L I B R.ARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 U N IVER5ITY 
 
 Of ILLI NOIS 
 
 CGe>s 
 
 V.I
 
 SACKYILLE CHASE 
 
 By C. J. COLLINS 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 
 VOL. I 
 
 LONDON 
 JOHN MAXWELL AND COMPANY 
 
 122, FLEET STREET 
 
 MDCCCLXIII 
 
 lAll rights reserved.']
 
 5*- 
 
 C6 8s 
 
 y • 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A BRILLLOT WOilAN AND A MYSTERIOUS CHA- 
 RACTER pp.1 — 14 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 jf SACKVILLE CHASE AND THE VILLAGE OP TROUT- 
 BROOK pp. 15 — 47 
 
 o ' CHAPTER III. 
 
 ^ THE EARL OP SACKYILLE's DERBY FAVOURITE pp. 48 — 65 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 JOHN BUSBY AND TVILLUM MAKE A NIGHT OP IT AT THE 
 SACK-S^LLE ARMS, AND JOHN BUSBY MAKES THE AC- 
 QUAINTANCE OF A MYSTERIOUS STRANGER pp. 66 — 86 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE STRANGER AND VILLUM FRATERNIZE — JOHN BUSBY 
 RATHER SHAKY, BUT STILL UP TO HIS WORK — THE 
 COLT TROTTED OUT, AND THE STRANGER TROTS 
 
 > OFF pp. 87—106 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 THE STRANGER PAYS A VISIT TO THE EARL OP SACK- 
 VILLE, AT SACKVILLE HALL — THE RECOGNITION AND 
 THE THREAT pp. 107 — 12S 
 
 ^ CHAPTER VII. 
 
 DENZIL RAIKES JOURNEYS TO THE METROPOLIS WITH MR. 
 SPARKE — PLAYFUL CHARACTER OF MR. SPARKE, AS 
 EXEMPLIFIED IN HIS PROCEEDINGS ON THE ROAD 
 
 pp. 129—146
 
 iv . CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 MR. SHERATON AND MDLLE. d'aRLINCOURT pp. 147 — 170 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 AGONY JACK Pp. 171--199 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE ROAD TO A COUNTRY STEEPLE-CHASE — MORE 
 TRICKS BY TRAVELLERS pp. 200—210 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE COUNTRY STEEPLE-CHASE — AGONY JACK THINKS HE 
 IS A LORD — FIRST MEETING OF THE EARL OF SACK- 
 VILLE AND MDLLE. d'aRLINCOURT . . pp. 211 — 231 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ANOTHER HEMISPHERE, IN WHICH IS INTRODUCED 
 ANOTHER EQUINE HERO WHO WILL RUN THROUGH 
 THIS HISTORY pp. 232 — 261 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE YEARLING ARBITRATOR IS DISPOSED OF, AND SETS 
 OUT UPON HIS JOURNEY IN LIFE . . pp. 262 — 297 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ARBITRATOR TAKES HIS FIRST JOURNEY BY RAILWAY, 
 AND IS INTRODUCED TO AN ENGLISH TOURIST 
 
 pp. 298—315
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 A BRILLIANT ■VVOIIAN AND A MYSTERIOUS CHARACTER. 
 
 In one of the principal streets of Bou- 
 logne is situated a liouse of attractive 
 exterior and noble proportions. It is of 
 modern construction and of elegant de- 
 sign. It is not an hotel, and yet it has 
 all the characteristics of one. It is one 
 of those agreeable establishments which 
 have no prototype in England, for though 
 there are plenty of English boarding- 
 houses in existence, yet, for the most 
 part, they do not by any means present 
 the same attractions which similar esta- 
 blishments on the Continent generally, 
 VOL. T. 1
 
 3 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 and in Boulogne in particular, almost 
 invariably ofler. The table (Vliute in a 
 boarding-liouse on tlie Continent is a 
 widely different institution from that 
 which flourishes, or rather exists, in 
 London or in any provincial English town. 
 It is true that for the most part the 
 guests at such are English, yet there is a 
 noticeable difference, if not in their idio- 
 syncrasies, at all events in their bearing 
 and their outward and visible charac- 
 teristics. 
 
