' Dear me, yes,' said Mr. Thoroughpin, ' he 
 was there from November right up to Christ- 
 mas last year, and sold something like twelve 
 'osses for rattling good prices.' He added, with 
 a chuckle, ' They seemed so fond of him down 
 there, that I think I shall repeat the experiment 
 and send him there again this year.' 
 
 I was far too disgusted to face the baron 
 again, and making an excuse to Mr. Thorough- 
 pin, who I fancy thought me mad, I ordered 
 the hansom round and drove off to town with- 
 out- seeing the horses. 
 
 ' You may send him to the Vale, Mr. Thor- 
 oughpin, if you like,' said I to myself, as I 
 soothed my ruffled feelings with a cigar, ' but 
 I'll be hanged if he shall come inside " The 
 Peacock." ' 
 
 It nearly made me sick, it did indeed, when 
 I thought of how we had fraternised with and 
 treated as our equal, a horsedealer's rough 
 
A WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING. 123 
 
 rider. How pleased Jack Rapid would be too, 
 when he learned what sort of a person it was 
 he lost all that money at ecarte to ! 
 
 A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing with a ven- 
 geance. 
 
124 
 
 TIT FOR TAT. 
 
 Harry Tremaine, a ricli young fellow of five- 
 and-twenty, owner of Beechwood Park, a fine 
 place in Crampshire, was so in the habit, when 
 returning from one of his periodical visits to 
 the metropolis, (for the purpose, as he was wont 
 facetiously to say, of having his hair cut,) 
 of bringing back with him promiscuous ac- 
 quaintances in the shape of man, picked up 
 goodness knows how and where, that his mother 
 and sisters, who kept house for him, were not 
 in the least surprised when he turned up at 
 Beechwood one evening in March after a ten 
 days' sojourn in town, accompanied by a friend, 
 perhaps a trifle more ' raffish ' in appearance 
 than any they had beheld yet, and who was 
 introduced to them in due course by the title of 
 ' Captain Mackenzie.' The captain — he had, I 
 
TIT FOR TAT. 125 
 
 believe, once (or, at all events, said he had) 
 held a commission in a Highland militia regi- 
 ment — was a fine, well set-up fellow of about 
 thirty, well-bred looking withal, and would 
 have been a very presentable person had he 
 not looked so abominably dissipated and been 
 so badly dressed. As it was, with his red nose, 
 his slovenly attire, his supreme self-confidence, 
 to say nothing of the state of brandy and water 
 he evidently was in, he certainly at first sight 
 was hardly the sort of acquaintance one would 
 wish to introduce into the bosom of one's 
 family. 
 
 ' My dear boy,' said Mrs. Tremaine, when she 
 got her son by himself for a few minutes before 
 dinner, ' where did you pick up this terrible 
 person — this Captain Mackenzie ?' 
 
 ' Terrible person, mother !' rejoined the 
 young one. ' Why, old Mac,' (his mother 
 shuddered), ' is one of the best fellows going. 
 Belongs to one of the oldest families in Scot- 
 land ; awfully amusin', don't you know, and 
 one of the finest whips you ever saw — certainly 
 the finest 1 ever saw. I went down on his 
 coach to Croydon Steeplechases the other day — 
 
126 TIT FOR TAT. 
 
 that's how our acquaintance began, in fact — 
 and though he hadn't been sober for a week, 
 and wasn't sober then, so everybody said, the 
 way he drove was marvellous. He has 
 promised to give me some lessons — that's why 
 I asked him down here, in fact. Oh, he's 
 a grand fellow, mother, I can tell you, and 
 you'll be awfully fond of him when you have 
 seen more of him, I feel certain.' 
 
 Harry Tremaine little thought when he made 
 this prophecy how true to the letter his words 
 would come. 
 
 Though the captain had retired to rest on 
 the night of his arrival anything but sober, he 
 was up betimes the next morning, and before 
 breakfast had made a thorough and complete 
 inspection of the stable and its contents, suc- 
 ceeding at the same time in making a most 
 favourable impression upon the bipeds in 
 connection therewith. 
 
 By dinner-time he was as much at home on 
 the place as if he had lived there all his 
 life. 
 
 Well, a month passed, then another, and 
 Captain Mackenzie still remained at Beechwood, 
 
TIT FOR TAT. 127 
 
 with apparently no notion of going aAvay. By 
 this time he was quite one of the family ; called 
 Harry Tremaine by his Christian name, used 
 his horses and carriages as if they were his 
 own ; in fact made himself thoroughly at 
 home. 
 
 He had imported an elder brother of his, too, 
 from town — a major this time, of much more 
 reputable appearance than himself, a member 
 of a good club, and altogether a person no one 
 would be ashamed to know, which was more 
 than could be said of his young brother, as 
 the major was wont to speak of the captain. 
 Horse-dealing was perhaps the major's principal 
 amusement, and his traducers did say that at 
 times, when riding his favourite hobby, he 
 could be just a trifle too sharp. The major 
 was the most good-natured of men. Did he 
 happen to overhear at the club anyone express 
 his wish to purchase a horse he was at his side 
 in a moment. ' You want a hunter?' or hack, 
 as the case might be. ' My dear fellow, I know 
 the very thing — the very thing,' and so on until 
 he had landed him. 
 
 Somehow or another men who had had 
 
128 TIT FOR TAT. 
 
 one deal with the major never wanted another. 
 
 The gallant philanthropist, as he might be 
 termed, so apparently eager was he at all 
 times to put himself out of the way for his 
 fellow-creatures, did not make a long stay at 
 Beechwood Park — only a week, indeed; but 
 during that period he managed to transact a 
 great deal of business, certainly with profit to 
 himself if not to others. 
 
 In the first place, he sold a clever cob and a 
 hunter to his youthful host, at prices that he 
 would never have dared to ask at his club. 
 (He had to behave very handsomely to his 
 brother the captain in respect of these trans- 
 actions, you may depend.) 
 
 Secondly, he persuaded Harry Tremaine — 
 not that that youth wanted much persuasion — 
 that it was absolutely essential to his happiness 
 that he should take a gun that season on the 
 moor the major annually rented in Scotland. 
 
 ' Never shot a grouse ! Never been to Scot- 
 land !' almost shrieked the major, holding up 
 his hands in apparent horror. ' Sit down and 
 write me a cheque for a hundred and fifty 
 guineas directly, and when you've done that 
 
TIT FOR TAT. 12& 
 
 order me a brandy and soda, for your confes- 
 sion has made me feel quite faint — positively 
 it has.' 
 
 And Harry, like a good boy, did as he was 
 bid ; the major, as he pocketed the cheque and 
 drank the brandy and soda, inwardly regret- 
 ting that he did not tack on another fifty. 
 
 ' I do believe he'd have stood it,' he confided 
 to his brother, later on, ' for he positively does 
 not seem to know the value of anything. Such 
 a young flat I never met in my life — never !' 
 
 And the major walked off to his room to 
 adorn himself for dinner, thinking to himself 
 what a capital thing it would be for everybody 
 — meaning of course, himself — if there were a 
 few more Harry Tremaines in this world. 
 
 The gallant ofiicer went back to town, his 
 club, and his whist the next morning, having, 
 he told his host, as they shook hands warmly 
 on parting, enjoyed his visit immensely. 
 
 And for once in his life the major, who was 
 a terrible humbug, really meant what he said. 
 
 For some weeks after the major's departure 
 life at Beechwood went on pretty much as usual, 
 Harry Tremaine and his guest spending their 
 
 K 
 
130 TIT FOR TAT. 
 
 time principally in driving four-in-liand and 
 drinking, poor Harry flattering himself that 
 under his dissipated mentor's instructions he 
 should eventually turn out a first-rate whip. 
 So pleased was he at the prospect that he 
 begged his friend not to think of going away 
 yet, but to stop just as long as ever he liked 
 — for ever, if it pleased him. 
 
 ' Thanks, old f'ler,' rejoined the captain ; 
 ' very good of you, I'm shaw. Shall have to 
 run up to town, though, next Thursday, on 
 business, and it's just on the cards I mayn't be 
 able to look you up again for some time. It 
 all depends on circumstances,' he added, cast- 
 ing a sly look at his host out of the corners of 
 his eyes as he spoke. 
 
 When Harry Tremaine, on the aforesaid 
 Thursday morning, came down rather later than 
 usual to breakfast, he saw by the looks of the 
 servants and the demeanour of his two sisters 
 that something unusual had happened. 
 
 ' Where's my mother?' he enquired, looking 
 round. ' And where's Mac ? Not gone, has 
 he? He told me last night that he wasn't 
 going to start until the afternoon — and I had 
 
TIT FOR TAT. 131 
 
 some commissions I wanted him to do for me 
 in town, confound him !' 
 
 ' There is a note for you from mamma beside 
 your plate,' replied Miss Tremaine, coldly, ' that 
 perhaps may enlighten you. All toe know is 
 that she and your friend, Captain Mackenzie, 
 left here together this morning, before any of 
 us were up, to catch the eight o'clock train to 
 town. We can of course only guess for what 
 purpose.' 
 
 Harry tore open the note, and his horror and 
 indignation at the contents knew no bounds. It 
 was as his sisters — and in all probability the 
 domestics as well — had shrewdly suspected. 
 His mother and his friend Mackenzie had gone 
 •off to London to be married. 
 
 ' He is a most disreputable, horrid person,' 
 ■said Miss Tremaine. ' And now it is all over, 
 and just to show you how much he could have 
 cared for poor infatuated mamma, I may as 
 well tell you that the wretch proposed to me 
 only a fortnight ago.' 
 
 * And me too — I believe the very same day !' 
 exclaimed Miss Ada, the beauty of the family, 
 bursting into tears. 
 
 k2 
 
132 TIT FOR TAT. 
 
 ' Damnation !' exclaimed poor Harrj", rising- 
 from his chair in great wrath, throwing, as he 
 did so, his mother's note into the fire, and 
 giving her favourite pug Jumbo, who got in 
 his way, such a kick in the ribs as made him 
 howl and wheeze for the next five minutes. 
 
 The event not only greatly disgusted the 
 family — as well it might — but caused consider- 
 able excitement in the neighbourhood. Every- 
 body^, of course, could not help being aware that 
 Captain Mackenzie had married Mrs. Tremaine 
 for nothing in the world except her money, for 
 not only was she excessively plain in the face, 
 with a figure equally indifferent — approaching 
 almost to deformity indeed — but she was old 
 enough to be his mother as well. Such a mar- 
 riage between such an ill-assorted pair could 
 lead to nothing but unhappiness in the long 
 run. 
 
 His sisters, angry as they were with their 
 mother, wrote to her from time to time ; but 
 Harry vowed that he would never speak to her 
 again, much less her ' blackguard ' of a hus- 
 band, as he now styled his quondam friend 
 ' Mac' 
 
TIT FOR TAT. 133 
 
 It was not until some weeks after the affiiir 
 had taken place, and had been to a great ex- 
 tent forgotten, if not forgiven, that Harry Tre- 
 maine one fine day suddenly recollected his 
 agreement with Major Mackenzie, his detested 
 step-father's brother, to accompany him to his 
 moor in Scotland the ensuing August for the 
 grouse-shooting. 
 
 ' Under the circumstances, of course, I can't 
 go,' said Harry to himself, ' and equally, of 
 course, he will hardly expect me to. August 
 is not far off. I had better write to the major 
 at once, appeal to his good feeling in the matter, 
 and ask him to return my cheque. Such a 
 cordial good fellow he seemed — a man of good 
 position, too — he is sure to view the matter in 
 the same light as I do.' 
 
 Poor Harry ! He little knew the person he 
 had to deal with, or he never would have made 
 the request he did. The major wrote back the 
 nicest letter in the world, deploring the mar- 
 riage for many reasons that he need not go 
 into there. On the other hand, he was selfish 
 enough to admit that he welcomed it. He was 
 bound to say (braving the charge of selfish- 
 
134 TIT FOR TAT. 
 
 ness which he knew would be laid at his door) 
 that he welcomed it — yes ! positively welcomed 
 it, for his brother, who he feared had up to 
 now not been altogether what one would wish, 
 would not fail to become a better man under 
 the influence and 2:uidance of such a o-ood 
 woman as he had been lucky enough to obtain 
 for a wife. 
 
 Having thus gracefully expressed his senti- 
 ments Avith regard to his brother's marriage, 
 the gallant major next proceeded to review the 
 grouse-shooting difficulty. This he did very 
 quickly and decisively. To cut a long story 
 short, he gave Harry Tremaine to understand 
 that, though he would be delighted to see him 
 at his shooting-lodge on the 12th of August, 
 he had not the least intention of returning his 
 cheque if he did not choose to come. In short, 
 the major clearly looked upon it as a P.P. ar- 
 rangement, and meant to stick to his bargain 
 and his cheque. 
 
 ' The fellow is a regular sharper,' exclaimed 
 Harry, when he read the letter ; ' but,' he 
 added, ' I'll pay him off, though, for all his 
 cleverness, if I can. I'll run up to town to- 
 
TIT FOR TAT. 135 
 
 morrow, hanojed if I don't, and see what's to 
 be done.' 
 
 Accordingly to London he went the following 
 day, bent on revenge on the major in some 
 shape or form. 
 
 As luck would have it, that very afternoon, 
 as he was walking along Pall Mall on his way 
 to his club, he ran across the man of all others 
 who was likely to be of service to him in the 
 matter. 
 
 This was a certain Colonel Rock, one of those 
 mysterious individuals whom everybody knew, 
 yet whom nobody knew anything of — who he 
 was, where he came from, in what regiment — 
 if any — he had served, or anything about him, 
 in short. 
 
 All they could say of him was that he was a 
 most amusing fellow, was an adept at anything 
 in the sporting line, and was alternately in high 
 feather or the reverse, according to how Dame 
 Fortune favoured him. 
 
 Just at this period the colonel's finances, 
 owing to repeated bad luck on the race-course 
 and the card-table, were in anything but a pros- 
 perous condition ; in point of fact, at the very 
 
136 TIT FOR TAT. 
 
 moment when he met Harry Tremaine in Pall 
 Mall, he was running over in his mind, with 
 an eye to dinner, all the cheap restaurants he 
 knew, and wondering at which of them he was 
 the least likely to be poisoned. 
 
 Harry's cheery greeting, therefore, and the 
 pressing invitation he gave him to come and 
 have a quiet dinner at the club that night, were 
 particularly welcome, you may be certain. 
 
 ' And we'll go straight there now, colonel, if 
 you don't mind,' said Harry, ' have a glass of 
 sherry apiece, and you shall order dinner. I 
 know you're a good hand at that sort of 
 thing.' 
 
 To the club they went then, and the chef^ on 
 being sent for to the strangers' room, turning 
 out to be an old acquaintance of the colonel's, 
 you may rely upon it that the two friends did 
 not fare the worse at dinner in consequence. 
 
 It was not until they adjourned into the 
 smoking-room that Harry Tremaine opened his 
 heart to the colonel on the little matter that had 
 brought him up to town. 
 
 'What do you advise me to do?' said he, 
 when he had given his more experienced friend 
 
TIT FOR TAT. 137 
 
 full particulars, including, of course, his mother's 
 deplorable marriage. 
 
 ' I will tell you in a very few words — two 
 words, in fact,' replied the colonel, giving his 
 host as he spoke a sharp little poke in the ribs 
 with two fingers, then folding his arms, knitting 
 his bushy eyebroAvs until they met, and staring 
 him hard in the face : ' Send me f 
 
 ' What ! send you in my place, do you mean ?' 
 inquired Harry, in amazement. 
 
 His guest nodded. 
 
 ' Send 7ne /' he repeated. ' I should like the 
 job. I'm just as keen about shooting as ever I 
 was, especially in Scotland, and if I don't roast 
 the downy major to some tune, my name's not 
 Rock. I owe the fellow one too, as it happens, 
 so it will come all the pleasanter knowing my 
 visit will be disagreeable to him. Lord ! what 
 a lark I'll have !' chuckled the colonel, slapping 
 his thigh in high glee at the bare thought. 
 
 ' You don't think the major will like the 
 arrangement, then, eh, colonel?' said Harry, 
 laughingly. 
 
 'Like it!' exclaimed his guest. 'My dear 
 boy, the day I make my descent upon him un- 
 
138 TIT FOR TAT. 
 
 expectedly he will wish for once in his life that 
 he had never been born, or I'm much mistaken. 
 You must be sure and not let him know, 
 either, beforehand who it is that's coming, or, 
 in fact, that anybody's in your place,' said the 
 colonel, warningly. ' No ; he must be kept in 
 complete ignorance until T arrive on the 
 11th of August with my credentials from 
 you in my hand. 
 
 ' Why, bless you !' exclaimed Harry's far- 
 seeing friend, ' if the rascal only knew that 1 
 was coming to take your place, he'd return 
 you your hundred and fifty to-morrow; and just 
 think what a loss that would be — to me at least,' 
 naively muttered the colonel to himself. 
 
 No two men retired to rest that night feeling 
 on better terms with themselves than did our 
 friends Harry Tremaine and Colonel Rock. 
 The former was in high spirits at the prospect 
 of a speedy revenge on a member of the detest- 
 ed Mackenzie family; the latter because he saw 
 his way very distinctly to not only a good deal 
 of amusement, free gratis, for nothing, but — 
 what was of more importance — feathering his 
 nest very handsomely at the same time. 
 
TIT FOR TAT. 130 
 
 He had commenced operations, in fact, that 
 very night, for before they left the club he had 
 drawn Harry Tremaine for a cheque for a hun- 
 dred — for preliminary expenses, as he observed 
 pleasantly as he pocketed it. 
 
 It is the last day of August, and Major Mac- 
 kenzie and two out of his three guests at Drum- 
 miebeg Lodge are seated at breakfast, one and 
 all looking preternaturally solemn, and with 
 none of that joviality about them one usually 
 associates with a well-selected party of grouse 
 shooters. 
 
 ' Then you'll see about it after breakfast, eh, 
 Mackenzie ?' said one of them, addressing his 
 host, as he rises from the table. ' I'll stand fifty 
 towards getting rid of the beggar, recollect.' 
 
 'And I too,' chimes in the other man; 'I 
 wish I could afford more, but I'm nearly broke, 
 and that's the truth. I've been oblio;ed to oive 
 this fellow a bill for part of his ecarte winnings 
 as it is.' 
 
 ' I'll do my level best, you may depend upon 
 it,' repHed his host ; ' but, hush ! here he 
 comes.' 
 
140 TIT FOR TAT. 
 
 And sure enough, a minute later, and in 
 marched Colonel Rock, Harry Tremaine's 
 deputy on the grouse moor, his face wreathed 
 in smiles, and evidently on excellent terms with 
 himself and all the world. What a breakfast 
 he ate, too ! He worked away steadily at every- 
 thing there was on the table, from Finnan 
 haddock to orange marmalade. 
 
 The major who remained in the room, biting 
 his nails and pretending to read the paper, 
 thought he would never finish. 
 
 At last, the colonel rising from the table like 
 a giant refreshed, the speech that his host had 
 long been desirous of giving utterance to came 
 forth from his lips. 
 
 ' A word with you, colonel, before you leave 
 the room.' 
 
 ' By all means, old boy,' was the cheery re- 
 sponse ; ' any amount of 'em if you like. J^o time 
 like the present; so fire away,' he added, sousing 
 himself down in an easy-chair, and lighting his 
 favourite meerschaum pipe with all the com- 
 placency in the world. 
 
 'And so you want me to go, all of you, do 
 
TIT FOR TAT. 141 
 
 you ?' said the colonel, when he had listened 
 attentively to all the major had got to say. 
 ' Very good ; I'm quite agreeable. There will 
 of course be a certain little ceremony to be gone 
 through first of all. You, as a man of the world, 
 will doubtless understand what I mean.' 
 
 Here the colonel slapj^ed his pocket signifi- 
 cantly. 
 
 ' You want money — to be paid for going, in 
 short,' replied his host, loftily. 
 
 ' Exactly so,' said the colonel. ' You have 
 hit it off to a " T." You've only got to " cross 
 my hand with silver," as the gypsies say when 
 they're telling your " fortin," as they call it, 
 and I'll be off this very day.' 
 
 ' "What do you say to a hundred?' inquired 
 the major, insinuatingly, thinking to make his 
 two friends pay the piper and get off scot-free 
 himself. 
 
 ' Won't do, not at any price,' replied the 
 colonel, with a shake of the head. ' No, no ; 
 multiply the hundred by three, and you can then 
 deduct me, as the arithmetic books say, as soon as 
 you like. Not a farthing less will tempt me, so 
 don't try it on,' wound up the colonel, cocking 
 
142 TIT FOR TAT. 
 
 his legs up into a chair with an I-mean-what-I- 
 saysort of air. 
 
 In vain the major implored, begged, reminded 
 him what a lot of their money he (the colonel) 
 had won from them at cards during his stay at 
 Drummiebeg, and also what excellent sport he 
 had enjoyed. It was not a bit of good. 
 
 At last, finding his entreaties of no avail, 
 and fairly goaded to desperation by the cool 
 way his unwelcome guest treated the whole 
 aifair, he rushed madly off to a side-table, sat 
 down and wrote a cheque for the sum de- 
 manded, which having handed to the colonel 
 without a word — he could scarcely speak, in- 
 deed, for wrath — he hastened to join the other 
 two guns who were waiting outside with the 
 keepers and gillies, all ready for a start. 
 
 And the colonel, having sent for a dog-cart 
 to the nearest inn to take him and his traps to 
 the station, picked out five brace of the best 
 birds he could find in the larder, and finally 
 drove off in great state and the best possible 
 spirits. 
 
 The gallant officer had indeed very good 
 cause to be cheerful. He had enjoyed nearly 
 
TIT FOR TAT. 143 
 
 three weeks' good shooting, eaten and drank of 
 the best, (Major Mackenzie always did the 
 thing well,) and took his departure at the end 
 of it with his host's cheque for three hundred, 
 and bills and bank-notes for fifteen hundred 
 pounds as well, his Avinnings at whist and 
 ecarte. 
 
 ' I'll air some of it in Doncaster next week,' 
 thought the colonel. 
 
 And when he arrived in Edinburgh that 
 night he wrote to Harry Tremaine, telling him 
 of the turn things had taken, and assuring him 
 that Major Mackenzie's bit of sharp practice 
 was fully avenged. 
 
 Needless to say he did not think it necessary 
 to remit the hundred and fifty pounds Harry 
 had paid for his share of the moor, and which 
 his deputy had received back with interest. 
 
 ' It's revenge, not money, he wanted,' reasoned 
 the colonel, ' and, by Jove, he's got it.' 
 
144 
 
 SOLD AGAIN ! 
 
 A Leicestersheer swell, as that eminent 
 horse-dealer Mr. Benjamin Buckram would call 
 him, would to a certainty deem it nothing short 
 of an insult were anyone to suggest to him to 
 bring himself and his horses to a temporary 
 anchor in Upsydownshire for the purpose of 
 hunting the fox. 
 
 ' What ! Invite Me !' I can hear him exclaim 
 in his wrath (to himself, of course). 'Me, a 
 Meltonian of the first water, who never has 
 less than three horses out, and thinks anything 
 over five-and-forty minutes sloiv ; whose horse- 
 manship, not to mention my " get up !" excites 
 the admiration — nay, envy — of the whole field 
 six days in the week, to come and disport my- 
 self in a beastly county like yours, nearly all 
 plough; the hounds, good 'uns to hunt, no 
 
SOLD AGAIN! 145 
 
 doubt, but slow as tops, and horses and men 
 to match! What next, indeed?' 
 
 And I am bound to admit that the Leicester- 
 shire swell would be right to a certain extent 
 in his summing-up of the old country. For in- 
 stance, there is undoubtedly more arable land 
 than grass in Upsydownshire ; the fields run 
 small, and the fences are rough and hairy. 
 The hounds and horses too are bred with more 
 regard to stoutness than speed ; whilst the ' get 
 up' of the field generally is decidedly ' provin- 
 cial,' ' ease before elegance,' being the motto 
 most of us adopt in the selection of our hunt- 
 ing garments. In spite of all these drawbacks, 
 if drawbacks they are, I will trouble you to find 
 a more sporting part of the world than Upsy- 
 downshire. 
 
 The shooting is excellent, so is the fishing ; 
 and the hunting, of its kind, as good as can be. 
 Our hearts, in fact, are all in the right places, 
 those of the farmers, good luck to them ! in- 
 cluded. 
 
 Just go to Tuckford on market-day, and men- 
 tion barbed wire in connection with any Upsy- 
 downshire farmer you like to name, and I will 
 
 L 
 
146 SOLD AGAIN ! 
 
 lay ten to one — nay, twenty if you like — that 
 before forty-eight hours are over your head you 
 are threatened with an action for libel, with the 
 risk of being ' assaulted and battered ' into the 
 bargain. Only one man ever tried it on — 
 barbed wire, I mean — and he was an American. 
 
 Unfortunately for himself he did not confine 
 himself to defending his fences, but must needs 
 go in for poisoning foxes as well. This was too 
 much for his neighbours. 
 
 A lot of sporting young farmers turning out 
 of the ' Cholmondeley Arms ' at Tuckford one 
 market-day, full of bran dy-and- water and ripe 
 for mischief, suddenly vicAved the obnoxious 
 vulpecide on the other side of the way. 
 
