L IBRAR.Y OF THL U N IVER.SITY Of ILLINOIS U34-Tt M.l THE TUFT-HUNTER. BY LORD WILLIAM LENNOX. " Charlotte. Besides, sir, I have other proofs of your hero's vanity. " Serjeant Circuit. Cite them. " Charlotte. The paltry ambition of levying and following titles. " Serjeant. Titles ! I don't understand you. *' Charlotte. 1 mean the poverty of fastening in public upon men of distinc- tion, for no other reason but because of their rank ; adhering to Sir John, till the baronet is superseded by my lord ; quitting the puny peer for an earl ; and sacrificing all three for a duke." Foots. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 1843. LONDON : F. SHOBERL, JUN., 51 , RUPERT STREET, HAYMARKET, PRINTER TO H.R.H. PRINCE ALBERT. & 4 v \ THE TUFT-HUNTER. CHAPTER I. " A darker departure is near. The death-drum is muffled, and sable the bier." Campbell. The plains of Abraham, near Quebec, were, on the 10th of June, 182- — , the scene of a most heartrending spectacle. At daylight, the garrison were under arms to witness the sentence of a general court-martial upon a private soldier of the th regiment, who had been found guilty of desertion, and con- demned to be shot. From the moment that his sentence was pronounced, the prisoner was unceasingly at- VOL. 1. B 2 THE TUFT-HUNTER. tended by the military chaplain, who spared no pains to prepare his mind for the awful doom which awaited him. The unhappy man had entertained, in the first instance, some hope that he would obtain a reprieve ; but this was finally dissipated, and he was at last impressed with the conviction that nothing- was left for him but to die. At daylight, the prisoner was marched from the condemned cell, escorted by the officer and soldiers of the guard, preceded by the band of his regiment ; the coffin which was to contain his remains being carried immediately before him. Scarcely had the first strokes of the muffled drums and the first few notes of the " Dead March " sounded, when five or six young sol- diers, who formed part of the guard which escorted the prisoner to the place of execu- tion, were obliged to fall back to the rear, being overcome with faintness. The prisoner himself, on the contrary, maintained during THE TUFT-HUNTER. 3 his progress the most perfect calmness and self-possession, and marched with a more up- right carriage and a more steady step than perhaps any one man of the escort which ac- companied him. It was, however, observed that, as he approached the spot where his grave was already dug, and by the side of which his coffin was deposited, his countenance became deadly pale. But he speedily rallied, resumed the self-command he had previously exhibited, knelt upon his coffin, suffered his eyes to be bandaged, and awaited his fate with firmness and resolution. The firing party, consisting of twelve men, who been convicted and pardoned for deser- tion, was now called out, and the word " Make ready" was given. At this critical moment, the commanding officer, Colonel Sir Charles Callendar, who had been anxious to give the utmost solemnity to this imposing scene, by forbearing to bring forward the pardon until the last moment, b 2 4 THE TUFT-HUNTER. turned round to take it from the adjutant ; and at that very instant the prisoner dropped the handkerchief from his hand, which some of the file of executioners, understanding to be the signal, fired, and the unfortunate man instantly expired. To describe the agonizing feelings of Co- lonel Callendar were impossible ; indeed, there was not upon the ground a single man who was not moved by this melancholy catastrophe. The reader may not, perhaps, be aware that, upon these sad occasions, in order to avoid the feelings of compunction which might, either at the moment or afterwards, arise in the breasts of any of the firing party, the men to whose lot it falls to form it are not allowed to load their own muskets, but these are handed to them indiscriminately, some being loaded with ball, and others with blank cartridge. But to resume our narrative. 1 Sir Charles Callendar was the eldest son of the late Sir Harcourt Callendar, an old Eng- THE TUFT-HUNTER. 5 lish baronet, whose death had recently taken place, and who, from his position in society, had been early in life enabled to place his son in the fair path of preferment. Young Cal- lendar received a good military education at Sandhurst, and shortly obtained an ensigncy in one of the most distinguished regiments of the line. His first service was at Barrosa, where he was severely wounded. He was present at the battle of Salamanca, and many affairs of the outposts. He next accompanied the troops sent to the Netherlands in 1813, and was pre- sent at the night-attack upon Bergen-op-Zoom. Promoted to a majority, Callendar commanded a wing in the attack on New Orleans, in 1815, and was again wounded whilst leading his men on to the assault. Colonel Callendar, though a strict disci- plinarian, was beloved by the soldiers, who called him " Charley," to which the epithet of " good" or " brave" was sometimes added, 6 THE TUFT-HUNTER. according to their humour. In the prime of life, Callendar was possessed of every cap- tivating quality. He was handsome in per- son, with an air of rank and manner that pleased all who held intercourse with him, a winning smile, and abilities fit for any station. The early life he led was thoughtless, gay, and dissipated; but in the midst of excess his heart remained uncorrupted. In a tour through Spain, Colonel, then Major Callendar, became acquainted with one, who, in setting before him a bright example, finally taught him to set its own value upon virtue. He loved her with all the force of a reclaimed heart and pure affection, and it was only when the quiet of that heart was irrevo- cably involved, that he recollected the em- barrassing circumstances of his position. Callendar was the heir of an old and proud ancestry ; his father was one of those men in whose opinion the length of a pedigree, at once, comprises every other ennobling quality. THE TUFT-HUNTER. 7 To present to such a man the woman he loved as his wife, and to behold her welcomed as a daughter, Callendar knew to be a vain hope. True, she was gifted with every virtue and every grace that could befit her for the most exalted station ; but her origin was humble — far humbler, at least, than his own. The impassioned lover judged it honourable to lay bare the truth to the object of his de- votion ; but he, at the same time, pleaded his cause so persuasively, that he at length gained her consent, and married her clandestinely. Callendar's regiment being in England, he found himself under the necessity of shortly returning to his own country — a circumstance he much regretted, and would gladly have avoided ; as, by thus subjecting his conduct to the immediate cognizance of Sir Harcourt, he greatly endangered the design formed of keeping his marriage a secret as long as pos- sible ; for he was well persuaded that such a discovery would greatly injure his future for- 8 THE TUFT-HUNTER. tunes ; and unthinking as we have described Callendar, though his conscience acquitted him of any serious blame in his marriage, yet he could not conceal from himself that, how- ever harsh his father's conduct had been to him, he had, in thus deceiving him, been wanting in that due regard and respect in- cumbent upon a son towards a father. After, therefore, his leave of absence had expired, and he was compelled to return to England, Callendar, with as much delicacy as the circumstances would admit of, urged to his wife the necessity of still keeping their marriage secret. He represented his affec- tion for her as founded on the purest con- jugal esteem, but justified this course by the peculiarity of his case, and the fatal conse- quences of a disclosure at the present mo- ment. It may be easily imagined, that such a de- termination was calculated greatly to afflict his wife, though Callendar gave her every THE TUFT-HUNTER. 9 assurance that the concealment of their union would be but temporary. Having so far relieved her fears, his next step was to sequester her as much as possible from public notice ; had he attended to the suggestions of his own heart and inclination, he would have pursued a very different plan ; he would have given immediate publicity to his marriage, and exulted in the choice he had made. The pride of the husband could not have been more gratified than by dis- playing to an admiring world his young, in- teresting, and blooming bride, in all the na- tive lustre of her personal and mental charms. And what was the inducement to this mis- taken and unfortunate act, this departure from the straight course of honour and conjugal duty ? — the dread of incurring the frown of Sir Harcourt — of encountering that formidable sternness, those severe rebukes, which, in his days of youth, made so strong an impression, and which, even in maturer years, struck terror b 5 10 THE TUFT-HUNTER. to his imagination ; but which, in the present important crisis of his fate, and that of his beloved wife, instead of shunning, he should have sought to mitigate and soften. How fre- quently did he, in after-life, in the solitude of his chamber, behold, in all its enormity, the fatal injustice he had committed ! We must now, in pursuing the most impor- tant events of our history, pass over several years of trial and discomfort to' the young couple. When Sir Harcourt heard that his son was reported to have formed an illicit connexion, he at first resolved to exert his utmost endea- vours to break it off; but, fearing any decided step upon his part might drive him to extremi- ties, the haughty baronet thought it more prudent to wink at the affair. He, however, took care to write his opinion to his son in the form of a general invective against unsuitable marriages, declaring that if ever a son of his should disgrace his ancestry by introducing to THE TUFT-HUNTER. 1 1 it one who could not be received into his fa- mily, he would cut him off with a shilling. Years had passed : Mrs. Callendar had be- come a mother ; Callendar himself was happy ; and, in the bold confidence of youth, foresaw a day when, every obstacle being surmounted, he would proudly introduce his wife into a world he felt that she was made to adorn. It was decreed that this fond scheme should never come to maturity. When his daughter Agnes was but ten years old, her mother died. It is unnecessary for us to dwell on the im- mediate effects produced on Callendar by so severe a blow. Scarcely had the heart- stricken widower recovered the first over- whelming shock, under which for a time he utterly sank, when a letter reached him from his father, urging him to look for a suitable match, and inveighing against his late liaison, as he termed it ; thus proving how fruitless it was to attempt to win his favour in behalf of his helpless child. 12 THE TUFT-HUNTER. Shortly afterwards, Colonel Calendar's regi- ment was ordered to Canada at a day's notice. He was to march for the place of embarkation. At any former period of his life, a thousand thoughts would have beset him ; but now there was but one. All were merged in the neces- sity of providing a fit home and companion for his daughter. No time was to be lost. In the midst of this dilemma, the widow of a brother-officer came to his assistance. Her husband had been in Callendar's confidence from the first moment of his attachment to her whom he now mourned. This friend, Mrs. Lorrimer, consented to follow Colonel Callendar with his daughter to Canada. She, Mrs. Lorrimer, had been a widow about ten months. She had, until her late bereave- ment, experienced all the felicity of which the marriage-state is capable. Her home had been the seat of every domestic enjoyment ; life had seemed one delicious spring ! Nor did she ever dream of the storm which lowered THE TUFT-HUNTER. 1 3 over her head, and at length deprived her of her beloved partner. Time, the assuager of all human sufferings, at length restored her to health, and changed her grief into composure. She bowed with patience and submission to the will of Provi- dence. It was only after his wife's death that Callendar felt the severe pang which embittered his life. It was then that the vision of his whole life passed before him. Study and strife, and fame and love ; the pride of the philosopher, the fame of the soldier, the clash of arms, the vows of passion, the applause of the multi- tude — all once equally welcome to his youth- ful spirit ! And what had they borne to him ? Misery. He called up the image of his be- loved wife, young and beautiful, with a mind capable of comprehending his loftiest and his finest moods, with a soul of matchless purity, and a temper whose winning tenderness had only been equalled by her elevated sense of 14 THE TUFT-HUNTER. duty. He conjured up her image; he con- jured before him a bud by the side of that beauteous flower, sharing all her lustre and all her fragrance — his own Agnes ! What happiness might not have been his, had his beloved wife but lived to see her offspring growing into womanhood, with every grace and virtue that can adorn her sex ! The death, too, of Sir Harcourt Callendar, which had recently taken place, had removed every impediment to the public acknowledg- ment of his marriage, and the introduction of his child as future heiress to the Callendar estates, which descended in the female line ; and Sir Charles was on the eve of taking his departure for England for that purpose, when the sad event occurred which we have re- corded at the opening of this chapter. THE TUFT-HUNTER. 15 CHAPTER II. Poor orphan ! in the wide world scattered f Spenser. As budding branch rent from the native tree !" The same sun that rose upon the melan- choly event we have recorded in the last chapter, shone on a festival that ended, if possible, even more sadly. The small village of Lorrette, near Quebec, was enlivened by the sight of happy faces, and the cheerful sounds of merriment echoed throughout it. The sons of the hamlet had assembled to en- joy the long looked-for festival — the annual fete. It was a perfect summer morning, and already the villagers had formed a rural pro- cession to the cottage of Sir Charles Callen- dar. It was a lovely spot ; trees embowered it ; roses bloomed in the garden, and jessamine and woodbine were twined round the porch. 1 6 THE TUFT-HUNTER. The morning breeze filled the atmosphere with sweets ; and Agnes Callendar, fresh and hopeful as the morning itself, bounded with the light step of a light heart over the lawn, without any other shelter for her very pretty face and shoulders from the scorching sun than was supplied by her own dark flowing ringlets. All nature smiled around her ; the flitting birds were throwing their soft sha- dows over the sunny lawn, and rustling amidst the blossom of the variegated groves. The golden wreaths of the laburnum and the sil- ver knots of the chestnut streamed and glit- tered around. The bees were as busy as the birds, and the whole scene was suffused and penetrated with brilliancy and odour. Agnes Callendar was, even in childhood, a being to love ; there was a sweetness of ex- pression in her countenance that fascinated beyond resistance. Her large, full, dark eyes gave to her youthful face a look of sensibility far above her years : her hair was THE TUFT-HUNTER. 1 7 raven black, finer and more glossy than carded silk. The outline of her countenance resem- bled those we see in Spanish pictures, not being quite oval enough for a northern beauty. Her cheek was rich in colour, for she was the child of happiness and health, but it varied with every emotion, and was beautiful in every variety. " Mark ! Is not papa yet returned ?" in- quired the dark-eyed girl, addressing a young man of about nineteen years of age. " No, miss," replied the other ; " the co- lonel has to attend a parade this morning." (Here the speaker changed colour as he thought of the cause of that parade.) " It will probably be twelve o'clock, miss, before he returns." The man thus addressed, Mark Hindley, was the son of a tenant of the late Sir Harcourt Callendar's. His appearance was far from pre- possessing. He was about five feet nine in height, with a remarkably firm knit frame. 18 THE TUFT-HUNTER. Over a low forehead he wore his thick black hair smooth and straight down to his eyes, which were of the same colour, and in their expression was a character of deep daring. The father and mother of Mark Hindley had married young, principally upon the strength of " hopes" and " expectations" — those constant elements of " love's young dream." His father had opened a small pub- lic-house, became bankrupt, and died. His widow had trusted to the generosity of the liberal creditors to enable her to carry on the business, and support herself and child : but the creditors took all they could take, and turned her and her boy into the street ; and to the kindness of Frank Vavasour, a nephew of Lord Vavasour, whose property joined Sir Harcourt's, she owed the small cottage in which she dwelt. As the boy grew up, his heart burned at his mother's penury ; and, in an evil hour, he made a peremptory demand for assistance to THE TUFT-HUNTER. 19 Lord Vavasour, and was spurned. " Turn the beggarly brat out of the premises," ex- claimed his lordship, fuming with rage, not at the sins of the son, but at those of his father, who had been guilty of the unpardon- able offence of voting against the Vavasour interest. The gamekeeper advanced to obey his mas- ter's bidding, when Mark, who was brave, active, and gallant, though somewhat rash and headstrong, struck the man, and was committed to prison for an assault and tres- pass : there he became connected with a worthless set, a gang of poachers, who shortly led him into every crime. With feelings that would have done credit to a nobler cause, Mark Hindley still main- tained his widowed mother ; and when taken before the magistrates for snaring pheasants, his defence proved that his heart had not grown callous to a son's feelings. " Could I," he exclaimed, " see my aged mother starve 20 THE TUFT-HUNTER. before my eyes ; with no prospect before her but the workhouse? — five ounces of bread, and one ounce of cheese a day for adults ; the disgraceful badge of poverty stuck here — just here — where the heart ought to be ! I couldn't bear the thought of it." With good guidance, Mark's disposition might have been led to every thing good and noble; fortunately for him, through the inter- ference of Frank Vavasour, Colonel Callendar had enlisted him into his own regiment, with the promise of taking him from the ranks into his service, and here he remained to the period we have just recorded. In the mean time, the fete at Lorrette was going on ; but shortly before twelve o'clock, there began to arise sounds of a description very different from those of sport — that sort of suppressed sigh and exclamation with which the first news of calamity is received by the hearers : a buzz went about among the women — " So suddenly summoned !" It then THE TUFT-HUNTER. 21 extended itself among the men, and silenced the sounds of mirth : all understood at once that some disaster had happened, and each inquired its nature. Whilst expectation was thus on the tiptoe, a horseman was seen at some little distance, galloping as if life and death depended upon his speed. On drawing near the cottage of Sir Charles Callendar, the rider, a young officer of Sir Charles's regiment, perceived Mrs. Lorrimer with a book in her hand, leisurely pacing up and down the lawn. Without checking his horse, he cleared the fence, and, crossing the turf, rode straight up towards her. " I was watching for you all," she ex- claimed, hitherto unconscious of the report. " Ah ! is it you, Captain Phillimore ? But something is amiss," she instantly added, in a more hurried tone — " you are alone. Your horse in this state ! Oh, where is Sir Charles ? — what has happened ?" 22 THE TUFT-HUNTER. Before Captain Phillimore could find words or breath to shape an answer, Mrs. Lorrimer had taken alarm. " Speak, Captain Philli- more, speak !" she again exclaimed ; "for the love of Heaven, speak !" " I will, I will," said the other, in return. " But, indeed, there is no reason for this agitation. Sir Charles has been taken ill — slightly, suddenly ill ; but it is nothing more ; to-morrow all will be well." Mrs. Lorrimer drew her breath more freely. " You do not, then, consider Sir Charles's ill- ness of a serious kind ?" she continued. " I trust not," replied Captain Phillimore, who then proceeded to relate the particulars of Sir Charles's attack, and the melancholy circumstance that had caused it. We must drop a veil over his sufferings : suffice it to say, he was removed home in a state bordering upon insanity. The condition in which he lived during a few weeks was dread- ful. He never expressed his grief openly, but THE TUFT-HUNTER. 23 to couple it with words amounting to absolute phrenzy. Constant irritation finally brought on a brain -fever. A worn-out constitution had received shock upon shock, and could not support them, and human skill was baffled. When Sir Charles's delirium at last subsided, his state was so feeble, that it was quite evi- dent he was sinking fast. At this crisis, the chaplain of the garrison offered the consolation of religion to the dying man. " Tell me — oh, tell me what I can do !" said the kind-hearted clergyman. " Have you any wish to be performed ?" " My breath is growing faint," replied the dying man. " Poor Agnes ! — from vile defe- rence to the world's opinion, I kept our mar- riage secret. My child ! — would that Heaven had granted me time to have declared her legi- timacy — Agnes Velasquez !" The wretched sufferer sighed deeply as he spoke. The early scenes of life rose up vividly 24 THE TUFT-HUNTER. before him ; his beloved and virtuous wife, the confiding, unsuspecting, artless being, radiant with beauty, affectionate, open, innocent, pure in thought, in word, and deed — his wedded wife. " Let me conjure you," said the chaplain, " to calm yourself." "lam growing faint, and have still much to say," murmured the dying man. " To my cousin, Walter Callendar, I entrust my child — my lawfully-born child, Agnes" — here his voice grew weaker. " Raise my head," he conti- nued, " I can scarcely speak, a dimness comes over my eyes. In the small casket you will find the marriage certificate. Agnes ! — bless, bless her !" Sir Charles Callendar never spoke again ; the once powerful form of the unfortunate man was a corpse. It was now decided that Agnes should em- bark on board a merchantman, to sail with the next fair wind for England. Mark Hindley THE TUFT-HUNTER. 25 was to remain till the funeral was over, and then follow the young orphan with the papers and effects of her deceased parent. Agnes was committed to the charge of the captain, amidst the injunctions and entreaties of her late father's friends to deliver her safely to the care of her guardian, now Sir Walter Cal- lendar. VOL. I, 26 THE TUFT-HUNTER. CHAPTER III. "Impute it not a crime To me, or my swift passage, that I slide O'er years, and leave the growth untried Of that wide gap." Winter's Tale. Days, months, years were gone ! The spring, with its buds ; summer, with its fruits ; au- tumn, with its seared and yellow leaf ; winter, with its frosts and snow, had come and re- come, passed and repassed. The aged had been removed from their transitory, earthly existence ; the young had risen up full of con- fidence, had entered the world, and tasted its bitterness; their young hopes had been blasted, their affections crushed, their confidence be- trayed, their devotion answered with ingrati- THE TUFT-HUNTER. 27 tilde, their love with deceit ! Pomps, honours, high-sounding titles, once flattered and envied, had been crumbled in the dust, despised, and forgotten. The proud and ambitious had been hurled from their lofty estate, the rich man beggared, the poor man enriched ; vice had triumphed its short hour, virtue had gone un- rewarded ; honesty had begged for bread, and knavery had prospered. The j ust had suffered , while the unjust had judged in ermine ; folly had ruled, and wisdom had pined unheard ; vanity had been caressed at the expense of genius ; and sanctimonious hypocrisy had trampled on humble piety. Time had witnessed all these mortal doings and sufferings; all these many-coloured changes in the face of nature, and the hopes and fears of her children ; in other words, a few transi- tory hours (calling themselves years) had been gathered to eternity since our heroine took leave, in our last chapter, of the friends of her childhood, and sailed for her father-land, c 2 28 THE TUFT-HUNTER. where, in due time, she arrived, and was warmly greeted by her uncle and guardian. Sir Walter Callendar was an old bachelor. We do not mention his precise age, though his silver hair, and his admiration for King in Lord Ogleby, proved that he had lived in " the good old days when George the Third was king." He had been a sportsman in his time, and was still fond of riding his fox-chases over again by the fireside. He was very neat in his person, and very proud of opening his dou- ble-breasted waistcoat half-way down, to show his snowy frill. His dark green spenser (the last of the Spensers !), over a coat of a harmo- nizing colour, displayed a well-proportioned form; while his well-fitting and beautifully cleaned "leathers" were met by a neat and highly-polished top-boot. His watch and chain were of the most costly description, and in the best taste of his day ; but a modern exquisite would have fainted under the weight of them. THE TUFT-HUNTER. 29 A broad-brimmed drab hat, lined with green, completed the " complement extern" of a per- fect specimen of the English gentleman of the olden time. Sir Walter lived like most country squires of a certain age : he gave and received din- ners ; attended races and county meetings ; was a deputy lieutenant, and trustee upon turnpike acts. It appeared to be the end and aim of his life to make all around him happy ; and, as far as his means could accomplish it, he was perfectly successful. Sir Walter stood in the relationship of first cousin to the late Sir Charles, and, upon the death of the latter without male issue, became the heir to the baronetage; but the estates descended in the female line to the daughter of the deceased- — Agnes Callendar. Sir Walter, not being aware of his cousin's marriage, had counted largely on his access of fortune ; but, when the will of the late baronet was opened, and it was ascertained that the personal pro- 30 THE TUFT-HUNTER. perty was left away from the title, and be- queathed to Miss Callendar, Sir Walter found himself more embarrassed than relieved by the death of his cousin. Unfortunately for the young heiress, her title to the estates had been disputed by the next heir-at-law on the mother's side, Lord Vavasour, on the alleged illegitimacy of her birth ; and she had hitherto been unable to bring forward sufficient evidence to support the allegation of the legal marriage of her mother, no tidings ever having reached England re- specting Mark Hindley, and the important papers with which he was entrusted. All that was known of him was, that he had obtained his discharge from the regiment, and had pro- ceeded with Mrs. Lorrimer to New York, where some friends of the latter resided, and had taken his passage in an American liner bound to Liverpool. During this interval, as little change of any kind occurred in the family of Callendar as it THE TUFT-HUNTER. 31 is well possible to imagine, and its chronicler must therefore pass it over briefly, leaving the reader's fancy to depict the gradual develop- ment of the sweet orphan's character — its gen- tleness, its warm sensibility, its purity, and delicacy of taste, and all its many fair and fascinating qualities, not forgetting the warm- hearted manner in which the " old English gentleman" received and took to his arms and heart the daughter of his noble house. We must now endeavour to depict the scene of our future story. The pretty borough town of lies about two miles distant from the county town, which gives name to the shire in which it is situated. The road-book num- bers among its objects of interest " Hasel- wood Court, the ancient family-seat of the Callendars ; Vavasour Manor, the splendid domain of Lord Vavasour ; Harefield, the resi- dence of Sir Walter Callendar ; and Wavertree Common, a salubrious spa." As it is unnecessary to be more particular 32 THE TUFT-HUNTER. concerning the scene of our story, we will fill up the blank left above with the fictitious appellation of Ravensbrook, having oftentimes found ourselves embarrassed in the course of a story by a hiatus which we cannot fill up. Ravensbrook, like most other country towns, boasted of a church, a market-place, an inn, a town-hall, a high street, and some dirty suburbs ; also, a clergyman, a mayor, a due proportion of doctors and lawyers, and sundry other important personages; together with the full complement of gossips, tale- bearers, and scandal-mongers. The town consists of one long street, running north and south, which is somewhat curving, as well as undulating, and hence the view is never very extensive. There are also several short lanes and streets situated at right angles, and lead- ing to the river on one side ; besides a tolera- ble good street, which branches off from the main one towards the north-east, and along which is the route that leads the mail coach THE TUFT-HUNTER. 33 road across the river Ravensbrook. There are three bridges across the river. Until lately there was but a very small suburb on the opposite side, but for the last twenty years houses have been occasionally springing up. At a short distance from the town the road opens upon a heath, spreading away to a con- siderable distance, and there may be found in a hollow the source of the Raven. The tradition of the origin of the Ravens- brook is thus described : " When Caesar was encamped here, his troops were in great need of water, and none could be found in the vicinity. Observing, however, that a raven frequently alighted near the camp, and con- jecturing that it was for the purpose of quenching its thirst, he ordered the coming of the bird to be watched for, and the spot to be particularly noted. This was done, and the result was as he anticipated. The object of the raven's resort was this little c 5 34 THE TUFT-HUNTER. spring, from whence Caesar derived a supply of water for the Roman legions; and from the circumstance of its discovery, the spring was called the Ravensbrook." The water was formerly in great repute for its medicinal virtues, and the spring still forms a great object of attraction to the resi- dents of the neighbourhood. On a bright summer day, Wavertree Common (as the heath is called) may often be seen dotted with parties of people ; the gay costume of the ladies, the brilliancy of the equipages, contrasting prettily with the brown heath, and the air ringing with the sounds of laugh- ter and music. The crystal waters of the Ravensbrook never dry up; it flows to-day as it flowed two thousand years ago, when Caesar saw it bubbling up, almost concealed in the brown heath. The Roman camp referred to in the tradition yet remains, for a part of its course, in excellent preservation. THE TUFT-HUNTER. 35 Within five miles of Ravensbrook stood Harefield, the property of Sir Walter Cal- lendar, and it is to that hospitable mansion we must now conduct our readers. Two winters then had passed away, and again we introduce our heroine to the reader. It was on a dark and dreary evening in No- vember, while the east wind, with its chilling dampness and increasing violence, gave un- erring notice of the approach of a storm, that three individuals sat before a huge blazing fire, in the dining-room of Harefield : one, a young lady of apparently seventeen years of age, was occupied with a piece of embroidery. Next to her sat an elderly gentleman, who was dividing his attention between a packet of lawyer-like looking documents, and a bot- tle of old port wine, whose crusted appearance and beeswing seemed coeval with the old and cob webbed parchments. On the opposite side sat another gentle- man, several years older than the one just 36 THE TUFT-HUNTER. described, and whose manner and dress spoke the clerical profession. Mr. Walford, for so the latter was called, seemed intent upon a musty book, which evidently was some learned dissertation upon the laws of the country ; for, as he marked a page, he handed the book over to his companion, calling his attention to the case Hanson v. Hargreaves. The Reverend Mr. Walford, the rector of Harefield, was one of the bees of the church, who are constantly toiling, while the drones are eating up the honey. He preached two sermons, and read two services, at two dif- ferent and remote places, every Sunday throughout the year; in addition to which, he christened, married, and buried a popula- tion of some hundreds, for a stipend of eighty pounds per annum. Soon after he obtained his curacy, he married a young woman, who brought him only beauty and modesty as her dower, but who made up for this deficiency by producing him pledges of love as often as THE TUFT-HUNTER. 37 the most highly-developed organ of philopro- genitiveness could have desired. With the most scanty resources, Mr. Wal- ford, nevertheless, by the blamelessness of his life, the fervour of his piety, and the single- ness of heart, made the sphere in which he moved rejoice in his influence. The rich honoured, the poor blessed him. He coun- selled the one, and consoled the other, from that book which is to all a priceless treasure : in short, he was a man who believed and practised what he preached. The room the party we have slightly sketched sat in displayed, in its proportions and furniture, the utmost comfort. The wain- scot was of oak, beautifully polished, adorned with portraits, introduced with the nicest ex- actness into the panelling, and relieved by garlands of fruit and flowers, dead game, the emblems of the four seasons, standing out from their darker ground in the most ex- quisite carving. 38 THE TUFT-HUNTER. Harefield, the property of Sir Walter Cal- lendar, great uncle and guardian to her whose untimely loss of her father we have recorded in a preceding chapter, was situated in the west of that county — celebrated, according to old Izak Walton, for " Shelsey cockle, Chichester lobster, Arundel mullet" — Sussex. But, as it is neither necessary nor convenient to be too precise in the geography of a story, I shall enter upon no further description of the general locality of the scene where this chapter begins, than by stating that it was at no £reat distance from the borders of the two counties, Sussex and Hampshire. The house itself was a substantial, square- built, red-brick mansion, shaded by gigantic elms, but the southern front covered with a famous vine, trained over it with elaborate care, and of which and his espaliers the baronet was very proud. The garden was thickly stocked with choice fruit-trees, but there was not the slightest pretence of plea- THE TUFT-IIUNTER. 39 sure grounds. There was, however, an old- fashioned bowling-green, and, above all, a grotto, where Sir Walter smoked his evening pipe, and moralized in the midst of his cab- On each side of the garden extended his meadows and paddocks, where his kine and young stock ruminated at will. The farm- yard, poultry-yard, and piggeries, were all " in keeping," and were filled and tended with care and knowledge. Nor was the interior of this bachelor's resi- dence devoid of comfort. Every nook and corner was filled with objects of interest ; and every thing was in the most admirable order. The genius of neatness and precision reigned supreme, especially in the entrance-hall, which was a cabinet of rural curiosities : the guns, the fishing-tackle, the cricket-bats, balls, and stumps, a cabinet of birds and animals stuffed by the baronet himself in his earlier days ; a fox in a glass case, that seemed absolutely 40 THE TUFT-HUNTER. running ; and an otter, with a real fish in his mouth, were all very spirited produc- tions. Finally, the library, which was rare and splendid, (for the baronet was a renowned scholar,) and the pictures, prints, gold fish, and canary birds, were all perfect in their way — to say nothing of every other room in the house, which, from the garret to the dairy, were all worthy of the taste of the kind-hearted owner. " Either we have dined early, or the post is late," said Sir Walter Callendar, addressing the young lady, in rather a peevish tone ; the worthy baronet having just experienced some slight symptoms of a fit of the gout, which rendered him somewhat irritable and anxious. Three times did he give particular directions that, when the letter-bag arrived, it should im- mediately be brought into the dining-room, and as often, when he heard any steps in the THE TUFT-HUNTER. 41 passage, he demanded whether the boy had returned with the letters. Nine o'clock struck, and the worthy ba- ronet became evidently more and more un- easy : he complained of pain, he moved to and fro in the chair, and was in the very act of ringing the bell to send another messenger to the post, when the butler entered with the letter-bag. "Here, Agnes," said Sir Walter, "there is a letter for you, and one for Rusbridger. Run away, my child;" and away flew the light-hearted girl to pore over a letter from her dear friend, Mrs. Lorrimer. A lawyer-like epistle, bearing the London postmark, now occupied Sir Walter's atten- tion. It conveyed no intelligence that could in the slightest degree interest our readers. The worthy twister of red tape still hoped that some information respecting Mark Ilindley and the valuable papers with which he had been entrusted would be forthcoming, until 42 THE TUFT-HUNTER. which, he said, no further step could be taken. Sir Walter seemed heart-broken at this in- telligence, while his friend, though equally depressed, offered him all the consolation in his power. THE TUFT-HUNTER. 43 CHAPTER IV. " I'll sing you an old song, made by an aged old pate, Of an old worshipful gentleman, who had a great estate, That kept a brave old house at a bountiful old rate, And an old porter to relieve the poor at his gate, Like an old English gentleman, All of the olden time. With an old hall hung about with pikes, guns, and bows, With old swords and bucklers, that had borne many shrewd blows, And an old frieze coat to cover his worship's trunk hose ; And a cup of old sherry to comfort his copper nose ; Like an old English gentleman, &c. THE CONTRAST ! I'll sing you an old song, made by an aged old pate, Of a worthless English nobleman, who had a great estate, With new titles of honours bought with his father's old gold, For which sundry of his ancestors old manors are sold ; Like a worthless English nobleman, All of the modern time. With a new-fashioned hall, built where the old one stood, Hung round with new pictures, that do the poor no good, With a fine marble chimney wherein burns neither coal nor wood, And a new smooth shovel-board, whereon no victuals e'er stood, Like a worthless English nobleman, &c. With a new study stuffed full of pamphlets and plays, And a new chaplain, that swears faster than he prays, With a new buttery hatch, that opens once in four or five days, And a new French cook, to devise fine kickshaws and toys; Like a worthless English nobleman, &c. Percy Reliques, Pepys's Collection. Our readers are already aware that Lord Vavasour had put forward his claim to the 44 THE TUFT-HUNTER. Callendar estates. Thus, for the last two years, the succession to the property had been warmly contested ; litigation and expense en- sued ; and, under the orders of the Court of Chancery, the rents were paid to the receiver. The right to the personal property still re- mained in abeyance, the suit relating to it being undecided in the courts of law. Between Lord Vavasour and our worthy baronet a quarrel had taken place, not likely to admit of reconciliation. Their properties joined ; the former possessing Vavasour Ma- nor, and the latter the tolerable sized estate of Harefield. The manor-house was virtually shut up ; for, except during a few days in the shooting season, or at the eve of an election, the noble owner never honoured it with his presence. His lordship possessed great influence in the borough of Ravensbrook, from the fact of a considerable part of it belonging to him. He therefore returned one member ; but the height of his ambition was to return both. THE TUFT-HUNTER. 45 Hitherto the Callendar interest had opposed him, both in the borough and the county, and had carried the latter, dividing equally the former. Lord Vavasour had still a formidable op- ponent in Sir Walter, who was very popular in the neighbourhood, and justly so. In the cases of Sir Walter Callendar and Lord Vavasour, the benefit of residing upon the property and the evils of absenteeism were strikingly illustrated. In the former, the country saw the resident landlord reve- renced and beloved ; the cheerful tenantry, fostered and protected, felt the natural advan- tages of reciprocal attachment. How sad was the contrast ! An absent lord — a mercenary agent, with no consideration but the rents, no solicitude but for their due collection — a deserted tenantry, keeping pace in decline with the deserted mansion ; the half- starved cottager finding no master to employ, no guardian to protect him, pining and sunk 46 THE TUFT-HUNTER. in the lowest state of want and wretched- ness, without work, food, raiment, and ready to rush headlong into the arms of that destruction which, in its various shapes, ever stands ready to receive the outcast and the despairing ! Lord Vavasour gloried in those high Tory principles that marked the goodly times of close boroughs and municipal corruption. He exacted absolute obedience to his political mandates from all persons within range of his power, and pitilessly ejected or persecuted all who ventured to oppose his will in the neighbouring borough of Ravensbrook. Another point upon which his lordship was equally arbitrary was the rigid execution of the game-laws. The slightest infringement of this code was, in his opinion, a heinous offence, and one that could only be expiated by the transportation of the culprit. The noble game-preserver was utterly reckless whether, by throwing the delinquent into THE TUFT-HUNTER. 47 prison, or subjecting him to a more severe punishment, the destitute wife and children were cast upon the parish or driven to the commission of worse crimes, so long as his hares and pheasants were preserved. We must, however, do the owner of Vava- sour Manor the justice to say that he did not leave the neighbouring peasantry in ignorance of the danger of infringing the statutes. For his copses and plantations were beset with dog-spikes, steel traps, spring guns, and other ingenious and humane defences against biped and quadruped marauders ; besides which cer- tain benevolent warnings were posted about the estate, with the following notices : " Steel traps set here." " No thoroughfare." " All dogs found here will be shot." " Trespassers will be punished to the utmost rigour of the law." And all this vigilance was exerted not for the manly recreation of the chase, such as it was in the good old days of our ancestors, 48 THE TUFT-HUNTER. when the sportsman at break of day went forth with his dogs and gun to find his game, but in order that his lordship might gratify a few patrician friends with a modern battue, in which some poor half tame pheasants were slaughtered by hundreds, very much after the fashion of Coriolanus and the Volscians at Corioli, or an eagle in a dovecot. The noble lord was a distinguished orator on agricultural distress, a zealous friend of farmers who could afford to pay rent, a staunch supporter of the corn-laws and dear bread, and one who, like the celebrated French lady, wondered at the poor being hungry, when '* three such nice cakes could be bought for a halfpenny." Moreover, his lordship had a thorough abomination of the diffusion of knowledge, which he considered as an encroachment upon the privileges of the higher orders, and looked upon reading and writing as only calculated to make bad sub- jects and worse tenants, converting plough- THE TUFT-HUNTER. 49 boys into lawyers' clerks, and shop-boys and dairy-maids into something very much worse. Lord Vavasour early in life married an heiress, well knowing that ambition tends only to disappointment and mortification, unless it meets with encouragement and assistance from fortune. The wealth of the lady of whom he made choice, though her least recommenda- tion to those who estimated her virtues, was to Lord Vasavour her principal attraction, his sole view being to aggrandize himself. His political career was marked with an ability ensuring success, by defying the oppo- sition of those casual obstacles which almost every individual must encounter, even in the pursuance of measures the most wise and best concerted. Talents prompted by zeal and activity seldom remain long unnoticed. Thus Lord Vasavour became distinguished in the council of the nation, and great was the splendour of his public character. Let us now contemplate him in private life VOL. I. D 50 THE TUFT-HUNTER. — as a husband. Perpetually engaged in public affairs, Lord Vasavour derived no plea- sure from domestic scenes. On his brother's death he wrote a pompous letter of condolence to his widow, offering to adopt her only son. " Her poverty, not her will, consented ;" and Frank Vasavour, at an early age, was removed to his uncle's house ; but he had never expe- rienced there that tender regard which seldom fails to awaken in return juvenile sympathy and sensibility. The growing intelligence of youth failed to impress the great man's feel- ings ; whilst the most trifling error drew forth his rebuke. Whether from a sense of duty, or from a feeling of pride, the most ample means were afforded by Lord Vavasour in giving his ne- phew a finished education. The young Frank was first placed at Westminster, after which he was sent to make the tour of France and Italy, attended by a preceptor. Though grate- ful for these advantages and the acquirements THE TUFT-HUNTER. 51 thence attained, yet the want of early confi- dence in his uncle had left upon his mind im- pressions not to be effaced ; inasmuch that, on his return from his travels, he urged him to allow him to seek his fortune at sea — a profession in which his father had been one of its most distinguished ornaments. The worldly relative had other and more ambitious views for his nephew and heir : he wished him to be, like himself, a courtier. His plan for the future agrandizement of his adopted son — for so he called him — did not fail to meet with a prosperous beginning : he was already promised a lucrative situation at court when he should arrive at years of dis- cretion. But the ambitious projects of Lord Vasavour were frustrated by the youthful le- vities of his nephew. A few indiscretions, of but trifling consequence, were represented to his lordship with exaggerated details, and which so incensed and irritated him that he resolved, for a time at least, to banish him d 2 LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 52 THE TUFT-HUNTER. from his sight : and for this an occasion soon presented itself. Admiral Manning, with whom he was intimately acquainted, being at that particular juncture ordered to the Me- diterranean, with the command of the fleet, was rejoiced to find he had it in his power to oblige the son of his former messmate, by ap- pointing him to his ship. After, therefore, taking an affectionate leave of his mother and a formal one of his uncle, Frank found himself upon the seas, pursuing his voyage to Malta. Of the late Admiral Vavasour, Frank's fa- ther, we will briefly say that he had served his country in every climate, and was admitted on all sides to have been an excellent officer and a thorough seaman. He had been uni- versally respected in his profession, beloved by the men whom he commanded, and upon many occasions had exhibited proof that his courage was as cool as it was daring. At the period of our narrative, Frank Vava- THE TUFT-HUNTER. 53 sour had just returned from sea. During his cruise he had had the good fortune to save, at the risk of his own life, that of one of his brother officers and two of the crew ; and this heroic action had been so favourably noticed by the Admiralty, that Lord Vavasour felt proud of his nephew's conduct, and had re- ceived him with the greatest kindness and cordiality. Return we now to Sir Walter. Disap- pointment, acting upon an anxious tempera- ment, had impaired his health, broken his spirits, and crushed his best energies. He brooded over the " law's delay," that deprived his niece of her birthright. It was not until Agnes grew towards womanhood that the kind-hearted baronet felt most severely the pang of disappointment. When he gazed upon the orphan and saw her growing up with every quality formed to charm and attach, and remembered that she was to pass her bright days of youth and hope in seclusion in 54 THE TUFT-HUNTER. the country, he would have given his right hand to have seen his young protegee acknow- ledged as the heiress to the Callendar estates. Haselwood Court had been in the posses- sion of the Callendar family for upwards of three centuries, and was one of the proudest estates in the county. The mansion, which had been built in Elizabeth's time, stood upon a gentle eminence in the middle of an exten- sive deer-park, commanding a distant view of the great " symbol of eternity," the sea ; not near enough to trace its usually blighting in- fluence or view its terrors, yet a half hour's drive brought it before you in its loveliest as- pect. What more particularly enhanced the beauty of the place was a very large and very fine piece of water called the Queen's Pool, named after Elizabeth herself, who once honoured Haselwood with her presence. The scenery surrounding this lake was exceedingly pic- turesque ; the rocks starting abruptly from THE TUFT-HUNTER. 55 its margin, and the sides of the hills being clothed with a fine hanging wood. On the south, the prospect was only termi- nated by the faint streak which seemed to- unite the sea with the firmament ; and on the north, hill retiring behind hill in aerial per- spective, caught the fleeting but beautiful effects of light and shade. The extensive domain that surrounded the court, which, far exceeding the dimensions of a park, was usually termed Haselwood Chase, had originally been forest ground, and still, though broken by extensive glades, retained its pristine and wild character. The deer wandered at liberty in this enclosed and well- wooded demesne. In any age, Haselwood Court would have been pronounced a proud pile. The original house had been destroyed by fire in the fifteenth century, and had been rebuilt in the latter part of the reign of Elizabeth. The noble possessor, well acquainted with the sen- 56 THE TUFT-HUNTER. sitive disposition of his royal mistress, and fully aware how much she prized such lasting monuments of gallant devotion to her memory, had followed the romantic fashion of her reign, and chosen the well-known symbolical ground plan for his princely habitation. The mansion rose up in the form of the letter E, conveying to posterity a memorial of the owner's attach- ment to the person of his sovereign ; a com- pliment which, upon his first re-appearance at Greenwich, was rewarded with a smile — upon his second with a frown — and at a later pe- riod with an axe upon the scaffold, for some supposed treason against the Virgin Queen ! Hazelwood Court had not been inhabited for some years. In the mean time, although the rents were paid to a receiver, under the orders of the court of Chancery, the property was sadly neglected ; and, at the period of our narrative, the state of desolation to which it had been abandoned excited feelings of sur- prise and regret in the minds of all observers. THE TUFT-HUNTER. 5? The gardens, terraces, and pleasure-ground* belonging to the house had been originally laid out upon a scale and plan of formal, though striking grandeur. Statues, marble vases, and busts, dismantled and mutilated, were scattered in disorder over the lawns and walks ; while the free growth of rank grass and weeds promised soon to obliterate all dis- tinction between gravel and turf. The vast building itself, with its lofty, closely-shuttered windows and its long unopened doors, ap- peared to be in perfect keeping with the scene of desolation it overlooked. D J 58 THE-TUFT HUNTER. CHAPTER V " and kindness i ice their own Inspired those eyes, affectionate and glad, That seem'd to love whate'er they looked upon ; Whether with Hebe's mirth her features shone, Or if a shade more pleasing them o'ercast, As if for heavenly musing meant alone) Yet so becomingly th' expression past, That each succeeding look was lovelier than the last." Gertrude of Wyoming. A few evenings after the meeting that we have mentioned in the last chapter, the same party were assembled round the fire in the library. The day had been boisterous, and the storm now began to rage with great vio- lence without. The dashing rain against the windows awakened that silent sense of enjoy- ment which is excited by such sounds under circumstances of quiet, comfort, and warmth. THE TUFT-HUNTER. 59 Sir Walter was pouring over the county newspaper, when his attention was attracted to the following- announcement, which he read aloud : " We understand that our public spi- rited and talented member, Mr. Cresswell, is about to accept the Chiltern Hundreds, and retire from parliament in consequence of ill health. It is currently reported in Ravens- brook that Captain Vavasour, R.N., nephew and heir to the noble owner of Vavasour ma- nor, will come forward upon the Tory inte- rest," Before any comment could be made upon this interesting subject, the attention of the whole party was roused by a noise in the courtyard. The night was not, indeed, far advanced, but it had been so long since Hare field received a guest, that, had Sir Walter not heard the rolling of wheels in the court- yard, he might have thought rather of house- breakers than of visiters. But, as the sound of a carriage and horses was distinctly heard, 60 THE TUFT-HUNTER. it instantly occurred to him that the guest must be Mr. Wrightson, his country solicitor, come even at this late hour to speak with him on the subject of the pending suit, and, per- haps, to break to him the total failure of it ; or it might be Mr. Dodson, the town-clerk, come upon the subject of the approaching election. Eager to know the worst, he left the library, and, calling loudly to his grey-headed butler, Peter, whom he heard conversing with the postillion at the door, commanded him to show the visiter in. It was not the quick, shuffling step of the lawyer which came slowly through the long- passage; neither was it Mr. Dodson's portly figure which was seen when the door opened ; but the light form of a young and elegant man, apparently about twenty years of age, supported on crutches. The worthy baronet advanced to meet his visiter, who, though unannounced, he saw by THE TUFT-HUNTER. Gl his air was a gentleman. The latter apolo- gised for his intrusion, saying, that he had met with an accident about ten miles off, that the worthy village Esculapius had been more successful in patching his person up, than the wheelwright had been in repairing the carriage, and that the impossibility of reaching Ravensbrook in the broken and shat- tered carriage had prompted him to seek an hour's asylum at Sir Walter Callendar's. As the stranger spoke, he presented a card. Sir Walter received it with an hospitable smile; and, taking him by the hand, led him into the adjoining room. " Agnes, my dear niece," said he, " wel- come Captain Vavasour, the son of my old college friend." The young lady rose, and gracefully obeyed by expressing her hope that he did not suffer much inconvenience from the accident, for, long ere this, the arrival of a young and in- teresting stranger, with full particulars of the 62 THE TUFT-HUNTER. breaking down of the carriage, &c, had been bruited throughout the house. Sir Walter then introduced Captain Vava- sour to Mr. Walford, and, ordering a bed to be prepared, insisted upon the young stranger making Harefield his home until he had en- tirely recovered the effects of his sprain. Vavasour cheerfully consented, and again expressed the pleasure he felt in forming the acquaintance of one of his father's most ho- noured friends. While the worthy baronet and his reverend friend were engaged in conversation, Vava- sour leaned exhausted in his chair, and had leisure to survey the domestic scene around him, so different from the solitude he had an- ticipated, from public report, in the house of the misanthropic owner of Harefield. Nor did the beauty of the young mistress of Hare- field escape his observation. The lords of the creation do not generally place much reliance upon ladies' opinions of THE TUFT-HUNTER. 