 Finding himself being mobbed, the Yankee 
 bolted, and a very fine run, twice round the 
 town, and finally run to ground at the Town 
 Hall, with nothing to speak of on his back in 
 the way of clothes, was the result. 
 
 Then ensued a free fight with the police, and 
 there was no saying how the aiFair would not 
 have ended had not a magistrate put in an 
 appearance, who threatened to send for the 
 military unless the mob, which now assumed 
 
SOLD AGAIN ! 147 
 
 substantial proportions, at once dispersed. 
 
 This they did, after l3reaking most of the 
 windows of the Town Hall, but it was not until 
 nightfall that it was considered safe for their 
 victim to depart for home, which he did dis- 
 guised in a policeman's greatcoat and helmet. 
 
 The row for once in a way was not without 
 good results, for the Yankee shortly after took 
 his departure from our midst, without so much 
 as saying 'ta ta,' or 'PPCing' anybody. 
 
 A very good fellow has got the farm now, 
 and shows the way over his own wheat with all 
 the pleasure in life whenever the hounds come 
 his way. 
 
 Now, if there is one thing more than another 
 we Upsydownshire folks pride ourselves upon, 
 it is being ' Up to Date.' We like to follow the 
 fashions — possibly follies — of the day, in fact. 
 Only last year some of the leading squires in 
 the adjoining county of Tiddywinkshire were 
 seized with a laudable desire to revive the royal 
 and ancient sport of cock-fighting. Was Upsy- 
 downshire to be out of it? Certainly not! 
 We, oddly enough, had a 'call ' in the same 
 direction about the same time, and the result 
 
 l2 
 
148 SOLD AGAIN 
 
 was a match between the two counties, twelve 
 on a side. It began in a barn and finished in 
 the police-court, and we claimed to have had 
 distinctly the best of it, as though each side 
 won two mains, and were consequently equal, 
 we could boast of some greater swells for the 
 beaks to fine one hundred pounds apiece than 
 they could. 
 
 A marquis, an earl, a high sheriff, and a 
 county member were amongst our lot in court 
 that day. A Lord George and two Honourables 
 were the best names they could conjure with, 
 "Who cares for a hundred pound fine ? Certain- 
 ly not the gentlemen of Upsydownshire ! 
 
 We challenged them again, and — would you 
 believe it? — they declined. 
 
 So I really think we were within our rights 
 when we claimed a moral — some said an im- 
 moral — victory for our county. 
 
 Every hunt of importance in England now 
 has its Point to Point Steeplechase at the end 
 of the season, and need I observe — ''Need I hoh- 
 serve,' as the showman says, — that the moment 
 the fashion set in, Upsydownshire was not be- 
 hindhand in following suit. 
 
SOLD AGAIN ! 149 
 
 And here I may parenthetically remark, what 
 a much more sensible and sporting affair is 
 the Point to Point Steeplechase than the 
 ordinary hunters' race at one of the gate- 
 meets, with gentlemen riders making sad 
 exhibitions of themselves in their futile efforts 
 to enact the part of professional jockeys, good 
 performers though they may be in the hunting- 
 field. 
 
 In a Point to Point, on the contrary, they 
 have plenty of room, consequently there is no 
 hustling and bustling at the fences ; in fact, it is 
 to all intents and purposes a hunt without the 
 hounds, and, got up besides as they are in the 
 ordinary hunting-dress they are accustomed to, 
 it is no wonder that they feel quite at home in 
 every respect. Again, what better proof can 
 there be of the genuine nature of the sport, as 
 sport, than the fact that, barring perhaps a few 
 trifling wagers, there is a total absence of the 
 gambling necessarily inseparable from a meet- 
 ing held under the Grand National Hunt rules, 
 which gambling, though exciting enough to 
 those participating in it, is apt to impart a more 
 or less unhealthy tone to the day's proceedings^ 
 
150 SOLD AGAIN ! 
 
 Well, our Point to Point, directly it was set 
 on foot, had a capital entry, you may depend, 
 and the next question was who amongst the 
 competitors was most likely to win it. 
 
 This was not long in being answered. Every 
 hunt invariably has its ' crack man,' and ours 
 was no exception to the rule. For some years 
 past now Dr. Jack Lomax, the most sporting 
 ' Sawbones,' I verily believe, that ever got into 
 a saddle, had been our champion, and appar- 
 ently with every chance of remaining so for a 
 considerable time ; for, though many a bold rider 
 from afar had tried his level best to take our 
 pet doctor's number down, nobody had as yet 
 succeeded, or anything like it. 
 
 Not only was the doctor a very hard man, 
 but he was a most accomplished horseman to 
 boot ; a combination not so often found as one 
 might imagine. There are heaps of men, ab- 
 solutely destitute of fear, who would ride at a 
 house if it came in their way, but may be 
 shocking bad horsemen for all that. The 
 reverse was the doctor's case, and the fact that 
 he ' made ' all his own horses, rendered his fine 
 ridins: all the more creditable. 
 
SOLD AGAIN ! 151 
 
 Thirty pounds was about the figure he was 
 in the habit of giving for his hunters — very 
 often nags that no one else could do anything 
 with. A sojourn with the doctor, however, 
 would work wonders, and what was a Avorth- 
 less brute at the beginning of the season, 
 would be very likely sold for three hundred 
 long before the end of it. 
 
 So much for the doctor as a horseman : I 
 have only to add that he was rising thirty-five, 
 and a bachelor, stood five feet ten inches in his 
 boots, was fairly good-looking, (very good- 
 looking the ladies said,) and was as clever 
 in his profession as in the saddle. 
 
 As for his popularity — well, you had only to 
 listen to the cheering that went up from high 
 and low when the doctor on his own horse won 
 the Hunt Steeplechase last spring for the 
 second time in succession to know all about 
 that. 
 
 And, now the Hunt Steeplechases were 
 abandoned in favour of the Point to Point, 
 everybody declared that ' Dr. Jack,' as the 
 natives called their medical adviser and friend, 
 was sure to win it. They had one and all 
 
152 SOLD AGAIN! 
 
 made up their minds on that point, and it would 
 certainly have led to high words had anybody 
 scouted the idea as unlikely. And he was to 
 win it on his ' grey 'oss,' they said. 
 
 The said ' grey 'oss ' was a five-year-old the 
 doctor had bought just a year before for 
 fifteen pounds and an old set of harness ; as 
 handsome as paint, as sound as a bell, and as 
 perfect a fencer as ever was seen. There was 
 only one fault, and that was his abominable 
 temper, both in and out of the stable, but for 
 which his new owner could have sold him for 
 twenty times his cost over and over again. 
 
 Once on his back the doctor could do what 
 he liked with him, and he had beaten the field 
 upon him time after time. The difiiculty was, 
 though, to get on his back, and even his 
 owner allowed that if the horse ever succeeded 
 in getting rid of him, he did not believe he 
 would let him remount. 
 
 ' But then,' he would add, naively^ ' I couldn't 
 get him down if I tried, and I am not given to 
 tumbling ofi", as a rule, so we get along very 
 comfortably together, don't you know.' 
 
 This was the horse, Lunatic by name, who 
 
SOLD AGAIN! 153 
 
 Upsydownshire to a man declared if in the 
 humour was sure to win our Point to Point 
 Steeplechase, and, if previous performances 
 in the hunting-field went for anything, it 
 certainly looked like the ' good thing ' for him, 
 the knowing ones said it was. 
 
 It must not be supposed, because the doctor 
 and his Lunatic were supposed to have the 
 race at their mercy, that the rest of the members 
 of the hunt intended to let him have a ' walk 
 over.' On the contrary, there was not only a 
 very fine entry, but it was confidently expected 
 that upwards of a score of horsemen would face 
 the starter on Elm Tree Hill on the day of the 
 Point to Point. 
 
 And it was all the more plucky and sports- 
 manlike of them, seeing that, with one ex- 
 ception, not a man jack of them fancied he had 
 the ghost of a chance, with the doctor and 
 Lunatic on the spot, fit and well. 
 
 The exception was a Major Murphy : a loud- 
 talking, swaggering Irishman, a comparatively 
 recent arrival in these parts, and not a very 
 desirable one either, who had long been anxious 
 to ' teek that infernal docthor down a pig or 
 
154 SOLD AGAIN ! 
 
 two,' as lie called it, but as yet had utterly 
 failed in the attempt, neither the major nor his 
 cattle being good enough. 
 
 He had now, however, got in his stable a 
 great raking Irish-bred hunter that he declared 
 was a stone in front of Lunatic, and was as sure 
 to win the Point to Point as there would be 
 Home Rule in Ireland very shortly. He 
 christened him Home Rule, indeed, and 
 offered to take ' tin to one ' to any amount 
 about him. That he got plenty of people to 
 accommodate him may be supposed, and a week 
 before the race the major had got the best part 
 of his betting-book well filled with all sorts of 
 fancy wagers : not only the long odds about his 
 winning outright, but his ' harse ' against 
 Lunatic in their places. He must indeed have 
 stood to win a couple of thousand pounds at 
 least. 
 
 The major could ride, no doubt, and Home 
 Rule was apparently a good horse, but really 
 very little was known as to his capabilities, his 
 owner usually riding him either second horse, 
 or mounting him at the meet and sending him 
 
SOLD AGAIN! 155 
 
 home early. Home Rule might be a second 
 Cloister for all anybody knew. 
 
 Anyhow, the hunt generally took a lively 
 interest in the antagonism between the mnjor 
 and the doctor, for it was common property 
 that neither made a secret of his dislike for the 
 other. 
 
 The major hated the doctor for two reasons : 
 one being that the latter had invariably cut 
 him down in the field; the other, and the 
 principal one, that he fancied — nay, was pretty 
 sure, that the doctor was his successful 
 adversary in the great game of love. Truth to 
 tell, the gallant oificer's advances had been re- 
 pulsed with scorn by the rich and fascinating 
 widow Boothby, of Mount Pleasant. This was 
 nothing, the major being used to that sort of 
 thing. But Avhen it came to his ears that his 
 successful rival was none other than our friend 
 the doctor, it was too much for his feelings, and 
 he made up his mind to be ' revinged,' or perish 
 in the attempt. 
 
 The eventful day arrived at last, and a lovely 
 one it was — quite a model spring morning, in 
 
156 SOLD AGAIN! 
 
 fact, and just what it should be for a clay's 
 holiday-making. 
 
 The start was to take place at three o'clock, 
 and the doctor, as hard as nails and brimful of 
 confidence, having had a final look at Lunatic 
 in his stable, and given his directions to his 
 man as to sending him to the rendezvous^ went off 
 in his brougham for a round to see his patients. 
 He got back home by one o'clock, donned his 
 hunting clothes, and, having ordered round his 
 hack, was just partaking of a sandwich and glass 
 of sherry previous to starting for Elm Tree Hill, 
 when his trim little parlour-maid suddenly 
 entered the room with a ' Please, sir, a lad's 
 just rode up on a pony, and says will you go 
 at once to Mount Pleasant, because Mrs. 
 Boothby's took very bad.' 
 
 ' The devil !' exclaimed the doctor with his 
 mouth full. 'Tell the boy to come here directly, 
 and speak to me — stay, didn't he bring a note?' 
 
 ' Please, he's gone, sir ; turned his pony 
 round and galloped off down the drive as hard 
 as ever he could directly he give me the mes- 
 sage,' was the unexpected reply of the hand- 
 maiden. 
 
SOLD AGAIN ! 157 
 
 * Strange,' exclaimed her master, with a 
 stamp of his foot. ' Well, well,' he muttered, 
 ' no Point to Point for Lunatic and me to-day, 
 that's very certain.' 
 
 ' Shall I order the brougham round ?' en- 
 quired the parlour-maid, adding, ' John did put 
 to, d'reckly he hear the message give, for he 
 said, " Master'll want to go there in double quick 
 time, I know ! " ' 
 
 '' Humjph! very kind of John, I'm sure! I 
 wish he'd mind his own business,' observed 
 her master testily, and getting rather red in the 
 face at the same time. ' However,' he added, 
 ' bid him come round at once, and tell George 
 to take the hack back to the stable.' 
 
 Away flew the little maid, and the doctor, 
 pouring himself out another glass of sherry, 
 went to the hall in search of his greatcoat. 
 
 And then it suddenly daAvned upon him that he 
 was not in professional costume. 
 
 ' Hang it all !' he exclaimed, ' breeches and 
 boots won't do to visit patients in ! I must go 
 and change.' Then he thought for a moment. 
 ' Why should I, though ?' he muttered, 'I shall 
 lose a quarter of an hour, and every moment 
 
158 SOLD AGAIN! 
 
 may be precious, and Laura — Mrs. Boothby, I 
 mean — won't mind, I'm sure !' 
 
 (The major had some reason for jealousy, 
 you see, after all.) 
 
 At the instant round came the brougham, 
 and getting into a very sporting-looking coat, 
 the doctor without more ado jumped in and 
 bade his coachman drive full pace to Mount 
 Pleasant. 
 
 The faithful John took his master at his 
 word, for he saw no reason why, if they ' hur- 
 ried up,' as he called it, the professional 
 visit and the Point to Point might not be 
 made a double event. Besides, had he not a 
 whole sovereign on Lunatic for to-day's race ? 
 and John was a Yorkshireman, and did not mean 
 to lose his money if he could help it. 
 
 So the moment he got into the high road 
 John gave the good roan between the shafts the 
 oflSice, and away they went at a canter, which 
 pace gradually increased into a gallop. 
 
 ' There's some-hoddy a'deein\ ar reckon f ob- 
 served old Jimmy Kiff, busy trimming a hedge 
 abutting the road, to himself, as the doctor's 
 
SOLD AGAIN! 159 
 
 brougham passed him like a flash of lightning. 
 
 They had not gone above two miles, if as 
 much, on their journey, when the doctor, en- 
 deavouring to forget his disappointment in the 
 perusal of the day's ' Sportsman,' was interrupt- 
 ed by the brougham suddenly stopping. Out 
 of the window went the doctor's head in an 
 instant, and there, to his utter astonishment, 
 he beheld on horseback, accompanied by her 
 groom, the fairy form of the very person he 
 was going to see, and whom he imagined at 
 that moment to be in bed — in extremis^ for all 
 he knew — Mrs. Boothby, of Mount Pleasant. 
 Mrs. Boothby, radiant with health and spirits, 
 and looking, the doctor thought, more charm- 
 ing than he had ever seen her. 
 
 ' Why, my dear Mrs. Boothby,' exclaimed 
 the astonished doctor, hardly able to believe 
 his eyes, ' what on earth are you doing here ? 
 I thought you were very seriously ill, and I 
 was on my way to see you, post-haste !' 
 
 ' "What do you mean?' returned his enchan- 
 tress ; ' I was coming to see you — see you win 
 the Point to Point, as I hoped.' 
 
160 SOLD AGAIN ! 
 
 And then the doctor explained. 
 
 ' It only remains now,' observed the fair 
 widow, ' to defeat the plans of our common 
 enemy, whoever he or she may be, and the best 
 way I can think of to ensure success, is for you 
 to get on my groom's horse, and we'll make our 
 way to Elm Tree Hill as fast as we can. My 
 man can follow on in your brougham. What 
 do you say, Dr. Lomax ?' 
 
 ' I say " Yes !" ' replied our friend, grasping at 
 the idea with avidity, and thinking to himself 
 it would go hard with him if he didn't ask her 
 to give a similar answer to a little question he 
 intended to put before the day was out. 
 
 It wants just two minutes to three o'clock, 
 and eighteen horsemen, attired respectively in 
 scarlet and black, and mounted on horses, 
 black, brown, grey, bay, roan and chestnut, 
 are assembled in front of the starter, on the top 
 of Elm Tree Hill. 
 
 ' Nothing to hinder us, I fancy, Misther 
 Starter, is there?' sings out Major Murphy. 
 
 ' Only the doctor, major,' was the reply. ' His 
 horse is here, and hell be here no doubt direct- 
 
SOLD AGAIN ! 161 
 
 ly — must give the doctor a little law, eli, gen- 
 tlemen ?' appealing to the rest of the field. 
 
 ' Certainly,' was the reply in unison, ' half- 
 an-hour, if you like !' 
 
 ' Yes, he'll probably beat all our blessed 
 heads off,' remarked Joe Smedley, ' but we 
 can't do without the doctor, can we. Bob?' ap- 
 pealing to Captain Pepper, hard by. 
 
 ' Certainly not,' replied the gallant officer, 
 decisively. 
 
 ' I ^roiist against this delay,' roared the in- 
 dignant major. ' Here's me harse frettin' his 
 very sowl out with anxiety and catchin' his 
 death of cowld into the bargain, to say nothing 
 of meself, and I repate, I -protist. The docthor 
 indeed ! who the divil's the docthor, I should 
 like to know ? I'm his suparior in rank and 
 position, and I'll weeger you wouldn't wait 
 foive minutes for me f 
 
 ' No, I'll be damned if we would,' drily re- 
 marked George Blake, amidst a roar of laughter 
 from the rest, for the major was by no means 
 a popular character; besides which most of 
 them had laid him pretty freely against his 
 ' harse,' as he called Home Rule, and entirely 
 
 M 
 
162 SOLD AGAIN! 
 
 on the strength of the doctor and Lunatic beat- 
 ing him. 
 
 ' Well, gentlemen,' observed the starter, ' I 
 should be sorry not to see the doctor amongst 
 the starters, but I think we should name a 
 specified time to give him. It is now five min- 
 utes past the hour ; what do you say to getting 
 off at half-past ? — that gives him a clear five- 
 and-twenty minutes.' 
 
 This proposition was carried unanimously 
 by all but the major, who still protisted most 
 vehemently. He was just declaring ' that he'd 
 start on his own account and claim the steeks 
 if he won ' ; an Irishism which earned more 
 chaff at his expense, when a loud shout from 
 the bystanders made him turn round, and to 
 his chagrin the errant doctor, accompanied by 
 a lady, was seen approaching the spot at a 
 gallop. 
 
 ' Sorry I'm late, gentlemen,' he exclaimed, 
 as he hastily dismounted from his reeking 
 steed, ' I should have been here three-quarters 
 of an hour ago had I not set off in another 
 direction to visit an imaginary patient, at the 
 
SOLD AGAIN ! 163 
 
 instance of some confounded ass or scoundrel 
 — call him what you will — who was good 
 enough to send me a bogus message.' 
 
 ' How dare ' began the major, glaring at 
 
 the spectators like a tiger. 
 
 ' Oh, it was you^ was it?' quietly remarked 
 Doctor Jack, with a laugh. ' Mrs. Boothby I'm 
 sure will be highly delighted when she finds 
 what an interest you take in her general health, 
 and no doubt will tell you so later on.' 
 
 His groom at this juncture brought the re- 
 doubtable Lunatic, (in a heavenly temper, for 
 a wonder,) and in a second the doctor was in 
 the saddle. 
 
 The next instant, with an ' Are you ready, 
 gentlemen ?' the starter dropped his red flag, 
 and, to the accompaniment of a cheer from the 
 crowd, away they went. 
 
 Iwillnotgointo the details of the race. Suffice 
 it to say that the usual horse broke his back at 
 the usual brook ; there were the usual tumbles 
 of an amusing character to all but the recipi- 
 ents, and considerably more than the usual 
 amount of cheering when it was plain to the 
 
 m2 
 
164 SOLD AGAIN! 
 
 naked eye, three fields from home, that the 
 crack man of the hunt had the race well in 
 hand, the only one near hmi being Home 
 Rule, who, dead beat, was rapidly compound- 
 ing at ever}' stride. The horse was as game as 
 a pebble, and the two last fences were mere 
 trifles, otherwise he would have come down 
 what is commonly called a ' buster.' 
 
 The absolute last was a gorse-tipped hurdle, 
 and this the pair took abreast. 
 
 ' Go along, Lunatic !' ' Go along, doctor !' 
 ' The major's beat !' yelled the crowd, as Home 
 Rule smashed through the obstacle, all but 
 falling on his head, and Lunatic, as fresh as 
 paint, and held hard, jumped it like a bird. 
 
 And the doctor, with a triumphant wave of 
 his arm, and a contemptuous glance at his 
 beaten opponent, giving the gallant grey his 
 nead, cantered home at his ease, amidst a roar 
 of applause from the assembled multitude loud 
 enough to be heard in the next county, and of 
 so hearty a character that young Mr. Jalap, 
 who had just ' passed,' and was on a visit to 
 the neighbourhood with a view to starting an 
 
SOLD AGAIN! 165 
 
 opposition practice, gave up the notion on the 
 spot, thereby showing a knowledge of the 
 world which doubtless stood him in stead in 
 after years. 
 
 And how about the major ? Well, he did not 
 make one at the Point to Point dinner which 
 came off that night ; neither was he present 
 a couple of months later at the wedding of 
 pretty Mrs. Boothby and the popular Doctor 
 Jack. 
 
 He paid up his losses like a man, though, 
 and shortly after, he and Home Rule shook 
 the dust of Upsydownshire off their feet in 
 disgust and made tracks for their ' netive 
 counthry.' 
 
 I fancy the pair disport themselves princi- 
 pally with the ' Ward Union,' but as I am not 
 very well up in Irish affairs, anyone curious on 
 the point had better apply to Triviator, who 
 will doubtless give them all the information 
 they require. 
 
 As for Lunatic, he has become quite a re- 
 formed character, and the doctor declares that 
 a baby in arms could ride him now with a 
 
166 SOLD AGAIN! 
 
 silken thread. That he is an uncommon smart 
 horse there can be no doubt — no possible doubt 
 whatever, — and if anybody can find one to beat 
 him next year in our Point to Point, all I can 
 say is, he will be a lucky man. 
 
ig: 
 
 ANGELS ON HORSEBACK. 
 
 I. 
 
 The ladies of Larkshire always were a sporting 
 lot from time immemorial, and invariably seen 
 to great advantage in the hunting-field. 
 
 One year, however, not so very long ago — I 
 need not particularise which — I do not believe 
 any county in England could have boasted of 
 such a collection of really fine horsewomen as 
 were to be seen gracing the field with their 
 presence five days a week with the Old Lark- 
 shire Hounds, or, to give them the name they 
 are best known bv, the ' O.L.H.' 
 
 Having been ' raised,' as our American cousins 
 say, in the county, and having resided therein 
 ever since, I may, of course, and probably shall, 
 be accused of undue partiality in making such 
 
1C8 AXGELS ON HORSEBACK. 
 
 a declaration, but 1 challeno;e contradiction all 
 the same. 
 
 And one and all so fair to look upon, too ! 
 
 From the stately Countess of Swansdown, 
 with her classic features and raven locks, to 
 dear little Mabel Cust — ' Queen Mab,' as her 
 numerous admirers called her — our last recruit, 
 with her golden curls and bright sunshiny face, 
 there was not a plain-headed one amongst 
 them. 
 
 ' I tell you what,' said Mark Bramble, our 
 popular young Master, from the head of his 
 table one night after dinner, u^hen he and his 
 guests had been discussing an extra ' quick 
 thing' over the grass they had enjoyed with 
 his hounds that very afternoon : ' I tell you 
 what, it was a dream to see the way those 
 women rode to-day. As for me, my time was 
 so taken up in looking at 'em that I forgot all 
 about the hounds and everything else, and was 
 only brought to my senses by old Rory O'More 
 coming on to his head on landing over a fence, 
 and all but putting me down. ' I declare !' he 
 exclaimed, with an emphatic blow of his fist on 
 the table, ' it's quite heavenly riding a run in 
 
ANGELS ON HORSEBACK. 1G9 
 
 company with such — such angels — I can call 
 'em nothing else — as those out with us to-day.' 
 
 ' Angels on hortheback,' lisped a voice from 
 the other end of the table. 
 
 'Who said that?' demanded the M.F.H., 
 leaning forward in his chair. ' Dolly Sumner ? 
 
 ' Then, Dolly, my fine fellow,' he continued, 
 addressing the culprit, a good-looking boy in 
 a lancer regiment, ' let me tell you this, if you 
 live to a hundred — which, by the way, is high- 
 ly improbable, judging by the running you're 
 making at the present time — you'll never say 
 a smarter thing than that. Xay, don't blush ; 
 I mean it, I do, really. 
 
 ' Don't you agree with me, major ?' he went 
 on, turning to Major Mango. ' Don't you think 
 it was very good ?' 
 
 ''What was very good?' asked the major, 
 who, in addition to being slightly deaf, was 
 just verging into the semi-apoplectic state he 
 generally assumed after dinner. 
 
 ' Why, " Angels on Horseback," to be sure ! 
 Didnt you liear T roared Mark. 
 
 ' Of course I did, and could have gone on, 
 too ! Perfect ! quite perfect !' wheezed the 
 
170 ANGELS ON HORSEBACK. 
 
 major, in reply, to the amusement of the 
 company. 
 
 ' Stupid old fool,' growled out the disgusted 
 Mark. ' He can't get those oysters he appreci- 
 ated so at the beginning of dinner out of his 
 head, apparently. Never mind, Dolly, your 
 ready wit shan't go unappreciated.' 
 