63 each other's beauty ; and Frank Vavasour, having made ample allowance in his own mind for the prepossession of his friend, Mrs. Har- court Evans (of whom more anon), and even the exaggeration in her representations of Miss Callendar, was perfectly dazzled by the beautiful and graceful being who now was introduced to him. Of Vavasour himself it will only be neces- sary to say that his was peculiarly a character formed to attach. His mind was vigorous and cheerful; his thoughts rapid and clear; his conceptions elevated and rational. There was an unsuspecting frankness in his feelings to- wards those he loved, which is not often united with so cool a judgment and so reso- lute a will : there was an energy in his friend- ship, and a devotedness to what he thought right, that gained for him the love and the re- spect of others in a powerful degree. This pre-eminence in the esteem of his friends was the result neither of his noble 64 THE TUFT-HUNTER. connexions, nor of his delightful talents, nor of his remarkable personal advantages ; though it is probable that all and each of these might assist in producing the effect ; but its imme- diate cause seemed rather to lie in the attrac- tion of a manner singularly his own. He was, indeed, formed for a life of action, of useful- ness, of zeal in the service of his country, and, like the hero he worshipped, Nelson, was more solicitous for her honour than for his own fame. Though tall and finely proportioned, Frank Vavasour did not appear above twenty. The outline of his face was eminently beautiful. His wdiite forehead formed a curious contrast to his sunburnt cheek. His face was such as painters give to Narcissus ; but the animated expression of his large dark eyes redeemed it from the effeminacy of that dreamy youth ; and the proud frankness of his countenance answered well to a heart open as the day, and a mind that knew no disguise. There THE TUFT-HUNTER. 65 about him a natural cheerfulness which ani- mated every one in his society ; a gay simpli- city difficult to define, but very charming, and which, without effort, often produced deeper impressions than more brilliant and subtle qualities. Left alone in the world, and without a sin- gle advantage save those that nature had con- ferred upon him, it had often been remarked, that, in whatever circle he moved, Frank Va- vasour always became the favourite, and every where made friends. His sweet and engaging temper had, perhaps, as much contributed to his professional success as his distinguished gallantry and skill. Other officers, no doubt, were as brave and able as Vavasour, but his commanders always signalled him out for favourable notice ; and strange to say, his success, instead of exciting envy and ill-will, pleased even his less fortunate competitors. Vavasour's popularity, however, was not confined to his profession. His noble uncle, 66 THE TUFT-HUNTER. Lord Vavasour, as we shall presently see, now omitted no opportunity of advancing his in- terest in the world, and he was actually on his way to canvas the independent voters of Raven sb rook, when the accident we have allu- ded to occurred. Vavasour's success in the world of fashion had been as remarkable as in his profession. His good fortune had not, however, produced the slightest change in his mind and manners ; and this was perhaps the secret spell of his prosperity. The recollection of the race to which he belonged had never for a moment been forgotten by him. He was proud of his family. Then his temper was imperturbable, and although the kindest-hearted creature in existence, there was a native dignity about him which prevented his good nature from being abused ; and no sense of interest could ever induce him to act contrary to the dic- tates of his judgment and his heart. Vavasour could not have been so long abroad THE TUFT-HUNTER. 67 without forming a taste in objects of art ; and he contemplated with admiring curiosity the many specimens of gothic workmanship that ornamented the room in which he now found himself. The fireplace, with its old fashioned silver gilt dogs, its curiously wrought covings, its richly carved chimney-piece, which some centuries before had mantled the abbot's hearth at the good and ancient monastery of St. Francis, attracted his particular atten- tion. He next examined the oak-panelled walls, enlivened by a range of fine family portraits in carved ebony frames. These, with a cabi- net of curious china, a piano-forte, a well- stored bookcase, and the usual complement of sofas and chairs, completed the furniture. Vavasour did not take so cursory a view of the living objects of interest around him. The venerable master of the house sat on one side of the fire talking with the pastor, his sil- vered hair and benign countenance blanched and worn by nearly sixty winters. The cha- 68 THE TUFT-HUNTER. racter of the " old English gentleman " was pictured strongly in his countenance, and spoke more clearly than words all his kind- ness of heart, and the many fine qualities of his nature. Agnes had withdrawn her chair from the fire, and, after playing for some time with a magnificent deer-hound that occupied the rug, she began to ply her needle with indefatigable diligence. Her head, which moved about in search of silk, scissors, and needles, gave free scope to the contemplation of the young sailor ; and as her dark eyes, glancing around for what she sought, shone lucidly bright from under her raven locks, Vavasour thought he had never seen eyes so irresistibly beau- tiful. Sir Walter now inquired whether the ta- pestry bed-room was prepared ; upon being answered in the affirmative, he expressed his hopes that his young guest would not be frightened at the idea of sleeping in the THE TUFT-HUNTER. 69 haunted room, for so this apartment, from an ancient legend, was called. Vavasour laughingly replied that, after the fatigue of his journey, he felt little fear of his night's rest heing disturbed by spirits, how- ever much the scenes of the day might flit before him in his dreams. Turning to Miss Callendar, he now bowed respectfully, and motioned to retire; when, with much ceremony, but with still more real kindness, the baronet conducted his guest to his apartment, where, cordially shaking him by the hand, he wished him a good night and took his leave. The fire blazed cheerfully, and the room had a comfortable though not a lively appear- ance. It was hung with tapestry, which the looms of Arras had produced in the sixteenth century. The bed was of a dark and faded green, wrought to correspond with the tapes- try. The large and heavy stuff-bottomed chairs, with black ebony backs, were em- 70 THE TUFT-HUNTER. broidered after the same pattern. AH looked grim and gloomy. Yet, despite of ghosts, Vavasour slept on until morning ; 'tis true his " dreams, the children of an idle brain," haunted him. Queen Mab had visited him : his accident — his kind host — Agnes Callen- dar, all flitted before him, " as thin of sub- stance as the air." Just as these crude phantasma arranged themselves into something more regular, a strain of music seemed to fill the apartment ; Vavasour started, and became completely awake. The music, however, was still in his ears, nor ceased till he could distinctly follow the measure of the tune. He now endeavoured to clear his brain of the phantoms which had occupied it during the night. The beams of the morning sun streamed through the half-opened shutters, and admitted a distinct light into the apart- ment. Vavasour leaped out of bed, and, wrap- ping himself in a morning gown, stepped THE TUFT-HUNTER. 71 towards the window, which commanded a distant view of the sea, the roar of whose billows announced it still disquieted by the storm of the preceding evening, although the morning was fair and calm. The window of a turret, which projected at an angle with the wall, and thus came very near to that of Vavasour's apartment, was half open, and from that quarter he heard affain the same music which had awakened him from his dream. A female voice sung with great taste and exquisite pathos. Vavasour listened and recognized the syren tones of Agnes Callendar, revelling in that perfect composition of Bellini's " Casta Diva." Looking at his watch, he found it on the hand of ten. Having finished his toilet, and not wishing to trespass further upon his host's kind hospitality, Vavasour descended to the breakfast-room with the intention of taking leave of Sir Walter. He found Miss Callendar presiding over 72 THE TUFT-HUNTER. the tea and coffee, the table being covered with warm bread, both of flour and oatmeal, in the shape of loaves, cakes, biscuits, and other varieties; together with eggs, cold pasties, hams, trout, salmon, marmalade, and all the other delicacies worthy even of a Scotch breakfast. Agnes Callendar now apologized for the absence of her guardian, who, she said, had gone to the farm, after giving orders that his guest should not be disturbed. Scarcely had she finished her explanations, when the old English gentleman appeared, and proceeded to discuss his breakfast, with an appetite that proved his walk had done its office. The meal being over, Vavasour announced his purpose of leaving Harefield early enough to gain the stage at which he meant to sleep ; but the unaffected and deep mortification with which the good-natured and kind-hearted old baronet heard the proposal, quite deprived him of courage to persist in it. THE TUFT-HUNTER. 73 " You must not leave us to-day, my young friend," said Sir Walter ; " we have a party of neighbours coming to dinner, all good fellows and true staunch sportsmen ; besides, my good housekeeper, old Mrs. Hard wick, will be quite hurt if you do not give her embrocation a trial. It has a famous character in the county, as a universal specific against all bruises, sprains, strains, &c." Vasavour could not resist this appeal, and it was speedily settled that he should remain a few days at Harefield. We pass over the morning and afternoon, and bring our readers to six o'clock, when Sir Walter with his niece and Vasavour were as- sembled in the library ; for the English gentle- men of the olden time despised the modern practice of turning day into night, and of dining when you ought to be supping. As the stable clock chimed six a bell was heard, and the grey-headed butler, Peter Free- man, announced the arrival of the guest 8. VOL. I. E 74 THE TUFT-HUNTER. These, as Sir Walter assured his young friend, were very estimable persons. There was young Underwood, a thorough master of field sports ; Squire Halstead, devoted heart and soul to tillage and agriculture ; Sir Harry Luxmore, a two-bottle man, of the old school ; Frederick Chepstow, a worthy disciple of the last-men- tioned baronet, and a most uncompromising opponent to Father Matthew ; Horace Main- waring, a complete sportsman, who viewed trees through the medium of game, and thought of the country as one vast preserve, who knew more of pheasants, guns, and dogs than of books or the fine arts, sang all sorts of hunting songs, played the key bugle, and made the forest echo with his woodland music. Then there was the Rev. Dr. Fosbrook, the rector of the parish, one of those learned, jovial, humorous, orthodox divines, of the eighteenth century, now nearly extinct, who, despite of his addiction to field sports, had many redeeming qualities. He was truly THE TUFT-HUNTER. 75 pious, but not an enthusiast ; remembered his tithes, but did not forget to be generous and charitable when they were duly paid ; never neglected the sick, yet occasionally followed a fox ; a fine scholar, an active magistrate, and a good shot ; hating the Pope, and de- spising all religious liberals. This formed Sir Walter's party. " As such he described them by person and name ; They enter'd, and dinner was served as they came." The dinner was ample and handsome, and the guests did great honour to it. When the cloth was removed, Sir Walter proposed a bum- per to the health of the king. The conversation now became general ; and shortly afterwards Miss Callendar, who had done the honours with natural grace and simplicity, retired. The wine now flowed freely round, though Vavasour, in consequence of his late accident, with some difficulty obtained the privilege of occasionally neglecting the glass. " Success to fox-hunting ;" "Speed the plough;" and E 2 76 THE TUFT-HUNTER. other toasts were given. Bumper followed bumper ; " the good wine did its good office," and the frost of etiquette gave way before the genial blessings of the cup. When a few rounds had passed, Sir Walter craved permission to ask the grace-cup ; and thus, to Vavasour's great delight, the orgies of Bacchus were terminated for the evening. Vavasour found himself engaged in scenes he little expected, from the rumours he had heard of the dull routine of Sir Walter's life. The first day thus passed according to the routine of the whole year : a real comfortable English dinner, with abundance of good wine, and three or four country squires around the table. In the evening Vavasour played at backgammon with his young hostess ; while three of the other guests, with the assistance of dumby, dozed through a game or two of long whist. At eleven o'clock the butler announced supper. The whole party, with the exception of Miss Callendar, who re- THE TUFT-HUNTER. 77 tired early, started from their seats, and, rub- bing their eyes and hands in the joy of re- newed impulse, crowded into the eating-room ; where, the health of the squire and his fair protegee being drank, the native topics of the chace, races, justice meetings, and county politics were discussed ; hounds, horses, duels, women, being jumbled promiscuously to- gether. The next morning being ushered in by a violent storm, the guests at Harefield gazed despairingly at the torrents of rain which swept before the furious wind ; and when they found it impossible to animate the drowsy hours by lingering out their breakfast, they dashed through the pelting floods, to kill time amongst horses, dogs, and grooms. As soon as Vavasour found the badness of the weather likely to prevent Sir Walter from taking his usual exercise, and in which he was anxious to accompany him, he retreated to the large solitary library, where he knew he 78 THE TUFT-HUNTER. should be safe from all invasion ; and in a few minutes found his whole attention ab- sorbed in the silent company around him ; not, however, without its being frequently dis- turbed by the yelling of dogs, the smacking of whips, and the halloos of Sir Walter's guests, as they passed through the hall to the billiard-room, on their return from the stables. Towards four o'clock the clouds had ex- hausted themselves ; and a bright sun tem- pering the chilly freshness of the air, Vava- sour looked from the library window over the woods and glades of Harefleld Park, and felt inclined to steal out unobserved, and take an exhilarating walk towards its boundary. He still, however, lingered at the window. Be- fore him was a beautiful stretch of park-like common, with its tufts of holly, its rich groups of forest trees ; and, loveliest of all, a stately avenue of oaks and elms, the turf underneath being green in eternal shade, and the long perspective looking like the nave of some vast THE TUFT-HUNTER. 79 Gothic cathedral. The deer were issuing from the covert, glancing their antlers in the sunbeam ; and the rooks, in glad multitudes, were cawing, and wheeling, and flapping their wings, as they hovered over or settled on the tall elms of the ancient avenue. Vavasour was standing with folded arms, his eyes rambling over the ever-varying scene, when, hearing a step, he turned round and beheld Agnes Callendar. " I have been seeking you everywhere," exclaimed the light-hearted girl ; " my uncle wishes you to see my morning room, and Mrs. Hard wick is now waiting there, to hear the effects of her prescription." Vavasour readily assented, and following his young and beautiful guide, crossed the hall, and entered the apartment known as Miss Callendar's morning room, for the fashion- able word boudoir had not yet reached Hare- field. It was a charming room : everything that could tend to the improvement of the 80 THE TUFT-HUNTER. mind was there ; maps, globes, a pianoforte, music, books, drawings, &c. There was no confusion; everything was arranged with almost old maidish precision ; and there, in a sober grey dress, stood, or rather curtseyed Mrs. Hardwick, for, from the time her young lady entered, the worthy housekeeper bob'd and bob'd like a mechanical figure. After thanking the good old lady for her embrocation, Vavasour requested the stately housekeeper to do the honours of the room, upon which she began with a parroti/ sort of account of its curiosities. There was a history attached to every picture. The one to the left of the fireplace was the brave Sir Charles Callendar ; but the gem of the room, and the one that most attracted Vavasour's attention, was that of Agnes's mother ; and as she retired to the window, Mrs. Hardwick described most vividly her virtues and beauty. At that moment, the baronet entered, and urged his request that his guest would remain over the week. THE TUFT-HUNTER. 81 No sooner had Sir Walter gained Vavasour's consent to lengthen his visit for a few days, than he laboured to remove the grounds upon which he conceived Vavasour had meditated a more early retreat. " I am fully aware, my young friend," said the kind-hearted baronet, " of the unfavourable impression you must have been led to form of Harefield and its inhabitants. Political ani- mosities, prejudices, exaggerated statements, have all tended to keep alive the unfortunate feud that* has so long existed between our families. Without entering into any discussion that might be painful to your feelings, let us hope that the friendship thus so happily com- menced may be daily more and more cemented, and that it may eventually bring about a thorough good understanding, and enable us to be as warm friends as w r e are near neiijli- bours." To this kind-hearted wish, Vavasour re- sponded with an equal fervour of sincerity; E 5 82 THE TUFT-HUNTER. and, taking his former political adversary's hand, shook it most heartily. Thus termi- nated the explanation which the baronet of Harefield thought it necessary to make for his pressing hospitality ; and it may be easily believed that he was not interrupted by any expression of dissent. He then invited his guest to accompany him in his morning drive, and ordered the small pony carriage, which Agnes usually used, to be brought to the door. The two first days of our hero's arrival at Harefield had been so full of various, novel, and unexpected excitement, that, on awaking the third morning, he had some difficulty in arranging his scattered ideas, so as to be per- fectly sensible of his locality. He felt very much like Abon Hassan, astounded by his sudden transformation into the Caliph Haroun Al Raschid, and would have gladly called in the assistance of the little black slave, who convinced the worthy merchant of Bagdad of THE TUFT-HUNTER. 83 his identity, by biting the tip of his ear. The sudden alteration of his uncle's sentiments towards him ; his gracious reception at Hare- field, by one he had always been led to look upon as an enemy to his house ; his approach- ing return for the borough, and his reinstal- ment, as it were, in all the rights of a favoured heir presumptive ; each of these was a subject of separate amazement, and the whole together he had still some difficulty in believing to be matter of fact. Yet, after all, there was nothing very mys- terious in the whole affair. It so happened, that Lord Vavasour's family pride — the predo- minant feature of his mind — having determined him to return a Vavasour for his once herdi- tary borough, and which (owing to the estates of his late rivals, the Callendars, being in Chancery,) he felt he could once again hold as his own, every other consideration naturally gave way to the anxiety he felt for the attain- ment of that object. Having so far overcome 84 THE TUFT-HUNTER. any remains of former ill blood, as to make decided overtures to his nephew, Lord Va- vasour felt that he had conceded the whole principle, and at once resolved that the re- conciliation should, on his part, be as cordial and complete as the previous estrangement had been absurd and irrational. The appearance and deportment of Vavasour, in his interview with his uncle, were well calculated to strengthen Lord Vavasour's determination on the subject, as his lordship had good sense enough to appreciate the degree of reserve, and the independence of tone, which Frank had maintained on that occasion. How fortunate it is, that, in the intercourse of society, we are not necessarily obliged to scrutinize motives with that rigid spirit of inquiry which belongs to the investigation of facts. Had such been the case in the inter- view between Vavasour and his uncle, the former could but have arrived at the uncom- THE TUFT-HUNTER. 85 fortable conviction that the advances towards a better understanding were rather ascribable to considerations of expediency than to any more generous or disinterested feeling. As it was, however, Frank Vavasour, if not deceived, so far appeared to be so as to meet his uncle's demonstrations of regard with becoming cour- tesy, though tinged with a slight air of reserve, of which he found it difficult to divest himself. It was at breakfast on the morning that these thoughts had occupied Vavasour's mind, when Sir Walter, addressing him, asked if he had any engagement for the day, and being answered in the negative, " Well, then," said he, " I must enlist you in my service. I am about to purchase a small farm, and wish to have your verdict on my choice." On Vavasour assenting, the kind-hearted baronet continued : " But then, my mind would never be reconciled to my purchase, unless I had the opinion of a lady, on the subject of the poultry-yard, pigeon-house, &c. 86 THE TUFT-HUNTER. Have I your consent, Agnes, to order your horse, under promise of safe conduct, and not dwelling too long on the beauties of the piggeries ?" " I fear," said Miss Callendar, blushing slightly, " that I shall be able to give you little assistance ; but I shall be happy to accompany you." And the light-hearted girl retired to change her dress, while her horse was ordered. Miss Callendar returned in a few minutes in her riding-habit, which displayed more fully the beautiful symmetry of her person ; and as Sir Walter, with the greatest gallantry, led her down, Frank Vavasour seemed fixed to the spot. He joined them just as the lady was assisted into her saddle, and they set out in high spirits. Sir Walter possessed a great fund of good humour, and he amused himself for some time asking Agnes questions about her country admirers, declaring all the Squirearchy to be THE TUFT-HUNTER. 87 her slaves. She bore the raillery well, and replied in a sportive manner to all her uncle's attacks, while Vavasour was not an unin- terested listener to this badinage. Let no man who has any regard for the safety of his heart trust himself on horse- back in company with a lovely woman. The change of costume, even, has a great effect. A woman whose daily dress is becoming, is sure to look divine, en amazonne, more parti- cularly if she be a good horsewoman ; then, ad- miration of the courage with which she keeps her seat in moments of difficulty, and the fear that any accident may happen, create a com- bination of interests, joined to the heightened charms which put forth all their force under the influence of exercise. Then, is the danger of glances, which cannot well be overlooked. When, in the present case, to all this is added the previous state of Vavasour's mind, his susceptible temperament, and his unoccu- pied heart, who can wonder at his perfect 88 THE TUFT-HUNTER. intoxication of delight ? For it must be re- membered that j during the few serene and innocent years that had glided away since we first introduced our heroine to our readers, Agnes had daily grown in loveliness, in good- ness, and intelligence. Her voice was soft and sweet — " an excellent thing in woman ;" she talked charmingly — that is, with the freshness of a young mind, hovering like a butterfly over the flowers of this world : yet, in urging any favourite topic, which she often pursued with natural eloquence, her voice possessed the tones which impress conviction, no less than those of insinuating persuasion. Every observation which fell from her lips bore the impress of a superior understanding and a cultivated taste ; but she listened more charmingly than she talked, and Vavasour had a thousand things to tell her, very in- teresting to her, though much too simple for our readers. Was it then surprising that her young THE TUFT-HUNTER. 89 companion should experience a warmth of feeling, if not amounting to love, to some- thing nearly akin to it, for this lovely child of nature ! The progress of Vavasour's attachment was, however, too much like other histories of the same kind to be long dwelt upon. He was astonished at the extent and variety of her information, delighted with her good sense and naivete, but, above all, enchanted by that undefinable charm of manner which gives a value to the slightest remark, as it enhances the merit of the most brilliant re- partee. The delicate spirit of pleasantry which pervaded her conversation was as re- mote from pertness or flippancy, as the timi- dity which ever and anon heightened the bloom of her cheek was distinct from mau- vaise honte. Time, therefore, at Harefleld, flowed on in a tide of tranquil pleasure, and both Sir Walter and his niece observed with interest 90 THE TUFT-HUNTER. the presence beneath their roof of one who, from the first day they had met him, had engaged their kind feelings, and had daily become more and more endeared to them. Days, nay, weeks, had passed in this dream of happiness, when Vavasour was awakened from it by a request, peremptorily urged, though in specious courtly language, from his uncle, that he would lose no time in com- mencing his canvas for the borough of Ravensbrook. On the following morning, the wheels of a carriage, at an unusually early hour, before the door excited Agnes's attention : between sleeping and waking she almost forgot the cause of it ; but just as she rose and looked from the window, she saw Vavasour's car- riage receding through the trees of the avenue, and her uncle still standing on the steps, as if to catch the last glimpse of his young friend, whose departure he so sincerely re- gretted. THE TUFT-HUNTER. 91 CHAPTER VI. " Celestial Muses ! ye powers divine ! Oh, say, for your memory's better than mine," What troops of fair virgins assembled around, What squadrons of heroes, for dancing renown'd, Were roused by the fiddle's harmonious sound." Bath Guide. About the latter end of December, the con- versation of the few visiters who frequented Ravensbrook was enlivened by a topic of un- usual interest — the prospect of an election. This important news created much talk and much expectation, and at length reached its climax of interest by the arrival of the candi- date, Frank Vavasour. Sir Walter Callendar had been urged by his party to come forward to oppose Lord Vavasour's nominee, but had declined all in- 92 THE TUFT HUNTER. terference. This was taken up by the libe- rals, who forthwith got a radical counsellor to stand, and the borough was thrown into that state of confusion which ever marks the advent of a contested election. Counsellor Pettingal had formerly repre- sented, or rather misrepresented, a neigh- bouring close borough, and was one of those members of parliament described by Saville : " There are those senators who have such a thick skull upon their brains, that their igno- rance is impenetrable, and maketh such a stout resistance against common sense, that it will never be subdued by it — true heart of oak ignorance, that will never yield, let reason beat never so hard upon it ; and, though their kind neighbours have at several elections sent them up to school again, they have still re- turned the same incurable dunces." It was the fashion at Ravensbrook that the ladies of that immaculate borough should take an active part in electioneering, not merely by THE TUFT-HUNTER. 