 And, turning to the rest, he bade them fill 
 their glasses and drink to the health of the 
 ' Angels on Horseback who hunt with the 
 O.L.H.,' a toast which was received with great 
 cordiality by everyone present, not forgetting 
 Major Mango, who imagined he was paying a 
 graceful tribute to the memory of the succulent 
 dish he had partaken of with such relish at an 
 earlier period of the entertainment. And when 
 the compliment which had been paid them be- 
 hind their backs came to the ears of the said 
 Angels, which it did the very next day at a 
 lawn meet of O.L.H. at Norton Priory, they 
 not only voted it very sweet — ' too sweet for 
 words,' to quote Miss Muffet, who was inclined 
 to gush — on the respective parts of the master 
 and Dolly Sumner, but in order to show their 
 appreciation in a more decisive form, determined 
 
ANGELS ON HORSEBACK. 171 
 
 between themselves to at once put in hand a 
 scheme which they flattered themselves would 
 both astonish and please their numerous friends 
 and admirers in the hunting-field. 
 
 It did, indeed, create a sensation when just 
 a week afterwards our ' Angels on Horseback ' 
 cantered becomingly up to the meet, each with 
 a tiny pair of wings attached to her shoulders. 
 
 'General effect pretty good, Mr. Sumner?' 
 enquired Queen Mab, twisting her horse about 
 to show off her wings to the better advantage, 
 and darting at the same time a mischievous 
 glance at her victim over her shoulder, which, 
 penetrating his smart pink and white-striped 
 waistcoat, finally reached that sensitive portion 
 of his anatomy which he was pleased to call 
 his heart, causing it to flutter in a manner very 
 unusual to that organ. 
 
 ' E — e — thewial in the extweme !' exclaimed 
 Dolly, with rapture. He was quite done for by 
 this time, poor fellow, and, had it not been 
 that just at the moment the master gave the 
 signal for the hounds to make a move, would 
 have proposed to a certainty then and there. 
 
 As it was he accompanied his divinity to 
 
172 ANGELS ON HORSEBACK. 
 
 Stroud Wood, hoping devoutly the hounds 
 wouldn't find there or anywhere else ; which 
 very excusable wish under the circumstances 
 it gives me sorrow to record was not destined 
 to be gratified, seeing that almost immediately 
 after they entered the covert the hounds found 
 a fox of the right sort, who, getting well away 
 without giving either horsemen or foot-people 
 a chance of mobbing him, led the redoubtable 
 O.L.H. and their followers such a dance as 
 they had not had all the season hitherto. 
 
 To make matters worse, his horse in the 
 early part of the run broke down irretrievably 
 — a long-doubtful leg having given way at last 
 on landing over a drop fence into a road — and, 
 his second horseman not being handy, poor 
 Dolly was ' out of it,' as he graphically put it, 
 for the rest of the day. 
 
 He comforted himself, however, with the re- 
 flection that, ' bar accident,' he was certain to 
 meet his charmer out hunting again on the 
 morrow, and, lighting a cigar, proceeded to 
 trudge homewards, leading his unfortunate 
 horse by the bridle. 
 
 As for the hounds, they had what the hunts- 
 
o 
 
 < 
 m 
 
 UJ 
 CO 
 
 a: 
 o 
 
 X 
 
 z 
 
 o 
 
 m 
 
 UJ 
 
 o 
 
 2 
 
 < 
 
ANGELS ON HORSEBACK. 173 
 
 man described as an ' extraordinary ' run, and 
 as for our ' Angels on Horseback,' to quote the 
 same authority, they rode more like devils than 
 ever. 
 
 ir. 
 
 The usual observant person has written to the 
 Times to let the world in general know that he 
 has heard the cuckoo before anybody else. (A 
 wag of my acquaintance, not to be outdone, 
 once capped one of these letters with another 
 to the effect that he had heard the same fam- 
 iliar note on Christmas Day, not troubling him- 
 self to add that his cuckoo was a wooden one, 
 manufactured in Switzerland, and living in a 
 clock in his smoking-room. But that was of 
 no consequence, the effect on the British public 
 being much the same.) The rooks are as busy 
 as ever over their building operations ; wood- 
 pigeons coo amorously to one another in the 
 woods ; the trees and hedges are gradually dis- 
 carding their sombre winter tints for the 
 brighter hues of spring. 
 
 Lastly, the farmers are trimming up their 
 fences and mending the gaps — we are a 
 
174 ANGELS ON HORSEBACK. 
 
 Christian people down in Larkshire, and do not 
 use barbed wire — and the Hunt Steeplechase 
 Committee have issued the programme for their 
 annual meeting, all sure signs that the hunting 
 season, in our part of the world at least, is 
 rapidly drawing to a close. It is not every 
 county that can indulge in the luxury of a May 
 fox, and Larkshire is, unfortunately, not one 
 of the lucky number. 
 
 It had been a singularly open winter, and 
 the sport wonderfully good, even for the Old 
 Larkshire, consequently everybody, for once, 
 was satisfied, and there was none of the 
 grumbling and growling one hears so often at 
 the end of the hunting season, such as, 'I 
 thought the frost never would go.' ' Horses 
 eating their heads oiF half the time.' ' Shock- 
 ing bad sport when they did go.' ' No foxes 
 — any amount of that beastly wire though,' 
 etc., etc. 
 
 And of all the members of our celebrated 
 hunt, none were better pleased, either with the 
 sport that had been shown, or, what was more 
 important still, themselves, than our ' Angels 
 on Horseback,' bless their hearts ! 
 
ANGELS ON HORSEBACK. 175 
 
 Not only had they enjoyed immensely the 
 galloping and jumping portion of the entertain- 
 ment, which included, of course, the exhilar- 
 ating amusement of trying their best to cut one 
 another down in the course of the run, but, 
 better still, they had managed to ride them- 
 selves so completely into the affections of the 
 sportsmen hunting with the O.L.H. that, at 
 the time we mention, the latter to a man — we 
 are alluding, of course, to the bachelor brigade 
 — were at their feet. 
 
 So many of these suppliants were there, that 
 it was quite a case of pick and choose, and that 
 is exactly what our angels did, pretty souls ! 
 Sorting them carefully, as it were, during the 
 hunting season, and making their final selection 
 at the end of it. 
 
 Yes, wdth the exception of one, they Avere all 
 engaged to be married, that one being dear 
 little Queen Mab, who, w^hen it came to the 
 point, not only would not have anything to 
 say to our friend Dolly Sumner, but declined 
 half-a-dozen eligible suitors one after the other 
 as well. 
 
 She was evidently either waiting for some 
 
176 ANGELS ON HORSEBACK. 
 
 one in particular, or else ' Mr. Right ' had not 
 come along yet. 
 
 Some of us had an idea that our popular 
 master might be the man she had in her eye 
 after all, but then was it not notorious that he 
 was a confirmed bachelor? No, on reflection, 
 it could not be Mark Bramble. 
 
 ' Then, who was it ?' asked Larkshire of 
 itself. 
 
 III. 
 
 The last day of the season with the O.L.H., 
 and the meet takes place at Courtney Hall, 
 where dwells our master, who, according to his 
 custom ever since he has been in office, throws 
 open his hospitable doors to all comers. 
 
 Hot in the sun, cold in the shade, a blue sky 
 overhead, the wind in the east, and the ground 
 as hard as iron. 
 
 Under such circumstances nobody expects 
 any sport, consequently nobody will be disap- 
 pointed if they do not get it. 
 
 With this pleasant reflection to comfort them, 
 the sportsmen present cast dull care to the 
 
ANGELS ON HORSEBACK. 177 
 
 winds, and conviviality is the order of the 
 day. 
 
 Pop, pop, pop, go the champagne corks ; 
 clatter, clatter, clatter, go the knives and forks 
 in Mark Bramble's hospitable dining-room. 
 Everybody is talking at once, and fun and 
 frolic reign supreme. 
 
 As for fox-hunting, it is not even thought of, 
 much less mentioned. One elderly enthusiast, 
 it is true, gets upon his legs with considerable 
 difficulty, with the evident intention of pro- 
 posing a toast, but our lynx-eyed host fortu- 
 nately sees him in time to prevent his fell pur- 
 pose, and the would-be orator's vinous eloquence 
 is nipped in the bud by his next neighbour, 
 who, acting on a signal from the M.F.H., seizes 
 him by the coat-tails, and pulls him back into 
 his seat. A simple but effective remedy which 
 we can strongly recommend in all such cases, 
 as the chemists say of their prescriptions. 
 
 The breakfast, to give it its courtesy title, at 
 length came to an end ; hats and whips were 
 gathered up, cigars got under weigh, and Mark 
 Bramble's guests, not forgetting the ' Angels on 
 Horseback,' who were in full force and the 
 
 N 
 
178 ANGELS ON HORSEBACK. 
 
 highest possible spirits, having mounted their 
 impatient steeds, away the}'' all went across the 
 park to draw the Home Wood for a fox, some 
 artificial leaps, including a water-jump erected 
 for the use of their host's steeplechase horses, 
 which came in their way, proving an irresistible 
 temptation to some of the wine-flushed sports- 
 men, who, looking upon it as an opportunity 
 not to be lost for showing-ofl* their horseman- 
 ship, proceeded to lark away in most approved 
 style with varied success, in so doing afi*ording 
 considerable amusement to the lookers-on, if 
 not in every instance to themselves. 
 
 The covert reached, the hounds were thrown 
 in, and Tom Trimmer the huntsman's mel- 
 low voice was soon heard encouraging his 
 favourites. 
 
 ' Eleu in there, Roysterer! Have at 'im, 
 Ranger, good dog ! Yooi, push 'im up !' 
 cheered the old man. 
 
 But his praiseworthy eiforts were all to no 
 purpose. ' Voices in the wood ' there were, it is 
 true, but they were those of the crowd assembled 
 in the principal ride, and not what he was so 
 anxious to hear, first one long-drawn note, then 
 
ANGELS ON HORSEBACK. 179 
 
 another, followed by a grand chorus emanating 
 from the whole pack — to him the finest music 
 on earth — proclaiming that a fox was afoot. 
 
 So it was not very long before a blast of the 
 horn proclaimed the fact that it was a case of 
 ' drawn blank,' and that Tom, with the hounds 
 clustering round his horse's heels, was leaving 
 the covert. Away they trotted to another wood, 
 larking being indulged in freely by sundry 
 adventurous spirits en route. Again the same 
 result, and again and again. 
 
 And then a curious thing happened. 
 
 Tom was running the hounds through the 
 bare part of the covert where the underwood 
 had recently been cut and a good deal of timber 
 as well ; when on the stump of a tree which 
 had been left higher than the rest, perhaps four 
 feet or so from the ground, he suddenly espied 
 a fox curled up, but wide awake, for the hunts- 
 man could plainly see his eyes watching every 
 movement. 
 
 The odd part of it was that the hounds were 
 absolutely all round the fox — all but touching 
 him, in fact — but none took the slis^htest heed, 
 having never apparently winded him. 
 
 n2 
 
180 ANGELS ON HORSEBACK. 
 
 Like the fox, Tom never moved a muscle, 
 but walking his horse up to his master, who 
 was just ahead of him, told him what he had 
 seen. 
 
 ' Take the hounds a bit further off, and then 
 holloa like the devil,' were the orders he re- 
 ceived in a whisper. 
 
 ' Just what I thought, sir,' observed Tom, as 
 he prepared to execute them. 
 
 Accordingly he walked leisurely on for about 
 a hundred yards or so, and then when he had 
 got the hounds to him gave a rattling view 
 holloa. Off went the fox in an instant, away 
 went the hounds, and, as soon as they realised 
 the situation, away went the field in their wake^ 
 as hard as ever they could go, Queen Mab and 
 the master, who had got a first-rate start, sail- 
 ing away at their ease, a field ahead of the rest 
 and close to the hounds. 
 
 For fifteen minutes the hounds had been 
 running hard, without a single check, and 
 Queen Mab and Mark Bramble literally had 
 it all to themselves, for with the exception of 
 the old huntsman not a soul was near them. 
 
 On they went, just skirting a small wood in 
 
ANGELS ON HORSEBACK. 181 
 
 which those who Avere ridin^ij^ a stern chase had 
 cherished a hope that the fox might have 
 tarried long enough to cause a temporary 
 check and enable them to get up. 
 
 Now they cross the road just outside the 
 village of Mudwick, and Queen Mab and the 
 master jump into the rectory field together, and 
 are informed by the reverend proprietor, who 
 is a sportsman at heart, and in whose breast 
 the sight of the hounds conjures up delightful 
 memories of his Christ Church days, and 
 Charley Symonds and Jim Hills, that the 
 hunted fox is just ahead of them, and looks as 
 if he had had more than enough of it. 
 
 ' And mind the fence ; there's a big ditch on 
 the other side,' roars the parson, in a voice that 
 would have done credit to the captain of a penny 
 steamer. 
 
 They are over, though, and well away the 
 other side, almost before the words are out of 
 his mouth. 
 
 Over the rough, uneven ground of Chijjper- 
 field Common stream the hounds, playing old 
 gooseberry with the domestic economy of the 
 plovers, who affect this part of the world in 
 
182 ANGELS ON" HORSEBACK. 
 
 great numbers, and the master rides leisurely 
 at what looks to be a small, though ragged- 
 looking fence. 
 
 Old Tom, the huntsman, a hundred yards 
 behind, shouts out something, and holds up 
 his whip warningly, but Mark heeds not, and 
 the next instant he is in the air. 
 
 In the air, with a gravel-pit below him, and 
 Queen Mab — dear little Queen Mab who, con- 
 ■firmed bachelor though he professes to be, he 
 loves better than anything on this earth — ^just 
 behind. Twelve feet or so below him the gravel 
 covered with grass juts out like a step, thence 
 sloping gradually to the ground. Had he been 
 going fast at the jump the horse would have 
 cleared the whole thing, and a terrible, most 
 likely fatal fall must have resulted. 
 
 As it was, however, the gallant hunter, with 
 plenty of time to look about him, was quite 
 equal to the occasion, and landing with all four 
 feet together on the tiny green plot, slithered 
 and slid from his temporary foothold easily to 
 the ground. 
 
 Mark was a brave man, but the sight that 
 met his eyes — the sight that he dreaded to see 
 
ANGELS ON HORSEBACK. 183 
 
 — the moment he turned in his saddle, turned 
 him sick and faint. Queen Mab and her mare 
 were in the air. 
 
 Poor little Queen Mab ! 
 
 No, Queen Mab was none the worse for her 
 sensational leap into the gravel-pit, thanks to 
 the projection before mentioned and the clever- 
 ness of her mare. 
 
 She was in a dead faint though for all that, 
 and did not come to until I do not know how 
 many kisses had been impressed upon her lips 
 by that confirmed bachelor Mark Bramble, Esq., 
 M.F.H., to the great edification of the majority 
 of the field, Avho were peeping over the ragged 
 edge of the gravel-pit in expectation of a very 
 difi'erent sight. Then — it was really too bad of 
 them — they set up a loud cheering, and Mark 
 looked up and turned very red, and Queen Mab 
 asked what was the matter, and he told her, and 
 she did not mind a bit. 
 
 ' They know who I'm going to marry now 
 don't they, dear Mark ?' was all she said. 
 
184 
 
 A DERBY MEETING. 
 
 I. 
 
 It is the Sunday before the Derby. A refer- 
 ence to the almanac would find it described 
 somewhat differently, but it is the Sunday be- 
 fore the Derby for all that. 
 
 The Hour is 10.50 a.m., and the Man — well- 
 looking, well-dressed, and young — is standing 
 outside St. Dunstan's Church, Bloomsbury, 
 evidently waiting for Someone whose presence 
 is indispensable before he can enter the sacred 
 edifice. 
 
 A sudden lighting up of his features denotes 
 the fact that Someone is in sight at last, and at 
 the same moment a slap on the shoulder causes 
 him to turn round to greet another young man, 
 
A DERBY MEETING. 185 
 
 built pretty much after the same pattern as 
 himself. 
 
 ' Well, my faithful Frank,' exclaimed the new 
 arrival at the shrine of St. Dunstan, ' waitins: 
 for the favourite as usual, eh?' 
 
 ' Yes,' replied the other, ' and here she comes, 
 bless her ! with her owner and trainer on one 
 side, and ' 
 
 ' A rank outsider on t'other,' chimed in his 
 volatile friend, finishing the sentence for 
 him. 
 
 ' Never mind, old boy,' he added, soothingly 
 as a cloud came over Frank's manly counten- 
 ance, ' I'll bet ten to one on you if it comes to 
 racing.' 
 
 The next instant Frank Oliphant was shak- 
 ing hands with Someone (who was exceedingly 
 pretty) and Someone's papa, who rejoiced in 
 the name of Bullfrog, and who was fat and 
 pompous, with a good deal of white waistcoat, 
 and so generally well-to-do in appearance, that it 
 needed no reference to that handy little volume 
 
 * Form at a glance,' to put him down at once as 
 
 * something in the city.' 
 
 Then he scowled at the Outsider, a pale- 
 
186 A DERBY MEETING. 
 
 faced, sharp-featured young man, who return- 
 ed the scowl with a heavenly smile, accom- 
 panied by such a sly twinkle as of triumph in 
 his little pig ej^es, as to cause an unholy desire 
 on the part of his rival to put those organs into 
 temporary mourning. 
 
 Frank, indeed, would have entered the church 
 in a frame of mind not at all befitting the oc- 
 casion, but for the invitation to luncheon ex- 
 tended to him by Mr. Bullfrog. 
 
 That gentleman at his devotions was always 
 .an instructive sight, but on this particular 
 Sunday his behaviour in church seemed to 
 Frank more impressive than usual. He must 
 have counted at least fifty in his hat instead of 
 the usual ten, whilst the way he repeated the 
 responses without the aid of a prayer-book, 
 and closed his eyes during the lessons, and 
 wagged his head approvingly at the leading 
 points in the sermon, and finally dropped a 
 sovereign into the green and gold bag when 
 it came round — or rather would have done so, 
 but that it fell to the ground — by accident, of 
 course — thereby causing two churchwardens 
 and a verger to knock their heads together in 
 
A DERBY MEETING. 187 
 
 their anxiety to recover it, was beyond all praise. 
 
 Well might Mrs. Snuffy, the pew-opener, 
 aver that such a saint as Mr. Bullfrog was out 
 of place in Bloomsbury, and Frank Oliphant 
 acknowledge that it did him good to sit in 
 the same pew with so good — an actor ! 
 
 Pleasant was the walk, short though it was, 
 to the Bullfrog mansion in Bustleby Square. 
 
 Someone, with great forethought, had left 
 her sunshade in the family pew, and Frank 
 could not of course do otherwise than accom- 
 pany her back to recover it, leaving the uncon- 
 scious Mr. Bullfrog and the Outsider to walk 
 on ahead and discuss the sermon according to 
 custom. 
 
 Then they met George Russell and his best 
 girl, as he called her, and that caused some 
 delay, George whispering in his friend's ear as 
 they parted, 
 
 ' It's a thousand to one you " walk over," old 
 boy, and mind I'm to be the best man !' 
 
 Someone — whose name, by the way, was 
 Blanche — inquired when they were alone what 
 the whisper was about, and Frank told her, 
 and she hinted that she wouldn't mind standing 
 
188 A DERBY MEETING. 
 
 in with George in his bet, and — well, Frank 
 wished it was dark. 
 
 But it wasn't, unfortunately, and they could 
 only walk as slowly as possible, thereby incur- 
 ring papa's severe displeasure, to the evident 
 gratification of the Outsider. 
 
 Then Frank put his foot in it again, during 
 lunch, by bringing the Derby on the ta])is. 
 
 He thought it would be fine — hoped so, at 
 all events — and luas Mr. Bullfrog going? 
 
 That gentleman nearly choked himself, 
 with a piece of Yorkshire pudding, at such 
 a question, and on recovery proceeded to ' im- 
 prove the occasion,' winding up Avith, 'How 
 any man of position with a sense of what is 
 right and wrong — what is decent, I may say — 
 can set such a bad example by mingling with 
 the masses, thereby encouraging them in their 
 disgraceful saturnalia, I cannot imagine !' 
 
 ' You are not going, I suppose, Mr. Crawler !' 
 murmured Someone in her sweetest manner. 
 
 ' Oh ! Miss Blanche!' exclaimed the Outsider, 
 apparently horror-stricken. ' What have I done 
 to deserve such a question ? I go to the Derby ! 
 No, I trust on that day I shall be many miles 
 
A DERBY MEETING. 189 
 
 away in the country, — an — er — aunt of mine 
 is ill, and I have to go to her — a sad task in- 
 deed, but preferable to a participation in the 
 orgie under discussion.' 
 
 ' And you, Mr. Oliphant ?' went on the pert- 
 inacious Blanche, turning to Frank and looking 
 at him with eyes full of mischief. 
 
 ' Well,' replied that young gentleman, ' I am 
 afraid with me, Miss Blanche, that it is a case 
 of can't. I should very much like to be there, 
 of course, but my chief, unfortunately, is 
 equally desirous of going, and as we can't both 
 be away at the same time, it will fall to my 
 lot to remain stewing in the office, whilst he is 
 enjoying himself at Epsom. Sad, isn't it ?' 
 
 ' It is indeed !' exclaimed Miss Bullfrog, ' and 
 you have my profoundest sympathy. I know 
 I wish I was going to the Derby,' she added, 
 with a sigh. 
 
 ' Don't talk such trash, miss !' growled her 
 father, angrily, whilst the Outsider faintly 
 murmured, 
 
 ' Oh ! Miss Blanche !' 
 
 ' I mean it, I can assure you,' replied the 
 daughter of the house. And to show that she 
 
190 A DERBY MEETING. 
 
 did mean it, she added, as she rose from 
 the table and swept from the room with a 
 defiant look at her father and the Outsider, 
 ' And I Avish I was going to the Oaks as 
 well !' 
 
 n. . 
 
 It was in anything but a contented frame of 
 mind that Frank Olij^hant wended his way to 
 the city on the morning of the Derby day ren- 
 dered famous by the victory of Sir Visto. An 
 ideal day, an offer of a seat in a private box, 
 ever so many invitations to luncheon on the 
 hill, one or two investments in the race by 
 way of adding interest to it, and now he could 
 not go ! Too bad ! too annoying ! 
 
 And, to crown all, Frank found amongst his 
 letters on the breakfast-table one from the 
 highly respectable Mr. Bullfrog, in which that 
 gentleman informed him that, having carefully 
 weighed in his mind their conversation of Sun- 
 day last, he regretted that he found himself 
 unable to consent to an alliance between his 
 daughter and Frank, he having other views with 
 
A DERBY MEETING. 191 
 
 regard to the young lady in question. Under 
 the circumstances, Frank, he was sure, would 
 have the good sense to see that for the future 
 his visits to Bustleby Square must cease. If 
 at any time he could be of any service in his 
 humble way to Frank, he should be too 
 delighted, etc., etc. 
 
 True, by the same post was one from 
 Blanche, assuring him of her unalterable affec- 
 tion for him, and her utter detestation of ' that 
 horrid Mr. Crawler,' which acted somewhat as 
 an antidote ; but he was terribly put out for all 
 that, and used language with respect to Mr. 
 Bullfrog which would certainly have shocked 
 that good man could he have heard it. 
 
 Arriving at the office, though, things took a 
 decided turn for the better ! Hurrah ! Frank's 
 chief could not go after all, and his hansom 
 was oroino- beo-ojino; and Frank had better make 
 use of it. 
 
 And that is how it was that, at four o'clock 
 that afternoon, our friend, five hundred pounds 
 richer in pocket by the victory of Sir Visto — 
 he and a friend had gone halves in a bet of 
 a thousand to sixty — and the better by a 
 
192 A DERBY MEETING. 
 
 most excellent lunch in a private room in the 
 stand, found himself wending his way to the 
 hill to look up his friends on the coaches, and 
 look on at the fun of the fair. 
 
 ' Go away, confound you ! I'm not a prett}'' 
 gentleman !' exclaimed a voice that surely he 
 ought to know. 
 
 At any rate, it causes him to pull up short 
 and make sure, for he can hardly trust his 
 ears. 
 
 He can hardly believe his eyes either, when 
 in the owner of the voice, who is standing be- 
 side an open carriage in which are seated 
 three damsels of decidedly festive appearance, 
 with manners to match, doing his best to stall 
 off the attentions of an elderly gipsy woman 
 anxious to tell his fortune, he recognises no 
 less a person than his detested rival, the 
 immaculate Mr. Charles Crawler, otherwise the 
 Outsider. 
 
 His first impulse was to speak to him, but 
 on second thoughts he deemed it politic to 
 wait a bit. 
 
 A pressing invitation to ' Charlie dear,' from 
 
A DERBY MEETING. 193 
 
 one of the ladies, to come into the carriage 
 and have some ' fiz,' decided the question with 
 Frank. 
 
 ' He's not up to the mark yet,' he said to him- 
 self. ' I'll come back by and by when the fun 
 begins.' 
 
 A little further on he found the particular 
 coach he was hunting for, and on to this he 
 climbed forthwith to take a look round. 
 
 ' Am I mad, or drunk, or both ?' he asked 
 himself, as, rubbing his eyes, he again fixed 
 those usually trustworthy organs on a stout 
 and elderly gentleman who, with several 
 wooden dolls stuck in his hat, a big cigar in 
 his mouth, and a highly-inflamed countenance, 
 was playing at Aunt Sally with all the zest of a 
 boy of sixteen, to the intense amusement of a 
 carriage full of ladies of the very liveliest 
 description, whose escort he evidently was. 
 