93 threats and promises vented upon tradesmen suspected of having opinions of their own, but by making an open and glorious display of their party zeal at the scene of action. At length the expected retirement of Mr. Cresswell took place, and Vavasour was im- mediately involved in all the business and bustle of an election — the canvassing, bowing, smiling, and speechifying of such a period. After a keen contest, he was successful, and borne through the town in triumph as the po- pular member. His speeches on the hustings had been distinguished by the manly vigour which marked his character, and it was evi- dent that, although his youth had been spent out of his country, he was perfectly informed concerning its history, and equally free from the party spirit which disgraces alike the man of the people and the man of the aristocracy. His conduct during the election gained him the respect of all parties. During this time of excitement, it may be 94 THE TUFT-HUJsTER. supposed that the party at Harefield did not look with indifference at the contest and its result. For the next fortnight after the elec- tion, gaiety was to reign in Ravensbrook. Al- most from time immemorial all the principal gentry of the neighbourhood had been accus- tomed to attend the annual infirmary ball at Ravensbrook, and this year it appeared that the baronet promised himself peculiar gratification from witnessing Agnes's enjoy- ment of her first ball. Circumstances arose, however, that greatly damped his feelings. Owing to a squabble between the medical gentlemen, a doubt had been raised as to the propriety of making the balls annual, biennial, or triennial, and, during the discussion of this most momentous affair, Sir Walter had been attacked with a violent fit of the gout, which entirely precluded every chance of his leaving his room for some weeks. Affairs were in this state, when, one morn- ing, the somewhat testy baronet was surprised THE TUFT-HUNTER. 95 by a visit from Sir Frederick and Lady Ry- croft. After the usual greetings, Sir Frede- rick addressed himself to the young lady. " By the by, Miss Callendar, I have good news for you ; there is going to be a general rising of belles and beaux, for we are forth- with to have the infirmary ball at the town hall. My lady there, however, will tell you all about it, she is one of the patronesses. Come, my lady, open your business." " My business," said Lady Rycroft, " re- lates to a petition which I have to present to you all, and in which I hope Miss Callendar will second me. You must know, then," con- tinued Lady Rycroft, " that we are positively going to have the long talked of subscription- ball for the Ravensbrook infirmary, and, in order to ensure its success, patronesses have been appointed, who are each to press into the service their own particular friends ; so I am come here to beat up for recruits, and to entreat that my ball may be honoured by 96 THE TUFT-HUNTER. being the scene of Miss Callendar's debut in the fashionable world." At these words Agnes gave a look of de- light, and turned anxiously to Sir Walter's face for his reply ; but she there saw nothing encouraging to her wishes, for her uncle only looked grave, and shook his head. He de- clared his inability to join in any such gaiety himself, and made all sorts of objections to Agnes going without him ; but at last every difficulty was most good-humouredly obviated by Lady Ry croft. She would herself chaperon Agnes ; she would take and bring her back in her own carriage. She would answer for her not staying late ; reminded Sir Walter that there would be a full moon ; and, in short, obtained the much wished for permission for Agnes to accompany her to the ball. This projected gaiety of course caused a prodigious sensation in Ravensbrook and its neighbourhood ; and every exertion was on this occasion made, both by the patronesses THE TUFT-HUNTER. 97 and the subscribers, to ensure the success of the ball in question, by collecting from all parts " beauty, beaux, and fashion." Invita- tions were despatched in every direction, with offers of dinners and beds to all the officers quartered within thirty miles round ; and, as the entertainment was to take place during the vacation, Oxford and Cambridge men were summoned, and even Westminster, Eton, and Harrow boys pressed into the service — the patronesses, with laudable emulation, vy- ing with each other no less as to the quantity than the quality of the names on their respec- tive lists. A ball, as our readers know full well, is a ball all the world over, varying only as to the quantity and quality of its component parts. As this ball shared the fate of all others, namely, that of being anxiously anticipated, little enjoyed, and much abused, it would scarcely be worth giving it a place at all, were it not that the lights and shades of hu- VOL. I. F 98 THE TUFT-HUNTER. man life may be found there, as well as any where else, and that we wish to record an event which, though it was looked forward to by our heroine with so much interest, ended, as most such long anticipated events do, in something very like disappointment. The long wished-for evening being arrived, by eight o'clock lights were seen twinkling in every dressing-room window in Ravensbrook and its vicinity, and shortly afterwards the unfortunate flies began their night of ceaseless labour. Agnes, her eyes and cheeks brilliant with the additional animation of anticipated pleasure, was ready dressed long before the appointed time, and sat eagerly listening for the arrival of Lady Rycroft's carriage. " Remember, Agnes," said Sir Walter, who was gazing on the lovely form of his young protegee with a smile of satisfaction, " I shall expect a full description of every thing to-morrow morning ; you must keep ac- count of all your partners, and of all the pretty things they say to you." THE TUFT-HUNTER. 9.0 At that instant the welcome sound of the door-bell announcing Lady Rycroft was heard. Agnes sprang from her seat, and, giving her uncle a hasty, but, if possible, even a more than usually tender embrace, hurried down stairs. As Sir Walter drew his chair to his now solitary fireside, he fell unconsciously into a more melancholy reverie than any by which he had been for a long time visited. All the circumstances connected with his niece's fate, and the trials she was doomed to undergo, forced themselves on his recollection in pain- ful succession, and it was some time before he obtained a perfect mastery over those feel- ings. On such occasions as the one we are about to record, the town-hall was metamorphosed into the salle de danse, and the lower portion of the municipal edifice, which on other days was occupied with goodly stalls of fish, flesh, fowl, fruit, and vegetables, was, with the aid F 2 100 THE TUFT-HUNTER. of transparencies, floral arches, rose-coloured draperies, and evergreens, transformed into the banqueting-room, where tea, negus, orgeat, and lemonade were dispensed to the Ravens- brook Terpsichores. Lady Rycroft being one of the patronesses of the ball, had made it a point to go early, so that when she and her companions arrived, the room was not half full. Their entrance was in consequence the more conspicuous, and all eyes were instantly fixed upon Agnes. " Who is she ?" exclaimed a hundred voices, as the fair debutante stood up for the first quadrille. " She is the niece of Sir Walter Callendar, and heiress to the immense wealth of the late baronet," was the reply of Lady Rycroft, de- lighted at the effect her young friend had pro- duced. " Ton my honour !" drawled a young cornet, twirling his mustachois : " a beauty and an heiress ! it's worth a thought, at any rate. I'm half inclined to be introduced." THE TUFT-HUNTER. 101 And he lounged off to get himself presented, convinced that nothing more was necessary to complete the conquest of the country belle, if such should, after further inspection, seem desirable. Among the company already arrived, was the Honourable Mrs. O'Grady Galloway. She had heard that the Rycrofts were to intro- duce the beautiful Miss Callendar, and deter- mined to turn this circumstance to her own advantage. In consequence, Lady Ry croft and her party had scarcely entered the room, be- fore Mrs. O'Grady Galloway, with a dashing looking young man at her side, came bustling up to her. " How do you do, my dear madam ? Glad to see your ladyship looking so well. Will you allow me to present my nephew, the Ho- nourable Mr. Galloway, to you ! Lord Mount- joy's brother, you know," added Mrs. O'Grady Galloway, in a lower, but consequential tone. " Is Miss Callendar disengaged ?" she con- 102 THE TUFT-HUNTER. tinued, " for, if so, my nephew will be happy to have the honour ." And then without waiting for a reply, " Miss Callendar — Mr. Galloway; Mr. Galloway, Miss Callendar." Agnes curtseyed, and the honourable youth led her to the dance. In the mean time, Mrs. O'Grady Galloway, whose object for many years had been to get acquainted with the leading people of the neighbourhood, devoted herself entirely to Lady Ry croft. " Well, I do really hope we shall have a good ball," said she ; " people are coming in very fast ; at all events, we are sure of all the leading fashion, for I saw the list of sub- scribers to-day, and there were the Beau- clerks, the Cecils, the Seymours, the Stir- lings, and the Wrights. All unexceptionable, of course." Lady Rycroft smiled assent. " I hope you left Sir Walter quite well ? " continued she, in an easy tone of acquaint- ance. THE TUFT-HUNTER. 103 " Quite well," rejoined Lady Rycroft; " but are you acquainted with Sir Walter ?" " Why, I do not exactly know him," re- plied Mrs. O'Grady Galloway, in some little embarrassment at this direct question. " It is some years since I had the pleasure of seeing him, for I live so much out of the world now, since my poor husband's death, that I lose sight of all my friends." Lady Rycroft knew that Sir Walter could not be included in the number, for it was only that very morning she had heard him declare that, if he had an aversion in the world, it was that talking, forward widow, Mrs. O'Grady Galloway. But, before we proceed further, it may be as well to explain who Mrs. O'Grady Gallo- way was. Miss Penelope Hodgkins was the only child of a rich citizen, who, having eloped from her boarding school with the younger son of an Irish earl, returned from Gretna Green the Honourable Mrs. O'Grady 104 THE TUFT-HUNTER. Galloway. After the death of her husband, who was killed in riding a steeple-chase, she retired to Ravensbrook, where she purchased a small property. Within a few years a re- conciliation had taken place between her of- fended parent and herself, and the Honour- able Mrs. O'Grady Galloway was (to use her own phraseology) one of the leading persons in the neighbourhood of Ravensbrook, and the owner of the Grange. Such was Mrs. O'Grady Galloway's history up to the time of the infirmary ball ; for we dwell not on the tears she shed at her widow- hood, as they made as little impression upon her mind as they probably would upon that of the reader. Of her hopeful nephew it will be sufficient to say that the Honourable James Galloway, or, as he was most commonly called, " Jem " — and for an honourable to be called Jem im- plies the currency of good fellowship — was the second son of a noble earl. On his fa- THE TUFT-HUNTER. 105 ther's death, he found himself the possessor of ten thousand pounds ; and, for some years, his elder brother was liberal enough to allow him five hundred a year, as interest for the sum : but, on taking to himself a wife, the principal was paid to the younger children, and the Honourable James's income was re- duced to the sum of three hundred and fifty pounds per annum. Yet, despite of this, Galloway managed to struggle on by levying a tax from the world for his wit. He was an aristocratic Jeremy Diddler — one who scorned petty larcenies in the shapes of " tenpences" and half crowns," and fleAV at the higher game of hundreds and five hundreds. He was considered one of the best whist-players at the clubs, and one of the best book-makers at Newmarket. On entering life, he had purchased a commission in a fashionable hussar regiment, where the length of his spurs and mustachios had ren- dered him the Lovelace of the feminine co- F 5 106 THE TUFT-HUNTER. terie, in all those cities of the united kingdom favoured by government with the inestimable benefit of cavalry barracks. He had lately sold out, and was now a gentleman at large. Galloway seldom or never dined at his own expense, and was never known to pay for a coach, cab, turnpike, entrance to race stands, theatres, or other expenses incidental to fashionable men. It always happened that " Jem " had changed his waistcoat, left his purse at home, or had nothing under a twenty pound note. Like the hero of a late fashion- able ballad, it was impossible not to admit the truth of his ever-ready assurance — "You'll find no change in me." Robin Hood, or his Scotch prototype, " M'Gregor," never levied greater contribu- tions upon the public than did Galloway. One of his ingenious methods of " raising the wind," was to address all his friends in the shooting season, asking them for the loau of a hundred pounds, always adding a post- THE TUFT HUNTER. 107 script, " if game is plentiful, the smallest do- nation will be thankfully received." If the money was forthcoming, well and good ; if the money and the game too, better and bet- ter ; and, if the worst came to the worst, if the former failed, the parties were sure to send the game as a set-off against not send- ing the money. Thus Jem's coffers were replenished, for he took advantage of that act which enables no- blemen and gentlemen to be dealers in phea- sants, partridges, and hares, and sold his game unblushingly in the market. Some illnatured persons ventured to in- sinuate that Galloway " jobbed " in minor " appointments," which the kindness of some of his father's old friends placed at his dispo- sal ; but of this we cannot speak positively. Having quarrelled with his elder brother, who had twice since his father's death paid his debts, he had but one resource left — ho bo- came an avowed fortune-hunter, relying upon 108 THE TUFT-HUNTER. his good looks and insinuating manner for success in his matrimonial speculations. We ought to add that Jem Galloway was the very Samuel Johnson of the slang dic- tionary, expert at billiards, cunning at the odds, a first-rate shot, with a leaning towards the fancy, even under the disgrace in which it has lately fallen. He was, in the language of the turf, " wide awake" — that is to say, he was considered a person more likely to " do " others than to be " done " himself. He had always the best information ; and, when he stood heavy upon a horse, prudent men took the hint, and did not go against him. Far be it from us to insinuate that the honourable turfite ever transgressed the strict line of honour and integrity in his dealings ; but he sometimes refined so nicely between right and wrong, that the distinction was too subtle for the common apprehensions of the right thinking world, who were so far deluded as to infer that the man who could accommo- THE TUFT-HUNTER. 109 date a greenhorn or a friend with the odds against a horse which he knew to be " safe," was little better than a swindler. One of his notable achievements, which had come to the ears of the public, had some- what damaged his reputation. The circum- stance was simply this : Galloway had two horses in the Derby. The one was first fa- vourite at very small odds ; the other was so little esteemed as not even to be mentioned in the betting. He was, nevertheless, a flyer, but this was only known to the owner, his trainer, and a " leg," one of Galloway's most intimate allies. To carry on the deception, the second favourite ran at a country meet- ing for a fifty pound plate, and, from parti- cular orders given by the Honourable James, was not even placed. The day before the Derby, consequently, Galloway got forty to one against his second horse ; he took it ten times over in hundreds, as much as he dared to venture without attracting notice, and, 1 1 THE TUFT-HUNTER. through his agent, bet the odds to two thou- sand pounds against the favourite. With this heavy book, Galloway began to have some slight fear as to the result. It is true that the horses had been tried, but the hardness of the course might make a diffe- rence ; so, to make assurance doubly sure, he declared to win with the second favourite, and sacrificed the first by ordering the jockey to make the most severe running with him. The event came off as the owner had anticipated, to the astonishment of all, and the dismay of those who were hit so hard by the result. Heavy suspicion was raised against Gallo- way, and it required all his effrontery and fortitude to brazen it out. As usual upon such occasions, the world's opinion was di- vided. Some were charitable enough to ex- culpate Galloway altogether ; some suspected that the " legs " were at the bottom of it ; others threw the blame upon the trainer and the jockey. THE TUFT-HUNTER. Ill But to return to our ball. Mrs. O'Grady Galloway, as we have already stated, was an ambitious person ; her object was to get ac- quainted with the Callendars, and she deter- mined resolutely to maintain her station at the side of Lady Rycroft's party during the evening. It was now growing late : Agnes had danced quadrille after quadrille, had lis- tened to the same speeches, the same remarks about novels, music, and the weather, flavoured by insipid and commonplace compliment, and had discovered that the ball was not quite so charming a thing as she had expected it to be. Just as the carriages were announced, Mrs. O'Grady Galloway addressed Lady Rycroft. " Lady Rycroft, I was thinking it was a great pity, now that I have my nephew, Mount* joy's brother, with me, and our new member returns to-morrow" — Agnes's heart beat when she heard of Vavasour's return — " and that there are so many nice young people collected 112 THE TUFT-HUNTER. together, not to do a something ; and so I was thinking of a quiet dance at ray house to- morrow evening ; and, first and foremost, I beg to request the favour of your ladyship's and Sir Frederick's company, and last, not least, Miss Calendar's." Lady Rycroft expressed her acknowledg- ments by a gracious though somewhat formal reply. " Every body seems delighted at my plan," continued Mrs. O'Grady Galloway. " The Beauclerks postpone their visit to London, so I really hope we shall have a pleasant evening, and I shall be too happy to see any of your ladyship's friends." And Mrs. O'Grady put into Lady Rycroft's hands a whole pack of " Mrs. O'Grady Galloway at home — the Grange — a small early party." u I forgot," continued the loquacious widow, " Mr. Vavasour bespeaks the play, or rather opera, next Tuesday ; we must all make a point of attending. Pray tell Sir Walter," she said, addressing Agnes, " I THE TUFT-HUNTER. 113 shall count upon his occupying seats in my box." At this moment, the carriages were an- nounced, and the colloquy was broken up. 114 THE TUFT- HUNTER. CHAPTER VII. " He climbs the crackling stair — he bursts the door, Nor feels his feet glow, scorching with the floor ; His breath choked, gasping with the volumed smoke, But still, from room to room, his way he broke." Byron. Few country towns of any eminence are unblessed by occasional visits, " however few and far between," of certain foreign stars in the musical world, who, at the close of the London season, betake themselves into the provinces, to gather golden opinions from the rural population in the exchange for their notes. Ravensbrook, however, had hitherto been unblessed by such a visitation ; choral meetings and " chamber concerts," as they were fashionably called, had occasionally taken THE TUFT-HUNTER. 115 place, in which the performers had but too often " wasted their sweetness on the desert air." The election, and, above all, a passionate love of music, induced the new major to take advantage of the opportunity, and to propose to the corporation, resident and neighbouring gentry, the scheme of a grand musical treat, in the shape of certain Italian operas. Ar- rangements had been made with the manager to give up his theatre for the purpose ; the Italians had arrived, and had been duly an- nounced, as having sung with unbounded applause at every town in Italy, France, and Germany. The first performance was to take place " by desire of, and under the immediate patronage of Frank Vavasour, Esq., M. P. for the borough." Every place was secured, and the house was " crowded to suffocation." The stage-box, appropriately ornamented with election co- lours, flags, and banners, was occupied by the 116 THE TUFT-HUNTER. mayor and Vavasour, the patron of the night. The opera selected for the evening's enter- tainment was the production of the spirited entre preneur, who, to keep well with the prima donna, had furnished a libretto, to which he had arranged for her part every popular piece of music of Rossini and Bellini. The subject was taken from the Fairie Queen. And nothing could exceed the enthusiasm which the two first acts produced. The last scene was a representation of the castle in flames, in which the heroine, " Resolv'd to prove her utmost might, Her ample shield she threw before her face, And her sword's point directing forward right, Assayl'd the flame ; the which eftesoones gave place, And did itselfe divide with equall space, That through she passed ; as a thonder bolt Perceth the yielding ayre." The curtain had hardly dropped, which it did in some confusion, when an extraordinary bustle was heard behind the scenes. In a few minutes, the theatre filled with smoke, and THE TUFT-HUNTER. 117 cries of " Fire ! " were distinctly heard from behind. Persons from the pit and boxes jumped upon the stage, while the green cur- tain was rent down by those before and behind it ; and the scene of horror that was discovered to those who were not so entirely absorbed by their fears but they could look around them, exceeds all description. The fire was seen bursting in every direction ; men were mounted aloft on the burning rafters, breaking down the combustible apparatus in the way. Water was dashing and streaming every where. The terrible light which filled the stage too well portrayed the " sheets of flame !" — " streams of liquid fire !" — " awful conflagration !" de- scribed in the playbills. Shrieks, and groans, and dismal cries, the noise of the engines, the fall of timber, and the rush of fire and of people, assailed the ear on all sides. At the first alarm, the party in Sir Walter's box had been hurried out by him, and some other gentlemen who had joined them in the 118 THE TUFT-HUNTER. early part of the evening. Just as they reached the door that led to the public lobby, a fear- ful crash was heard ; an entrance to the gallery had been forced, and a rush of people followed, bearing Agnes and her party like a flood back into the house. Vavasour, in the mean time, was struggling through the crowd towards the part of the theatre in which he had last seen Miss Callendar ; and, as he neared the spot, shrieks of peculiar distress and despair struck his ears. A dense and suffocating column of smoke opposed his progress. He paused to breathe. " Back, back !" shouted several voices, " the stairs have fallen in !" But Vavasour, still fancying he heard the voice of a suppliant female, pressed more de- terminately forward, and soon found himself at the bottom of the stairs that led to the pri- vate box. No sounds were distinct, but. the raging of the flames, which roared in their work of devastation. The heat was now so THE TUFT-HUNTER. 1 1 9 intense, that he hesitated to advance, when the shriek burst forth again. Vavasour flew to the sound, and rushed through the black smoke up a few steps, which gave way soon after he had reached the summit of them. At the extremity of the passage, which was short, he was interrupted by a closed door, on the other side of which was the terrified sup- pliant, whose cries had pierced his heart. " Stand from the door," cried Vavasour. He was obeyed ; and, dashing his foot against it, it flew from its hinges, and he beheld Agnes Callendar fainting in the arms of her awe- stricken guardian. Seizing and clasping his insensible burthen in his arms, and bidding Sir Walter to keep by his side, he plunged at once into the dreadful smoke, now red with advancing flames, and, with desperate exer- tion, soon reached the steps of the portico. To descend them, and be in the midst of the square, was the action of an instant. A dreadful crash now shook the building to 120 THE TUFT-HUNTER. its centre. It was the falling of the roof, and the flames threw their light abroad, so as to make every object visible. Dangers of a different kind now menaced them — the flying rafters from the consuming building, the pressure of the crowd, and every confusion attendant on so awful a scene. In an agitated voice, Sir Walter asked him whe- ther he had strength to bear his motionless burthen to the nearest hotel. Vavasour re- plied in the affirmative, and, with renewed exertion, they soon reached that spot. Every attention was now paid to the young sufferer, who in a few minutes slowly raised her eyelids. A moment after, she looked apprehensively round on the apartment, then on her preserver, and then on Sir Walter, when, with a shriek of joy, she exclaimed, " Thank Heaven ! thank Heaven ! we are saved !" Tears followed this burst of feeling. Sir Walter bent over his still terrified niece, THE TUFT-HUNTER. 1 2 1 then, turning to his preserver, attempted to thank him. Vavasour's reply was in unison with his feelings. That he had been instrumental in saving two fellow-creatures from so direful a death filled his bosom with awful gratitude, and he sympathised, with unaffected piety, in Sir Walter's thanksgivings to Heaven for the escape of his niece and himself. " Let me urge you, Miss Callendar, to take a restorative," said Vavasour, respectfully ; " your frame will sink else." "Thanks, thanks," she said, raising her beaming eyes for a moment to his ; " I feel too much for words : I am grateful, Captain Vavasour, for this miraculous escape; and, next to Heaven, I am grateful to you." We have before observed that Agnes's eyes were beautiful — very beautiful; and they were so expressive, that language was not needed to explain the predominant feeling of her heart. VOL. I. G 122 THE TUFT-HUNTER. " I congratulate you, Sir Walter, from the bottom of my soul I congratulate you. Oh, it would have been too horrid to have recol- lected for a moment !" Vavasour paused a moment, as if suddenly recollecting that he was about to overstep the prescribed limits, and concluded with a good deal of embarrassment — " no words can express what I feel at the danger Miss Callen- dar has been exposed to." " I thank you, I thank you," replied the worthy baronet, with extreme earnestness. Miss Callendar then explained to Vavasour the dreadful state of despair in which he had found her. When pressed by the crowd, as we have before described, she and Sir Walter hastened back to the box, from which there was an entrance, down a flight of stairs, to the stage. These had fallen in, and, as they tried to retrace their steps, they found . the door had closed with a spring. Left, then, with the devouring flames on one side, and a THE TUFT-HUNTER. 123 closed door, which no effort of theirs could have moved, on the other, nothing but the intrepid conduct of Vavasour could have saved them from a horrible death. The blackened and even half burnt condition of different parts of all their dresses showed how narrow had been the escape of the preserved as well as of the preserver. The reader need not be told the nature of the emotions which a young and ingenuous girl would experience at her escape from a death so horrid as the one which had impended over her; nor how deep were her mental thanks to that Power which had not deserted her in the hour of danger. Sir Walter having ordered the carriage, and insisting upon his young preserver accom- panying him to Harefield, they soon reached their destination, and the party separated for the night. Agnes retired to her apartment, where for hours she sat musing on scenes that were ra- g 2 124 THE TUFT HUNTER. pidly recurring to her memory, and dwelling, possibly, at times in the secret sanctuary of her thoughts, on the strange occurrences which had led to the introduction to her uncle's family of one who had previously been denounced as the foe to her house. How greatly did his conduct contradict the reports that had been spread to his disadvantage ! The subject on which the mind has last been engaged at night is apt to occupy our thoughts even during slumber, when Imagina- tion, uncorrected by the organs of sense, weaves her own fantastic web, out of what- ever ideas rise at random in the sleeper. It is not surprising, therefore, that Vavasour's rest was disturbed by a thousand baseless and con- fused visions. He was, or imagined himself, standing in the midst of the burning theatre, gazing upon the bright flames that raged with such intense fervour on all sides of him. The shrieks of females seemed to pierce and wound him like sharp instruments. Now horrible THE TUFT-HUNTER. 125 flakes mounted up to the sky like fiery mes- sengers of evil, or fell back to the earth in a rain of fire. These wild imaginations were varied by all the usual grotesque and horrible vagaries of a feverish dream. The water seemed rather to increase than quench the flames ; the air seemed to suffocate him ; whatever he under- took failed in some unexpected manner — whatever attracted his attention underwent some wonderful metamorphosis.. Awakened at length by these images, he started up, and in a few seconds the realities of the preceding night came vividly before him. After breathing a prayer of gratitude for his deliverance, he lost no time in descend- ing to the breakfast-room, where he found the worthy baronet and his niece equipped for a ride. We spare our readers a repetition of the thanks Sir Walter heaped upon the hero of the previous night, and will accompany them 126 THE TUFT-HUNTER. in their morning, or rather, mid-day excur- sion. After visiting the farms, Agnes proposed a gallop across the downs to a small fishing vil- lage, where resided some old pensioners upon her bounty. The direct road to it passed Haselwood Court, but there was a bridle-way to it, which the party availed themselves of, and, lingering in their ride, it was evening before they returned. Sir Walter, perceiving Vavasour's anxiety to get a look at " the ancestral home," begged that, as it was getting late, he would take the direct road by the Court, to give orders to the gamekeeper for the following day. Vava- sour, though loath to part with Miss Callen- dar, readily assented, as he was most desirous of seeing that which one day he fondly hoped would be restored to its legitimate owner. The last rays of the declining sun were im- parting a wild magnificence to the variegated sky, when, arriving at the termination of a THE TUFT-HUNTER. 127 narrow and neglected road, over which the branches of hedge-rows met, he suddenly fronted the deserted dwelling. Not a human being was to be seen about the courts, gar- dens, and neighbouring paths. Even animal life appeared to be extinct. Vavasour lis- tened in vain to catch the pleasing lowing of kine, the watch-dog's bark, or the more hum- ble tumult of the poultry-yard. No sound but the screeching of the owl reached his ear. The bright glories of the evening contrasted disagreeably with the melancholy aspect of the building and gardens, and for some time he lingered long and silently in the contem- plation of the scene. As Vavasour gazed upon the handsome architecture of the build- ing, his busy fancy wandered to the associa- tion of former splendour and gaiety. Time was — and that not long distant — when rank and power, youth and beauty, prospered within the walls of this princely domain. Time was, when the full and bustling tide of existence 128 THE TUFT-HUNTER. had enlivened these spacious courts, when the music of the huntsman's horn had awakened " lords and ladies gay" to the excitement of the heart-stirring chase. What now remained of all the splendour of the family who once tenanted these halls ? Where were they ? What were the feelings of the sole daughter of the house ? Silence, desolation, decay, here reigned absolutely ; wanting even the pictu- resque advantage of extreme antiquity to con- ceal the deformity they had effected. That evening passed off flatly ; and though all exerted themselves, dulness prevailed. Vavasour was to take his departure in the morning ; and Agnes felt what a blank there would be in her existence when left alone to think of the bright dream that had lately illumined her path. The respect created by the conviction of Vavasour's valuable qualities had been heightened into somewhat of a friend- lier nature by the strong testimonies she had lately heard in his favour. But, above all, THE TUFT-HUNTER. 129 above respect and esteem, there was a motive within her which could not be overlooked — gratitude — gratitude not only for his unwearied kindness towards her in the most minute de- tail, but for the preservation of her life. If gratitude and esteem, then, are good founda- tions of affection, the new sentiments of Agnes towards Vavasour will be deemed nei- ther improbable nor faulty. G J 1 30 THE TUFT-HUNTER, CHAPTER VIII. " Through groves so call'd as being void of trees, (Like lucus from no light) ; through prospects named Mount Pleasant, as containing nought to please, Nor much to climb ; through little boxes framed Of bricks, to let the dust in at your ease, Through " Rows " most modestly called " Paradise," Which Eve might quit without much sacrifice ; Through coaches, drays, choked turnpikes, and a whirl Of wheels, and roar of voices, and confusion ; Here taverns wooing to a pint of " purl," There mails fast flying off like a delusion ; • • • * • Through this, and much, and more, is the approach Of travellers to mighty Babylon. Byron. Vavasour had taken his departure for Lon- don, and the party at Harefield was reduced to its owners, when an event occurred that created some little sensation in that small coterie. THE TUFT-HUNTER. 131 " Here is an invitation, my love, from Mrs. Harcourt Evans, to pay her a visit in Lon- don," said Sir Walter, one morning, as he entered the breakfast-room, and found his niece presiding over the tea-table. " How tiresome !" replied Agnes ; " just at the time of the year when the country is so beautiful. But I won't go and leave you, uncle." "lam invited, too, if that be any consola- tion," replied the kind-hearted guardian ; " not that I see what good I should do in London; independently of that implacable enemy to all locomotion, the gout." "Oh do pray go, my dear uncle, for I am terribly afraid of this lady — " " But, my dear Agnes, there is really no reason why you should be afraid of her ; there is nothing in Mrs. Harcourt Evans to be alarmed at." " Oh ! do tell me, uncle, what she is like." " Mrs. Harcourt Evans, my dearest child, 1 32 THE TUFT-HUNTER. is unexceptionable alike in manners, character, and station. Here is her letter ; read it, and judge for yourself." Agnes took the letter, and proceeded to read as follows : " Dear Sir Walter, " Fearing until now Miss Callendar had been too young to be taken, even for a temporary period, from such a guardian as yourself, I have delayed writing to request you would allow me to have the happiness of introducing her ; and even now I should not venture to propose this, were I not aware that your habits of life open little opportunity to Miss Callendar of seeing the world, which I have no doubt you will agree with me in deeming advisable she should do. Some friends of mine, who have recently had the pleasure of seeing your grand niece, speak highly of her beauty, elegance, and accomplishments. If this projected scheme meet your approval, THE TUFT-HUNTER. 133 which I am most anxious it should do, I will finally arrange it next week, and will have the pleasure of sending my carriage for her. With a thousand kind wishes to your young protegee, and every respect for yourself, " I remain, dear Sir Walter, " Your faithful and obliged, " Idalise Harcourt Evans. " Grosvenor Street." " Mrs. Evans is most kind, and most flat- tering/' said Agnes, as she returned her com- munication to her guardian, " and yet I would rather not go — at least, at present." Sir Walter looked vexed, and in a some- what peevish tone exclaimed, "Not go! — surely that is an ungracious reply to so kind an in- vitation." " Oh ! my dear guardian ! my more than parent !" exclaimed Agnes, " how ungrateful I must appear, when I repay your kindness by complaint or lamentation ! But I implore 134 THE TUFT-HUNTER. your forgiveness. At your hands have I re- ceived every comfort which this world can bestow ; and, as the child of your adoption, I can neither desire nor seek any further protection." Sir Walter took his niece's hand in his, and, after assuring her that the first wish of his life was her welfare, she continued — " To your kindness I now appeal, to tell me every circumstance connected with my birth which has come to your knowledge." " My dear Agnes," said Sir Walter, " I am as ignorant as yourself of the particulars of your early life. The mystery in which your birth is involved, and which has since baffled every inquiry on my part, is one that I trust time will reveal. I had always intended to divulge all that had come to my knowledge, when I judged you to be of an age capable of comprehending those disadvantages to which a doubtful birth must expose you. I intended to do this in order that you might be prepa- THE TUFT-HUNTER. 135 red to meet the impertinent and prying curio- sity of that world which finds its favourite occupation in discovering and commenting on the affairs of others, and inflicts the deepest wounds under the semblance of the kindest pity and most heartfelt commisseration. I am sanguine enough to hope, however, that, shielded by my protection, introduced under my auspices, and supported by the kind care of Mrs. Harcourt Evans, you will never be exposed to annoyance, either on this point or on any other." Sir Walter then briefly entered into those circumstances connected with Agnes Calen- dar's history, of which our readers are already aware. The recital of her mother's grief, and of her father's lamentable and untimely end, pro- duced the deepest impression upon our heroine's mind, and it was long ere it recovered its usual tone. The shock she had sustained was severely felt, though it was, in a great degree, tempered by the affectionate con si- 136 THE TUFT-HUNTER. deration and the increased tenderness with which she seemed, if possible, to have inspired her kind protector. Sir Walter again lamented that he had, from the best motives, delayed to make the communication to his beloved niece at an ear- lier period, when the impression would not have been so severely felt. She was now of an age more fully to understand the disad- vantages under which she laboured, and was, therefore, more liable to feel humbled and depressed by them. It became, therefore, Sir Walter's constant study to efface the deep sense of her misfortunes, by adding to the consciousness of those blessings which had fallen to her lot. Until the present time, Agnes had not been brought forward in society. Bred up in seclusion from the world, she had, of course, none of those artificial advantages of style and manner which belong to young ladies of fashion; but, in lieu of these, she was en- THE TUFT-HUNTER. 137 dowed with that genuine grace which arises from native purity — gentleness and natural refinement. With very lively spirits, she possessed a fund of good sense and discretion, together with a rectitude of principle that ad- mitted of no compromise. Her education, which had been one of religious and moral simplicity, had omitted to teach her, that in good and evil, there is one law for the rich and another for the poor. She was ignorant of the fashionable interpretations of spirit, gallantry, and some other terms in the voca- bulary, of ton ; she admired virtue and re- volted from vice, wherever they were found. Agnes was now nearly eighteen, but her understanding was beyond her years; and she was fitted to appear and to shine in any society. The untimely fate of her unfortu- nate mother, the cruel sufferings of her father, seemed to affect her more deeply than the uncertainty of her own birth, however painful to her pure and delicate mind must be the 138 THE TUFT-HUNTER. idea, almost amounting to conviction, of her having been the offspring of crime and shame. Still, it was constantly and kindly represented to her that, as there was no actual proof of this fact, it could not by any means be esta- blished as such ; she could, therefore, only be considered the child of mystery, but not of disgrace. Agnes Callendar felt, if it were possible, more than a daughter's love for Sir Walter. A child has just claims to the affection of its parent ; but she had none on him, who had been to her more than a father. His love was the free-will offering to the homeless or- phan ; and her gratitude sprang from feelings stronger than the sense of duty, warmer than those of a daughter's, who is bound to repay that which she has a right to demand. But, as she had now attained the age when the etiquette of society authorizes a young lady to enter the world, as it is called, it was of course desirable to secure her initia- THE TUFT-HUNTER. 139 tion into the amusements and pursuits of a London life, under the auspices of a chaperon unexceptionable in character and station. Now, as Mrs. Harcourt Evans possessed this double qualification, her proposal to take charge of Miss Callendar was duly appre- ciated and accepted by Sir Walter. Nor was it certainly a trifling evidence of a total ab- sence of coquettish feeling that induced Mrs. Harcourt Evans at her age, and with some- what diminished but still pretty generally ac- knowledged claims to distinction as a beauty of no inferior order, to volunteer the part of chaperon to one whose loveliness was as in- disputable as her youth, and who inspired an admiration unqualified by disadvantageous re- trospective comparisons. And yet we know not whether in ascribing an extraordinary degree of merit to Mrs. Har- court Evans, we may not be unjustly compli- menting her at the expense of her sex, in thus sanctioning by implication that charge of jea- 140 THE TUFT-HUNTER. lousy and unamiable rivalry amongst them- selves, which is so frequently, and on such slight grounds, alleged against the fair por- tion of the creation. The truth is, that in society, notions founded upon prejudice, and unsupported by arguments — assertions which individual experience would generally tend to disprove — are too often accepted as self-evi- dent propositions, and reasoned upon with confidence by those who, in the abstract, would hesitate to grant them even a qualified assent. That sweeping censure, which im- putes to a whole class the foibles of a few, is equally unjust in morals and in philosophy, and how would the self-styled lords of the creation suffer by such a test ? In no instance does illiberality appear more conspicuous, or more directly opposed to good feeling, than when the character of the fair sex forms the object of its attack. None but those whose conduct has excluded them from all inter- course with the best specimens of womankind, THE TUFT-HUNTER. 141 or who derive their knowledge of female cha- racter from the coulisses of the opera, can be excused for indulging in stale and common- place disparagements of that sex whose claims to our gratitude and esteem are as strong as those (which few dispute) on our admiration and love. Agnes was in that happy season of life when the mind, like the smooth surface of an unruffled lake, reflects each passing image, and changes its aspect with every succeeding moment. If imperturbability is not the cha- racteristic of either, yet each can boast that, whilst the darkest cloud is soonest broken, the last ray of sunshine rests on the placid mirror in lengthened light. So it was with Agnes's spirits. The pang in leaving her uncle was lost in the anticipated pleasure of seeing the world, and shortly returning to her home ; and the transient anxiety she had felt on the subject of Mrs. Ilarcourt Evans was (let us confess it) nearly dispelled, when she thought 142 THE TUFT-HUNTER. that she might again fall into the society of Frank Vavasour. Spring, with all its bright train, (for no- body paints it with easterly winds and scathed flowers) was beckoning Agnes to depart. The trunks and chaperon, Mrs. Hardwick, were packed ; and on a bright May morning Miss Callendar quitted Harefield for London. Let us now follow the ladies on their jour- ney, the one silent, with glistening eyes, and heart throbbing with expectation ; the other drowsy and dusty ; chatting out all her fears, fatigues, and fancies. On the afternoon of the first day they found themselves upon that spirit-stirring threshold of London, the road fronting the George Inn at Hounslow, a spot memorable for the neat- ness of the turns out, before steam had super- seded horseflesh, and for the first glance of the distant murky haze arising from the sooty metropolis. The landlord's raised hat and " all paid boys " again sped them on their THE TUFT-HUNTER. 143 way, and Mrs. Hard wick, wrapping her cloak round her, reinsconced herself in her snug corner. They had now arrived at the extremity of those straggling crablike claws, with which London fixes its brick and mortar grasp upon the country, and, passing through Prospect Places, Pleasant Rows, Belle Vue Terraces, and the imlike, thus at length entered the me- tropolis. It was late in the evening when our travel- lers arrived in Grosvenor Street. Agnes was gentle, but not timid. The habit of thinking and deciding for herself, of receiving strangers, and such people as her guardian was too ill to converse with, of acting on all occasions as the mistress of his house, had given her manner a self-possession, unusual at her age. It was with a feeling of gratitude, therefore, unmixed with shyness or fear, that she prepared to enter the presence of Mrs. Harcourt Evans. That lady was seated in the most com- 144 THE TUFT-HUNTER. fortable of arm chairs, with a splendidly bound book open in her hand, and a small greyhound asleep on a red velvet cushion at her feet. She rose, and stretched out her hand as Agnes entered, and welcomed her most cordially. The year which had elapsed since Mrs. Harcourt Evans had caught but an imperfect view of her had added infinite em- bellishments to Agnes's person, and Mrs. Har- court Evans contemplated her young friend with a silent approbation and delight, exceed- ing that she had ever before experienced. When Agnes rose in the morning, the broad sun beamed into the windows of her apart- ment, which afforded a view of the trees in Hyde Park just bursting into leaf, and wear- ing that ephemeral look of freshness, so rare amid the smoke and dust of London. Her room was large, and decorated with all that ingenuity has contrived of luxury and Com- fort. " Surely I have much cause to be thankful," thought she, as she raised her eyes THE TUFT-HUNTER. 145 to the cloudless sky, and she remained musing on the past and the present, until summoned to the breakfast-table. Mrs. Harcourt Evans was there, as kind as on the previous evening, and expressed her- self highly pleased and proud of the new ac- quisition she had formed ; whilst Agnes, on her part, was charmed by the kind and en- dearing manner of her new friend. Blessed spring-time of life, when all that is novel strikes upon the imagination like beauty, and all that is good seeming tenfold more so by the light that youth sheds upon it ! VOL. I. 14G THE TUFT-HUNTER. CHAPTER IX. " You would be diverted with a Mrs. Holraan, whose pas- sion is keeping an assembly, and inviting, literally, every one to it. She goes to the Drawing-room to watch for sneezes, whips out a courtesy, and then sends next morning to know how your cold does, and desire your company on Thursday." — Walpole. Having introduced our heroine to London, we must here beg to pause awhile in the pro- gress of our story. Our last chapter has pre- sented to the notice of our readers a lady who claims at our hands some few moments of a brief retrospection, inasmuch as it may save our being taxed with the most heinous of faults, a want of due perspicuity. Mrs. Harcourt Evans had arrived at what Gay (not we) calls that happy climax of fe- THE TUFT-HUNTER. 147 male felicity — rich widowhood. Her father was a writer to the signet in Edinburgh, and, dying early, the young Idalise (so she was named, after her mother, a Frenchwoman) was brought up at a Parisian 'pension. At thirty years of age she married Mr. Harcourt Evans, a man of wealth and station ; and, entering at once into the giddy vortex of London society, soon acquired the ease of fashionable life. After fifteen years of " connubial bliss," her husband died, leaving her the bulk of his for- tune. Determined never again to taste the joys of matrimony, Mrs. Harcourt Evans, with a most laudable zeal for the welfare of others, was ever desirous of promoting it amongst her friends. She was a most inveterate match- maker. In other respects, she was one of those very ordinary persons, extremely good- natured, perfectly lady-like, had a small de- gree of taste in the fine arts, was fond of music, spoke French perfectly, and was de- h 2 148 THE TUFT-HUNTER. voted to all young marriageable ladies, who she thought would do credit to her taste. Something new in London, and, indeed, in all other societies, ever brings charms with it. Mrs. Harcourt Evans was vain, very vain. Food for her vanity was not always to be ob- tained : she loved, even through another, to be an object in whatever circle she mingled ; and she now contemplated, by Miss Calen- dar's introduction, to create a sensation in the beau monde. Such was the lady in whose house Miss Cal- lendar was now domiciliated for the London season. Mrs. Harcourt Evans, though she did not mingle in the elite of London society, opened her house more frequently, perhaps, than any other person for converzationes, to which she invited any and every body who was extraor- dinary or remarkable in any way whatever. The result was, that her parties were of a very heterogenous character, which procured for THE TUFT-HUNTER. 149 her house the sobriquet of " the menagerie." Saints and sinners, statesmen and preachers, rich and poor authors, artists, musicians, phi- losophers, editors, dilletanti, literati, politi- cians of all sorts and sizes, and " talented " people of every description, found admittance there. Foreigners of distinction were sought after by the hostess with the greatest avidity. Here you might see a celebrated church divine in close union with a Catholic bishop ; a Polish refugee jostled by a general of the Russian autocrat ; an author and a critic — awful col- lision ! — jammed together in the doorway ; an editor of a liberal newspaper wedged in with an ultra tory ; an Italian singer staring a ve- ritable " II Turco " out of countenance. A solemn, dogmatical argufier of metaphy- sics, in contact with a pert pretty miss ; an au- thor who had just published a new poem might hear it denounced as being of the poorest " Minerva press " order, his wit likened to the conventional jocosities of the ring at Astley's, 150 THE TUFT-HUNTER. and his rhyme just such as Byron's " bread and butter misses " furnish for albums ; a se- date country gentleman, who had written a pamphlet on the monetary system, and who was now deeply engaged with a brother mem- ber of Boodle's in discussing the solemn mys- teries of the game and poor laws, and the ope- rations of the treadmill, found his conversation interrupted by the eternal prattle of some young fashionable miss, who " raved " about the opera, Rubini, Almacks, the Blues' band, the Academy ball, and Lady Addison's last dejeune ; the tender scion of cockney poesy found himself in contact with the purveyor of intense tales to the passions. A young Frenchman, who had a perfect pas- sion pour la belle France, found himself obliged to listen to the grumbling of a regular John Bull traveller, who described the road to Paris, " ninety miles of pave, diversified by deep holes in the centre, and deep ruts at the side ; no other prospect but two straight rows of trees, with THE TUFT-HUNTER. 151 a gentle undulation of ploughed field, and the only living creatures that embellished it, a clod with a cocked hat, or a stray magpie. Whenever there is a hill which obliges you to go snail's pace, there is a beggar stationed at the foot of it, for the purpose of persecuting you to the top. Then the inns, first course bouilli, a roasted chanticleer, whose drum- sticks stick out long and strong as the shafts of a tilbury, and who cuts up as tough as if he had roused the neighbourhood for the last dozen years. If the weather is raw and dis- mal, your chimney smokes. As a matter of course, agreeable to the cold water cure code of the present day, you sleep in damp sheets, and are called before daylight to jump out of bed upon cold bricks. When you depart in the morning, there is a chorus of exclamations about the odd sous of the bill. The diligence is at the door — a huge, uncouth machine, of a colour perfectly indescribable; five wretched animals in rope harness are attached to it ; 152 THE TUFT-HUNTER. fifteen passengers inside, more in the cabrio- let, towers of luggage on the roof. The pos- tillion, in his dark bluejacket, turned up with scarlet, boots like two huge chimney-pots, a glazed hat, pigtail, and pipe, now indulges in a volley of ' morbleus, nom de tonnerre, sabre de bois, pistolet de paille, 9 while hordes of beg- gars surround your carriage, piteously exclaim- ing, ' Pour V amour du bon Dieu, un petit Hard, monsieur' Protect me from France," con- tinued the speaker, Lord Snarlbrook, who in the course of our narrative we shall again have occasion to introduce to our readers. As a set off to the above, Signora Bencini, an Italian singer, commenced a tirade against our foggy climate, which she described as damp, dismal, dark, wretched, consumptive, agueish, dull, cold, and cheerless, while she raved about Italy, the land of song and of bright blue skies. We will not carry our examples farther : suffice it to say there was a Babel-like confu- THE TUFT-HUNTER. 1 5 3 sion of tongues in this menagerie, where poli- tics, plots, parties, society, scandal, statistics, arts, sciences, religion, and literature, were each and individually discussed. With the advantages of wealth and widow- hood, Mrs. Harcourt Evans knew full well that she could command society, at home, in the more limited sense of the word, without entering into the more active gaieties of the world, and she wisely resigned her pretensions as a stirring member of the capricious legisla- ture of fashion, in the hope of becoming the centre of a more restricted, but more intellec- tual circle. In this she succeeded to a certain extent ; and, fancying her success to be more decided than it was in reality, she saw no rea- son to repent the new direction which she had given to her ambition. Nothing could more perfectly suit the turn of her mind than the quasi-literary, quasi-scientific, quasi-political atmosphere in which she now lived, impreg- H 5 154 THE TUFT-HUNTER. nated as it was with just sufficient of the leaven of fashionable society to rescue it from the mustiness of mere intellectualism and blueism. TOE TUFT-HUNTER. 155 CHAPTER X. " Miss Tittup. He has wit. " Lady Minikin. He is a lord, and a little goes a great way." Garrick's Bon Ton. We must now transport our readers to a very handsome suite of apartments in that earthly paradise of single men, the Albany. The library was a large and well furnished room, all the sides of which were occupied by very curious antique carved oak bookcases, filled with the most costly and elegant bound books. The works themselves, we must admit, were of a somewhat miscellaneous character, the gifted proprietor being perfectly satisfied with the exterior. On the mantelpiece stood some bronze figures, and a very splendid and elaborately ornamented French clock. The room was lighted by two large French win- 156 THE TUFT-HUNTER. dows, which, being partially open, admitted the pleasant breeze which was stirring without, and the odour of some choice flowers, while the strong light was mitigated by the half drawn blinds, and the ample silk window dra- peries. Snuff-boxes of every size, shape, and material, were dispersed over tables loaded with French novels and caricatures, with ob- jects of art and bijouterie. Richly decorated tables of the most beautiful marqueterie, marble slabs, candelabras, vases in a happy disorder, were dispersed about the room. The multitudinous knicknacketrie bespoke unbounded wealth, refined taste, and a habit of determined self-indulgence in the owner. Many and various were the forms of easy chairs and sofas distributed through the room. Extended upon one lay the presiding genius of the place, Lord Montressor, with his tuft- hunting friend Lionel Crouch, seated by his side. His Lordship was attired in a morning THE TUFT-HUNTER. 