 In this case Frank lost no time, but quickly 
 descending from the drag approached the fes- 
 tive old gentleman just as one of his lady 
 friends bade him somewhat imperiously to 
 pay up and look pleasant, and return to the 
 carriage. 
 
 o 
 
194 A DERBY MEETING. 
 
 'What! Mr. Bullfrog!' exclaimed Frank, 
 in apparent astonishment, as that elderly 
 reprobate ran right into his arms. ' Why, who'd 
 have thought of seeing you here ?' 
 
 I need not dwell upon what followed : how 
 Frank's sudden appearance upon the scene 
 completely sobered Mr. Bullfrog, who, in mortal 
 terror of his young friend telling tales out of 
 school and playing havoc with the spotless 
 reputation he set such store by, would in his 
 humility have promised Frank Windsor Castle, 
 let alone his daughter : how Frank, having 
 got all he wanted, gave his word to hold his 
 tongue : how he insisted on Mr. Bullfrog going 
 with him in search of the Outsider, whom they 
 found in a state of champagne, and exceedingly 
 quarrelsome : how Mr. Bullfrog inquired sar- 
 castically which of the ladies in the carriage 
 was his sick aunt, and how Frank tried to drag 
 that gentleman away before the general row, 
 which appeared imminent, commenced : how 
 Frank persuaded his future father-in-law to 
 return to town with him in his hansom, and 
 dine with him quietly at the club afterwards : 
 
A DERBY MEETING. 195 
 
 how, finally, he saw him home to Bustleby 
 Square, leaving the family mansion at midnight 
 an engaged man, and under promise to escort 
 his fiancee and her father to the Oaks the 
 following Friday. 
 
 As George Russell predicted, it ended in a 
 * walk over' for Frank, after all. 
 
 ()2 
 
196 
 
 TUBBY, OR NOT TUBBY. 
 I. 
 
 THE QUESTION. 
 
 The name given to him by his godfathers and 
 godmother in his baptism was John — just plain 
 John. But nobody ever called him by that 
 name, or even Johnnie, nor yet Jack. No, he 
 was alwaj^s addressed or spoken of as ' Tub,' or 
 ' Tubby.' And as there is — or ought to be — a 
 reason for all things, it may be as well to 
 mention that in this particular case the figure 
 of squat little John Daventry was responsible 
 for his nickname, it being, by reason of its 
 rotundity, for all the world like a beer-barrel. 
 
 Devoted to field sports of all kinds, the hero 
 of my story might literally be termed a good 
 ' all-round ' sportsman ; but, fond of them all 
 
TUBBY, OR NOT TUBBY. 197 
 
 though he was, there is no doubt that fox-hunt- 
 ing occupied the largest niche in his heart of 
 hearts ; indeed, no meet of the Old Larkshire 
 Hounds would have been considered perfect 
 had not the popular Tubby put in an ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 That the cheery little man was so partial to 
 the chase was a never-ceasing cause of wonder 
 to his numerous friends, for though as bold as a 
 lion (a poor compliment, some people would 
 say,) and invariably riding the best of cattle, 
 the way Tubby tumbled about in the hunt- 
 ing-field was positively appalling. He really 
 appeared to live in the air. 
 
 Was it because he did not know how to ride ? 
 Not a bit of it ! 
 
 No ; it was simply that poor Tubby's round- 
 turned legs were the shortest of the short, 
 and he could not stick on at any price. The 
 consequence was that if his horse blundered 
 ever so slightly, or if he jumped a bit bigger 
 than usual at his fences, off came his rider as 
 sure as fate. 
 
 He always seemed to fall soft though, and 
 invariably ' came up smiling,' as the pugilists 
 
198 TUBBY, OR NOT TUBBY. 
 
 say, after one of these gyrations of his in the 
 air. And the men would catch his horse for 
 him, and the ladies would call him a poor little 
 man, and make much of him (which he liked) 
 when he joined them at a check, if he was 
 lucky, svith most likely a hat squashed into the 
 likeness of a concertina, and his coat well 
 plastered with mud. 
 
 Paddy, the runner of the hunt, made quite a 
 snug little income out of him during the hunt- 
 ing season, whilst his hatter's bill certainly 
 could not have been an unimportaut item in his 
 annual expenditure. 
 
 When I add that Tubby was in love with a 
 girl who, like the Lady Jane in the' Ingoldsby 
 Legends,' was not only fair to look upon, but 
 tall and slim into the bargain, twice as tall as 
 he was, in fact, and that he also possessed a 
 hated rival (what Romeo has not?) who was a 
 perfect giant in comparison with himself, I have 
 said all that need be concerning the little 
 gentleman's private history. 
 
 And now, to the surprise and amusement of 
 everybody, amongst the entries of the Tallyho 
 Steeplechase, the principal event of the day at 
 
TUBBY, OR NOT TUBBY. 199 
 
 the forthcoming annual meeting held under 
 the auspices of the Old Larkshire Hunt — and a 
 most popular fixture — was to be found the 
 following : Mr. John Davenirys hay or brown 
 gelding Saucy Boy by Gay Lad. 
 
 ' What ! dear old Tubby sporting silk in a 
 steeplechase !' they cried with one voice. ' It'll 
 be worth going miles to see ! Why, bless his 
 heart, he'll be on to his horse's neck the very 
 first fence, and ofi* altogether at the next, if he 
 gets as far !' 
 
 And they chaffed the poor Tub until he was 
 nearly mad, the worst offender of the lot being 
 his hated rival, Captain Bustard, late of the 
 Queen's Roans, an undeniably fine horseman, 
 who had won the Tallyho Steeplechase the 
 previous year, and who was looking forward 
 with a good deal of confidence to repeating his 
 victory. 
 
 At last one fine night, at a big dinner-party 
 at General Crumpet's, after the ladies had left 
 the dining-room, things came to a climax, and 
 our little friend Tubby, exasperated beyond 
 measure at the captain's taunts, proceeded to 
 speak his mind in a manner that surprised his 
 
200 TUBBY, OR NOT TUBBY. 
 
 tormentor as much as it did the rest of the 
 company. 
 
 'Look here, Bustard,' he exclaimed, 'you've 
 expressed your opinion pretty freely, both here 
 and elsewhere, that if, as I intend, I ride in the 
 Tallyho Steeplechase, I sha'n't get the course, 
 or even a quarter of it, for the very good reason 
 that I am sure to cut a "voluntary" — in other 
 words, tumble off — haven't you ?' 
 
 ' Quite correct.' nodded the captain, with a 
 chuckle and a wink at the rest of the company. 
 
 ' Very good,' went on Tubby ; ' then perhaps 
 you would like to back it — that is. if you've the 
 pluck, which I very much doubt,' he added, 
 with the best attempt at a sneer he could raise, 
 for Tubby was the best-natured little chap 
 going, and his manly countenance was quite a 
 stranger as a rule to the expression it now as- 
 sumed in his righteous indignation. 
 
 ' I'm not a betting man, as all of you know,' 
 he went on, ' but for once in a way I'm pre- 
 pared to back myself, and for as much as you 
 like.' 
 
 Captain Bustard, late of the Roans, for a 
 moment was taken aback, but he quickly re- 
 
TUBBY, OR NOT TUBBY. 201 
 
 covered himself, and pulling out an elaborate 
 betting-book, replied, with a flourish, 
 
 ' Bravo, Tubby ! I admire your pluck, my 
 boy, and I'll accommodate you to any tune you 
 like. How will this suit you? I'll bet you five 
 to one in ponies, fifties, or hundreds — which 
 you please — that you're not on j^our horse's 
 back at the third fence. I'll bet you ten to one, 
 in the same money, you don't get over the 
 water-jump, and twenty fifties you don't finish 
 the course.' 
 
 ' Done with you !' exclaimed the now excited 
 Tubby ; ' and we'll make the first part of the 
 bet in hundreds, if you don't mind. General,' 
 said he, addressing his host, ' kindly lend me 
 a pencil and a piece of paper, and I'll make a 
 note of it.' 
 
 No sooner said than done, and amidst a gen- 
 eral clapping of hands the bets Avere booked on 
 each side. 
 
 ' Daventry, my boy,' shouted the general, 
 from the end of the table, ' you're a plucky 
 chap, dashed if you're not, and I sincerely hope 
 you'll stick on and win all your bets and the 
 race as well. Come, you fellows,' vv'cnt on the 
 
202 TUBBY, OR NOT TUBBY. 
 
 jolly old warrior, ' send the claret along and fill 
 your glasses, and we'll drink Daventry's very 
 good health, and may he win the Tallyho 
 Steeplechase.' 
 
 II. 
 
 TUBBY IT IS. 
 
 The Old Larkshire Hunt Steeplechases are 
 in full swing. It is the very perfection of a 
 spring day, with a blue sky overhead that 
 would have done credit to the month of June, 
 and such wind as there was was so slight as not to 
 matter whether it was in the east or not. Not 
 only were all the elite of the county, as the 
 papers say, there in strong force, but the rank 
 and file as well, and the assembled company, 
 having taken advantage of a three-quarters of 
 an hour interval to refresh the inner man and 
 woman with the necessary luncheon, are now 
 all agog for the piece de resistance of the day, to 
 wit the Tallyho Steeplechase. 
 
 The bell has rung to clear the course, the 
 competitors — some of them feeling tolerably at 
 
TUBBY, OR NOT TUBBY. 205 
 
 home, others the reverse — have weighed out, 
 and are now on view, and a strongish ring for 
 a country meeting being present, the betting 
 is progressing in most animated fashion ; 6 to 4 
 on the field is the cry, and the favourite is 
 Captain Bustard's chestnut mare. Lady of the 
 Lake, who is to be ridden by her owner, and 
 about whom the cognoscenti^ as the reporters 
 call those sportsmen supposed to be cleverer 
 than their mates, take the odds very freely 
 indeed, partly on account of the mate's per- 
 formances in the hunting-field, but principally 
 because of the reputation her gallant pilot 
 enjoys as a well-tried and skilled performer 
 between the flags. 
 
 Then comes a considerable gap in the quota- 
 tions, 6 to 1 being the liberal offer against the 
 next in favour, viz. Mr. Middlemarch's brown 
 mare, Queen of the West, whilst right down at 
 the bottom of the class, so to speak, is our 
 friend Tubby, against whom the bookies con- 
 temptuously offer twenties, thirties, fifties — 
 almost any price, in fact, you liked to ask, in 
 so little estimation did they hold his chance. 
 Poor old Tubby! I really believe that the 
 
204 TUBBY, OR NOT TUBBY. 
 
 only people who backed him were two or 
 three jolly farmers, his own tenants, and John 
 Trot, his faithful stud-groom. Tubby was not 
 a vain man, and perhaps that was the reason 
 why, instead of attitudinising in front of the 
 stand for the benefit of the ladies with the rest 
 of the amateur jockeys, he, having got over the 
 weighing-out business satisfactorily, mounted 
 his hack, and proceeded straight to the start- 
 ing-post, where the gallant Saucy Boy, all 
 ready saddled, was awaiting him. 
 
 The occupants of the stand, drags, and car- 
 riages were much disappointed in consequence, 
 and voted it down-right shabby of Tubby not 
 to face the music. I should have mentioned one 
 exception, though, and that was pretty Laura 
 Tremaine, the girl on whom our little friend 
 Avas so ' gone,' as he called it, who not only de- 
 clared that it did her heart good to know that 
 there was one man at all events not altogether 
 eaten up with conceit, but backed her slave not 
 only for gloves, but for money to a most alarm- 
 ing extent. She would be set up for life in 
 the first-named article of wearing apparel, she 
 said, if Tubby won. 
 
TUBBY, OE NOT TUBBY. 205 
 
 ' But he wovHt win,' snapped her next neigh- 
 bour on the stand, Blanche Lorrimer. 
 
 ' Wait and see, my dear child,' retorted the 
 fair Laura, adding, ' you won't be kept long in 
 suspense, for, look ! they're off!' 
 
 And so they were, the whole fifteen of them; 
 and one fell at the first fence, and it was not 
 Tubby ; and two at the next, and neither of 
 them Tubby. And Tubby is making the run- 
 ning at an alarming pace, and, having negotiated 
 all the intervening obstacles in safety, is now 
 tearing along towards the water-jump opposite 
 the stand some lengths in front of his field. 
 
 ' He'll come off now to a certainty,' is the cry 
 amongst his friends, but not a bit of it. Saucy 
 Boy jumps it in splendid fashion, and Tubby 
 sticks to his saddle like wax. ' Bravo, Tub !' 
 shouts his friends, and a stentorian voice is 
 heard from the ring offering to ' tak' six 'underd 
 to fower, ar' name the winner.' 
 
 Meanwhile Captain Bustard, his mare pulling 
 double, and himself very pale in the face, is 
 heading the rest, and as half the course is com- 
 pleted, probably, too, thinking it unwise to let 
 his rival get too far ahead, now sends Lady of 
 
206 TUBBY, OR NOT TUBBY. 
 
 the Lake along in earnest. He is soon along- 
 side Saucy Boy, and for the rest of the journey 
 the pair take their fences side by side. 
 
 The last hurdle is reached, which the pair 
 take abreast, Saucy Boy, who is as fresh as 
 paint, clearing it handsomely. The mare is 
 beat, though, and all but coming down, loses 
 a lot of ground, which, notwithstanding her 
 rider's artistic finish, is never made up, for 
 amidst frantic excitement Saucy Boy draws 
 clear away, and finally wins very cleverly in- 
 deed by three lengths. Followed by his disap- 
 pointed rival, looking as black as thunder, the 
 victorious Tubby, amidst a scene of great en- 
 thusiasm, now makes the best of his way to the 
 weighing-room door. 
 
 ' Look sharp. Tubby ! Jump off!' shouts an 
 anxious friend who has taken the long odds to 
 a trifle, noticing that the winning jockey seems 
 in no particular hurry to dismount. 
 
 ' All right, old chap ; I will as soon as Tve 
 unfastened these buckles f replied the little man, 
 airily. 
 
 * By the god of war, he was strapped on !' 
 
TUBBY, OR NOT TUBBY. 207 
 
 screamed Captain Bustard, in a fury, overbear- 
 ing the remark. 
 
 ' Of course I was,' replied Tubby, with a 
 grin, turning round in his saddle and address- 
 ing the captain. ' If I hadn't been I should 
 have tumbled off long ago. As it was I didn't, 
 don'tcherknow.' 
 
208 
 
 MY DOCTOR'S PRESCRIPTION. 
 I. 
 
 THE PRESCRIPTION. 
 
 ' And so you feel thoroughly out of sorts, do 
 you? See sparks floating about in front of 
 your eyes, (the " dazzles," a volatile patient of 
 mine calls 'em). Can't sleep of a night. (Ah ! 
 that's a fashionable complaint just now — quite 
 right to march with the times, — what ?) Don't 
 feel inclined to exert yourself in any shape or 
 form during the day, and, with it all, so terribly 
 low-spirited and nervous, {jumpy ^ that funny 
 young dog of a patient I mentioned just this 
 minute terms it,) that you feel more than half 
 inclined to put an end to yourself. Dear, dear, 
 dear ! 
 
MY DOCTOR'S PRESCRIPTION. 209 
 
 ' And now for a look at the tongue. Ha ! I 
 guessed as much ; got a fur on it like a bottle 
 of port that has been in the cellar for a hun- 
 dred years. Pulse very so-so — much too feeble. 
 And now, one more question : How do you live, 
 as a rule? Give me as near as you can a 
 sketch of your day's doings in the eating and 
 drinking line. Your stomach " day by day," 
 in fact. 
 
 ' Supposing, in order to be strictly "up to 
 date," we take yesterday. Breakfast? Any- 
 thing before breakfast, by the way ? (Lord ! 
 what a solicitor-general 1 should have made !) 
 Rum and milk ? Well, a very good thing, but 
 hardly necessary in your case. 
 
 ' Family prayers ? No. Scrambled eggs, 
 fish, devilled kidneys, one muffin, and two cups 
 of coffee. And not a bad start for the day by 
 any means. 
 
 ' Only a chop, cheese to follow, a pint 
 bottle of " Bass," and a glass of sherry for 
 luncheon ? 
 
 ' Poor fellow ! Poor, poor fellow ! 
 
 ' Anything else before you left the city ? 
 
 ' A whisky and soda. — Only one ? Two^ 
 
 p 
 
210 MY DOCTOR'S PRESCRIPTION. 
 
 you think. Five o'clock tea when you got 
 home, and nothing else until eight o'clock, 
 when you dined with some friends at the 
 " Windham." And a very good dinner you 
 had, I'll be bound. I often dine there myself, 
 so can speak authoritatively. 
 
 ' Smoking-room, of course, to follow : coffee 
 and liqueurs when you got there, and bran- 
 dies and sodas and cigars ad. lih.^ until one 
 o'clock in the morning. / hww^ chuckled the 
 doctor, 
 
 ' Now, how about exercise during the day?' 
 
 ' None to speak of.' 
 
 ' No, I thought not, and after all this good 
 cheer you woke this morning feeling positively 
 suicidal ; but on thinking over the matter de- 
 cided to give me a trial before waking up the 
 coroner. Very gratifying, I'm sure, and I 
 will try to deserve your confidence. To begin 
 with, I can tell you what's the matter in a very 
 few words. High feeding and want of exercise 
 is your complaint, and nothing else. Now for 
 the remedy. You wouldn't like, I suppose, to 
 go and smash somebody's windows, assault a 
 policeman, or something light and frolicsome of 
 
MY DOCTOR'S PRESCRIPTION. 211 
 
 that sort — anything of a criminal nature, in 
 fact, that took your fancy, so long as it enabled 
 a magistrate to give you a light sentence. Six 
 weeks' hard labour would do nicely, or even a 
 month, and the exercise and change of diet 
 would do you a world of good, believe me ! 
 
 ' No ! Well then we must try another remedy 
 that possibly may be more to your taste. You 
 must hunt, my dear sir! Hunt, spelt with a 
 captial H, if you please. Fox, stag, or drag. 
 I don't care what it is, as long as you gallop 
 after something. 
 
 ' An hour or so in the Row every day ? 
 Not a bit of good, I assure you, in your 
 case. 
 
 'But you are not used to it? Nonsense! 
 Then get used to it. The more doses you take 
 of my prescription — given, I assure you, to 
 patients without number with the happiest 
 results — the more you'll like it. 
 
 ' You don't know how to set about it ? Of 
 course you don't, my dear sir. How should 
 you ? You leave all that to me. Instead of 
 giving you a prescription to take to a chemist, 
 I say go and provide yourself with the para^ 
 
 p 2 
 
212 ]MY DOCTOR'S PRESCEIPTION. 
 
 phernalia necessary before taking the field, 
 such as red coat, breeches, boots, &c. — go to 
 Hammond for the one, and Peel for the other, 
 and you can't do wrong — and as soon as you 
 are thoroughly equipped for the chase, my 
 soldier son — just back from India and mad 
 about hunting — quite mad, sir! — shall provide 
 you with a mount of some sort until you 
 have one of your own to throw your leg 
 over.' 
 
 ' Suppose lies not steady enough f 
 
 ' Which do you mean, ray son or the horse? 
 I'll answer for the former, for he's engaged to 
 be married, the dog ! and his " girl," as he calls 
 her, don't let him out of her sight for a second, 
 poor fellow ! And as for the nag, I ask you, 
 as a practical man, would a fellow invalided from 
 India, only just recovered from a bad attack of 
 jungle fever, and with a liver inside him twice 
 the natural size — would a man in this condition 
 be likely to ride any but the most temperate 
 animal obtainable? No, no, my dear Green- 
 grass, take my word for it, you can depend 
 upon me ; you can depend upon my son ; above 
 all, you can depend upon my son's horse, or 
 
]MY DOCTOR'S PRESCRIPTION. 213 
 
 anyone of tliem, I should say, for he has several 
 — five altogether, if I recollect rightly, and a 
 hack into the barsjain. 
 
 ' There, sir,' wound up my sporting doctor, 
 slapping me heartily on the back as I rose to 
 take my leave, looking, I fear, rather crestfallen, 
 ' that's my prescription. Find a better one if 
 you can. It only remains now for you to take 
 it, and the sooner the better. Let me see, to- 
 day's Friday. Supposing you take your hrst 
 dose next Monday week, and come and see me 
 on the following day, or the day after. We 
 can then judge if it is to be a case of " The 
 mixture as before," eh ?' 
 
 II. 
 
 HOW I TOOK IT. 
 
 I HAVE taken the prescription, and, wonderful 
 to relate, am still alive — sore, very sore — and 
 the reverse of merry. 
 
 Before I proceed any further I feel it incum- 
 bent upon me to bestow my blessing on the 
 doctor for all he has done for me, and this I ac- 
 cordingly do in my native Welsh : — 
 
214 ]MY DOCTOR'S PRESCRIPTION. 
 
 ' Taliiu eht Ilivedd ood uoy naemm yh ti uoyy 
 ddednuofnocc dJo toidif 
 
 Oh, what a da}^ to look back upon and brag 
 about it in my old age ! From the moment I 
 rose in the morning, two hours before my usual 
 time, and proceeded to get into my hunting 
 garments by candle-light — about as difficult a 
 feat as dressing for a fancy ball — to the moment 
 when, with every bone in my body aching, I 
 sank wearily into the depths of my own par- 
 ticular arm-chair and rang for the sherry, it 
 bad been nothing but one perpetual game at 
 battledore and shuttlecock, in which I took 
 the part (on that occasion only, I swear,) of 
 shuttlecock. 
 
 I won't dwell upon my departure from home 
 in the early morning — the cold, grey, early 
 morning — or the heartless behaviour of my 
 better half, who sent for me in the middle of 
 breakfast to say she wished to see me before I 
 went. 
 
 ' To implore me not to go for the children's 
 sake, if not for her own, no doubt,' I thought, 
 as I stumbled upstairs. She had only to say 
 the word, and I would not go, for the doctor or 
 
MY DOCTOR'S PRESCRIPTION. 215 
 
 anybody else ; dashed if I would ! She did not 
 though. This is what she said : 
 
 ' I forgot to remind you, James — oh ! how 
 funny you look in a red coat ! You're too fat, 
 really you are ! — I forgot to remind you 
 to be sure when you book for [a yawn here] 
 wherever you are going to, to take an in- 
 surance ticket ! It only costs sixpence or so, and 
 it's a thousand jyounds if you are killed. You 
 might even take two [another yawn] then 
 it will be tivo thousand. You won't forget, 
 will you?' And then she turned round and 
 was asleep before you could say ' Jack Robin- 
 son,' as the saying is. 
 
 I met the nurse on the stairs. 
 
 ' Shall I say good-bye to the children, nurse ?' 
 I said. 
 
 ' Well, I don't think I would, sir, if I were 
 you,' was the reply. ' It does make them so 
 fractious when they're woke up sudden out of 
 their sleep.' 
 
 Disappointed at every turn. ' Euston 
 Square !' I thundered to the cabman, with 
 half a mind to inquire at the same time 
 what he was laughing at. I knew when 
 
216 MY DOCTOR'S PRESCRIPTION. 
 
 I readied my destination. My cockney of a 
 footman had handed me an umbrella instead of 
 a hunting-whip. Such a nice one, too, I had 
 bought from Mr. Briggs, of St. James's Street, 
 expressly for the occasion ! 
 
 'Single or return?' enquired the railway clerk, 
 on my demanding a ticket for Chipperfield. 
 
 The question seemed to me a curious one. 
 Why should he put it ? The man seemed to 
 look pityingly, too, at me, I fancied. 
 
 ' Is — is — the Fallowfieldshire country a — a 
 difficult one to cross, do you know ?' I asked. 
 
 ' Awful !' replied the clerk, replacing his steel 
 pen, which he had just been using as a tooth- 
 pick, in its usual berth behind his ear, ' AwfidV 
 he repeated. ' Three legs, ditto /mrms, and I 
 don't know how many collerbones and ribs, 
 only last week. Nobody dreams of 'unting 
 down there without insuring in the Accidental. 
 Like to subscribe, sir ? Quite worth your 
 while, I do assure you. Six pounds a week for 
 temporary disablement ; a thousand if settled 
 outright ; and,' wound up my voluble informant, 
 ' think 'ow nice it is to know as you've done the 
 c'rect thing to those you've left behind you,' 
 
MY DOCTOR'S PRESCRIPTION. 217 
 
 I broke out into a cold perspiration on the 
 spot, and insured my life without more ado. 
 
 ' And pray be careful,' feelingly observed the 
 clerk, as he closed his book of tickets with a self- 
 satisfied slap, ' I can see you're a family man 
 with 'arf an eye, and I do assure you that if 
 once you get into one o' them brooks which 
 run across every other field, you'll never get 
 out again. An old gent ' 
 
 But I dared not listen to more, and fairly 
 bolted for an early brandy and soda to steady 
 my poor nerves before facing the train. 
 
 'What? going in for "jumping powder" 
 thus early ? By Jove ! you'll be bad to beat !' 
 exclaimed ray friend, the doctor's military son, 
 who came up just as I was gulping off my 
 * pick-me-up.' 
 
 He obtained what he came for, a light for 
 his cigar, or rather cheroot, and then he led 
 me to the train. A cheerier lot of men than 
 those I travelled down with in the saloon car- 
 riage that morning it has never been my lot to 
 meet, and before I had been a quarter of 
 an hour in their company I felt thoroughly 
 inoculated with the idea that fox-hunting 
 
218 MY DOCTOR'S PRESCRIPTION. 
 
 was the only amusement worth living for. 
 
 I thought differently before I arrived at the 
 meet. I had still stronger doubts upon the 
 subject long before the end of the day. How 
 many times in the course of it I wished myself 
 at home or anywhere else I should be sorry 
 to say. 
 
 Whose horse was that who the moment the 
 helper brought him out of his stable proceeded 
 to plunge and kick all over the place ? Mine, 
 of course. 
 
 ' You needn't be afraid, sorr,' remarked his 
 bare-armed Irish attendant reassuringly, evi- 
 dently noticing my alarm. ' He's a playful 
 ould div'il, and it's yer honour's rid coat that's 
 raisin' 'im !' 
 
 Oh ! for another brandy and soda ! And I 
 should have had it too, but for the doctor's 
 military son and his friends looking on, and a 
 natural disinclination to show the white feather 
 before them. The ride to the meet would have 
 been pleasant enough but for a cock-pheasant 
 rising up from a ditch at the side of the road 
 with a horrible crow, a boy taking off his cap, 
 a bicycle, and a traction-engine. My brute 
 
MY DOCTOR'S PRESCRIPTION. 219 
 
 would have bolted at the sight of the latter 
 but for the timely aid of his owner, who 
 promptly seized the reins and used bad lan- 
 guage to him. The meet would have also been 
 pleasant enough if he would have stood still 
 for two consecutive minutes, which he wouldn't. 
 All went well, however, and I stuck on man- 
 fully until the hounds moved oiF, when my 
 horse, unable to restrain his exuberance of 
 spirits any longer, gave vent to a whinny of 
 delight, and kicking up his heels behind and 
 before, like Old Joe in the nigger song, caused 
 me to ' move off ' also — on to my back on the 
 ground, which was not only hard, but lumpy. 
 Many men would have at once gone home, but 
 I was angry, (when the Greengrass blood is up 
 look out for squalls,) and mounting again, I 
 rode bravely to the cover-side. The fox was 
 a brick, and as soon as the hounds were in at 
 one end went out at the other. I believe the 
 latter had the run of the season ; but as I saw 
 no more of them during the day I only speak 
 from hearsay. So far as I myself was con- 
 cerned, I had the run of a lifetime, principally 
 over ploughed fields, and all by myself, for my 
 
220 MY DOCTOR'S PRESCRIPTION. 
 
 horse got rid of me at the very first fence. 
 
 And I may here remark en- passant that top 
 boots are the most uncomfortable wear for 
 pedestrian exercise I know. I did not enjoy 
 the run at all. My joy on once more getting 
 into the high road I cannot express, nor my 
 still greater delight when a baker putting in 
 an appearance with his cart kindly consented 
 for a modest fee to drive me back to the place 
 from whence I came, as the judge says when 
 sentencing a prisoner to the extreme sentence 
 the law of the country allows. My horse had 
 arrived half an hour before me they told me, 
 and was at the moment I arrived tucking in a 
 bran mash as if he had had nothing to eat for 
 a fortnight. The brute ! if I could have sen- 
 tenced him to death, I would with all the 
 pleasure in life, and there would have been no 
 recommendation to mercy in his case, whatever 
 the jury might have said. 
 
 Finally, I arrived home with what the Scotch 
 call ' a sack-fu o' sair banes.' 
 
 ' And so you've not broken your neck, after 
 all ! and please don't sit down in that chair 
 with your coat all over mud,' was all the sym- 
 
MY DOCTOR'S PRESCRIPTION. 221 
 
 pathy I got from Mrs. Greengrass, who was 
 busy writing a letter, and hardly turned her 
 head to glance at me — with a look of disap- 
 pointment, I fancied — as I entered the drawing- 
 room yearning, positively yearning for sym- 
 pathy. 
 
 Before I dressed for dinner that evening I 
 had presented my butler with the whole of my 
 hunting garments, even to my whip and spurs. 
 I. believe, merely substituting a velvet cap for 
 the silk hat I had worn in the run of a lifetime, 
 he went to one of Sir Gus Harris's fancy balls at 
 Co vent Garden attired in them, and was much 
 admired by some of the ladies there. 
 
 I have not taken my doctor's prescription 
 since, nor do I intend to again. 
 
222 
 
 THE PRETTY HORSEBREAKER. 
 
 That was what they called her down in Dumble- 
 downdeary shire. Durabledowndeary shire, I 
 must tell you, is one of the most sporting and 
 at the same time most eminently respectable 
 counties in England. It cannot help being 
 sporting^ because the country itself is such a 
 grand one. The fields certainly are not those 
 extensive pastures one meets with in North- 
 amptonshire and the flying countries generally, 
 but grass predominates, and — well, to sum up 
 the matter as briefly as possible, it takes a man, 
 and a loorkman to boot, all his time to live with 
 hounds in these parts. The sportsman who 
 can hold his own in a fast thing with the Plod- 
 dington Hounds need not be in the least afraid 
 to try conclusions with any of the first flight of 
 horsemen in Leicestershire or elsewhere. With 
 
THE PRETTY HORSEBREAKER. 223 
 
 all these natural advantages, the inference of 
 course is that the natives would be a tolerably 
 hard-riding, 'go-as-you-please,' 'jolly compan- 
 ions every one,' sort of people, but it was not 
 so. 
 
 As I have already observed, the Dumble- 
 downdearyites were, as a body, an eminently 
 respectable lot, with not a particle of 'go ' 
 amongst them, never seeming to get — or even 
 want to — out of the humdrum way they had of 
 doing things. In short, it was to the visitors — 
 the select body of light-hearted, hard-riding 
 sportsmen who every winter took up their 
 quarters in the town of Slowford for the express 
 purpose of hunting the fox — that Dumbledown- 
 dearyshire was solely indebted for the little life 
 that was infused into it. Where would have 
 been the Hunt Ball and the Hunt Steeplechases 
 had it not been for the visitors ! Who were 
 the best 'got-up ' men who appeared at the 
 meet on a hunting morning ? Whose the best- 
 looking lot of horses to be seen at the same ? 
 The visitors. You could tell the difference at a 
 glance, bless you ! The visitors turned out ' got 
 up ' to the nines — coats by Poole, breeches by 
 
224 THE PRETTY HORSEBREAKEE. 
 
 Hammond, boots by Peel, and mounted on 
 everything you could wish in the way of horse- 
 flesh. The natives, their broad backs — they 
 all had broad backs — clad in ill-fitting red coats 
 of the baggy order of architecture, that could 
 only have been perpetrated by a country snip, 
 with breeches to match (usually cord), and 
 boots — Oh, my eye! you should have seen the 
 boots ! the look of them Avould have been quite 
 enough to turn the late Mr. Bartley in his grave. 
 The horses, too, were pretty much like their 
 masters, coming more under the denomination 
 oVusefuV — about the most insulting thing you 
 can say of a hunter — than anything else. To 
 sum them up, in fact, the Dumbledowndeary- 
 shire sportsmen were very much like the gentle- 
 man who, being ordered by his doctor to give 
 up port-wine, kept a friend in his house all the 
 year round to do his drinking for him. The 
 visitors did all the hard riding, and they were 
 well content to look on and play second fiddle. 
 The ladies were, of course, like the men, 
 eminently respectable also, though I really be- 
 lieve more from force of habit than anything 
 else. They only wanted someone of importance 
 
THE PRETTY HORSEBREAKER. 225 
 
 in the county to set the fashion, and they would 
 have kicked up their heels behind and before 
 just as well as old Dan Tucker or any other 
 Terpsichorean celebrity you liked to name. As 
 it was, though they had a horror of ' anything 
 fast^ my dear,' they were quite ready to admire 
 the well-got-up swells who made their appear- 
 ance in their midst as every JN^ovember came 
 round, and give their marriageable daughters all 
 the very best advice as to the playing of the 
 exciting pastime of ' Catch who catch can,' a 
 game, I am told, that in point of ' finesse ' can 
 give whist not only a considerable start, but a 
 beating into the bargain. Whilst the ladies of 
 Dumbledowndearyshire, though slow as tops 
 themselves, simply, as I have explained, from 
 force of habit, did not in the least object to 
 anything rapid — fast was their favourite ex- 
 pression — in the goings-on of any of the young 
 sportsmen who annually made a descent upon 
 the county, it must not be supposed for a 
 moment that they would tolerate anything of 
 the sort from one of their own sex. Oh, dear, 
 no. 
 
 When, therefore, it became known that a 
 
 Q 
 
226 THE PRETTY HORSEBEEAKER. 
 
 certain Major Appleton, a widower, with an 
 only daughter, had taken Honeysuckle Lodge, 
 a charming little place just outside the town of 
 Slowford, and that the said daughter was re- 
 ported to be not only exceedingly pretty, but 
 something quite out of the common in the way 
 of horsewomen, the ladies of Dumbledowndeary- 
 shire ' had their doubts ' — only had their doubts, 
 that was all — and asked one another the im- 
 portant question, ' Shall we call ?' But when 
 it oozed out, as such things sometimes will ooze 
 out, that the major (who was both elderly and 
 a cripple) was decidedly impecunious, and that 
 his daughter, by way of increasing his small 
 income, was in the habit of riding horses on 
 sale for a great London dealer, and, what was 
 worse, made no secret of it, they at once de- 
 cided amongst themselves that Honeysuckle 
 Lodge was no place for their cards to be left 
 at — was to be avoided, in fact, like the 
 plague. 
 
 Their dear girls to consort with a ' Pretty 
 Horsebreaker !' What next, indeed ? Perish 
 the thought. So the decree went forth, that the 
 
THE PRETTY HORSEBREAKER. 227 
 
 tenants of Honeysuckle Lodge were not to 
 called upon — in other words, were to be tabooed 
 from Dumbledowndearysbire society. Poor 
 Major Appleton ! Poor Miss Nelly ! And yet, 
 strange to say, both father and daughter did 
 not seem to mind one bit — not one little 
 bit. 
 
 The major's tenancy of the Lodge com- 
 menced at Michaelmas, and Nelly Appleton was 
 soon to be seen, attired in the neatest of ha.bits, 
 riding about all over the country in what her 
 detractors were pleased to term a most un- 
 feminine manner. That was comparatively a 
 trifle. But when the first meet of the season 
 came off, and it was known far and wide that 
 the ' Pretty Horsebreaker ' had not only had 
 far and away the best of a brilliant gallop, but 
 at the end of it had actually sold the horse that 
 had carried her so well through the run for 
 three hundred guineas to a youthful s^^orts- 
 man staying at the ' Hunt Hotel ' at Slowford, 
 then did the Dumbledowndearysbire matrons 
 lift up their voices with one accord, and say one 
 to another: 
 
 q2 
 
228 THE PRETTY HORSEBREAKER. 
 
 ' My dear, hoAV right, how very right we 
 were !' 
 
 The only annoying part of it was that the 
 attitude of the natives towards them did not 
 appear to affect in the sHghtest degree the 
 spirits of either Major Appleton or his daughter. 
 Both seemed to enjoy life after their own 
 fashion, and rather to like, than otherwise, the 
 privacy so kindly bestowed upon them by the 
 neighbours. 
 
 On fine days the old major was always to be 
 seen, cheroot in mouth, being wheeled about 
 the lanes in his bath-chair by John Rock, his 
 faithful soldier servant — I should be sorry to say 
 how many Manillas the old officer disposed of 
 in the course of the day — and exchanging a 
 pleasant greeting with everyone he met, es- 
 pecially children, for Avhose especial benefit 
 he was accustomed to carry with him a bag of 
 sweetmeats for general distribution. 
 
 The appearance of the major's bath-chair in 
 the village was quite enough to bring all the 
 female portion of the population, both young 
 and old, to their doors, you may depend; whilst 
 Bobby and Jimmy, and Cissy and 'Liza, stood 
 
THE PRETTY HORSEBREAKER. 229 
 
 by sucking their thumbs and peeping slyly out 
 of the corners of their eyes for signs of the 
 sugar-plums, which they now looked for as a 
 matter of course. 
 
 As for Miss Nelly, what with hunting four 
 days a week, and ' making ' green young horses 
 the other two, she may be said to have literally 
 lived in the saddle. And what a pretty girl 
 she was ! The clumsy, broad-backed, red-faced, 
 badly-got-up Dumbledowndearyshire squires 
 were secretly in love with her to a man, and 
 envied hugely the visitor portion of the hunt, 
 who, possessing no absurd scruples on the score 
 of her profession — on the contrary, liked her 
 all the better for it — were never happier than 
 when chatting with ' Little Nell,' as they called 
 her, at the covert side. They would have liked^ 
 one and all, to have had the honour of piloting 
 her — indeed, one or two had attempted it, but 
 as yet, hard-riding as many of them undoubt- 
 edly were, not a man amongst them had proved 
 capable of the task. They knew it, too, and, 
 like sensible men, gave it up as a bad job, rest- 
 ing content with keeping as near her in the run 
 as they could. 
 
230 THE PRETTY HOESEBREAKER. 
 
 A large proportion of the visitors were young 
 men, and needless to say several of them fell in 
 love with Little Nell straight away. And, be 
 it said, it was not a case of ' riding ' herself into 
 their little affections half so much as the charm- 
 ing way she had with her, setting on one side 
 altogether her personal attractions, which, as I 
 have before observed, were of a very high 
 order. A rough-rider from a swell London 
 horse-dealer — for, not to put too fine a point 
 upon it, that is Avhat poor Little Nell was, and 
 nothing else — and as a consequence being per- 
 petually brought into contact with members of 
 the opposite sex of all sorts, from the duke to 
 the dealer, how could she well help being what 
 is termed a ' horsey ' young woman — fast, and 
 slangy, and all the rest of it ! And I have no 
 hesitation in saying that nine young women out 
 often, situated as Little Nell was, would have 
 been so. It was not so, however, here. 
 
 The only thing to mark the ' professional ' in 
 Miss Appleton's case was her horsewomanship, 
 which everybody, including the great London 
 dealer, her employer, voted perfection. And 
 she liked it, and gloried in it, for was not she 
 
THE PRETTY HORSEBREAKER. 231 
 
 passionatelyfond of riding — hunting especially? 
 And, best of all, did not the calling she had 
 taken up enable her to keep the dear old father 
 she worshipped in comfort — nay, affluence? 
 
 The Dumbledowndeary shire ladies, who, in 
 their narrow-minded spite, christened her the 
 ' Prettj^ Horsebreaker,' (a nickname, by the way, 
 that was in reality strangely appropriate,) 
 should have looked through the dining-room 
 window of Honeysuckle Lodge any night 
 during the hunting season, and I will venture 
 to say that what they would have seen would 
 have done them good — at all events, induced 
 them to alter their opinion. 
 
 The elderly gentleman,, with the well-cut 
 features, and snow-white whiskers and 
 moustache, smoking his cigar in the easy-chair 
 by the hre-side, stroking the head of the 
 diminutive fox-terrier that slumbers peacefully 
 in his lap, is of course Major Appleton. But 
 who can the slight, graceful girl be who, attired 
 in the simple black lace dress that becomes her 
 perfect figure so well, with no ornament about 
 her but a small diamond brooch in the shape of 
 a horse-shoe at the throat, is seated at the piano 
 
232 THE PRETTY HORSEBREAKER. 
 
 playing alternately delicate morceaux by 
 Chopin and Schumann and Greig with a feeling 
 and delicacy of touch that many a professional 
 might have envied, and none but a lover of, 
 and one well versed in the art, to boot, could 
 have attained ? Not the ' Pretty Horsebreaker,' 
 surely ? It certainly is though, and why not, 
 pray ? 
 
 Is it quite fair, when you come to think of it, 
 that because a woman — poor, weak woman — 
 enters the lists against man, and not only that, 
 cuts him out at Ids own game^ she must at once 
 be considered as in a manner unsexed ? Sure- 
 ly not. However, in Miss Appleton's case, the 
 Dumbledowndearyshire matrons chose to think 
 so, and in consequence she — well, dear Little 
 Nell got a bad name ; and everybody knows 
 what that means. ' Give a dog a bad name 
 and hang him,' as the saying is. Poor 
 Dumbledowndearyshire ! Poor, stupid, narrow- 
 minded Dumbledowndearyshire! 
 
 II. 
 
 Little Nell's first season with the Plodington 
 
THE PRETTY IIORSEBREAKER. 233 
 
 Hounds was just drawing to a close, and she 
 was still ' Queen of the Arena,' so to speak, and 
 heartwhole, when there came a young man on 
 a flying visit to another young man who had 
 made Slowford his hunting quarters, and who 
 not only in one of the best gallops the hounds 
 had had the whole of the year — a 'treraenjuous ' 
 run Tom Small, the huntsman, described it as 
 — got decidedly the best of all the hard riders 
 of the hunt, visitors or otherwise, but actually 
 had the audacity to show the way to Little 
 Nell — the one and only Little Nell. So pal- 
 pably did the new arrival get fhe best of 
 it, indeed, that the master could not do other- 
 wise than offer him the brush, an ofl'er that was 
 declined on the plea that the lady (pointing as 
 he spoke to Miss Appleton) deserved it far 
 more than he did. 
 
 ' She'd have beat me out of sight,' he said, 
 simply, ' if my second nag hadn't come up so 
 handy, and — and — by George ! she's the best 
 horsewoman I ever saw, and the prettiest.' 
 
 ' Well done, old man !' exclaimed his host, 
 clapping the new-comer heartily on the back as 
 he spoke. 'That's the prettiest speech I've 
 
234 THE PRETTY HOESEBREAKER. 
 
 heard for many a long day, and the truest. 
 Come and be introduced at once.' 
 
 Is there such a thing as ' Love at first 
 sight ' ? Some say yes, with a big Y, others 
 no, with an equally big N. Both may be right 
 and neither wrong. Anyhow, there were two 
 persons on that particular day Avho managed 
 to solve the question entirely to their own 
 satisfaction. These Avere the Honourable Frank 
 Grandison, and Little Nell. And they both 
 gave themselves away so dreadfully, too ! 
 
 As for Frank, his behaviour at the ' Hunt 
 Hotel ' that night was of a most extraordinary 
 character. Instead of being his usual cheery 
 self, he kept silence, tugged spasmodically at 
 his moustache, sighed at intervals, drank a 
 good deal, and smoked like a chimney — was 
 
 altogether, as his host remarked, ' d d bad 
 
 company !' 
 
 ' What the doose is the matter with you, 
 Frank, old chap ?' exclaimed the latter gentle- 
 man at last, quite out of patience. 
 
 ' Matter !' shouted his guest, starting up from 
 his chair, and throwing his cigar into the lire. 
 
THE PRETTY HORSEBREAIvER. 235 
 
 ' why, it's " Who-lioop ! " tliat's what's the mat- 
 ter !' Seizing his astonished host by the waist, 
 he held him up for a second in his powerful 
 arms, and then dropped him, amidst peals of 
 laughter from those in the room, right into the 
 arms of a waiter, who made his appearance at 
 that moment with a tray full of soda-water, etc., 
 and crying, ' Worry, worry, worry !' ran out of 
 the room, and straight up to bed, to dream of 
 Little Nell. 
 
 And what about my ' Prett}^ Horsebreaker ' 
 that evening ? Well, she was very quiet, as 
 she always was, but she looked so radiant and 
 happy about something, that Nanny, her old 
 nurse and major-domo of the establishment, 
 noticed it at once. 
 
 ' Mr. " Right's " come along at last,' she mut- 
 tered to herself, as she wended her way to the 
 kitchen to see about dinner, adding, ' 1 thought 
 he wouldn't he lo7ig fust.'' ' 
 
 Well, the last day of the season was duly 
 announced, and by that time Frank Grandison 
 and Little Nell had become quite old friends, 
 to all appearance, though they had scarcely 
 
236 THE PRETTY IIORSEBREAKER. 
 
 known each other a week. The Honourable 
 Frank came and dined, too, one night at Honey- 
 suckle Lodge, at the major's invitation, and 
 went back to his inn more hopelessly gone 
 than ever. Before he left, too, the sly dog had 
 managed to ascertain the fact that every sum- 
 mer the major and his daughter betook them- 
 selves to the seaside for a couple of months. 
 It was not, therefore, very surprising that when, 
 according to custom, Major and Miss Appleton 
 made a descent on Eastbourne in the month of 
 August, almost the very first person they came 
 across was their new friend, the Honourable 
 Frank Grandison. 
 
 And when he Avent away, which was not, by 
 the way, until the same day on which the major 
 and his daughter took their departure home- 
 wards, he had promised and vowed to the lat- 
 ter, amongst a few other things, that November 
 should see him and his horses at Slowford 
 without fail. 
 
 ' I shall be there at the opening meet, you 
 may depend,' said he, 'and on my very best 
 nag, ready and willing to pilot you — that is, if 
 
THE PRETTY liOESEBREAIiER. 237 
 
 I can. Meanwhile, good-bj^e and au revoii\ is it 
 not?' 
 
 The first of Kovember was not long in com- 
 ing round, though it seemed an age to two 
 people I could mention. At ten o'clock to a 
 minute, Miss Appleton, looking positively 
 radiant, and superbly mounted as usual, fol- 
 lowed by her groom, emerged from the portals 
 of Honeysuckle Lodge on to the high road en 
 route to the meet. The girl had good reason to 
 be happy, for she had received a letter from 
 the man she loved but an hour before, saying 
 that he had arrived late the previous night at 
 the ' Hunt Hotel,' and would be sure to be at the 
 meet that morning. There was a tremendous 
 gathering both of the regular members of the 
 hunt and visitors, which latter made a rush 
 for their Little Nell the moment she cantered 
 up. 
 
 But where was Mr. Grandison ? 
 
 ' What, dear old Frank ! Why, he was aw- 
 fully late this mornin'; didn't get up until just 
 as we were startin', the lazy old beggar, but 
 he'll turn up before long, never fear. Miss 
 
238 THE PRETTY HORSEBREAKER. 
 
 Appleton,' said a youthful sportsman in answer 
 to her query. ' Never knew Frank late in my 
 life when there was any fun goin' on,' he added 
 by way of comfort, as he noted Little Nell's 
 anxious look round, and made a tolerably good 
 guess at the reason. 
 
 Eleven o'clock came, the master turned up, 
 the hounds moved off to draw, and still no sign 
 of Frank. Little Nell for once in her life felt 
 quite cross and put out as, tired of waiting, she 
 cantered slowly after the crowd of red- coats, 
 all wending their way to Nightingale Wood, a 
 great straggling covert, where they might stop 
 all the morning, or get away at once from, 
 according to circumstances. Having reached 
 the wood, she made her way up one of the side 
 rides to a corner which commanded the Slow- 
 ford Road, and there Little Nell sat on her horse 
 looking out anxiously for her lover, and dread- 
 ing every moment to hear the inevitable holloa 
 proclaiming that a fox had gone away. 
 
 But hark ! a horseman w^as coming her way 
 through the wood. On he came, whoever it 
 was, and the next instant a stout young sports- 
 man in scarlet pulled up at her side and greet- 
 
THE PRETTY HORSEBREAKER. 239 
 
 ed her in a free and easy manner that was 
 evidently most distasteful to Little Nell. Mr. 
 Tom Porkins was a very fine specimen of a 
 country swell. Never havinoj been to either a 
 private or public school, thanks to the mistaken 
 kindness of an over-fond mother, he had receiv- 
 ed what education he could boast of at the 
 hands of private tutors. Then came Cambridge, 
 a second-rate college, and a fast and very 
 inferior set. Result : that on attaining his 
 majority there was not to be found in the whole 
 of England, let alone Dumbledowndearyshire, 
 a finer specimen of the unlicked cub than Tom 
 Porkins, of the Mount. Needless to say, the 
 possession of some five thousand a year, and 
 the knowledge that he was entirely his own 
 master, had not the efi*ect that music is said to 
 have, viz., softening his manners and toning 
 down his natural brutality. On the contrary, 
 he seemed to become more arrogant and vulgar 
 with every day that he grew older. 
 
 He had long conceived a passion for Little 
 Nell, partly because he really admired her — or 
 rather her horsewomanship — but in a greater 
 measure because he could not bear to know 
 
240 THE PRETTY HOUSEBREAKER. 
 
 that he, ^vith all his wealth and position in the 
 county, (for five thousand a year meant a good 
 deal in those parts, ten times as much as it did 
 elsewhere,) had to play second fiddle to what 
 he was pleased to call the London division, 
 meaning the strangers who came to Slowford 
 to hunt with the Ploddington Hounds. He 
 had long wanted an opportunity of a tete-a-tete 
 with Miss Appleton, and here was a chance all 
 ready to hand, which he meant to make full 
 use of. It is needless giving in detail his con- 
 versation with Nelly — the coarse witticisms, save 
 the mark ! the offensive remarks about those 
 she had looked upon as her best friends — 
 suffice it to say that at last, emboldened or 
 irritated, it is hard to say which, he finished 
 up with a remark about Frank Grandison that 
 fairly cut Little Nell to the quick. 
 
 ' You cad !' she exclaimed, and raising her 
 hand sent the thong of her hunting-whip curl- 
 ing round the coarse red face of her insulter 
 with a force that left an unsightly weal for 
 many a day after. 
 
 An instant after, the reaction set in, and 
 poor Nelly, fairly breaking down, began to cry. 
 