157 robe of rich rose-coloured satin; a Genoa velvet cap, embroidered with gold, adorned his head ; and his feet were shod with slip- pers of the same costly materials. His occu- pation was smoking a magnificent hookar. As to the wearer, it must be acknowledged that he did not reflect any particular grace upon this splendid apparel. He was of mean stature, fat, and round-shouldered. His coun- tenance was not merely heavy, but absolutely void of all expression. On a large table lay a great number of dinner and evening cards, a guitar, notes, let- ters, &c. &c. Beside him, on the well stuffed morocco leather sofa, lay a small king Charles's spaniel, not inappropriately named after the merry monarch " Roue," while a Newfound- land dog reposed at his feet on the bright flowers of the Brussels carpet. Throughout the room, in disordered confusion, might be seen foils, fishing-tackle, cricket-bats, scienti- fic apparatus, guns, pistols, flutes, and whips, 158 THE TUFT-HUNTER. the tout ensemble fit image of the mind of many of the owner's fashionable friends, fine materials, ill-arranged and sadly misplaced. Lord Montressor, to use his own words, had traversed Europe to study the arts at the fountain head — had wept tears of joy and enthusiasm over the works of the sublime Michael Angelo, and the divine Raffael — im- bibed the Carracci at Bologna — worshipped Corregio at Parma, and insulated himself at Venice, to imbue his taste with the fascina- tions of Tintoretto, Titian, and Paul Veronese, and had now only just returned from Italy, to take possession of his title and estate. He was an admirer of les beaux arts, a perfect connoisseur, an ardent virtuoso ; he could talk of nothing but the genial clime of the south, described his horror at being obliged to vegetate in the foggy atmosphere of Eng- land, and was full of the land of song and fine arts ; dropping occasional hints concern- ing scores of Italian duchesses and countesses THE TUFT-HUNTER. 159 who had compromised their slender remains of reputation, pour P amour de ses beaux geux, and afterwards attempted to poison him for his inconstancy. His lordship aimed at being a wit and a poet ; though, as Sheridan said, a joke in his mouth was no laughing matter. His witti- cisms were borrowed from the most approved authorities ; but his poetry was unquestion- ably original. Lord Montressor was devoted to jewelry, and wore rings and chains enough to have furnished the lord mayor and court of alder- men with their civic baubles. As his protege Crouch (of whom more anon) remarked, he was literally hung in chains. We have now only to sum up this brief ac- count of his lordship by saying, that if the Marquis de Sevigne merited, from his love of bijouterie, the title of Le roi des bagatelles;, Lord Montressor might with equal justice have disputed the sovereignty. 160 THE TUFT-HUNTER. During his residence in Italy, Lord Mon- tressor fell in with the brightest musical genius of our times, Rossini, who was indulging in the most delightful dolce far niente, amidst the flowers of his lovely villa. Among the noble bores by whom the great maestro was daily assailed, Lord Montressor was the great- est. His lordship looked upon himself as a distinguished amateur of Moupon's romances, and was continually inflicting them upon the immortal composer of Mose. One evening, at the palace of Rossini, when the great maestro was gratifying the elite of tra- vellers with his air from the Barbiere, Montres- sor made his way to the pianoforte, and produ- cing a romance by Moupon, whose vocal part only he had copied into his music book, re- quested M. Rossini's genius would condescend to make up for the absent accompaniment. The ilhistrissimo Signor graciously bowed acquies- cence. Lord Montressor put his handkerchief to his nose, coughed ceremoniously, touched THE TUFT-HUNTER. 1 61 his throat with his hand, and complained that he was not in good voice, and when about to commence, requested the maestro to favour him with a substantial ritornello, in order that he might take breath between the stanzas, and prepare himself for a passage at the end of the romance, written somewhat too high for his vocal powers. Rossini forthwith exe- cuted a ritornetto, which enraptured the whole audience, and greatly encouraged the noble amateur, but the unfortunate lord was not musician enough to judge of the portee of the scientific modulation which had treacherously- transferred the melody to a higher tone. The poor singer, who ascribed the uneasiness of his voice to emotion, made extraordinary efforts to catch the high notes of the passages he dreaded ; and such is the power of confidence, that he attacked in a very respectable style notes which he would have deemed beyond his reach if he had known of the trick played upon him. "Bravo!" exclaimed the maestro; "bra 1 62 THE TUFT-HUNTER. vissimo!" — "The ritornello, if you please,*' sighed the amateur, nearly overcome with his efforts. Rossini resumed another series of modulations, and again transposed the ill- fated romance a semi-tone higher. The noble singer was deluged with perspiration, but he had the honour of singing in presence of Rossini, the genius of music. He therefore struggled on with his fate, and, throwing his head back, roared out his arduous passages. " Bravis- simo" reiterated the great composer; " Rubini would not acquit himself of it in better style, I can assure you." — " The ritornello" said his panting lordship, anxious to extricate himself at any cost from his fatal enterprise. He was then treated with a fresh series of modulations, which once more raised the air in such a man- ner as to render it inaccessible to Rubini him- self. Lord Montressor, exasperated against difficulties which he could not account for, rushed headlong into the peril ; but, alas ! the powers of man are not boundless. When the THE TUFT-HUNTER. 163 singer reached for the third time the formid- able passage which rose every moment higher and higher, he uttered a tremendous squeak, which kindled one of the loudest and most universal fits of laughter upon record. "Bravo, mats malheureuw guerrier," said Rossini in Italian French, " Mi lord, voila ouna romance qui vous honore dans mon esprit ; il y a long temps que le Signor Moupon ne m'avait fait tant de plaisir." There are certain persons to be met with in the highest class of London society, whose presence there might reasonably excite as much astonishment as did the cargo of shoes and blankets which some philanthropic per- sons forwarded to the black population of the West Indies ; persons neither distinguished by birth, fortune, talent, figure, nor address. When any novice in the science of worldly wisdom is tempted to inquire how one of these worthies get the entree into society, the answer is generally vague and unsatisfactory. 1 64 THE TUFT-HUNTER. Should the inquisitive pursue their inquiry, they will find the latent merit which gives vogue to a man of low extraction and vulgar habits is that he is a useful man ; endowed with small abilities and great subserviency ; who toadies the leaders of fashion ; whose easy temper can endure and forget a passing slight ; who will lend his unceasing exertions to any cause wherein he may be profitably retained ; and who brings to the table of his patron the scandal of the day, and a few wit- ticisms of moderate merit, in return for a cutlet and sillery. A being of this M'Sycophant order, once favoured by an auspicious opening into so- ciety, is sure of rising to its highest point. " It is an eagle only, or a reptile" says the philosopher, " which attains the summit of the pyramid." And Lionel Crouch, our hero, may be fairly included among the " creeping things innumerable," who owe their elevation to the patience and perseverance of their THE TUFT-HUNTER. 165 crawling. Independently of his fawning pro- pensities, he was a perfect listener and flat- terer. A perfect listener should he composed of the same materials the Due de Sully gives for making a great statesman, " little feeling and no passions ; " and these qualifications our Tuft-hunter possessed in a great degree. To those who may wonder how such a creature should have won followers hy his flattery, we will only repeat what the wisest have admitted before us — that flattery is pleasing, even from the mouth of a madman ; and that censure, as well as praise, often af- fects us, while we despise the opinions of those who express it. Lionel Crouch, or, as he was usually called, " snuff-box Crouch," was a regular Tuft- hunter, a hanger-on to the nobility. His taste was to boast of an intimacy with people of rank, and to call noblemen by their una- dorned titles. At Eton and Cambridge his ambition had ever been to live on intimate 166 THE TUFT-HUNTER. terms with the aristocracy. On leaving col- lege, he had made a tour in Italy, and had trod himself into society. To remedy any obscurity that may attach to this expression, we will explain. — Lionel Crouch had a way peculiar to himself of form- ing acquaintances, namely, by treading lightly upon their feet-fingers (as an Italian Countess denominated her doigts de pieds). This gave him the opportunity of making V amende ho- ?iorable 9 and he took advantage of it by ex- pressing his deep regrets at his awkwardness, adding a salve to the sufferer, in the shape of a highly complimentary speech, and offering an English newspaper of the latest date, which he always carried about with him, and his own services as cicerone during their sejour in the same town. But a worm will turn, if tram- pled upon; and, one day, unfortunately for Crouch, he tried his footing with a. testy, elderly nobleman from the Emerald Isle, who was suffering under a slight fit of the gout. THE TUFT-HUNTER. 167 The peer stormed ; in vain the Tuft-hunter stammered out an apology. Finding that failed, he tried the soothing system, and in- quired after his lordship's son. This added fuel to the fire, for the hopeful son and heir had been expelled Oxford, and was now suf- fering under his parent's serious displeasure. As a last resource, Crouch offered the latest newspaper ; but, unfortunately, it happened to be the Courier, in which newspaper the noble lord had been severely lashed for a gross job connected with public improvements, in which his lordship's private ends had been too openly consulted. This caused the volcano to burst forth upon the devoted head of poor Crouch, who sounded a retreat, and quickly turned his inventive brain to a way of accom- plishing his views, without subjecting himself to the anger of irate tender-feeted gentlemen. His newspaper-system succeeded best ; as he now took the precaution of ascertaining the politics of the parties he presented them 1 6 8 THE TUFT-HUNTER. to ; and to this he added the bright thought which gave him the sobriquet of " Snuff-box." By always carrying some three or four snuff- boxes, he was enabled to " lead" many an acquaintance " by the nose" — a pinch of the Harrington mixture to an amateur, of Lundy Foote to an Emeralder, or a prise of highly- scented rappee to an elderly lady, always procured a bowing acquaintance, and it gene- rally ended by a more intimate one. Lord Montressor had met Crouch at Flo- rence, and, hearing of his propensity, made the first advance, preferring, as his lordship said, a bowing acquaintance to having his feet trodden upon. The manner in which Lionel Crouch improved that acquaintance was a perfect coup de maitre, and deserves to be recorded. — Understanding that Lord Mon- tressor was particularly desirous of becoming the possessor of a unique bust of Canova's, the indefatigable Tuft-hunter immediately went to the sculptor who had the disposal of THE TUFT-HUNTER. 160 it, and got the promise of the refusal of this splendid work of art. When the noble con- noisseur applied for it, he was informed that Signor Lionel Crouch had been before him, and, in the event of the government declining it, would become the fortunate purchaser. This rendered his lordship doubly anxious; and, after sundry little attentions, in the shape of dinners, opera-boxes, and introduc- tions to his aristocratic friends, Crouch re- signed his claim in the bust to his patron, and they became inseparables ever after. To be Lord Montressor's friend (he would have shuddered to be called hanger-on) con- tented Crouch's warmest ambition, because through it he enjoyed the gratifying privilege of moving in the first circles abroad. We ought not to omit to mention that Lionel Crouch knew the " human studbook" by heart. He observed with great care the different grades and degrees of the peerage, in the selection of his invitations, and of those VOL. T. i 1 70 . THE TUFT-HUNTER. with whom he (was) honoured with an arm down St. James's Street or Pall Mall ; and it is reported that he, upon one occasion, went through every gradation of the " knightage," " baronetage," and " peerage," between Crockford's and the House of Lords. " Ah ! Sir Hector, are you going to take a tarn ? " said he, seizing the arm of one of Wellington's most distinguished K. C. B.s. " I have an appointment at the United Service Club," responded the veteran, drily. "lam going your way," rejoined the Tuft- hunter ; but, ere they had reached the cross- ing of Jermyn Street, Sir Henry Moreland, Bart., met them, and gave a cold recognition in passing — " I beg your pardon, Sir Hector, but I must say a few words to Sir Henry — excuse me — good morning." The Tuft-hunter caught his baronet, before he reached Piccadilly, and as, of course, he happened " to be going the same way," took THE TUFT-HUNTER. 171 his arm. At Devonshire House, Lord Rivers- dale's cab drew up, and, while his lordship was giving his card to the porter, Crouch remembered that he had something very par- ticular to say to the lordling. " I am off to the House, Crouch," said Riversdale. " That will just suit me," replied the toady; but, on passing Brook's, Crouch spied the young Viscount Millbanke's visage at the window, and, having left his friend Rivers- dale, was, in a short time, loitering down St. James's Street, by the side of one of the emptiest lords in London. At Sams's door, the Earl of Fochaber's curricle was in wait- ing, and the Tuft-hunter remembered that he had business of some importance anent the Tweed fisheries with his lordship. Despite, however, of numerous hints, the shrewd man of the north would not invite Crouch to take a seat in his carriage, and he was beginning to be au desespoir, when the Marquis of Selby I 2 1 72 THE TUFT-HUNTER. and the Duke of Strettrington chanced to Leaving the Earl, the Tuft-hunter joined the two noblest ornaments of the aris- tocratic pillars ! Upon more than one occasion, Crouch had fallen when trying to mount the aristocratic ladder, for, like his inimitable prototype, Sir Luke Limp, in Foote's comedy, he sacrificed all ranks for a duke. On the Epsom day, when " men about town" are somewhat scarce, Crouch had accepted an invitation to dine with the Earl of Avondale. His lordship was a wit, and found in the Tuft-hunter a most admirable butt to practise at. Crouch, too, was a capi- tal echo at the further end of his dinner-table, and got all his lordship's stray opinions by heart, which he sported as his own. On the evening before the day of the dinner, a note reached Crouch from the Duke of Strettring- ton, containing an invitation to dinner for the following day, and apologizing for the mistake and delay in the delivery of the note, caused THE TUFT-HUNTER. 173 by the carelessness of a servant. Lionel lost no time in accepting his grace's invitation, and writing a few lines to his friend the earl, to the effect that " circumstances inevitable compelled him to leave town for Brighton, and that he trusted his lordship would excuse him in not fulfilling his engagement." So far, so good ; and, although Crouch felt, like the king in Bombastes Furioso, " To stay from either he was very loth, And sighed to think he could not dine at both/' he consoled himself by the thoughts of the eclat that would accrue to him, by dining with the duke. But the course of dining out, like true love, did not run smooth, for on the very day of the dinner, just as Crouch was waiting near Tattersall's, to get a smile, nod, look, or recognition from the titled sportsmen return- ing from the Derby, the Duke of Strettrington's carriage drew up, and, as the Tuft-hunter made his way towards it, to his extreme 174 THE TUFT-HUNTER. dismay, he found the Earl of Avondale by his grace's side. " Why, Crouch, I thought you were at Brighton !" exclaimed the former. " We dine at half past eight," said the duke, at which Crouch remarked a conversation being carried on sotto voce between the two noble lords. Crouch retired somewhat abashed, but still remembered the glory of being noticed in the following morning papers, as one of the distinguished guests at Strettrington House. Lionel rode home, made a most elaborate toilet, smiled complacently at himself, as he entered one of Bryant's best " glass cha- riots," and heard his valet ostentatiously di- rect the coachman to Strettrington House. Off the chariot whirled, and reaching Park Lane, great was our hero's consternation at finding a servant waiting at the door with a rueful countenance ; and which look was shortly explained by a note, that was put into Crouch's hand, stating, that an express had just arrived from Vienna, with the account of THE TUFT-HUNTER. 1 75 the death of his grace's second son. Crouch returned to his lodgings, where he made a solitary meal, and was not a little vexed upon the following morning, when he saw the account of the Earl of Avondale's grand banquet duly announced in the Post. This and another contretemps had driven Crouch abroad, for he could not brave the ridicule attached to the latter, and which was caused by his having sacrificed a baronet for a viscount : but, unfortunately, in his hurry, he had put the refusal to Sir John into the envelope directed to the noble lord, who, failing in getting a party at home, had ac- cepted an invitation into the country, so that, when Crouch attended at the appointed time, he found the house shut up ; and on entering the supper-room at Crockford's, to console himself for the loss of his dinner, he was not a little surprised to find the worthy baronet's reception the north side of friendly. An eclair 'ci&semetU took place, and Sir John put 176 THE TUFT-HUNTER. into his hand the note the Tuft-hunter had addressed to the noble lord, in which he con- gratulated himself that his lordship's note had just arrived when he was deliberating whether he should accept that horrid old bore, Sir John Hatherton's, invitation. Crouch had now established himself in London, and had obtained the notoriety he coveted, by coming forward on the ultra- liberal interest, for the borough of Hawkstone. Like a genuine tuft-hunter, he had on the hustings affected a great contempt for rank and title ; and inveighed against the aristo- cracy as a rotten and despicable institution — as " the fungus, the wen, the excrescence of society." Yet off the hustings, he found his contempt of the order perfectly consistent with the most abject deference to any indi- vidual belonging thereto. High and conspi- cuous upon the bright surface of the mirror which adorned his mantelpiece were placed the visiting or invitation cards of such THE TUFT-HUNTER. 177 titled persons as he had contrived to scrape acquaintance with. Their names were ever upon his lips, as " delightful women, excellent fellows." Lionel Crouch had paid dearly for the honour of the countenance of the nobility, for it is scarcely an exaggeration to say, a drive in Lord Stakeland's phaeton in the park had cost him five hundred pounds, and a dinner at Greenwich with the Earl of Cumberlege and his friends had stood him in a thousand, which the noble party won from him at hazard. Crouch always made a point of going out of town and returning once a week, that his name might appear among the arrivals and departures in the Morning Post, and took the trouble of communicating every dinner and evening engagement he accepted to that fashionable organ, for the pleasure of seeing his name blazoned forth in its foremost ranks. In addition to the above mentioned qualities, Lionel Crouch had one peculiarity worth re- i :> 1 78 THE TUFT-HUNTER. cording, namely, that he was always "going your way ;" that is, be it understood, the way of every nobleman of fashion. If by chance some spendthrift lord was wending his way towards some rich man of the East, a city money-lender, and chanced to fall in with the Tuft-hunter, he was sure to be " going his way," and offered his arm to the half ruined scion of nobility — if some Corinthian pillar of the state was bending his steps towards the Queen's Bench, to see some quondam friend, whose extravagancies had caused him to be im- mured within its walls, and happened to meet Crouch, he was equally sure to be " going his way " — if some kind-hearted nobleman was chaperoning some country cousin to the Zoo- logical Gardens in the Regent's Park, and was unfortunate enough to cross Lionel's path, he was also sure to be " going his way" — if some hereditary legislator was on his way to the House of Lords, to deliver himself of an im- promptu speech, fait a loislr, and fell in with THE TUFT-HUNTER. 1 7.0 the Tuft-hunter, the latter was sure to be " going his way " — if some young aristocratic M.P. was walking towards St. Stephen's, re- hearsing his maiden speech by the way (which oration, if even " inaudible in the gallery," would probably appear in print, interlarded with hears and cheers, corrected and revised by the author), and met Crouch, nothing short of a miracle could prevent our hero joining the sucking senator, as he happened to be " going his way " — if a sporting peer w T as on his road to Tattersall's, and encountered the aristocratic hanger-on, he was sure to be "going his way!" East, west, north, and south, were all the same to Crouch, so long as the loadstar of nobility pointed that way. To try how far Lionel would " go your way," an eccentric peer, after giving him a supper at the piazza coffee-house, took hi in by the hand, wishing him "good night." " Stay," says Lionel, " I am going your way." His friend stepped onward, out of his own 180 THE TUFT-HUNTER. way, with Crouch, to Lambeth, when con- triving to amuse Lionel with an account of a very recherche aristocratic dinner, he brought him back to the Bedford in Covent Garden at three in the morning, where, after drink- ing some soda and brandy, a new departure was taken, with " Good morning, Lionel, I am going home to the Regent's Park." " Well," says the Tuft-hunter, " that's in my way;" and, upon leaving his friend in Sussex Terrace, he took his leave a second time, and afterwards walked leisurely home to his lodgings in Clifford Street. A few mornings after Miss Callendar's arrival in town, and the one we have described at the commencement of this chapter, Lionel Crouch found himself, as was his daily cus- tom, at the breakfast-table of Lord Montres- sor in the Albany. " Oh, Montressor, such an importation ! a perfect divinity ! the image of the Spinoza, who you remember at Florence ; rich as Cro> THE TUFT-HUNTER. 181 sus, face angelic, figure superb : she'll turn every man's head in London." " She seems to have turned yours," replied the virtuoso. " How can I say whether I have seen her, when, in your rhapsody, you have quite forgotten to ' name,' as we say in the house ?" " Name ! what's in a name ?" replied Lionel. " A rose " " Pshaw !" interrupted Montressor, " have done with your poetical effusion, and in sim- ple prose say who your modern Venus is#" " Agnes Callendar, of Hazelwood Court, in the county of Sussex, only daughter of the late Sir Charles Callendar, Bart., a distant cousin to the present, and now on a visit to Mrs. Harcourt Evans, in Grosvenor Street." " Mrs. Harcourt Evans," replied Lord Mon- tressor, " let us see ; I fancy I know the name ; oh, here it is." Taking up the Morning Post, he read, " fashionable arrangements : June 2nd., Mrs. 182 THE TUFT-HUNTER. Harcourt Evans, a concert in Grosvenor Street. July 29, Mrs. Harcourt Evans's grand ball to the elite of society." " Lionel," said his lordship, " we must get invited; arrange it to-day; nothing so easy : get introduced yourself, and then present me. Say, I wish to see her Louis Quatorze clock ; she's sure to have one." " I will do my best," replied Crouch. " You can have my hacks to-day," con- tinued his lordship, " you are sure to see her in the park : dine with me at eight, at the Clarendon ; perhaps you'll order dinner as you go by." This conversation was put an end to by the entrance of the breakfast, during the discus- sion of which Lionel Crouch continued his rhapsodies : " perfect !" u beautiful !" " ex- quisite !" " tender !" " splendidly dressed !" but whether these panegyrics applied to the rognons au vin de Champagne, the pate de foie gras, the cotelletes d'Agneau, or the divine Agnes, we are at a loss to determine. THE TUFT-HUNTER. 183 Crouch now took his leave, and after or- dering a sumptuous dinner at the Clarendon, mounted his friend's horses, and, after paying sundry visits, wended his way towards the park. After a few turns between the line of carriages, during which time his head nodded like a Chinese joss to almost every passer-by, he espied the gorgeous crimson liveries of Mrs. Harcourt Evans. Crouch having " marked" his game, now galloped off to the statue, where a crowd of idle eques- trians were basking in the sun. " Here's Snuffbox ! here's Crouch ! the nuisance ! the bore !" exclaimed some half- dozen, moving off as the intruder approached. "Ah, Mordaunt, how are you ? do we meet at Montressor's to-day?" inquired the Tuft-hunter. " Calthorpe, a pinch of snuff? Elgin, I expected you at Lady Burroughs's last night ; I waited near the door for half an hour to present you. I beg your pardon, my lord," addressing a young fashionable ex- 184 THE TUFT-HUNTER. quisite, just emancipated from Oxford, " but I rather think your horse has picked up a stone ; allow me to see." " You are vewy kind," lisped his lordship. Crouch alighted, took up the horse's foot, scraped it lightly with his stick, and pro- nounced it all right. His lordship again ex- pressed his " gwatitude" which led to further remarks, and Lionel had the satisfaction of adding another titled acquaintance to his numerous list — Lord St. Regis, of Christ Church, Oxford ; heir to a large fortune ; very young, very good-looking, and who certainly had as beautiful light auburn hair as ever curled and clustered over an empty head. At this moment, the gaudy carriage with crimson liveries approached. "Who's this? it looks like royalty;" in- quired one of the loungers. " Mrs. Harcourt Evans," replied Lionel : " she gives a concert on the 2nd of June : are you going to it, Ray ?" THE TUFT-HUNTER. 185 " No," rejoined the latter. " Are you, Caltliorpe ?" " I have not the honour of her acquaint- ance," responded Lord Calthorpe. " I wather think I shall," observed the lordling we have before alluded to, " though I am told they are insuffewably cioowded." Crouch now saw where his chance lay, and after complimenting his lordship upon the degree he had just taken, (en passant, be it said that the young nobleman had nearly been plucked,) and praising his lordship's horse, and eulogizing his lordship's exploits at a steeple-chase, so far succeeded in ingra- tiating himself with the young peer as to be asked to take a turn towards the " gawdens" " Introduce me to Lord St. Regis," said Crouch to a young guardsman, who had just- joined the coterie. " St. Regis, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Lionel Crouch. Mr. Lionel Crouch, Lord St. Regis." 186 THE TUFT-HUNTER. There was an exchange of bows, and the two new acquaintances proceeded towards Kensington Gardens. Crouch, anxious to overtake Mrs. Harcourt Evans, proposed a canter. " What a perfect lady's horse that would make," said he ; " how well his shoulders are put on — a splendid goer !" Amidst this shower of compliments, they neared the scarlet liveries. Mrs. Harcourt Evans gave the young lord a most gracious smile. "Is not that Mrs. Harcourt Evans?" in- quired Crouch. " The identical," responded St. Regis. " By the way," resumed the former, " I wish to be presented to her ; I have a message from Montressor ; you know Montressor ?" " Only by wcputation" answered the young nobleman. " He is a most excellent fellow," said Lionel, " and you will like him amazingly." THE TUFT-HUNTER. 