THE PRETTY HORSEBREAIvER. 241 
 
 ' Oh ! Frank, Frank,' she sobbed, almost be- 
 side herself, ' where are you ? Why don't you 
 come to me ?' 
 
 ' Just the sort of treatment I might have 
 expected from a " Pretty Horsebreaker," ' said 
 Tom Porkins, wiping his heated face with a 
 bright yellow handkerchief. ' Miss Appleton,' 
 be continued, with an assumed hauteur that 
 fitted but ill with his vulgar appearance, ' I 
 beg to wish you a very good-morning, and — 
 and — better manners to you.' 
 
 He was just about to depart when the sound 
 of a horse rapidly approaching was heard, and 
 the next instant Frank Grandison, his handsome 
 face all aglow with excitement, appeared upon 
 the scene. He looked round in astonishment, 
 as well he might, as he came to a standstill. 
 His lady-love in tears, and Tom Porkins, with 
 a damaged countenance, looking particularly 
 foolish ! What did it all mean ? 
 
 He turned to Nelly for an explanation. 
 ' Oh! Frank, Frank,' she exclaimed, 'if you 
 love me, as you say you do, tell this man every- 
 thing, tell him our secret once and for all :' 
 pointing as she spoke to Tom Porkins, who 
 
 R 
 
242 THE PRETTY HOUSEBREAKER. 
 
 looked as if he would have liked to slunk into 
 the nearest rabbit-hole. 
 
 Frank, his face white with passion, turned 
 on the wretched Tom at once. 
 
 ' I don't know, sir, in what way you have 
 insulted the lady I am engaged to be married 
 to,' he said, ' but judging by appearances you 
 have been tolerably well punished already. I 
 shall hear full particulars,' he added, ' later on, 
 and if it is as bad as I think, I swear, unless 
 you write the most abject apology that ever 
 was penned even by such a cowardly cur as 
 you are, I will horsewhip you in front of the 
 whole field the very first time the hounds meet. 
 Stay !' he cried, as the other was slinking off, 
 ' I have heard, as how could I help doing, of 
 you and others of the same kidney kindly term- 
 ing Miss Appleton here a " Pretty Horsebreak- 
 er." Tell all your friends from me that both 
 she and I take your intended insult as a com- 
 pliment. She is a " Pretty Horsebreaker," and 
 I am proud to know it.' 
 
 ' And so you are, aren't you, my darling?* 
 said Frank, a minute later, when Tom Porkins 
 was out of sight. 
 
THE PRETTY HORSEBREAKER. 243 
 
 All the anger was gone, and there was no- 
 thing left but the light of love in the violet 
 eyes, as Little Nell, her head resting trustfully 
 on her lover's shoulder, murmured simply, 
 
 ' If you say so, Frank dearest, I suppose 
 I am.' 
 
 r2 
 
244 
 
 SHADOWED. 
 
 If there is one thing I dislike more than 
 another it is a shadow, and, when I have told 
 you why, I venture to predict that you will 
 not be surprised at my inveterate dislike to 
 such an apparently harmless affair. 
 
 I have been fond of sport all my life, and at 
 hunting, fishing, and shooting can take my 
 own part with any of them, I flatter myself. 
 Racing I like, too, well enough in its way. 
 Epsom, Ascot, Doncaster, and the principal 
 meetings at Sandown and Kempton Park, each 
 see me in their turn, but solely on pleasure 
 bent, and to meet my friends, quite as much 
 as to look on at the races. 
 
 Nobody loves a good horse better than I do, 
 and it gives me an immense amount of pleas- 
 ure to feast my eye on an animal, brought out 
 
SHADOWED. 245 
 
 in the very pink of condition with a polish on 
 him that you could see your face in, and be- 
 stridden by some crack jockey, whose gay silk- 
 en jacket materially assists the pictorial effect, 
 as he saunters round and round in the paddock. 
 But when it comes to looking on at a dozen 
 or so of worthless rips running in a hundred- 
 pound plate, with probably only two or three 
 of them trying, I fail to see where the fun 
 comes in, except to those who look at the affair 
 solely from a £ s. d. point of view. 
 
 As for making an exhibition of myself as a 
 gentleman-rider, such an idea had never en- 
 tered my head, and never would have but for 
 HER. 
 
 My ever donning a silken jacket is only 
 another instance of how easily a man is in- 
 duced to make an ass of himself. That Julia 
 adored racing I was perfectly well aware ; and, 
 though I did not quite approve of the reckless 
 way she gambled, I said nothing, thinking it 
 would be time to remonstrate when I was in 
 a position to assume the proud title of husband; 
 but I don't think my affianced one, wilful 
 though she was, would ever have suggested 
 
246 SHADOWED. 
 
 that I should figure as a gentleman-rider had 
 it not been for that brainless idiot, George 
 Boothby — Doddy Boothby, as they call him — 
 who, to suit his own purpose, as I found out 
 afterwards to my cost, put the idea in her head. 
 
 ' Nonsense,' said I, ' I'm not in the least cut 
 out for a jockey.' 
 
 ' That's where you make the mistake, my 
 dear fellow,' continued this ' snake in the 
 grass.' ' Why, you're the very moral of what 
 Fordham was in the zenith of his fame.' 
 
 The end of it was that one fine day, without 
 either my knowledge or consent, I found my- 
 self matched for a level monkey to ride my 
 brown horse, Tam o' Shanter, against Doddy 
 Boothby 's bay mare, Desdemona, a mile and a 
 half, twelve stone each, at the forthcoming Lin- 
 chester Summer Meeting. And everybody said, 
 (except myself,) ' What a sporting match !' 
 
 Sporting forsooth ! In my opinion it was 
 about the most one-sided affair I ever heard of. 
 
 Tam o' Shanter, dear old horse, was a real 
 good one, and no mistake, as nearly thorough- 
 bred as possible, and could both go fast and 
 stay, and probably was better all round than 
 
SHADOWED. 247 
 
 Desdemona. On the other hand, I had never 
 ridden a race in my life, whilst Doddy Boothby 
 had been at the game for years, and had ridden 
 in and won no end of races both on the flat and 
 across country ; in fact, was considered one 
 of the best horsemen in the service when in the 
 rifle brigade. What chance had I — a mere 
 tyro — against an old hand like Doddy ? To 
 make things worse, Julia, who had quite made 
 up her mind I was to win, started backing me 
 for all she was worth. Such fancy bets as she 
 made no ' bookie ' ever yet heard of, nor any 
 one else out of Bedlam ; and when I mildly 
 remonstrated, all I got was a command to mind 
 my own business. 
 
 ' I know what I'm about, my dear Reginald, 
 thank you. All you are expected to do is to 
 win, sir. My business is to get on the stable- 
 money, and this I am doing on a system of my 
 own.' 
 
 ' And what might you mean by the stable- 
 money ?' I mildly inquired. ' I was not aware,' 
 I added, ' that anybody beside myself was 
 interested in Tam o' Shanter, except, of course, 
 you,' I put in as an afterthought. 
 
248 SHADOWED. 
 
 ' Well, that's exactly what I mean ; youVe 
 guessed it at once, donkey ! You and I con- 
 stitute the stable, and I am working the com- 
 mission. Now, do you understand ?' 
 
 I groaned in spirit, as I told her I did. In 
 fact, I did nothing now but groan in spirit. 
 
 I don't know which I pitied most, myself or 
 poor Tam o' Shanter — Tam o' Shanter, who had 
 not only carried me all through the past hunt- 
 ing season without putting me down once, but 
 who had won our Point to Point into the 
 bargain, and who was now done out of the well- 
 earned rest I had intended giving him during 
 the summer. It was bad enough for the dear 
 old horse to be put into training during the dog 
 days, but how about a fat chap like me ? 
 
 The first day of the Lin Chester Summer 
 Meeting, and such a broiler ! The Midsummer 
 Stakes — the principal race of the day — has just 
 been run off, and, the Tam o' Shanter v. 
 Desdemona match being the next event on the 
 card, my rival and myself are undergoing the 
 weighing out process. Doddy, with a tooth- 
 pick in his mouth, goes through the performance 
 
SHADOWED. 249 
 
 as if it were an everyday occurrence. The 
 clerk of the scales, note-book in hand, eyes me 
 with a pitying air as I drop my saddle off my 
 lap on to the floor. Sundry professional jockeys, 
 looking on, try, with but ill-success, to conceal 
 their amusement. I should like to murder 
 some one — Clerk of the Scales for choice — and 
 commit suicide afterwards. I cheer myself up 
 though with thoughts of the five thousand a 
 year, and the woodcock-shooting in Wales. 
 Dear old Tam o' Shanter is walking about in 
 the enclosure just outside, and gazes at me 
 pityingly with his kind brown eyes, as I walk 
 up and pat him. 
 
 The saddling process over, off goes my over- 
 coat, and I lift my leg for a leg-up in true pro- 
 fessional style, my groom taking the hint in 
 such energetic fashion that he all but threw me 
 clean over the other side. The spectators titter, 
 and I hear loud shouts from the ring of ' I'll 
 take odds !' ' I'll take six to four !' 
 
 ' Who's favourite ?' I inquire of my man, as I 
 endeavour to settle myself in my cheese-plate 
 of a saddle. 
 
 ' You are, sir,' is the reply. ' Desdemona's 
 
250 SHADOWED. 
 
 lame, they say, so p'raps that's the reason/ 
 
 Complimentary to my horsemanship, indeed ! 
 Hang it all ! my groom has been with me now 
 over four years, and he might have had a little 
 more espit de corps about him, I do think, than 
 to have made such an unfeeling speech as 
 that. 
 
 We canter becomingly down the course, 
 Doddy still with the eternal toothpick in his 
 mouth. The mob make ribald remarks as I 
 go by on my personal appearance. 
 
 We are off! Tarn o' Shanter pulling my 
 arms off — a thing he never used to do until 
 put into training. 
 
 The course is of a very up-hill-and-down- 
 dale character, with a sharp turn into the 
 straight, not unlike Tattenham Corner at 
 Epsom. 
 
 I have heard it is a good thing to hug the 
 rails on these occasions, as one saves a lot 
 of ground. I hug the rails accordingly, and 
 Old Tam turning the corner too sharply, my 
 foot, coming into contact with a post, gets a 
 most unpleasant rap. In the straight for home 
 — Tam o' Shanter full of runnino;. Desdemona 
 
SHADOWED 851 
 
 wide on the right, and her jockey riding her hard. 
 It is all over but the shouting ; and Julia, the 
 five thousand a year, and the woodcock-shoot- 
 ing in Wales are mine ! Mine ! Hoo 
 
 In bed, with my head enveloped in linen 
 bandages soaked in vinegar, the family doctor 
 seated at my side. I feel very queer, I tell 
 him, in answer to his inquiry — feel just as if 
 some one was playing roulette with my brains. 
 
 ' What has happened? Why am I here?' I 
 ask. 
 
 On Linchester racecourse, about a hundred 
 yards from the winning-post, there stands a 
 short distance from the rails, on the inside, a 
 large telegraph-board, on which are displayed 
 the numbers of the runners for each race. 
 On sunny days the structure in question sends 
 a shadow right on to the running track. '^ 
 
 The supposition is thatTam o' Shanter caught 
 sight of it, and took it for water. Anyhow, he 
 jumped it in his stride, sending me — standing 
 up in my stirrups at the time, with the race 
 well in hand — flying over his head, and leaving 
 
252 SHADOWED 
 
 my hated rival, whose mare at the time was 
 dead beat, to win at his leisure. 
 
 I am all right again now, and able to re- 
 view the past with a clear head upon my 
 shoulders. 
 
 I have come to the conclusion that the day 
 on which I rode my match was just about the 
 Avorse I ever had since I left school. 
 
 The stakes to be paid — the stable commission, 
 as Julia calls it, over a thousand (such bets 
 you never saw !) and lastly — and that is the 
 hardest blow of all — an insulting letter from 
 the fair match-maker herself, in which she talks 
 of the ridiculous exhibition I made of myself 
 — making her a laughing-stock, etc., — and 
 broadly hinting — and a hint from her is equiva- 
 lent to a command — that our engagement had 
 better come an end. 
 
253 
 
 AN EMPEROR : THE STORY OF HIS 
 DOWNFALL. 
 
 Some sixty years ago there dwelt in the sporting 
 county of Tipplecidershire, a worthy baronet, 
 by name Sir Benjamin Bluster, and a very 
 fine specimen of what some folk are fond of 
 calling the good old school — now quite extinct, 
 or nearly so, thank goodness ! — he was. By 
 which I mean that he rode harder and drank 
 deeper than his neighbours, and could give the 
 whole of the country — nay, I might almost in- 
 clude that celebrated army of ours that went to 
 Flanders — a stone and a beating, as regards the 
 art of cussin' and swearing. For the high pro- 
 ficiency he had attained in this branch of the Eng- 
 lish language he was probably indebted in some 
 slight measure to the fact that in his youth he 
 
254 AN EMPEROR'S DOWNFALL. 
 
 had served for a short period in the Royal Navy, 
 an excellent school for improving the fine 
 natural talent he already possessed in that 
 direction. 
 
 It was in the hunting-field that Sir Ben- 
 jamin, in his capacity of M.F.H., most distin- 
 guished himself by his powers of rhetoric. A 
 rich man, he kept the hounds entirely at his 
 own expense, and, being a very large landed 
 proprietor as well, the country he hunted was 
 nearly all his own, a fact that naturally added 
 to his independence very considerably, and 
 of which he took every advantage, you may 
 depend. 
 
 Such an autocrat, in fact, has seldom if ever 
 been met with in any hunting county. The 
 nickname of the ' Emperor,' therefore, bestowed 
 upon him one day by a wag, was considered so 
 very appropriate by the followers of the hunt 
 that in future it was universally adopted by 
 his subjects, so to speak, loyal or otherwise. 
 "Whether the fact that such a title had been 
 bestowed upon him worked its way to Sir Ben- 
 jamin's private ear I cannot say, but this it is, 
 he certainly became more autocratic and ar- 
 
AN EMPEROR'S DOWNFALL. 255 
 
 rogant every day, and the abuse be would 
 sbower in profusion on any member of the 
 hunt who transgressed was something to be 
 remembered. Some of them at first did not 
 like it, and one or two even remonstrated in a 
 mild sort of way, when they were promptly 
 met by the Emperor jumping off his horse and 
 offering to do battle on the spot. ' Get off !' he 
 would roar in his quarter-deck voice, as he 
 threw himself into a posture of defence. And 
 being a big, burly fellow, in fact an ugly cus- 
 tomer to look at all over, his kind invitation 
 had never yet been responded to, and the 
 challenged one would remain on his horse, 
 whilst the Emperor, having first discharged a 
 fresh volley of expletives from his extensive 
 stock, would remount his, affecting great dis- 
 gust as he did so at not being met half-way in 
 the matter. 
 
 This state of things went on year after year, 
 until at last, on the principle, no doubt, that 
 ' use is second nature,' the members of Sir 
 Benjamin's hunt took the insults that their 
 autocratic M.F.H. showered upon them so 
 liberally quite as a matter of course. The 
 
256 AN EMPEROR'S DOWNFALL. 
 
 Emperor's polite remarks, in fact, had no more 
 effect upon his subjects at last than water has 
 on a duck's back. This was decidedly annoying 
 to that gentleman. It is very poor fun wearing 
 out your lungs and wasting your eloquence on 
 a man only to see him light a cigar or take a 
 lengthened pull from his holster flask during 
 the operation, as if nothing particular was 
 o-oino; on. 
 
 "What the Emperor liked was to know that 
 his words had gone thoroughly home to their 
 recipient ; to feel that he had effectually 
 wounded the other's pride with that all-powerful 
 tongue of his. If he could only attain that happy 
 consummation, he was in high good humour 
 for the rest of the day. 
 
 This seldom if ever, however, came to pass. 
 The regular members of his hunt, as I have 
 said, took not the slightest notice of his remarks, 
 and the Emperor's only chance of getting a rise 
 out of anyone was the occasional advent of a 
 stranger new to his ways, who might possibly 
 be induced to lose his temper. This, however, 
 happened but seldom; such visitors who did 
 honour his hunt with their presence probably 
 
AN EMPEROR'S DOWNFALL. 257 
 
 having had the ' office ' given to them beforehand 
 by some kind friend, and treating his remarks 
 with silent contempt like the rest, so that the 
 Emperor at last almost despaired of ever 
 coming across a fresh victim. 
 
 Thoroughly tired at last with his field and 
 their ' d — d good-nature,' as he politely termed 
 it, he was thinking seriously of throwing up 
 the hounds in disgust, when an addition to the 
 hunt suddenly came to the rescue in the shape 
 of a new-comer to the neighbourhood, to whom 
 he took an inveterate dislike at the very first 
 sight, consequently a man after his own heart. 
 
 The Emperor's new scapegoat was a little 
 pink and white complexioned, flaxen-haired, 
 forty-year old gentleman — with a nervous 
 stammer when excited, and rejoicing in the 
 name of Perkins — James Perkins — who had 
 lately taken Tilbury Hall for a term, and 
 announced his intention ofgoinginfor hunting. 
 Jimmy, as his fond wife called him, was one of 
 the mildest and most inofi'ensive little men it is 
 possible to , conceive, almost lady-like in his 
 manner, and shy and retiring to the last degree, 
 just the very man, in fact, to be a butt for the 
 
 s 
 
258 AN ElklPEROR'S DOWNFALL. 
 
 M.F.H.'s witticisms ; and tlie field, as they 
 watched the first meeting between him and the 
 Emperor at the meet at which the former made 
 his debuf^ and eyed the extra elaborate bow the 
 autocrat vouchsafed him, laughed in their 
 respective sleeves, and prognosticated a storm 
 of unwonted severity before very long. 
 
 Nor were they mistaken. Mr. Perkins's 
 mare lashing out at a hound as it went by in a 
 ride, was quite sufficient for the Emperor, who 
 happened to be close by at the time. 
 
 Glancing at the poor little man as if he would 
 eat him, he launched out at him in his choicest 
 style — quite surpassed himself, in fact, as 
 every one agreed. 
 
 And, when out of breath with his exertions, 
 his unhappy victim stammered forth an apology, 
 he was met with a stentorian ' Don't bully me, 
 sir,' followed by the usual, ' If 5'^ou don't like 
 my remarks, get offV 
 
 The poor little man did get off, though not in 
 the way the Emperor suggested, for he rode 
 straight home, thoroughly disgusted with life 
 in general and fox-hunting in particular — 
 
AN ElMPEROR'S DOWNFALL 259 
 
 indeed, he almost cried when he told his 
 sympathising wife all about it. 
 
 ' Never mind, Jimmy,' said the lady, 
 soothingly, 'you shall go out hunting again just 
 as usual, and if that horrid old wretch abuses 
 you again, why, we must find some way of pay- 
 ing him off. Trust me, he shan't say horrid 
 things to my Jimmy for nothing, if I know 
 it. 
 
 And Jimmy, much comforted, sat down to 
 dinner that night with an excellent appetite, 
 and so far forgot his troubles as to drink 
 ' fox-hunting ' afterwards. 
 
 Well, Mr. James Perkins went out hunting 
 the next time the hounds met, and went out 
 again and again, and never a day passed with- 
 out the Emperor picking a quarrel with him on 
 the slightest possible pretext. 
 
 At last one day towards the end of the season 
 he let poor Jimmy ' have it ' to such a tune 
 that the bystanders, used as they were to the 
 Emperor's language, one and all agreed that it 
 was too bad, and said as much to the recipient 
 in sympathetic tones. 
 
 s 2 
 
260 AN EMPEROR'S DOWNFALL. 
 
 At the next meet of the hounds there was no 
 Mr. James Perkins to be seen. 
 
 ' Seen the last of him^ poor little chap,' said 
 everybody. 
 
 And the Emperor evidently agreed with his 
 subjects, for on noticing the absence of his 
 pet scapegoat, he growled to himself, with a 
 chuckle, 
 
 ' Cooked Ms goose for him, I fancy, and a 
 good job too. 
 
 ' Don't see Jimmy Perkins ; isn't he here to- 
 day ?' he roared out to the field generally, as 
 he sat on his horse in the midst of his hounds. 
 
 ' Gone to London, I believe,' replied some 
 one in the crowd, with a grin. 
 
 ' Gone to London, has he?' remarked the Em- 
 peror. ' Sorry for that. Good chap, Jimmy,' 
 adding, sotto voce^ ' hope he'll stop there, I'm 
 sure ; hate the sight of the little pink and white 
 swab, more like a child's doll than a man. 
 
 ' Good idea that,' chuckled he, the simile 
 suiting his humour nicely. ' I say, you fel- 
 lows,' he roared the next instant, ' I've got a 
 stunning nickname for Jimmy Perkins — the 
 
AN Ei\IPEEOIl'S DOWNFALL. 261 
 
 Doll! What? Suits him down to the ground, 
 heh?' 
 
 And so it came to pass that Jimmy Perkins, 
 much to his loving wife's indignation, when, 
 like Billy Taylor's Captain, ' she came for to 
 hear on't,' was henceforth known as the 
 Doll. 
 
 Never, as I have said, did the Emperor and 
 his merry men ever expect to see the ill-used 
 Mr. James Perkins in the hunting-field again 
 — in that part of the world, at least. Great, 
 therefore, was the astonishment of everybody, 
 when, at the last meet of the season at No 
 Man's Land, who should be seen tittupping 
 gracefully up but the Doll, accompanied by a 
 friend, gorgeously attired in scarlet, and riding 
 his host's best horse. 
 
 The Doll rode straight up to where the 
 hounds were, with the Emperor sitting on his 
 horse in their midst, quite petrified for the 
 moment at Jimmy's audacity. 
 
 ' Mum-mum-??Z(?rnin', Sir Benjamin,' stammer- 
 ed he, as he reined up in front of the great 
 man. ' Per-per-mit me, at the same time, to 
 
262 AX EMPEROR'S DOWNFALL. 
 
 introduce my friend, Captain Mortimer, who 
 has c-c-come down on a short visit to me, ex- 
 pressly to enjoy a day with y-yoiir hounds. 
 Captain Mortimer, Sir Benjamin Bub-bub- 
 jS/uster,' wound up Jimmy, turning red and 
 white as was his wont. 
 
 ' Glad to see ye, sir,' growled the Emperor, 
 vouchsafing the captain the slightest bob of 
 his head as he eyed him in a critical manner 
 from tip to toe. 
 
 Apparently the result of his scrutiny was not 
 very satisfactory, for his majesty's growl at the 
 end of it sounded strangely like ' looks like a 
 dashed Jew swell-mobsman,' And, truth to 
 tell, there was a something about the manner 
 and appearance of the Doll's guest that was 
 not exactly satisfactory. He was a little man, 
 gorgeously got up, with a profusion of jewel- 
 lery, and Avearing appendages to his face 
 in the shape of a nose of imposing dimen- 
 sions, and a magnificent pair of whiskers and a 
 moustache. 
 
 However, he seemed in no way abashed in 
 the presence of the great man, returning the 
 
AN EMPEROR'S DOWNFALL. 263 
 
 latter's bob of the head with another to match, 
 accompanied with ' How are you ?' as he pro- 
 ceeded to light a huge cigar. 
 
 ' Son of a sea-cook — dashed familiar. Take 
 the shine out of you presently, my lad of wax,' 
 growled the Emperor, with a scowl. 
 
 It was a bad day for hunting — a hot sun and 
 an east wind, the ground dry, and not an atom 
 of scent ; the hounds, too, seemed listless and 
 disinclined for work. 
 
 The only fox they found during the morning 
 was a vixen in an interesting condition, off 
 whom they were quickly whipped. 
 
 Needless to say, the Emperor was in one of 
 his heavenly tempers inconsequence, and read}^ 
 for a row with anyone, Captain Mortimer for 
 choice, to whom he had taken one of his in- 
 veterate dislikes. And Captain Mortimer it 
 was. 
 
 Though there was every prospect of a blank 
 day, it was very evident the gallant officer had 
 come out for a day's fun, and meant having it, 
 for whilst going from covert to covert, he took 
 the opportunity of larking over every obstacle 
 
2G4 AN E^rPEROR'S DOWNFALL. 
 
 that came in his way, the bigger the better. 
 This was the more odd, seeing that' he was evi- 
 dently a horseman of the very poorest calibre. 
 He could not ride a bit, in fact. 
 
 The end came at last. 
 
 The hounds, having just drawn Newton Spin- 
 ney blank, were trotting leisurely along towards 
 Long Wood, when Captain Mortimer, pushing 
 past Sir Benjamin and the pack, put his horse 
 at a big white gate that the whip was just about 
 to open for his master and the hounds to pass 
 through, which obstacle, his horse not troub- 
 ling himself to rise an inch, smashed all to 
 atoms. 
 
 Now was the Emperor's chance, and, need- 
 less to say, he took it on the spot. 
 
 Up he rode, brandishing his huge iron- 
 handled hunting-whip ominously, and gather- 
 ing bis lips together for a tremendous outburst. 
 
 Out it came, and Captain Mortimer received 
 sucb a slanging as probably he had never been 
 tbe recipient of before. 
 
 At last the Emperor stopped from sheer want 
 of breath. 
 
 The captain had taken it all like a lamb, not 
 
AN EIIIPEROR'S DOWNFALL. 2G5 
 
 turning a hair, as the saying is ; and the as- 
 sembled field now waited in breathless anxiety 
 to see whether he meant to have his innings or 
 not. 
 
 The general opinion was that in all proba- 
 bility he would slink off home and say nothing, 
 like his friend the Doll. 
 
 For once they were wrong. The captain 
 spoke. 
 
 ' Is this here broken-up firewood your pro- 
 perty, guvnor?' enquired he, calmly. 
 
 'My property, sir? No, sir, it is 7iot. It 
 belongs to my tenant, Joe Mulberry, up at the 
 farm yonder,' roared the Emperor, pointing to 
 a house in the distance as he spoke, with his 
 whip. 
 
 ' Then suppothe yer mind yer own bithness, 
 you thilly old jackass !' came the unexpected 
 response, sending a sort of electric shock 
 through the assembled field as they listened to 
 it. 
 
 As for the Emperor, he was for the moment 
 struck speechless with astonishment. 
 
 ' Mind my own business ! — silly old jackass !' 
 was all he could gasp out. 
 
266 AN EMPEROR'S DOWNFALL. 
 
 The next instant he had alighted from his 
 horse, thrown himself into a posture of defence, 
 and then out came the familiar bellow, ' Get 
 off!' 
 
 ' Get off!' he roared, for the second time, 
 adding, ' and I'll knock that nose of yours off 
 your face, you counter-jumping cockney, you !' 
 
 ' Ah ! the captain will go home now,' thought 
 the crowd. 'Such a little 'un as he is can't 
 surely stand up to the Emperor.' 
 
 Wronor a«:ain. 
 
 Captain Mortimer was not only off his horse, 
 but ' peeling ' into the bargain. 
 
 Off came his hat and coat, and the next in- 
 stant he was in fighting attitude, and facing the 
 now infuriated M.F.H. as cool as a cucumber, 
 apparently. 
 
 'A ring ! a ring!' shouted the delighted field • 
 and a ring they formed accordingly; and a very 
 unique one it was. 
 
 The next instant the air resounded with the 
 shouts of the excited onlookers, as the two top- 
 booted heroes 'toed the scratch ' and commenced 
 the battle. 
 
 Never was such a one-sided affair witnessed. 
 
AN EMPEROR'S DOWNFALL. 267 
 
 To all appearance it was a pjuinea to a goose- 
 berry on the Emperor, who stood six feet in his 
 stockings, and pulled the beam at quite sixteen 
 stone; whilst Captain Mortimer was a ten-stone 
 man at most, and barely stood five feet eight. 
 
 'The Emperor must surely smash him,' vowed 
 the sportsmen assembled round the ring. 
 
 Wrong again, gentlemen. It was all t'other 
 way about. The ' big 'un ' went for his man 
 like a mad bull, as if he meant knocking him 
 out in the very first round. But, alas ! his 
 blows, well intended though they were, never 
 reached their destination, whilst bang, bang, 
 bang, came Captain Mortimer's small fists on 
 the Emperor's great face, first one in the eye, 
 then on the nose, and the next, by way of 
 variety, on his majesty's mouth. 
 
 Three rounds they fought ; and then the 
 Emperor, sitting on the grass, very much the 
 worse for wear, and looking up through his 
 damaged organs of vision at the captain, gasped 
 out: 
 
 ' "Who the devil are you?' 
 
 And Captain Mortimer, removing his mous- 
 tache and whiskers, and with a grin that only 
 
268 AN EMPEROR'S DOWNFALL. 
 
 wanted a horse-collar to make it perfect, re- 
 plied, ' Young Dutch Sam.'* 
 
 The Doll had scored this time with a 
 vengeance. 
 
 * A celebrated pugilist of that period. 
 
269 
 
 A FANCY BET. 
 
 I. 
 
 ' I don't care what any of you say, Miss Meri- 
 vale is a very nice amerable — I mean amiable 
 — woman, though she is so stand-offish. Not 
 half bacl-looking either. And as for riding^ 
 she can "" cut the lot of us down and hang us 
 up to dry" any day of the week. Why, in that 
 gallop with the afternoon fox yesterday, not 
 one of us could go the pace at all with her. 
 Never saw such a magnificent horsewoman in 
 my life ; dashed if ever I did !' 
 
 And Charlie Podder — or 'Young Mash Tub,' 
 as he was generally called in the regiment, 
 in consequence of his father being a rich 
 brewer — a young officer in the 150th Hussars, 
 then quartered at Dullborough, having said his 
 say, gave a furious twist of his little curly 
 
270 A FANCY BET. 
 
 moustache, and looked round defiantly on the 
 company assembled in the ante-room. 
 
 ' Hooick to young Mash Tub. " Hooick !" ' 
 sang out Captain Talbot, the recognised ' know- 
 ing card ' of the regiment. 
 
 ' I tell you what it is. Tubby,' he continued, 
 ' it's my belief you're gone on the lady yourself. 
 Why don't you have a shy at her, my boy?' 
 he continued, ' she ain't bad-looking, as you 
 observed just now, and she's got lots of stuff. 
 Marry her straight oiF the reel, and then you'll 
 be in the proud position of being able to find 
 the whole regiment in ready money and mounts. 
 And think how nice that would be !' 
 
 ' Sherrup^^ growled his victim, evidently winc- 
 ing under the other's chaff, as he lit a fresh 
 cigarette to conceal his annoyance. 
 
 'Shut up !' went on his tormentor, with a 
 wink at the others. ' Why, you ungrateful 
 young beggar, I'm trying my best to let you 
 in for a good thing, I tell you. Of course, if 
 you're afraid to ask the girl, that's another pair 
 of boots altogether.' 
 
 ' Not afraid,' once more growled the unhappy 
 Mash Tub, writhing in his chair. 
 
A FANCY BET. 271 
 
 ' Then, why don't you say you'll propose to 
 Miss Moneybags, as I suggest ?' inquired the 
 captain, with a sneer. ' Come,' he went on, 
 ' the Dragon's sure to be out hunting to- 
 morrow at Tappington Cross Roads, and I'll 
 tell you what I'll do with you. I'll bet you a 
 cool fifty — a hundred, if you like — you don't 
 propose to her ; and another hundred she don't 
 accept you. That's a sporting offer, I consider. 
 What do you say?' 
 
 ' Say ? Why done along you, to be sure,' 
 hiccupped Charlie in reply, rising excitedly to 
 his feet. ' Done along you ! For a " monkey," 
 if y' like !' shouted he at the top of his voice, 
 amidst the laughter of his comrades. 
 
 ' A monkey is rather a stronger order than I 
 bargained for,' remarked the captain, with a 
 flushed look of triumph in his face all the same. 
 ' But if you wish it so, why, I'm not the man to 
 baulk you.' 
 
 And pulling out his betting-book, he wrote 
 the wager down therein at once. 
 
 ' There,' said he, when he had done, read- 
 ing it. ' As I understand it, you bet me five 
 hundred even that you propose and are ac- 
 
272 A FANCY BET. 
 
 cepted by Miss Merivale in the course of to- 
 morrow. Quite correct, eh ?' 
 
 ' Quite c'rect,' replied our hero, nodding 
 sagaciously. ' Haven't my book about me, or 
 would enter it. Never mind ; you f 'lers wit- 
 neshes ; so it'll be allri'. Waiter, gimme another 
 (hiccup) and soda.' 
 
 And their victim, who was the butt of the 
 regiment, buried his now somewhat inflamed 
 countenance in the big glass containing that 
 exhilarating mixture proffered him by the 
 mess-waiter, whilst his brother-officers wagged 
 their heads, and grinned, as they remarked to 
 each other that it was another case of the sharp 
 and the flat got together, and that in their 
 opinion the former had (as usual) got six to 
 four the best of it. 
 
 II. 
 
 In the snuggest of snug rooms, ensconced in the 
 cosiest of arm-chairs, in front of a cheerful fire, 
 with her feet on the fender, reading the latest 
 thing in novels, the while she partakes, with 
 
A FANCY BET. 273 
 
 the air of one Avho has plenty of time on her 
 hands, of the breakfast, consisting of buttered 
 toast and chocolate, which is placed on the 
 gipsy-table beside her, is Miss Merivale, of 
 Thornby Hall, the lady whose name figured so 
 prominently in the previous chapter. 
 
 Not in the least pretty^ though decidedly good- 
 looMng^ with her jet-black hair and expressive 
 eyes, it is rather difficult at first to guess her 
 rio^ht aoje. 
 
 She would have looked five-and-twenty — 
 which she actually was — but for a certain old- 
 fashioned — her enemies said ' old-maidish ' — 
 manner she had with her, and a stern ex- 
 pression about her mouth which made her 
 appear thirty at least. 
 
 Sometimes, however, though not often, the 
 face would light up as if by electricity, a soft 
 expression would come over the eyes and 
 mouth, and she was five-and-twenty at once, 
 and not a day over. 
 
 On this particular morning she was frowning 
 as she read her novel, as if the heroine's, or 
 perhaps the hero's — most likely the latter — 
 conduct had not quite pleased her, and she 
 
 T 
 
274 A FANCY BET. 
 
 looked in consequence quite five years more 
 than her actual age. A second later, and she 
 glanced at the window. The soft dappled sky 
 of a mild December day met her view. 
 
 ' What a hunting morning!' she murmured, 
 shutting up the book. ' Tappington Cross 
 Roads is one of my favourite meets, and I am 
 going to ride dear Red Gauntlet.' 
 
 And at the thought of it the red lips parted, 
 the soft look came over the eyes, and — ' hey, 
 presto !' — Kate Merivale had changed by magic 
 from the woman of thirty to the girl of twenty- 
 five. A tap was heard at the door, and her 
 maid entered. 
 
 ' A note, miss,' she said: 'just brought by a 
 lad, who said there was no answer, and was off, 
 bless you ! before anyone had time to ask him 
 where he came from.' 
 
 The ' old ' look came over Miss Merivale's 
 face, as, taking the note from her maid, she 
 mastered its contents. 
 
 ' Too bad,' she murmured, as, having read it, 
 she crumpled it in her hand, and tapped her 
 foot angrily on the hearthrug. 
 
 She bade her maid come to her in half an 
 
A FANCY BET. 275 
 
 hour's time and get her into her habit ; and the 
 Abigail having departed, she read the note 
 again. 
 
 'Too bad, too bad,' she repeated. 'So 
 cowardly, too. Fancy, not one amongst them 
 manly enough to interfere to protect a woman 
 from being made the subject of a vulgar wager. 
 Oh, what a chivalrous age we live in, to be 
 sure ! An anonymous letter, in an evidently 
 disguised hand, too, telling me the name of one 
 of the principals in the affair — that poor half- 
 witted thing, ^Mr. Podder — tipsy, of course, as 
 usual — and not the other. I wonder if the 
 other one wrote it ! I shouldn't be surprised 
 in the least. How horribly mean ! and how I 
 should like to make him lose his bet ! He 
 must dislike losing, or he wouldn't have written 
 this letter, as I feel sure he has. I should not 
 be a bit surprised. John, however, will find 
 out all about it for me, no doubt, before I have 
 been at the meet five minutes, and then — well, 
 then, we shall see !' 
 
 And her maid entering the room at that 
 moment, with the neatest and best-fitting brown 
 
 habit in the world, wondered what had happened 
 
 T 2 
 
276 A FANCY BET. 
 
 to upset her mistress, ' all of a sudden like,' as 
 she expressed it. 
 
 ' There's more in that note than meets the 
 eye, in my opinion,' she thought to herself. 
 
 Oh, if Miss Merivale would but be careless 
 enough to leave it lying about, so that she 
 might master its contents, how happy she 
 would be ! 
 
 But, alas ! the missive in question went into 
 the pocket of her mistress's pretty striped 
 waistcoat, and the handmaiden's curiosity had 
 not a chance of being gratified — not yet at all 
 events. 
 
 III. 
 
 Very well off, even in these go-ahead days ; 
 young and attractive in appearance ; and 
 entirely her own mistress — for her father and 
 mother were both dead — Kate Merivale ought 
 to have been the most popular woman in the 
 county. 
 
 But she was not, and people did not exactly 
 know why, unless it was that they were one 
 iind all afraid of her, though of course they 
 
A FANCY BET. 277 
 
 would not have owned it for tlie world. 
 
 What English man or woman, worthy of the 
 name, loould own to being afraid of any living 
 soul, however much they really were so ? 
 
 Offers, of course, she had had by the score, 
 but ' Mr. Right' had not come along yet, and. the 
 good people about prognosticated that he never 
 would, and, more than that, declared that if 
 ever they saw anyone cut out for an old maid. 
 Miss Merivale was that person. 
 
 Meanwhile that lady went her way, and 
 enjoyed herself after her own fashion, quite 
 regardless of what the outside world said about 
 her. 
 
 At all sports of the field she was an adept. 
 She shot and fished, indeed, in the u\o^tunfemi- 
 nine way, as her detractors amongst her own sex 
 said; but it was in riding to hounds that she 
 excelled most, and poor young Mash Tub was 
 not exaggerating in the least when he declared 
 she was the best horsewoman he had ever 
 seen. 
 
 Fully equipped for the chase at last, and 
 looking, as her maid remarked to the footman, 
 just as if she had been turned out of a bandbox; 
 
278 A FANCY BET. 
 
 she sprang lightly, with the aid of the faithful 
 John, on to the back of Red Gauntlet, and 
 started for the meet at Tappington Cross Roads. 
 A pleasant ride it was, along field roads most 
 of the way, such as abounded in those parts, 
 and under ordinary circumstances Miss Meri- 
 vale would have enjoyed it beyond everything. 
 This morning, however, she was absent and 
 distrait^ causing the observant John to fear that 
 the ' Missus,' as he called her, was a bit ' off 
 colour,' and in consequence would not, or might 
 not, distinguish, herself so much as usual when 
 hounds went away, as they were pretty certain 
 to do. They were nearly at their destination 
 when she called the faithful one to her side, 
 and bade him find out if possible from the 
 numerous military grooms who were sure to be 
 out who had sent the mysterious note of the 
 morning. 
 
 ' If I can only ascertain that,' she thought, ' I 
 think I see my way pretty clear. And if it 
 25, as I think. Captain Talbot,' she muttered, 
 her mouth tightening as she spoke, and the 
 thirty-year-old expression stealing over her 
 face, ' look out for squalls, that's all!' 
 
A FANCY BET. 279 
 
 Arrived at the meet, about the first to greet 
 her Avere the contingent from the cavalry bar- 
 rack, and an unusually strong one, including our 
 friends Captain Talbot and young Mash Tub ; 
 the former apparently on the best possible 
 terms with himself, and the latter looking both 
 ' seedy ' and ill at ease, as indeed he was. 
 
 ' Hats off ' was the order of the day as Miss 
 Merivale rode up — a compliment which she 
 returned by cutting the lot of them dead. 
 
 ' And I don't wonder in the least,' exclaimed 
 young Mash Tub to Talbot. ' That cursed bet 
 of ours has got to her ears, you may depend.' 
 
 ' You're out of it this morning, my boy, that's 
 very certain,' rejoined his friend, with a grin. 
 
 ' It's not that I'm thinking of,' said the young 
 one. ' Hang the money ! I'm sick to think 
 that I should have been such a confounded cad 
 as to make a lady — and a thoroughbred one, 
 too, every inch of her — a subject for a vulgar 
 barrack-room bet. I'll go and apologise to her 
 before the day's out, I'll be hanged if I don't.' 
 
 ' I wouldn't advise you,' declared the other. 
 ' No, you'd better carry it off with a high hand. 
 Tubby, old boy, and propose to her as we 
 
280 A FANCY BET. 
 
 agreed. She won't have you, but no matter.' 
 Bracknell Wood, where the hounds always 
 went to first from the cross-roads, was a big, 
 straggling, overgrown place. A sure find; 
 sometimes they got away almost immediately, 
 sometimes were a long while about it. This 
 morning they found at once, but the fox was a 
 duffer, and, after running a ring round the wood 
 two or three times, was finally ' chopped ' in 
 covert. Then followed a long delay. Now our 
 young friend Podder, thoroughly disgusted with 
 himself and all the world, declined for once any 
 ' coffee-housing ' business, and kept as much as 
 possible to himself. 
 
 He had just refreshed himself with a gulp 
 of something good from his flask, and hav- 
 ing got into a more secluded spot, well away 
 from the madding crowd, was about to soothe 
 his excited feelings with a cigar, when who 
 should suddenly come upon him unawares but 
 the very last person he wished to meet just 
 then : Miss Merivale herself — Miss Merivale, 
 looking very calm and collected, and, as Charlie 
 thought, with a look in her eye that decidedly 
 meant mischief. 
 
A FANCY BET. 281 
 
 ' How d'ye do, Mr. Podder?' said she, in her 
 sweetest tone of voice. ' Do you know,' she 
 continued, ' you are the very person I wanted 
 to see ?' 
 
 ''Me! Did you really!' gasped the guilty 
 Tubby. ' D'Ughted., I'm shaw. W-what about, 
 Miss Merivale, if I may ask ?' 
 
 ' I received this precious epistle this morning, 
 Mr. Podder,' taking the anonymous letter from 
 her pocket as she spoke, and handing it to her 
 victim. ' Perhaps you can explain it?' 
 
 Poor young Mash Tub, looking more guilty 
 than ever, got very red in the face, swallowed 
 a lot of cigar smoke, choked, coughed, and 
 finally read the letter. 
 
 ' Pm awfully sorry. Miss Merivale,' he blurt- 
 ed out. ' I intended apologising to you, 'pon 
 my soul I did, and should have before now but 
 that I funked, don't you know. 
 
 ' The fact is, we — Talbot and I, that is — 
 made a silly bet last night in which you were 
 concerned, and it was very wrong and caddish, 
 and I have been horribly sorry ever since — 
 awfully sorry, really ! Will you forgive me, 
 Miss Merivale?' 
 
282 A FANCY BET. 
 
 ' Well,' she replied, ' I suppose I must make 
 some little allowance for after dinner, and so 
 we won't quarrel this time. At the same time 
 let me tell you, Mr. Podder, that I think it 
 anj^thing but the conduct befitting an officer 
 and a gentleman to make a lady the subject of 
 a stupid joke, whether after dinner or not, 
 especially one so unprotected as I am ; with 
 no father, or brother, or anybody to take my 
 part. However,' she continued, ' I'll forgive 
 you this time, and all I can say is, " Don't do 
 it again." ' 
 
 For which benignant speech Tubby expressed 
 his thanks in terms of the deepest gratitude, 
 you may be sure. 
 
 ' And now I have forgiven you, Mr. Podder,* 
 said Miss Merivale, casting those long eye- 
 lashes of hers down, and pretending to play 
 with her horse's mane, 'h-h-how do we stand 
 about the proposal you are to make to me ? 
 Am I to understand that you lose your bet to 
 Captain Talbot?' 
 
 *Well, that all depends, don't you know,' 
 stammered the wretched subaltern, crimsoning 
 
A FANCY BET. 283 
 
 to the very tips of his ears. ' If I propose to 
 you and you accept me, I win my money ; if 
 you reject me, I lose.' 
 
 ' And supposing I accepted you, sir, what 
 then?' 
 
 ' Too good to be true — send me — seventh 
 heaven of deUght — make me happiest of men, 
 'sha.w you, 'pon my honour.' 
 
 ' Really and truly?' 
 
 ' Really and truly.' 
 
 ' Then I am yours from this moment ; and, 
 as I shall not be happy until I am revenged 
 on that horrid Captain Talbot, the sooner you 
 give out our engagement the better I shall be 
 pleased.' 
 
 ' Kate, you're a t-t-rump V exclaimed young 
 Mash Tub, rapturously, and putting his scarlet 
 arm round Miss Merivale's slim waist, he drew 
 her towards him and kissed her — actually kissed 
 her, there and then. 
 
 Bracknell Wood was famous for its good 
 runs, and to-day proved no exception to the 
 rule, one of the most brilliant gallops of the 
 
284 A FANCY BET. 
 
 season taking place v»dthin a minute or two 
 after the engagement between Miss Merivale 
 and young Mash Tub had been signed and 
 sealed as related above. 
 
 Never had Miss Merivale ridden a run so 
 brilliantly before, everyone said ; whilst she 
 herself declared that she had never before been 
 so splendidly piloted as she had been that day 
 by Charlie Podder. 
 
 As for that young officer, w^hen congratulated 
 on his performance, he declared he never rode 
 in such a funk in all his life before. 
 
 ' I thought she'd be a-top of me every min- 
 ute,' he said. ' Ride ! I should think I did, 
 indeed. Rather ! And so would you.' 
 
 ' And I say, Talbot, old man,' he added, 
 ' you can hand over a cheque for that monkey 
 to yours truly as soon as you please, don't you 
 know.' 
 
 ' What do you mean ?' inquired the captain. 
 
 ' Merely that I'm engaged to be married to 
 Miss Merivale,' was the quiet rejoinder. 
 
 ' The devil you are !' replied Talbot; and 
 muttering, ' Well, well, wonders will never 
 
A FANCY BET. 285 
 
 cease,' the captain lit a cig'ar to conceal his 
 chagrin. 
 
 The ' good thing ' for once had 7iot come 
 off. As his brother officers put it, ' the flat 
 had six to four the best of the deal, after 
 all.' 
 
286 
 
 THE LADY AT THE DRAGON. 
 
 When the news came down to quiet Snorem- 
 boremshire that young Lord Blythebury, 
 whose coming-of-age had only been celebrated 
 with great rejoicing a little over a year before, 
 instead of making a suitable marriage, and 
 coming down and living amongst his own kith 
 and kin, as everybody in the country hoped 
 and believed he would, had gone quietly to a 
 registry-office one fine morning, and joined 
 himself in holy matrimony to Miss Violet 
 Vollaire, the lovely and dashing equestrienne 
 at Jingler's well-known circus, thereby nearly 
 breaking his noble and venerable father's heart; 
 it set everybody talking to such an extent that 
 it really looked as if the topic would never die 
 a natural death. It proved, however, like 
 nearly every scandal of note, no matter how 
 
THE LADY AT THE DRAGON. 287 
 
 sensational, to be merely ' a nine days' wonder/ 
 The ladies put down the bride as a ' horrid 
 creature ' ; the men said they had always 
 thought Blythebury more or less of a fool, and 
 now they were sure of it. Finally, when it 
 became known that Mr. Crabbit (Crabbit, Peny- 
 quick, and Crabbit, 42, Lincoln 's-inn-fields), 
 Lord Harefield's family lawyer, had been sum- 
 moned by wire from town, with the result that 
 the earl had made a fresh will, leaving every- 
 thing he could away from his errant son, Snor- 
 emboremshire declared itself satisfied, and 
 proceeded to settle down once more to its 
 habitual state of somnolence. 
 
 As for the happy pair, nobody seemed to 
 know exactly what had become of them. 
 George Swayne, who was the champion liar of 
 those parts, came back from the north with a 
 wonderful story that Blythebury had taken a 
 moor, and that his wife was wont to accompany 
 him on the hill every day, attired in a kilt, 
 and shooting from the back of a piebald pony. 
 ' She's a devilish good shot,' added the 
 veracious George, ' and whe . she knocks over 
 a grouse the pony retrieves it.' 
 
288 THE LADY AT THE DRAGON. 
 
 Unfortunately, about the same time, Major 
 Bustler, just returned from Homburo;, declared 
 that whilst there he had ' spotted Blythebury, 
 and a lady he supposed was his wife — a reg'lar 
 fast piece of goods — ^just what one might 
 expect, in fact,' added the high-minded major. 
 Then, again, the leading society journal de- 
 clared that the errant couple were yachting in 
 the Mediterranean. 
 
 No wonder Snoremboremshire felt a wee bit 
 puzzled. 
 
 So cut up had the old earl appeared when 
 the news of his son's marriage fell upon him 
 like a thunderbolt, that everyone thought that 
 if he did not actually give up the hounds he 
 would cease to take the field. 
 
 The contrary proved to be the case, however. 
 So far from giving up his favourite amuse- 
 ment, my lord seemed determined, if possible, 
 to try and forget his sorrows in the hunting- 
 field as many a good man has done before him, 
 and from the time cub-hunting commenced he 
 never missed a single day. And now the 1st 
 of November was rapidly approaching, and 
 with hounds in first-rate trim, and a fine show 
 
THE LADY AT THE DRAGON. 289 
 
 of foxes in the country, everybody was looking 
 forward to a good season. 
 
 Meanwhile, considerable excitement was 
 caused amongst the community when it oozed 
 out that a lady — young, and of great personal 
 attractions, hailing from goodness knows where 
 — had suddenly appeared upon the scene in 
 company with six horses and a pony, a French 
 maid and a stud-groom, and had established 
 herself at the ' Red Lion,' a small inn situated 
 in the quiet village of Stokely, for the avowed 
 purpose of hunting with Lord Harefield's 
 hounds. If she had gone to Rumbleton and 
 put up at one of the hotels there like the rest 
 of the hunting people who came from a dis- 
 tance, the natives would not have been so as- 
 tonished, but for a lady — a stranger apparently 
 to the country — to fix upon a little out-of-the- 
 way village like Stokely was odd, to say the 
 least. 
 
 It was within a mile of the kennels, certainly, 
 but that could hardly be the reason. 
 
 Unmarried too ! That made it more mysteri- 
 ous still. 
 