187 After suffering a short pause to elapse, he added, " oh, here's the carriage ; just mention my name and Montressor's." The crowd of carriages near Kensington Gardens had compelled Mrs. Harcourt Evans to return ; and as she passed Lord St. Regis, she again bestowed upon him one of her most fascinating smiles. His lordship approached the carriage window. " May I have the honour of pwesenting a friend of mine? — he has a message from Lord Montwessor" Before the lady had time to give a response, Crouch was by his patron's side. " Mrs. Hawcourt Evans, allow me to pwesent Mr. Lionel Cwouch" Crouch took off his hat, made a most reverential bow, which was met by rather a formal return, but Lionel Crouch was not the man to be daunted. " I feel greatly obliged to St, Regis," he said, approaching the carriage, " for this in- troduction ; I have long been desirous of such 188 THE TUFT-HUNTER. an honour." Mrs. Harcourt Evans made a slight obeisance. Lionel resumed : " My friend Montressor is dying to be presented to you; he raves about your house, and a Lewis Quatorze clock, which, Emanuel says, is unique" " Lord Montressor is very kind," responded the lady. " Would it be too great a liberty," con- tinued the persevering Crouch, " if some afternoon, during your absence from home, you w r ould permit him to see it." " At all times I shall be happy to shew so great a connoisseur as Lord Montressor any object in my house worthy of his attention," rejoined Mrs. Harcourt Evans, with a look of espieglerie, that would have told a duller man than Crouch that his object was seen through, and so in truth it was, for the widow had quickness to observe the increased anx- iety of many of what the newspapers call the leading fashionables to form her acquaintance since the arrival of the reigning beauty. THE TUFT-HUNTER. 189 A pause of a few seconds succeeded, during which the lady turned rapidly over in her mind the possibility of inviting the toadeed without the toady to her concert ; but, con- sistent with good breeding, it seemed impos- sible ; so she continued : " Mr. Crouch, perhaps Lord Montressor and yourself would come to me upon the 2nd of June." " I will answer both for Montressor and myself," rejoined Crouch ; who, after a few complimentary speeches, and some remarks about his friend St. Regis, took his leave, and joined the young lord, who had cantered off towards the gardens. At a little before eio-ht o'clock Crouch en- o tered the Clarendon hotel ; in a few moments his patron appeared. " Well, Lionel, what success?" " Triumphant ! an invitation for the concert on the 2nd June. The widow was somewhat coy at first, but I administered a dose of 190 THE TUFT-HUNTER. ' soft sawdor,' and she yielded to my re- quest. I hear the Callendar girl has at least ten thousand a year, and five thousand acres within a ring fence : there's a spec." Dinner was now announced, where we leave the convives to enjoy one of Mrs. Chap- lin's most recherche repasts, (during which the health of the young heiress was drank with the honours), and begin a fresh chapter for fresh occurrences. THE TUFT-HUNTER. 191 CHAPTER XL " To-morrow there is a party of purple at the " blue" Mrs. Shall I go ? — Um ? I don't much affect your blue- bottles It will be composed of a strange sprink- ling — orators, dandies, and all kinds of Blue, from the regular Grub-street uniform down to the azure jacket of the Littera- teur. To see and sitting together at dinner, always reminds me of the grave, where all distinctions of friend and foe are levelled ; and they — the reviewer and reviewee — the rhinoceros and elephant, the mammoth and megalonyx— all will lie quiet together. They now sit together, as silent, but not so quiet as if they were already immured." Byron's Journal. "And yet we shall have the whole crew on our kibes — Blues, dandies, and dowagers, and second-hand scribes, All nocking to moisten their exquisite throttles With a glass of madeira at Lady Bluebottles." Bvron. No sooner had the Morning Post announced the arrival of Miss Callendar, upon a visit to Mrs. Harcourt Evans, in Grosvenor Street, 192 THE TUFT-HUNTER. than Vavasour hastened to call upon the widow. He was ushered into the drawing-room, which he found tenantless, and remained for a few moments on the tiptoe of expectation. At length the door opened, and Mrs. Harcourt Evans appeared, unattended, however, by her young protegee. A variety of commonplace subjects were discussed, in which Vavasour tried to lead up to the mention of Miss Callendar; but so silent was the usually loquacious matchmaker upon the subject, that he began to doubt the accuracy of the information conveyed through the fashionable organ of the day. Just as Vavasour was about to take his de- parture and was on the very tenter-hook, of disappointment, Mrs. Harcourt Evans removed his doubts and fears by saying : "I have a young friend staying with me with whom I believe you are acquainted — Miss Callendar, a niece of Sir Walter's. '" Vavasour stammered out that he had had THE TUFT-HUNTER. 193 the pleasure of meeting Miss Callendar at Harefield and Ravensbrook. " True," replied Mrs. Harcourt Evans, " I remember hearing of your visit there : nay, if I recollect rightly, you were of signal ser- vice to poor Agnes on the night of the fire." Vavasour coloured slightly. Mrs. Harcourt Evans continued. " If that dreadful House of Commons does not keep you on Friday next, will you excuse a short invitation, and dine with me. I have a few friends in the evening." Vavasour expressed his happiness at ac- cepting the invitation, and shortly retired, delighted with the prospect of again meeting her who had made so deep an impression upon his feelings. Friday came. Vavasour was detained late in the House ; and, upon his arrival at Mrs. Harcourt Evans's, found several guests, male and female, already in the drawing-room. Din- ner being announced, Mrs. Harcourt Evans vol. I. K 194 THE TUFT-HUNTER. took the proffered arm of Lord Melincourt, a political lion of the day. The rest of the party followed ; and Vavasour found himself placed between Lady Aspell and Miss Callendar. The conversation turned upon various sub- jects. Mrs. Harcourt Evans, who addressed herself principally to the Lord of the Treasury, showed by her conversation that she took almost as much interest in the state questions of the day, as if she had been one of the ca- binet. The dinner passed as most large dinners do ; that is, little was heard during the first course beyond the ring and clatter incident upon the rapid change of plate and dishes, and the jingle of glasses. Common observations and trite remarks upon passing occurrences were added to this running accompaniment during the second ; and by the time the dessert was fairly on the table and the seivants with- drawn, the large party seemed broken into separate tetc-a-tetes, in each of which the con- THE TUFT-HUNTER. 195 versation was carried on with as perfect indif- ference to the collective body as if a party wall had substantially intervened between them. After dinner, Frank Vavasour found himself seated in the far part of the room, with a sofa- table, and innumerable books of prints upon it before him, and by the side of Agnes Cal- lendar. It is wonderful how much prints and drawings aid conversation. One topic led to another, and finally drew them into criticizing the malevolence of the world. " Ill-nature," said Vavasour, " is a quality (may it not be a passion ?) so inherent in the human mind, that few persons, if any, are exempt from its influence." " True," replied Agnes. " Our wonderment, therefore," continued Frank, "at an arrogant assumption in those of mediocre, if not of absolutely imbecile ca- pacity, should be lessened, if it cannot alto- gether be extinguished. In truth, all persons of a low level understanding are naturally of K 2 1 9 6 THE TUFT-HUNTER. a temperament eager to be ruffled above its lowness ; and the desire in such minds is to depress merit, or the rise of superiority, be- neath, or at least to their own level." " Witness," interrupted his fair listener, " Lady Aspill at dinner to-day." " But this class," proceeded Vavasour, " of which you have just given a tolerable sample, possesses power merely through the influence of its numbers — if it can be numbered — and from the general disposition of mankind to believe the worst of everybody. It is this class of persons that generally give birth to all the idle scandals propagated by the un- thinking, and who make a crusade against all that is eminent in talent, in spirit, and in worth." " I meant not to charge Lady Aspill with slander," said the kind-hearted Agnes. " None will accuse you, Miss Callendar, of uncharitableness," rejoined Frank, in the most tender yet respectful manner. THE TUFT-HUNTER. 197 Agnes slightly blushed — Vavasour re- sumed : — " To the weak and wicked influence thus described must be added the talent and acti- vity of those whose inclinations are so opposed to goodness, that their chief occupation in the world seems to be to encourage in people ' the alacrity of sinking.' " " You draw a sad picture of human life," said Agnes, mournfully. " It is a true one, nevertheless," continued Vavasour. " Envy is part and parcel of poor human nature ; it constitutes, in particular, the characteristic of those thousands who, to the conceit of fools, unite the venom of ser- pents." As he paused, Agnes said, " You have in- terested me upon this subject, and must not quit it so abruptly," " Walter Scott," resumed Vavasour, " was master of this key to human character and conduct. His truths, or * novels,' owe their 198 THE TUFT-HUNTER. chief strength to the vitality of character origi- nating in his personal penetration and sagacity. The author of Waverley drew his likenesses of human nature from no lay-figures of previous novelists ; he made the world's man and the world's woman sit to him; and he painted them to the life." The conversation was put an end to by Mrs. Harcourt Evans calling to Miss Callendar to come and assist her in receiving her guests, who, by the noise in the hall, were beginning to assemble. By degrees the company came dropping in. An antiquated town dowager, with three wall- flower daughters, entered the room, and looked cold and sulky, as they perceived they were amongst the first arrivals : for it is an awful thing to be the first at a soiree. Then it always happens in these cases, that the very people arrive together whom you least wish should come in contact with each other. If you have a particularly unpresentable old THE TUFT-HUNTER. 199 maid, a vulgar talkative widow, or an enor- mously rich and fat east-end heiress on your list, you may always calculate on their sitting on the same couch, or standing directly vis-a- vis to the most fastidious acquaintance you can boast of. Mrs. Harcourt Evans always boasted of having refined her visiting list with the greatest care ; but still, after all her trouble and filtering, some dregs remained. Perhaps there is not an exclusive in London who has not similar grievances to complain of ; either in the shape of a country cousin, a rich old aunt, a county elector, a vulgar connexion, or, worse than all, a relentless creditor. On this occasion, Mrs. Tregony, one of those active members of society who take upon them faire le frais de conversation, acted the part of tormentor, as she sailed into the room, smiling and curtseying, and looking most rustically good-humoured. " Had the pleasure of seeing the Godal- 200 THE TUFT-HUNTER. cans last week — Miss Adeliza grown quite handsome — the Tryvyvyan archery fete quite a failure — none of the officers present — highly flattered at Mrs. Harcourt Evans's kind invi- tation — hoped she was not late — should be happy to cut in at a rubber — never played more than shilling points — heard all the foreigneering singers were to be present — quite a treat." " My dear Mrs. Tregony, did you see Lady Melgund before you left Cornwall ?" inquired Mrs. Harcourt Evans, in a voice sufficiently audible to redeem, as she hoped, the unfa- vourable impression made by her country friend's appearance. " Yes, indeed ; we met at the book-club, and such a pleasant day we passed ! Only think, Mrs. Evans, your old beau, Jem Wel- don, is about to marry Jane Higginson." Mrs. Harcourt Evans turned away in de- spair. " Who is that person in the blue turban, THE TUFT-HUNTER. 201 and ostrich feather?" inquired Lord Melin- court. u A very near neighbour of mine in the country, Mrs. Tregony by name : her husband is immensely rich, gave three thousand pounds towards the last county election. She is a character — quite a blue." " And upon the right side of the question, Mrs. Harcourt Evans ? " inquired his lord- ship. " Upon your side," archly replied the lady ; " but whether that is the right or the wrong, I am not politician enough to decide." " Introduce me then — " " Certainly. Mrs. Tregony, Lord Melin- court — Lord Melincourt, Mrs. Tregony." And forthwith his right-side-of-the-ques- tion-lordship inundated Mrs. Tregony with flattery, which the lady received most gra- ciously ; although she could not for the life of her understand the nature of the great obligations the government were under to K 5 202 THE TUFT-HUNTER. her husband for his liberal and disinterested support ; but which we are enabled to attri- bute to the circumstance of Mrs. Harcourt Evans having magnified a subscription of one hundred pounds into one of three thousand ! But pass we to the star of the evening, the young and blooming Agnes Callendar. Mrs. Harcourt Evans had been assailed in all quarters by questions from young and old. " Do tell me? I hope I am not asking an im- proper question, but I really am dying to know — can this beautiful creature be the child Sir Walter Callendar adopted some years ago? If I remember right, her mother was Spanish, and some dreadful mystery attached to her death. It was very much talked of at the time. How kind you have been ! Have you made any discoveries about her? Is there any hope of her succeeding to the Callendar property ? I declare I feel quite anxious to know how the affair will end. She appears to be a particularly nice girl — what do you THE TUFT-HUNTER. 203 call her? It must be so very awkward! I really do pity her, poor thing, most sin- cerely ! " Such was the volley which Mrs. Harcourt Evans had to encounter from divers old dow- agers, disappointed and antiquated maidens, and grumbling old bachelors. She was, how- ever, saved the trouble of replying, for every body spoke at once, and without waiting to have their curiosity gratified. In the midst of these inquiries, a middle- aged gentleman advanced, and was greeted most kindly by the hostess. " How good of you, Lord Snarlbrook, to come ! You that go no where. You'll find your friends the Beaumonts in the next room." " Next room," muttered his lordship to himself. " Doorway blocked up — how is it possible to get through such a mob?" Lord Snarlbrook was a sharp, sour, sati- rical, peevish-looking little man, who never 204 THE TUFT-HUNTER. spoke a good word of any creature. It was fatiguing to follow the movements of his rest- less eye, and painful to any one with a good heart to listen to his always ill-natured and often coarse remarks. " Miss Callendar is a pretty girl," said Mrs. Harcourt Evans. " No one can be pretty who is so affected, " replied his lordship. " Then she smiles too often, la gaiete des jolies dents." " Are you acquainted with Mr. Crouch ?" " He is my aversion," rejoined Snarlbrook ; " title-hunting is his profession ; his industry is indefatigable ; there is nothing he will not do, no distance he will not go, on the remote chance of getting a bow from some noble per- sonage." There was a pause, and Mrs. Harcourt Evans, heartily tired of Snarlbrook's ill-nature, was beginning to plan a move, when Sir Phelim O'Moylan, having just finished his rubber, made some commonplace remark, and passed on. THE TUFT-HUNTER. 205 " A fine, open countenance," observed the hostess. " Very, for he never shuts his mouth, from a laudable desire to catch the English accent," said the grumbler par excellence. And here, before we go further, we must protest against these nuisances of society, these modern backbites, growlers, and grumblers, of whom, like Lord Snarlbrook, there are many. If they would only take half the trouble to be agreeable that they take to be the contrary, society would gain much. A disposition to be pleased with others is the first step towards being pleased oneself. Nine times out of ten, a man recommends himself less in society by what he says or does, than by what he does not say or do. A constant effort to display your smartness in satire, your wit in repartee, or your ingenuity in argument, at the expense of your neighbours, should it even extort from them an acknowledgment of your cleverness, will end by making you the object of their 206 THE TUFT-HUNTER. dislike. Give up the argument with good grace, when such a concession involves no sa- crifice of principle, no violation of taste. In fact, much of your success in society must depend on the judicious management of the self-love of your acquaintance, and in this forbearance is even more requisite than flattery. But to return to Lord Snarlbrook. He was most thoroughly and entirely a London man, never leaving the metropolis, except perhaps for a week's visit to Paris during the Easter recess. He loved London with an unlimited attachment. He loved the sound of its bells, and the noise of its carts and coaches ; he loved the colour of its mud, and the canopy of its smoke ; he loved its No- vember fogs, and enjoyed the music of its street-musicians and its itinerant merchants ; and he loved St. James's Street, " the sweet shady side of Pall Mall," White's, and Crock- ford's. THE TUFT-HUNTER. 207 Supper was now announced. " Ay, Snarlbrook," cried a young guards- man, " you'll stay supper, and then I'll drive to Crocky's." " Supper ! — Heaven forbid ! Supper ! — Nothing but a set of hungry old ladies, many of whom have dined off a solitary mutton-chop in the single sitting-room of their lodging, gathered, like so many human vultures, round the tables, eating up the poor chickens and tongues, asking themselves to drink wine, smashing the spun sugar ornaments of the brandy peaches, and diving beneath the snowy surface of the trifles for the tipsy cakes." " Nonsense, Snarlbrook, you are too se- vere ; Mrs. Harcourt Evans piques herself upon her suppers ; and if you escape, depend upon it you'll not get an invite to Tredinnick Court during the recess." " Don't mention that horror of all horrors, a country-house two hundred miles from Lon- don. The laborious fussiness of a white-soup 208 THE TUFT-HUNTER. English cook and housekeeper, much addicted to the crudities of the national cuisine; a long, hot, noisy entertainment, as stately as the old-fashioned silver epergne, and as dull as a November morning in London ! Then the temporary instalments in a cold, provincial state drawing-room, of which the salmon- coloured sofas and elaborate steel stoves are only permitted to visit the glimpses of the sun on occasion of the six o'clock arrival of certain worshipful coaches and four, bearing- down a horde of squires and squiresses ! Then the prosing over the claret ! Every extinct parliamentary question is revived, the poor laws discussed, turnpike trusts canvassed, the last run with the hounds specifically recounted, Lord Norbury's departed witticisms carefully resuscitated ! Then the dreary, doleful, even- ing ; the ' few friends' and ' kind neighbours ;' the never-ending, still-beginning procession of powdered domestics and green tea; the long whist and longer stories, of which, ever and THE TUFT-HUNTER. 209 anon, the state of the weather fills up the pauses !" " A somewhat exaggerated account of the agremens of a country-house," responded the astonished guardsman. " Compare that to a London dinner, a French cook, an Italian confectioner, and a German maitre d? hotel ; where the whole affair of the table seems to be conducted with almost invi- sible machinery ; the most exquisite plats dispensed with noiseless assiduity. The easy flow of conversation, each passing topic illus- trated by some original remark, the latest foreign intelligence, the last on - dit from Crockford's, the newest bon-mot from White's, some fashionable marriage, some illustrious death, severally discussed by the gay, the witty, the distinguished, who form the elite of London society." Mrs. Harcourt Evans now approached the grumbler, who, to use a sporting phrase, " threw off" as usual. 210 THE TUFT-HUNTER . " It gives me a shudder to think you are going to be entombed in the country during the next month. Easterly winds, no opera, rural neighbours, nothing but an indifferent dinner or two, or an occasional carpet-dance at some old dowager's, overburthened with antiquated daughters ! Paris is the only place during Easter ; for what is London, with its meagre opera, fitted up with superannuated prima donnas and second-rate tenors ?" " You are too severe," interrupted Mrs. Harcourt Evans. " Then the carnival detains your orchestras until after Easter ; and you are compelled to listen to the squeaking of indigenous violins, whose music, fortunately for your ears, is drowned in that universal cough, which dis- tracts the lungs of Great Britain between the fog and the smoke of the metropolis." " Oh, you horrid man !" replied the widow ; " why you are enough to make one half despise one's native land !" THE TUFT-HUNTER. 211 " Then the ballet ! How is it possible that any body, pretending to civilization, should tolerate such an execrable corps de ballet, and such inappropriate and unclassical costume ! Why there is not in Paris a grisette of the Rue St. Honore, scarcely a poissarde, who would not execute an entrechat or a battement with fifty times the grace and precision of those clumsy, red-elbowed, splay-footed frights, whose sprawling attitudes and scraggy nudity are inflicted upon us so frequently in the course of the ballet, and in the absence of the real artistes." At this moment, Lord Melincourt approached the hostess, and, graciously offering his arm, took her to the supper-room, his lordship counting upon the united interests of the Tregonys and Harcourt Evanses at the next Cornish election. Snarlbrook followed, notwithstanding what he had just grumbled out about suppers and supper-eaters. 212 THE TUFT-HUNTER. Miss Callendar's beauty and accomplish- ments had become the topic of discussion. " She is certainly handsome," said Crouch, " but cold ; not to be compared with the brilliancy of Lady Constance de la Haye, Miss Brandon's girlish loveliness, or Lady Rosa Merrivale's varying powers of conver- sation." " Absurd ! to compare her manner or tone with those of women of real fashion," ex- claimed Snarlbrook — "a person of no birth whatever." " Were I to grant your proposition," ob- served Montressor, " she would not be the less elegant, the less refined, the less beauti- ful. ' Si elle n'est point noble, elle merite biefi de Vetre.'' And that any man could be found bold enough to set up that ogling, simpering, lisping piece of affectation, Lady Rosa Merri- vale, in opposition to the artless, natural Agnes Callendar, surprises me." THE TUFT-HUNTER. 213 " I quite agree with you, Montressor," drawled Lionel Crouch, across the table, ar- raying himself, as usual, in Lord Montressor's cast-off opinions. 214 THE TUFT-HUNTER. CHAPTER XII. " The stately homes of England, How beautiful they stand, Amidst their tall ancestral trees, O'er all the pleasant land ! The deer across the greenwood bound, Through shade and sunny gleam ; And the swan glides past them with the sound Of some rejoicing stream. " The merry homes of England, Around their hearths by night, What gladsome looks of household love Meet in the ruddy light ! There woman's voice flows forth in song, Or childhood's tale is told, Or lips move tunefully along Some glorious page of old." Mrs.Hemans. It is a truth universally received that, to witness English society in perfection, it should be seen in the country, and a foreigner is invariably told that he has seen nothing of THE TUFT-HUNTER. 2 1 5 England if he has not visited a nobleman at his country seat. A country house is the world's epitome ; and, among the " merry homes of England," few had a greater claim to the title than Tredinnick Court, the seat of our matchmaking widow, and who, at least twice a year, kept open house. Mrs. Harcourt Evans had the good fortune, or rather the talent, to unite under her roof men of the most opposite opinions, who, in the political arena, encountered each other with almost gladiatorial ferocity, but who, in the quiet seclusion of Tredinnick Court, " bab- bled of green fields," and seemed by common consent to eschew the trammels of party. Under the auspices of Mrs. Harcourt Evans, they were able to indulge in their refined saturnalia, sacrificing for a while party hos- tility to private enjoyment. The Easter of that memorable year which we have been recording was a season of the most auspicious sweetness. Nature was alive 2 1 6 THE TUFT-HUNTER. again, and the country presented a breath all violets, and an aspect all sunshine. There are few moments of the year when our Eng- lish climate is more balmy and soft than during the last days of April, when the wild flowers are bursting in profusion beneath the budding hedges, when the birds rival each other in welcoming back the spring, so loudly, so merrily do they sing, and when even the mosses upon the venerable trunks of the towering elms are freshened and revived by the penetrating glances of a genial sun. Such an Easter came ; and Mrs. Harcourt Evans had invited as many of her numerous friends as could be persuaded to leave London to pass the recess at Tredinnick Court. That ancient manor-house was erected in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, and was beauti- fully situated on an eminence commanding some fine views of Penzance bay and the ad- jacent scenery. Its architecture was imposing rather than magnificent. The grey granite of THE TUFT-HUNTER. 2 1 7 which the wings were constructed, the sloping roof, the stone shafted windows, the half ruined wall which enclosed the courtyard, and the long avenue of trees leading to the prin- cipal entrance, imparted to the whole an air of peculiar gloom and solemnity. Such was the exterior view ; internally all was life and gaiety, for Mrs. Harcourt Evans's liberality had rendered the season one of joy and gratitude to her dependants, and she was desirous that it should be attended with equal gratification to the numerous guests whom she had collected beneath her roof. Thus every day was distinguished by some plan to vary the amusements, and the kind-hearted hostess found ready coadjutors in her schemes for the entertainment of her guests. The party assembled at Tredinnick Court consisted of the hostess, Miss Callendar, Lord Marshiiid, a perpetual president of county meetings, and a colonel of yeomanry, who dined with his corps once a year ; Sir Trevel- VOL. I. L 2 1 8 THE TUFT-HUNTER. loe, Lady and the three Misses Godalcans, usually styled the " Graces," though the only resemblance was in the number of three ; Mr. Oswald, M.P., a quiet, easy, dozy, good sort of man, with a good stomach, and its usual accompaniment — an even temper; the two Misses Oswalds, the eldest of whom wrote poetry, and could only talk in rhapsody and quotation. She could not say " good morn- ing," or " good night," without tacking to it a stanza from Childe Harold ; her sister Julia was fresh from the boarding-school and draw- ing-master, and could talk of nothing but tints, and middle distance, and foreground — Poussin, Wouvermans, Prout, and Copley Fielding. There was also an Irish bishop, and a Scot- tish lord of session ; a couple of exquisite M.P.s, whose recent elevation to the rank of legislators was very evident from their affec- tation of parliamentary phraseology, and their constant talk of debates (in which their " still THE TUFT-HUNTER. 