 One more knowing than the rest opined Miss 
 
 u 
 
290 THE LADY AT THE DRAGON. 
 
 "Wilton, as she called herself, meant having a 
 shy at the earl. 
 
 ' One of the most charming and well-bred 
 girls it has ever been my lot to meet,' declared 
 the Rev. Frank Simpson, the rector of Stokely, 
 and one of the best men with my lord's hounds, 
 who with his wife had called on the mysterious 
 visitor at the ' Red Lion ' a day or two after her 
 arrival. 
 
 'And such a horsewoman !'he added, enthusi- 
 astically. ' From what little I have seen, the 
 ladies in these parts will have to look to their 
 laurels, I can tell you.' 
 
 The news that the rector, one of the most 
 po]3ular men in the county, had called, spread 
 like Avildfire, and his footman-butler had all 
 his work cut out for the next few days to open 
 the door to the numerous callers, one and all 
 anxious to hear all about, and catch a sight 
 of, if possible, the mysterious stranger. The 
 young ' bloods ' of the county, too, urged on by 
 their female belongings, rode into Stokely by 
 the dozen, and of course pulled up at the ' Lion ' 
 for a brandy and soda. Old Bob Badger, the 
 one-eyed ostler, avowed, with many oaths, that 
 
THE LADY AT THE DRAGON. 291 
 
 ^ he hadn't had sich a time since he was kennel 
 huntsman at Sir 'Arry's in the long ago.' Bob 
 was seldom sober now. Mrs. Rummer, the 
 buxom landlady, had serious thoughts of lay- 
 ing on a bar-maid, an ornament to the estab- 
 lishment hitherto considered unnecessary. 
 Many of the young fellows were lucky enough 
 to ' view ' their quarry, as they called it, and 
 those that did fell in love with her on the spot, 
 much to the indignation of the ' Home Office,' 
 whose ambassadors they were. 
 
 The earl's hounds met as usual for the 
 opening day of the season at Harefield Place 
 (the ancient and princely seat of the Harefield 
 family, as it is described in the guide-book), 
 and such an attendance was there as had not 
 been seen for some years, ' certainly not in my 
 time,' declared Tom Trimmer, the huntsman, 
 and he added, ' I've served the earl now for 
 seven and twenty seasons.' Had such a big 
 field assembled out of compliment to the earl, 
 or to his hounds, or had the fine day something 
 to do with it ? 
 
 Charlie Danby's reply to a friend who asked 
 him had he looked over the hounds (Charlie 
 
 u2 
 
292 THE LADY AT THE DRAGON. 
 
 had only arrived from abroad the day before) 
 Avill serve as a general answer to the question. 
 
 ' Hang the hounds !' said he. ' I want to see 
 the lady at the " Dragon " everybody's gone mad 
 about.' 
 
 Even the earl, least curious of men, caught 
 the infection, and bade his huntsman point 
 ' that lady they're all talking about ' out to him 
 at the earliest opportunity. 
 
 ' If all her man says is true, my lord,' replied 
 Tom, ' you w^on't be long fust.' 
 
 'Why, what does he say?' inquired his 
 master. 
 
 • Say ! what dont he say?' growled Tom, with 
 a curl of the lip. ' Accordin' to him, no 'ound 
 as is bred is fast enough for her, let alone 'osses. 
 'Owever, we shall see as to that in the course of 
 the mornin', no doubt,' said he, ever jealous of 
 the reputation of the pack. 
 
 ' Probably,' rejoined the earl, drily. 
 
 Meamvhile the ' Lady at the Dragon,' as 
 everybody called her, sat on her horse, a good- 
 looking chestnut, apparently quite unaware of 
 the fact that she was the object of so much 
 attention. Sportsmen of all sorts sidled in- 
 
THE LADY AT THE DRAGON. 293 
 
 nocently up to have a look at her, one and all 
 envious of the Rev. Frank Smipson, with whom 
 she was holding an animated conversation. 
 Even opera-glasses were levelled at her from 
 the numerous carriages present. And there 
 was only one opinion — from the men, at least — 
 and that was, ' What a pretty girl !' 
 
 The ladies reserved their opinion, their 
 admiration, if any, being overpowered by their 
 curiosity as to who she was. 
 
 Only one person could have informed them, 
 and that was the afore-mentioned Charlie 
 Danby, the man just arrived from foreign parts, 
 and he, like the good fellow he was, kept his 
 knowledo;e to himself. He found it thousjh 
 quite impossible after his view of the lady at 
 the ' Dragon,' to refrain every now and then from 
 bursting out into a subdued sort of chuckle, 
 thereby eliciting from one of his numerous 
 friends the inquiry, ' What's that good story 
 you're telling to yourself, you selfish brute?' 
 
 ' You'll know when the hounds get away over 
 the vale, old boy,' was the reply. 
 
 Voices in the wood ! The horses hear the 
 
294 THE LADY AT THE DRAGON". 
 
 glad sound, and do their best to attract their 
 riders' attention to it by whinnying, fidgeting, 
 snatching at their bits, and all the devices they 
 can think of, in fact, likely to convey the hint 
 that they would like to be off. 
 
 But the said riders are all so busy ' giving 
 tongue ' on their own account, on the one en- 
 grossing subject of the Lady at the ' Dragon,' 
 that for once in a way they are deaf to every- 
 thing else. It was not until Captain Lomax's 
 chestnut mare, indignant at her master hitting 
 her over the head because she won't ' stand 
 still, you brute !' rears up and deposits the 
 captain on his back in the muddy ride, thereby 
 causing a temporary cessation in the conver- 
 sation, that it occurs to somebody that there is 
 a dead silence everywhere else but in the ride, 
 and that it is quite on the cards that it is a case 
 of ' found and gone away.' 
 
 Everybody then puts his or her head on one 
 side like a parrot, and listens most attentively. 
 
 Two minutes, and then the unmistakable 
 twang of a horn a very long way off, even 
 allowing for the wind being the wrong way for 
 the listeners, is plainly heard. 
 
THE LADY AT THE DRAGON. 295 
 
 Mr. Bounderby's big brown horse can stand it 
 no longer. A snatch at the reins, and a toss 
 back of his coffin-shaped head, which catches 
 his master well on the nose, and he is oiF down 
 the ride, followed by the rest. 
 
 It is a regular stampede. ' Bull's Run ' was 
 a fool to it ! 
 
 And when they have got to the end of the 
 covert (which lies, by the way, on the top of a 
 hill), what a terrible sight awaits them ! 
 
 In the valley beneath, certainly two miles off, 
 are the hounds in full cry, running at a pace 
 that looks like killing all over ; and in their 
 wake, sailing away at their ease, are four 
 people — three horsemen and a lady — who, 
 distant though they be, are easily recognised 
 by the lookers-on. 
 
 The lucky quartette are the earl, his hunts- 
 man, Charlie Danby, and ' the Lady at the 
 Dragon,' and the latter, it is plain to see, has 
 far and away the best of it. 
 
 Two fields off is the first whipper-in, who 
 has got a bad start, and two men in black, who 
 turn out eventually to be Miss Wilton's stud- 
 groom and a farmer. 
 
296 THE LADY AT THE DRAGON. 
 
 ' He's crossed the brook, blowed if he ain't !* 
 shouts a velveteen-coated gamekeeper, standing 
 on the bank of the wood. 
 
 ' Yes, there's Joe Dickson a-beckoning to 
 'em. I knowed I was right !' 
 
 ' Hin they goes ! My eyes, what a splash !'' 
 
 ' The lady's goin' at it. She's in the hair, I 
 tell yer ! Bray-vo, mum, whoever yer are.' 
 
 ' Now, Tom, and mind the captain just 
 behind ye.' 
 
 ' Well done both !' 
 
 ' And now for the Hurl. He's just done it! 
 No, he ain't. By Gosh^ he's doivn /' 
 
 The loquacious gamekeeper waited for no 
 more, but started off at a run ; whilst of the 
 disappointed field, some turned back to get 
 into the high road, whilst a few started to ride 
 the line, in hopes of a check, a contingency 
 which, if there was anything in appearance, 
 seemed a very remote one. 
 
 In the water-meadow, hard by the brook his 
 horse had failed to clear, lies the Earl of Hare- 
 iield, evidently grievously hurt. 
 
 He is not alone, however, for a lady, kneel- 
 
THE LADY AT THE DRAGON. 297 
 
 ing at his side, is supporting his head with her 
 left arm, whilst with the other hand she gently 
 wipes his forehead with a handkerchief steeped 
 in water from the brook, handed her from 
 time to time by Charlie Danby, who brings it 
 in his hat. 
 
 A rustic holding the three horses completes 
 the picture. 
 
 ' A little more brandy, Captain Danby — 
 thanks ! Ah ! thank God, he's coming to !' 
 she exclaims, as in another minute some colour 
 — ^ever so little — comes into the pallid cheek, 
 the eyes open, and the earl, after looking help- 
 lessly round for an instant, speaks faintly — 
 
 ^ I am — dying. I — know — I am. Where is 
 — Ned ? Send for Ned, please.' 
 
 ' You are very kind to me," he said, looking 
 into the face of the fair girl at his side, in 
 •whose eyes the tears now glistened. ' You will 
 make them send for Ned, won't— you ? I feel 
 faint Pro — mise.' 
 
 ' I promise — faithfully,' came from the lips 
 of the girl at his side. Then she added, simply, 
 * I will send for him myself. I am his wife.' 
 
298 THE LADY AT THE DRAGON. 
 
 It is Christmas time, and festivities on a 
 grand scale are going on at Harefield Place, 
 festivities which eclipse altogether those which 
 took place when young Lord Blythebury at- 
 tained his majority. 
 
 These, if you please, are to celebrate his 
 home-coming after his marriage. 
 
 A great dinner to the tenantry is being given 
 in the old banqueting-hall, and the last toast — 
 that of their noble host, the Earl of Harefield 
 • — has just been drunk with every token of 
 good-will and replied to by the recipient in 
 appropriate terms. 
 
 Hardly has the earl resumed his seat amidst 
 vociferous applause, than, from the centre of 
 the room, a hammering on the table is heard 
 requesting silence. It is our friend — every- 
 body's friend — the irrepressible Charlie Danby. 
 
 ' My lords, ladies, and gentlemen,' he says, 
 ' You have toasted every one nearly in this 
 room, I fancy, this afternoon, except myself, 
 and I am not going to ask you to do that, as I 
 should have to make a speech, Avhich is not in 
 my line. I feel bound, though, to remind you 
 of another person you have forgotten, who, 
 
THE LADY AT THE DRAGON. 299 
 
 being a lady, cannot of course speak for her- 
 self. That being the case, I take upon myself 
 to propose it. I ask you, one and all, to charge 
 your glasses and drink to the health of " The 
 Lady at the Dragon !" ' 
 
300 
 
 A TERRIER'S TALE. 
 
 ' What sort of a dog do I call myself? 
 
 ' Well, if you weren't big enough to make a 
 meal off me on the spot, and hadn't gnawed 
 your muzzle nearly off, and hadn't got me all 
 to yourself in the loneliest part of Clapham 
 Common, with not a soul in sight to apply to 
 for help, I'd see you made into sausage meat 
 before I'd tell you. As it is, I suppose I must 
 bow to your superior physique. 
 
 ' I'm an Old English wire-haired terrier, with 
 an accent on the " Old " please, and in the 
 neighbourhood of Brixton, where I reside when 
 at home, am considered rather good-looking, I 
 believe. At least, I can answer for the fact 
 that I am a good deal thought of and feared — 
 if not respected — in that part of the world. 
 How am I bred? 
 
A TERRIER'S TALE. 301 
 
 ' Well, of all tlie ! They've never tried 
 
 to convert you into a veal pie, I s'pose, have 
 they? I declare I never saw a finer calf! 
 You needn't growl, I intended it as a compli- 
 ment. I did, on my honour ! Well, if you 
 must know, though my mother was a lady — a 
 society dame of the first water, moved in the 
 most fashionable set, I assure you — my father 
 unfortunately was not a gentleman. It was 
 the old story, my poor mother's feelings got 
 the better of her judgment — in short, she mar- 
 ried beneath her. The affair created a terrible 
 scandal at the time, relations furious, I can 
 assure you. Result, a family of three. I was 
 the only one who took after her ; the other two, 
 to use an expression much in vogue amongst 
 matrons, " took after their pa," who, from his 
 colour, might have been christened " Rufus." 
 They died in early childhood, tumbled — by 
 accident, of course — into a pail of water. Ver- 
 dict, " found drowned." Sad, wasn't it ? 
 
 ' What have I done to be so much thought 
 of, as I say ? 1 say, indeed ! Ask any of the 
 Brixton bow-wows if you don't believe what 
 I am about to tell you. My governor, you 
 
302 A TERRIER'S TALE. 
 
 must know, is a book-maker, and — thanks to 
 me — a very big one at tie present time, though, 
 when I first knew him, in a very small way 
 indeed. By governor, you suppose I mean 
 master? I mean nothing of the sort; I've 
 never been called that yet by either biped or 
 quadruped, and hope I never shall. But to 
 my story, which I will thank you not to in- 
 terrupt again. I came into Jack Metal's pos- 
 session when just six months old — he having 
 taken me as part of a bad debt — and he christ- 
 ened me " Duke" on the spot, because he said 
 I carried my head so high. A good-natured 
 chap was Jack Metal, and we took to one 
 another so kindly that very shortly we were 
 quite inseparable. I've often heard him say 
 he wished he could take me to the meetings 
 along with him, if only to keep ofi* the " boys," 
 one of whose favourite amusements seems to 
 have been walking off with Jack's great-coat 
 and race-glasses when hung up on the rails 
 close by his favourite pitch. It was when I 
 was about a year and a half old that an act on 
 his part cemented our friendship effectually, 
 and so endeared him to me that I made a vow 
 
A TERRIER'S TALE. 303 
 
 on the spot to leave no stone unturned to do 
 something for him in return. We were looking 
 on at a football match at the Oval one fine 
 winter's day, when getting in some one's way 
 I received such a kick in the ribs as to elicit 
 from me an involuntary howl of pain. In a 
 second Jack came to the rescue, and a pretty 
 to-do was to result. High words soon led to 
 blows, and in a very brief space of time Jack 
 Metal was not only taking on my assailant, but 
 several of his pals into the bargain. My word, 
 how he laid about him ! Down they went, one 
 after the other, like ninepins. 
 
 ' " Now then," exclaimed Jack, " do any 
 more of you want to play football with my 
 dog? If so, come forward and have a game 
 Avith me first. I'm goal-keeper, I am !" And 
 as none of them did. Jack and I marched off 
 with the honours of war. 
 
 ' Well, I thought my turn never would come; 
 but it did, at last, and I found myself able to 
 show my gratitude in a very satisfactory man- 
 ner, both to myself and my preserver, if to few 
 besides. Jack Metal, who was just beginning 
 to make a name for himself amongst the small 
 
S04 A TERRIER'S TALE. 
 
 ready -money men in the ring, and who, on the 
 strength of it, had started a book on the Derby, 
 came back from the Epsom Spring Meeting 
 to Airs. Metal, and the kids, and me, almost 
 broken-hearted. 
 
 ' " What has happened ?" inquired the anxi- 
 ous wife, in alarm. 
 
 ' " Everything's happened," replied her hus- 
 band, as he sank into the nearest chair. " That 
 blessed Broomstick, the worst horse I've got in 
 my book, and who I've took all manner of 
 liberties with — overlaid, in fact, to an alarmin' 
 extent — has bin and gone and won the " City " 
 in a common canter, and they're now laying 
 odds on him for the Guineas, and taking twos 
 about him for the Derby ! It's the biggest 
 certainty ever known in racin', and it's im- 
 possible for me to ever " get round " or " get 
 out." I'm done brown this time, Polly, and no 
 mistake," and, burying his face in his hands. 
 Jack fairly burst into tears. 
 
 " ' Don't you believe it. Jack," replied Polly, 
 in her hearty way, going up to her husband, 
 and putting her arm round his neck, whilst 
 she kissed him affectionately. " Don't you 
 
A TERRIER'S TALE. 305 
 
 believe it, my man ! ' Nil desperandium ' was 
 my mother's favourite motto, and ' Never say 
 die,' poor father's, and I've always gone by 'em, 
 and never found any to beat 'em yet. Will 
 you act on my advice. Jack, if I give it you?" 
 she asked. 
 
 ' " Most certainly I will ! I never knowed 
 you wrong yet, old girl," replied Jack, looking 
 up into his wife's brave face, and apparently 
 gaining confidence at the sight of it. 
 
 ' " Then I say," went on Polly, " go on laying 
 the favourite. Jack, and trust to luck to pull 
 you through. I never believed in favourites 
 yet, and I'm sure I'm not going to begin now." 
 
 ' Jack made a wry face. 
 
 ' " I think you're wrong. Poll," said he, " but 
 it's a case of ' neck or nothing,' and I'll chance 
 it, hanged if I don't." 
 
 ' Well, Broomstick won the Guineas in a 
 canter, and they now laid odds on him for the 
 Derby, which race, indeed, looked at his mercy, 
 for none of those behind him at Newmarket 
 need be thought of again, and the only one 
 who seemed to threaten danger was a darkie 
 named Coriolanus, who report had long credited 
 
 X 
 
306 A TERRIER'S TALE. 
 
 with being something out of the common, and 
 who from the outset Jack had not only kept on 
 the safe side of his book, but had taken sundr}^ 
 long shots about as well. And now Coriolanus 
 had been put through the mill and found de- 
 cidedly wanting. Jack Metal's book did indeed 
 look a bad one now the slender reed he had 
 depended upon had given way, and in spite of 
 the unabated confidence of his "old Dutch," as 
 he called Mrs. Metal, its compiler on the Mon- 
 day before the Derby was probably about the 
 most miserable man in London or out of it. 
 
 ' My opportunity had come at last ! 1 fancied 
 I saw a plan for setting things straight. There 
 was no harm in making the attempt, at all 
 events, and with that view I took into my con- 
 fidence another of my species of obscure origin, 
 who was generally supposed to know the " time 
 o' day " better than most, and who was gener- 
 ally to be found outside one of the public- 
 houses in the neighbourhood. I Avas in luck, 
 as it happened, for my humble friend was just 
 starting for Epsom when I found him, and, as 
 part of my plan was to go to the same place, 
 his ofi"er to bear me company and show me the 
 way was most acceptable. 
 
A TERRIER'S TALE. 307 
 
 'You can't read, I s'pose, can you?' inquired 
 the wire-haired terrier, airily, of his gigantic 
 companion. 
 
 'Can't read!' barked the other, angrily; 
 ' why, you impudent rascal, what do you 
 mean?' 
 
 ' Oh, nothin', nothin',' replied the Duke, 
 ' only sometimes, don't you know, where there's 
 a superabundance of Matter (as in your case), 
 there's a proportionate absence of Mind. 1 was 
 going to say that if you are capable of reading 
 the papers, you are doubtless familiar with the 
 extraordinary features in connection with the 
 Derby won by Coriolanus. How he and Broom- 
 stick singled themselves out from the ruck at 
 Tattenham Corner, and came clean away by 
 themselves. How Broomstick had the foot 
 of the outsider all the way and was Avinning 
 " hands down " in the commonest of canters, 
 when a terrier dog — a common gipsies' cur, the 
 reporters were good enough to call him, but 
 then reporters will say anything — suddenty 
 darting out from the crowd, flew at his heels, 
 barking like mad, thereby so upsetting the 
 horse's equanimity that he tried to jump the 
 rails. His jockey got him straight, but it was 
 
308 A TEREIER'S TALE. 
 
 too late, and in the end Coriolanus won by 
 three lengths, to the frantic delight of the 
 " bookies " and the proportionate disgust of the 
 " swells." ' 
 
 ' Was the terrier a white 'un, with two black 
 eyes and one black ear?' inquired the big dog, 
 eyeing the narrator hard as he spoke. 
 
 ' Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no 
 lies,' replied the other, as he playfully applied 
 his paw to the tip of his nose. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Note. — Some of these Stories have already appeared in the pages of 
 * Baily's Magazine,' ' The Country House,' ' Illustrated Sporting and 
 Dramatic News,' ' County Gentleman,' and ' Finch Mason's Annual ' 
 for 1895-6, and are now reprinted in collected form by permission of 
 their respective proprietors. 
 
 LONDON: PRINTED BT DUNCAN MACDONALD, BLfcNHKIM HOUSE. 
 
TWO SUCCESSFUL BOOKS. 
 
 Each, in One Volume, large crown Svo, extra cloth, gilt top. 6*. 
 
 FAMOUS BRITISH WAR-SHiPS, and their Com- 
 
 MANDEKS. By Walter Wood. 
 
 BARRACK AND BATTLEFIELD ; Tales of the Ser- 
 
 VICE AT Home and Abroad. By Walter Wood. 
 
 SOME PRESS OPINIONS. 
 
 "We cheerfully recommend it as a present for boys, or even as light reading for grown 
 up people, who may wish to know some of the common anecdotes about the histoiy of 
 the navy." — St. James's Gazette. 
 
 " There are stories which can hardly be marred in the telling, and this book is full of 
 Buch ; it is not the less to the author's credit that he has told them well." — Academn. 
 
 "Mr. Wood has found an excellent subject, and treated it with spirit ; he tells us naval 
 history as we like to hear it, and in the only way the general reader can retain it." — 
 Bookman. 
 
 " We can cordially recommend Mr. Wood's book to every reader who takes any interest 
 whatever in England's navy." — Publishers' Circular. 
 
 " Well put together, and judiciously lightened by some well-chosen and characteristic 
 anecdotes." — Glasgow Herald. 
 
 "Mr. Wood's stories are well written, and his ships are well selected, though they are 
 far indeed from exhausting the list of vessels deserving of record in a book such as this." 
 — Daily Neics. 
 
 " Mr. Wood has written a most readable book on famous British war-ships and their 
 commanders." — The Echo. 
 
 " For all who take an interest in the past history of our navy, and hope for its contin- 
 ued future usefulness, no better book than Mr Wood's delightful and stirring volume can 
 be recommended, and it thoroughly deserves the wide,st circulation possible." — Bookseller. 
 
 " It ought to be in every ship's library, and would be to every high-spirited boy a highly 
 acceptable present" — Whitehall Review. 
 
 " In Mr. Wood's stirring pages, readers will find the great naval fights that made 
 Britannia the mistress of the seas recorded with a succinct pen that makes the work a 
 royal road to the naval history of Europe." — Dundee Advertiser. 
 
 " Pleasantly written and readable as it is, it cannot but prove welcome to a large num- 
 ber of readers who have no access to the heavier naval literature from which it is drawn." 
 Scotsman. 
 
 " Mr. Eudyard Kipling may look to his laurels, for there is risen in the person of Mr. 
 Walter Wood another teller of soldier stories, vho conjures with ' thoughts that breathe 
 and words that burn.' There are few stronger or mora captivating stories than these in 
 the English language. 'To be continued ' we sincerely hope.'' — Daily Telegraph. 
 
 "These stories are characterised by a straightforward simplicity which is eminently 
 convincing. There is nothing melodramatic about these narratives, which are obviously 
 true to the life they profess to depict." — The Globe. 
 
 •'These stories are not only full of genuine interest in themselves, but eminently truth- 
 ful in their delineations of army life." — Whitehall Review. 
 
 " The stories are, as a whole, readable enough, and will interest ' ingenious youth.' "— 
 The Guardian. 
 
 "This thick volume concerning the doings of Tommy Atkina will be eagerly read. The 
 stories are told in a light and rapid style." — Publishers' Circular. 
 
 "Mr. Wood never fails to make his tragic point with force, and he presents the spirit of 
 sturdy Tommy Atkins with fidelity to his original. A volume like this is always wel- 
 comed by both old and young." — Dundee Advertiser. 
 
 LONDON: HURST AND BLACKETT, LIMITED. 
 
 1 
 
SIX-SHILLING NOVELS. 
 
 By EDNA LYALL. 
 DONOVAN : A MODERN ENGLISHMAN. 
 
 WE TWO. 
 
 KNIGHT-ERRANT. 
 
 IN THE GOLDEN DAYS. 
 
 W^ON BY WAITING. 
 A HARDY NORSEMAN. 
 TO RIGHT THE WRONG 
 
 SWORN ALLIES. By M. E. Le Clerc. 
 
 ALL IN ALL. By Corinna Bruce. 
 
 LIFE AGAIN— LOVE AGAIN. By V. JMunro Ferguson. 
 
 THE WOOING OF A FAIRY. By Gertrude Warden. 
 
 THE SOUND OF A VOICE. By Linda Gardiner. 
 
 GENTLEMAN GEORGE. By Mrs. Herbert Martin. 
 
 BLIND BATS. By Margaret B. Cross. 
 AN AUSTRALIAN DUCHESS. By Amyot Sagon. 
 YOKE OF STEEL. By C. J. Wills & Godfrey Burchett. 
 OF THE DEEPEST DYE. By Col. Cuthbert Larking. 
 BARRACK AND BATTLEFIELD. By Walter Wood. 
 A LEDDY IN HER AIN RIGHT. By Mrs. Tom Kelly. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED EDITION. 
 
 JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN. By Mrs. Craik. 
 
 With Illustrations by Hugh Riviere. 
 
 One volume large Crown 8vo., gilt top. 6s. 
 
 LONDON: HUEST AND BLACKETT, LIMITED. 
 
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