2 1 9 small voices" were never heard,) divisions, and committees. Lord Sidney Marchmont, one of the above- mentioned senators, was a tall, straight young man, inclining to that line of contour which can only be described by the expressive word, lanky. Whether his hair was handsome seems questionable ; for, while it was designated as " auburn " by his particular friends and ad- mirers, it was called " carroty " by the rest of the world. But the young nobleman had a finely formed mouth, with a very regular set of white teeth, and a clear, large, light blue eye, which many persons declared to be beautiful. His honourable colleague, the Honourable Arthur Sittingbourne, went by the name of " the beauty," on account, probably, of his possessing that degree of ugliness which is so indisputable and positive as to defy all attempts at denial or palliation. The most subtle casuistry of self-love, nay, even the l 2 220 THE TUFT-HUNTER. utmost extent of maternal partiality, could not romanize his snub, or impart a jetty gloss to his prematurely grizzly locks. Next in our list we must mention Lord Montressor and his crouching shadow ; and Lord Snarlbrook, who {mirabile diclu !) had been prevailed upon to leave London for one fortnight. Many motives were assigned for this outbreak; among others, an inclination towards fortune-hunting. Then there was a Welsh squire, Mr. Llan- dillo of Pemptwphwlly, a regular periodical visiter ; Mr: Tredear Vy vyan, a mad schemer, and speculator in mines, who had disfigured and injured his beautiful estate by literally undermining it ; yet the enthusiast was in no wise disheartened by the ill success which had hitherto attended his speculations, for, like a true gamester, he always hoped to cover the loss incurred to-day by a fortunate throw of the dice to-morrow : and on and on he pressed, becoming daily richer in imagina- tion, but poorer in reality. THE TUFT-ITUNTER. 221 The two Misses Hicks must not be over- looked. They were great fortunes, and small beauties — one hundred thousand pounds each, had no brothers, had lost their father, and owned immense cotton works at Manchester. Snarlbrook described them as small full-lengths, set in gold, the setting worth more than the miniature. One thing must be acknowledged — if the Misses Hicks never thought it neces- sary to please in manner or conversation, there was at least so much of equity in their dealing, that they never thought it necessary to be pleased themselves. Nothing you could shew them met their expectations ; nothing you could do for them was what they wanted ; wherever you went with them, they wished themselves at home. If you talked to them, they yawned ; if you played to them, they chattered ; if you proposed a walk, they were, to use their own phrase, excruciatingly tired ; if to sit down, they feared to take cold from the horrible dampness of the grass. The 222 THE TUFT-HUNTER. roads were cruelly dirty, the hills immeasur- ably steep, the stiles dreadfully high. They were agonised at the vile easterly winds. In short, these young ladies succeeded admirably in impeding every body's purpose, and inter- rupting every body's pleasure — not excepting their own. The eldest of the Miss Hicks had bright yellow hair, which not even her very best friend could call " sweet auburn." The young- est, Jane, was all bustle and activity — a hu- man teetotum. She was passionately fond of dancing, and would waltz until she nearly dropped : hence her sobriquet, " spinning Jenny." The Miss Hicks — or, as they more correctly phrased it, the Misses Hicks — had been gradually drilled into refinement by all the " pride, pomp, and circumstance" of a Bath boarding-school, on the fashionable heights of Landsdowne. Furthered by the aspiring views of their money-making sire, they had been endowed with all the wit, learning, and THE TUFT-HUNTER. 223 accomplishments there to be purchased, at the rate of two hundred guineas per annum. The list of the young ladies' mental qualifica- tions might have vied with the most elabo- rately worded governess advertisement that ever graced the Times newspaper ; from " geo- graphy and the use of the globes," up to " the harp with its finishing graces," and " Italian with the Roman accent ;" and, when they re- turned at seventeen with their certificate of perfection to the paternal residence, even old Hicks himself was satisfied that such quaver- ing, such entrechats, and such a confusion of tongues had never before enlightened the town of Manchester. Such was the party that graced Tredinnick Court. " Agnes and the Misses Hicks have not yet seen St. Michael's Mount, the Land's End, and the Loggin Rock — why should we not go there to-morrow ?" said Mrs. Harcourt Evans, just as the company were assembled upon the 224 THE TUFT-HUNTER. day of their arrival, and passing, as best they could, that tedious half hour before dinner was announced. " Oh ! it will be quite delightful," replied a dozen voices. " To the Land's End, to the World's End, with Mrs. Harcourt Evans," said his lordship of Montressor, with all the gallantry imagi- nable. The dinner passed off as usual, the ladies retired, leaving the gentlemen to enjoy them- selves in the truly English fashion. Soon after, tea was announced, and the ladies ad- journed to the Saloon ; Mrs. Harcourt Evans and Lady Godalcan discussing as they went in together, the abstruse question, whether it was or was not an improvement in modern ar- rangements to have tea en buffet. One of it^ advantages Mrs. Harcourt Evans was perfect aware of, namely, that it afforded a point reunion, which is always so much wanted be-« fore music begins. THE TUFT-HUNTER. 225 A cloudless sky favouring the design which Mrs. Harcourt Evans had su^orested the even- ing before, the whole party met round the breakfast-table in readiness for the excursion. " How fortunate I am, Miss Callendar," exclaimed Vavasour, as in consequence of the change of arrangements, caused by the acces- sion of two country neighbours to their party, he had the satisfaction of handing Agnes into his phaeton, while Mr. Tredear Vyvyan, who Avas a relation of Mrs. Harcourt Evans, acted as chaperon, quietly took his place in the back seat. " I must be your cicerone, and point out all the wonders recommended by the guide books." The day was as serene and beautiful as if no pleasure-party had been intended ; and that is a rare event, whether in novel-writing or real life. There was abundant loveliness in the scene they were passing, to deserve the survey which Agnes avji^ bestowing on it. The earth was covered with the fiv^lie^t green l 5 226 THE TUFT-HUNTER. of the grass and young corn, and adorned with numerous flowers opening on every side ; the thick groves of oak and beech had put on all their verdure ; the ash dipped its branches into the cool stream, there in deep shade, but, farther on in its serpentine course, expanding into more than one miniature lake, where the proud swan reposed in quietness and languor, as unbroken as the reflected shadows that were pillowed on its glassy surface ; and the king-fisher flitted along the reedy shore. The hedges were rich in fragrance from the snowy blossoms of the hawthorn, the orchards dis- played their highest beauty, and a profusion of the gayest flowers were every where sprinkled about. Beyond the scattered cottages with >their verandahs, gay with creepers and flowering plants, the morning sun was shedding floods of light upon the waters, encircling St. Mi- chael's Mount, without haying as yet dispelled thence the veil of mist which hung around it, THE TUFT-HUNTER. 227 and which gave token of a sultry day. In the more remote distance, lay the Lizard Rocks ; and on the other hand gleamed the white sails of many a passing vessel, vividly reflected in the waves. " I do not believe," said Agnes, turning from the enchanting prospect, " you ever saw any thing more beautiful than this in the Mediterranean." " The bay is not at all unlike that of Na- ples," replied Vavasour. " But picture to yourself what it would be in Italy, ' the land of the sun."' " Surely," resumed Miss Callendar, " no- thing can exceed the beauty of this day, and I am told that this part of the county is called the Madeira of England, from its salu- brity." " Granted, granted," exclaimed Vavasour. " But Italy, ' oh ! the sweet coasts of the Me- diterranean sea !' where at every league there is some actual beauty, and some memory of 228 THE TUFT-HUNTER. beauty that is gone — some pleasant dream of the past. Then the imperial city, and its wolf-suckled founder ; the Coliseum ; Pan- theon ; St. Peters ; the Vatican ; Palatine. They are quite inconceivable, and must be sreti. Then the valley of Egeria — Frescati — the unrivalled beauty of the Alban Hill, from whose highest point may be seen the Mediter- ranean, the whole scene of the latter half of the iEneid, and the coast from beyond the mouth of the Tiber, to the headland of Circa? um, and the Cape of Terracina, the Sabine Hills, in which are embosomed the long valley of Rus- tica." " You are an enthusiast, I see," said Agnes, with a smile. " When I am in company with one," an- swered Vavasour, laughing. " In every other corner of the world, save and except -this favoured county, which you compare to Ma- deira," (his companion coloured slightly but nood-humouredly at this allusion) " I feel earth filled with stern realities ; but in Italy THE TUFT-HUNTER. ?2P T can fully enter into the feeling of Metastasio, and exclaim, ' Sogno della mia vita e il cor ho inter 6? " " Have yon ever been in Spain, Captain Vavasour ?" asked Miss Callendar. " I have done little more than cruise along the coast, and once paid a flying visit to An- dalusia," replied Frank. A grave and rather melancholy expression came over the countenance of his companion, as she said, " Spain is the country I am most desirous of seeing ; that renowned romantic land, ' fertile in beauties of nature and asso- ciation."' " I fully enter into your enthusiasm, with regard to Spain," rejoined Vavasour ; "its beauty is enhanced by the charms of its asso- ciations." " * Associations,' so your favourite author James says, ' are, in fact, the bees of the ima- gination, and, wandering through all nature, may be said to distil honey from every fair 230 THE TUFT-HUNTER. object on which they light ;' and Spain, ro- mantic Spain, is full of them." Leaving the banks of the river, and the cool shade of the woods, the road our party were destined to pursue lay for some miles across a wild and bleak common. Agnes sank back in despair at the transition of scene, and Vavasour's genius seemed to desert him ; when an enthusiastic burst of admiration from their hitherto silent chaperon, Mr. Vyvyan, attracted their attention. "Now this is something like a country ! A friend of mine has lately discovered a fine vein of ore running right through his lawn ; you may see it there ; and the value of his pro- perty is now more than doubled by the work- ing of one of the most profitable tin-mines in Cornwall." He then continued by giving a treatise on mining, entered into the best method of sink- ing shafts, driving levels, working the flop- jack, and expatiated upon his infallible " dow- THE TUFT-HUNTER. 231 sing rod," which possessed the marvellous property of bending in the hand, when held over a metallic lode beneath. They now entered the narrow streets of the straggling and ill-built town of Marazion, or Market Jew, and slowly crossed the rough causeway, between the shore and St. Michael's Mount. Vavasour assisted Miss Callendar to alight : as they gained the stone balcony encir- cling the isolated rocky promontory, Agnes reminded her companion of his promised de- scription. " Marazion," said Vavasour, "formerly de- rived its chief support from the numerous pil- grims and religious devotees, who, during the dark ages of superstitious ignorance, resorted to the celebrated scene of popish priestcraft, St. Michael's Mount." They now found themselves engaged in as- cending, in total darkness, a staircase of at least sixty broken and mouldering steps, and after some little difficulty attained the summit. 232 THE TUFT-HUNTER. For a few moments, Agnes was wholly en- grossed by the magnificent view from the tower. It was one calculated to strike the mind of the beholder with reverential awe. It included the entire view of the bay, the se- veral towns and villages that skirt the coast, and the rolling waves of the British, Irish, and Atlantic seas. After visiting the " lions " of Marazion, they continued their excursion. Before long the beautiful environs and bay of Penzance came in sight ; on their arrival, they stopped at the principal hotel, commanding a view of the shipping, among which they quickly dis- covered Lord Montressor's graceful schooner. The party having procured boats, were soon upon the deck of the yacht, whence the best view was to be obtained of the forts of St. Mawe and St. Anthony. After enjoying for some hours the beauty of the scenery, and partaking of a most sumptuous lun- cheon, the party were again landed near the THE TUFT-HUNTER. 223 hotel, and resumed their places in the car- riages. It was now decided that they should take a detour home by the coast, and postpone their visit to the Land's End to another day. Vavasour and his fair companion again seated themselves in the phaeton. The latter silently and intently surveyed the magnificent scenery around them. The sun had been some half-hour gone, but its beams still lin- gered on the western waves. From the dis- tant rocks of Lamorna Cove, to Cuddan point on the opposite side of the bay ; from the hills of Burian, with their white church-tower beheld so far at sea, to the ancient mount of St. Michael, which towered majestically before them, a ruddy and soft glow mellowed every object. Landward, the peasant was seen descending the hill to his cottage at the foot. The fish- erman glided over the shining bay, lightening his labour with a song, which became more 234 THE TUFT-HUNTER. blithe and loud as he drew nearer his cabin on the shore. The chimes of a neighbouring church were also heard; and, as the sweet sounds of these " evening bells " swelled or died away on the breeze, a contemplative calmness stole upon the minds of the listeners. Peace and repose were the characteristics of the scene. Agnes and Vavasour would long have enjoyed in silence the soothing influ- ence they inspired ; but they were suddenly and effectually aroused from their reverie by another remark from their mining companion about " native " and " oxydized" copper. THE TUFT-HUNTER. 235 CHAPTER XIII. " Some fell to daunce ; some fell to hazardry ; Some to make love; some to make merryment." Faerie Queene. A French author pronounces ennui to be " a moral indigestion caused by a monotony of situations." This latter failing certainly did not obtrude itself into the society of Tre- dinnick Court, where there was a voice of merriment by day, and a sound of revelry by night. The great charm of the place was, that every body amused himself according to his own fancies and caprices; and, ex- cept upon great occasions, when the hostess collected her guests for pic-nics, or formal visits, she knew as little of their movements from breakfast to luncheon, and from Inn- 236 THE TUFT-HUNTER. cheon to dinner, as if they had been in the adjoining county. Before we enter, however, into a further detail of these gaieties, it may not be unin- teresting to our readers to have a catalogue raisonne of those of our heroine's admirers as were now assembled under Mrs. Harcourt Evans's hospitable roof. First and foremost was Frank Vavasour, open, unaffected, and devoted. Like Ro- chester, with his " laughter loving king," he was " never in the way, nor out of it when wanted." Then there was Lord Montressor, forward, artificial, and conceited, full of foreign airs, not graces. Last, not least (in his own estimation), was the Honourable Jem Galloway. The pursuits in which the Honourable James Galloway indulged might be supposed to have rather unfitted him for the drawing-room ; but this was by no means the case. The in- THE TUFT-HUNTER. 237 tercourse with the vulgar, to which he was of necessity exposed, did not take off from his tone of good society ; although, perhaps, it might have added considerably to his self-consequence, by the constant deference that was shown to his opinion. And a slight degree of this appeared in his manner when addressing Miss Callendar: making pretty certain that his manifold advantages of rank and connexion would not fail to make an impression on the heart of any young lady to whom he had even hinted a favourable inclination. With these ideas of self-satisfaction, he first met Agnes Callendar at the Infirmary ball at Ravens- brook. He was instantly struck with her personal beauty ; and hearing she was an heiress, proceeded to address her with that sort of protecting air which he had been in the habit of bestowing on other young ladies whom he had on former occasions favoured with his notice. He was somewhat disappointed and piqued 238 THE TUFT-HUNTER. to find that he had not in this instance crea- ted a sensation, and that many of his remarks, which he condescended to make to her in his character of " a man about town," and " leader of fashion," totally failed of producing any effect. Now he could not " lay the flattering unction to his soul," that this happened either from fatuity or want of apprehension. He had found his auditor quite au fait on all the topics he started, and discovered at once that she was naturally fitted for the best society, and was able to parry any attack in the way of persiflage, and at the same time to return it on the aggressor ; all being done in the most quiet manner, and only accompanied with a certain degree of archness when her answers were meant to be peculiarly expressive. A little sparring of this kind took place before the conversation assumed a more regu- lar course, and then the Honourable James Galloway could not but admire, though he could scarcely understand how so young a THE TUFT-HUNTER. 239 creature should be so highly gifted in intel- lectual power. Certain it is, that he went to bed that night in less favour with himself than he had been for some time ; not scrupling to admit, " confidentially" to himself, that he had been " done to a tinder," " pulled up," and " regularly floored." This sort of sensation, to which all people who have an overweening idea of their own consequence are liable, did not, however, di- minish his ardour in the pursuit. He looked upon it as a fair trial of skill ; and to gain by his talents and assiduity an influence over the mind of his fair antagonist, all he asked " was a clear stage and no favour ;" and, to devote himself more fully to the task, he gave up for a time all his other pursuits, and be- stowed his leisure hours entirely to the society of the ladies. The mornings he was their faithful squire ; attended them in their excur- sions in the grounds, and in their drives and rides ; and, in the evening, shut up his bet- 240 THE TUFT-HUNTER. ting-book, renounced his wine, and abandoned the billiard-table, to officiate near the harp or pianoforte, in selecting music, turning over the pages, and all the nameless details that fill up the office of attendant upon the music- desk. All these attentions, he flattered himself, had begun to produce some effect. The thanks he received, and the smile that was sometimes bestowed, were all in his eyes of the most satisfactory nature ; although, had he looked a little deeper into the matter, he would have seen there was nothing peculiar in the man- ner or matter of these common courtesies. He persuaded himself, however, that he had gained ground in the favour of Agnes ; and after a considerable consultation, or rather calculation, with his own thoughts, first about the general advantages and disadvantages of marriage, and next, as they applied to this particular case, he determined to make an offer of his hand. THE TUFT-HUNTER. 241 He was accordingly about to proceed in the manner he thought most likely not to overwhelm Miss Callendar with her good for- tune, by communicating his views to her friend Mrs. Harcourt Evans, when a circum- stance occurred that drove all matrimonial ideas out of the head of the sporting honor- able, and made the thermometer of his atten- tions go suddenly down to zero. The circumstance we allude to was no less a one than a communication from a sporting lawyer, the fidas Achates of Galloway, in all affairs of the heart and ring, matrimonial as well as betting, conveying the intelligence that Miss Callendar's property was in chan- cery, that it was " long odds " against her gaining her suit, and that probably the law's delay would be so great, that a large propor- tion of the profits, if any, would go to the profession of which he described himself as an " unworthy member," realising the remark VOL. I. M 242 THE TUFT-HUNTER. that " There's many a true word spoken in jest," We now return to the gaieties of Tredin- nick Court, where, thanks to the indefatigable exertions of the hostess, every day brought with it some new scheme of pleasure. The party had one day re-assembled in the drawing-room after dinner ; the day had been damp, cold, and cheerless, and a blazing fire was spreading its genial influence, when the question was raised whether there should be a round game, or Vavasour be asked to read some scenes from Shakspeare ; and the lady of the house good-humouredly undertook to collect the votes of the company for cards or the dramatic reading. It chanced that Agnes had the casting vote, and gave it in favour of the latter. Romeo and Juliet was selected, and Frank read, with taste, feeling, and spirit, several scenes from that play. All the company applauded with their hands, and many with their tears. THE TUFT-HUNTER. 243 Agnes, to whom the play was altogether new, belonged to the latter class of admirers. The conversation turned upon the incidents of the play, the characters, and finally upon the writings and genius of the immortal bard of Avon. The question of a bal pare had been agitated by the hostess, and had long occupied all the conversation and thoughts of the party at Tredinnick Court. To give it at the same time a degree of novelty and consequence, Mrs. Harcourt Evans had suggested that the more gifted and accomplished part of her guests might contribute to furnish entertain- ment for the rest, by acting a few scenes of some popular drama; an accomplishment in which her vanity assured her that she was peculiarly qualified to excel. It now only remained to rummage the library for some piece of sufficient celebrity to command atten- tion, and which should be at the same time suited to the execution of their project. Mrs. M 2 244 THE TUFT-HUNTER. Harcourt Evans herself declared loftily and decidedly for Shakespeare ; and, after much discussion, scenes from Romeo and Juliet were decided upon. But, upon attempting to cast the parts, the plan was wrecked upon the usual shelve, to wit, the difficulty of finding performers who would consent to assume the lower characters. For the principal parts there were candidates more than enough ; hut most of these were greatly too highminded to stoop lower. Then, amongst the few unambitious underlings who could be coaxed or cajoled to undertake sub- ordinate characters, there were so many bad memories, and short memories, and trea- cherous memories, and no memories at all, that at length the play was resigned in de- spair. A substitute proposed by Lord Montressor was next considered. It was to act what the Italians call a commedia deWarte ; that is, not an exact drama, in which the performers de- THE TUFT-HUNTER. 245 liver what is set down for them by the author; but one in which the plot, having* been pre- viously fixed upon and the leading scenes adjusted, the actors are expected to supply the dialogue extempore. Montressor sug- gested the adventures of Jean de Paris ; but, upon attempting the subject, there was such a degree of shamefacedness evinced, and such a lack of extemporaneous wit, or even small talk necessary to fill up the scene, that the plan was given up as hopeless. But the ardent and active spirit of Mrs. Harcourt Evans, though baffled in the two first projects, brought forward a third, in which she was more successful. This was the pro- posal of tableaux, and as in this species of representation there was no tax either on the invention or memory, and as there was no marked difference betwixt the hero and he- roine of the group, and the less distinguished characters by whom they were attended on the stage, inasmuch as all could appear in M 3 246 THE TUFT-HUNTER. becoming dresses, this motion was hailed and accepted by all as a bright idea, which assigned to every one a share of the impor- tance attached to its probable success. Scenes from Walter Scott's Ivanhoe and The Talisman were accordingly selected, and the respective parts were cast by the hostess, who reserved to herself that of the high-born Berangaria. We must not pause to dilate upon the va- rious labours of mind and body which occu- pied the intervening space betwixt the settle- ment of this gay scheme and the time appointed to carry it into execution. We will not at- tempt to describe how the performers, by letter and by commissioners, urged their re- searches through the emporiums of Owen and Evrington for specimens of Oriental finery — how they that were scant of jewels and dia- monds supplied their places with paste, Bris- tol stones, glass, and foil — how the magazines of all the provincial Howell and James's were ransacked for goods of which they had never THE TUFT-HUNTER. 24? before heard the name — 'and lastly, how the busy fingers of all the abigails were em- ployed in twisting handkerchiefs into tur- bans, converting petticoats into pantaloons, adorning sprigged muslin with silver gauze and spangles, &c. It was not, however, from her own circle that Mrs. Harcourt Evans was content to ga- ther the materials of the audience for her tableaux. The Due de Vivaldi and the young Count Alexis de Rochefort, who were staying in the neighbourhood, had promised to dine at Tredinnick on two successive days ; Lord Castelton and his three daughters— a nest of nightingales, whose strains were at the service of the slightest invition — the inhabitants of an adjoining mansion, had also offered their services. Penzance, too, had already engaged to contribute its quota towards both the ta- bleaux and its spectators. Among those who aspired to take parts in the former, were Mr. and Mrs. St. George. 248 THE TUFT-HUNTER. They were usually called St. George and the dragon ; though the analogy did not hold good, for in this case the dragon always came off victorious. The lady's two nieces, Miss Calthorpes, were musical geniuses, fond of boring you with Kalkbrenner's and Czerny's most difficult works. The eventful evening had arrived . We will not give an elaborate detail of the performances : suffice it to say, the tableaux were got up in the best possible style, each picture was ac- companied with appropriate music, the dresses were magnificent, and the attitudes well stu- died. The two most admired were the scene from The Talisman, in which Edith, the maid of Anjou, pleads with Richard Cceur de Lion for the life of the Knight of the Leopard, the Scottish Kenneth, and the trial scene of the maid of Judah, in Ivanhoe. In the first, Agnes succeeded admirably in giving the ex- pression of intense interest to her features, as THE TUFT-HUNTER. 249 she stood drawn up to her full height, and gazing down at Vavasour, who personated Richard, at that scene so beautifully de- scribed by the magician of the North. Mrs. Harcourt Evans did not quite come up to Walter Scott's description of the high-born Berengaria, daughter of Sanchez, King of Navarre, and the queen consort of the he- roic Richard : still, with the aid of a little art and not a little ornament, the hostess made a tolerable representative of the cha- racter. Vavasour fully realized the portraiture of Cceur de Lion : " the robust form, the broad, noble brow, and majestic look, the naked arm and shoulder, the lion's skins among which he lay ; and, with the fair, fragile, feminine creature that kneeled by his side, he might have served for a model of Hercules recon- ciling himself after a quarrel to his wife De- janira." 250 THE TUFT-HUNTER. To wind up our critique, we can only say, in the words of Cinna : " Le reste ne vautpas Vhonneur d'etre nomme" END OF VOL I. LONDON : V. SFlOBERr., JON., 51, RCPERT STREET, HAYMARKET, PRINTER TO H. R. H. TRINCE ALBERT.