 It is not, however, our intention at this 
 time, or in this place, to enter into a 
 disquisition as to the merits, charac- 
 teristics, relative comfort, and sociabi- 
 lities of English and French boarding- 
 houses. 
 
 It matters not in which of the principal 
 streets of Boulogne the house to which 
 we have directed attention was situated. 
 It is enough for our purpose to state,
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 3 
 
 tliat tlie principal room in tlie house — 
 the drawing-room — contained three win- 
 dows, which descended to the floor, and 
 that at the time at which our history 
 commences, two gentkmen were standing 
 at the centre v/indow of the three in this 
 drawing-room, in the house to wliich we 
 have with sufficient particularity referred. 
 It is not necessary to describe these two 
 gentlemen, either in appearance or by 
 name, because they are perfect nonenti- 
 ties — that class that you will meet with 
 in shoals at all hotels and all boarding- 
 houses on the Continent — and we record 
 the fact that these two ^vere standing at 
 one of the windows of the drawing-room, 
 merely for the purpose of introducing a 
 character wdio is destined to play a con- 
 spicuous part in the history that we are 
 
 now commencmo;. 
 
 The two individuals who are standino^ 
 at the centre window in the elegant
 
 4 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 boarding-house in one of the principal 
 streets of Boulogne are only — to use the 
 phraseology of the stage — " walking gen- 
 tlemen." In truth, this is a very proper 
 designation for the two gentlemen, for if 
 we were called upon to make a solemn 
 declaration on the subject, we should aver 
 that they were walking gentlemen and 
 nothing else, for they appeared to have 
 nothing to do but to walk, and to talk 
 as they walk, their talk and their walk 
 having the same end in view, tliat of 
 passing away time, of which they had 
 considerably too much on their hands. 
 
 " I tell you what it is, Burleston," said 
 one of the gentlemen ; "I tell you what 
 it is, I think she is the finest woman I 
 ever saw." And as he gave this opinion 
 he twisted his moustache — he had a ver}^ 
 extensive moustache, curled and oiled 
 elaborately — witli an energy which plainly 
 indicated that he spoke from the very 
 depths of his waistcoat.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 5 
 
 " That's just my opinion," said tlie 
 other, quite fiercely, as though somehody 
 had contradicted him. " I never saw 
 such hair in my Hfe." 
 
 " But do you know," said the first 
 speaker, and in a tone which, to a close oh- 
 server, would have demonstrated the fact 
 that this gentleman troubled himself about 
 other people's business quite as much, if 
 not more than he did about liis own — 
 " Do you know that I haven't been able 
 to discover who she is ?" These were the 
 exact words he used, but if his emphasis 
 and expression meant anything at all, the 
 sentence should have run thus — 
 
 " Do you know, that even I have been 
 •unable to discover who she is." 
 
 " Nobody seems to know who slie is," 
 responded the other ; " and yet she is the 
 observed of all the town." 
 
 " Observed of all the town ! I should 
 think so !" exclaimed the first speaker.
 
 6 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 " Look at her brilliant riding-liabit — look 
 at tlie manner in wliich she sits her horse 
 — listen to her conversation at dinner, 
 and who can be surprised that she is the 
 observed of all the town?" and for the 
 moment he looked as though he was going 
 to tear his hair, but he didn't. 
 
 At this point they both fell into a kind 
 of reverie, as though the reflections in 
 which they had just indulged had been 
 a little too much for them, and they re- 
 quired a little time to recover themselves. 
 They therefore gazed abstractedly out of 
 the window into the street. Walking 
 gentleman number one exclaimed, " Ah !'" 
 and walking gentleman number two re- 
 sponded, " Yes," and for five minutes 
 they were both silent. They were philo- 
 sophers both of them, and they could 
 stand a good deal of saying nothing and 
 doing it. 
 
 After five minutes of that peculiar cogi-
 
 SACKYILLE CHASE. 7 
 
 tation of gentlemen who stand at windows 
 thinking — like the joll}^ jo^iig water- 
 man, though not from the same cause 
 — of nothing at all, walking gentleman 
 number one exclaimed — 
 
 " Hark ! yes, here she is — that's the 
 sound of the horse's feet." 
 
 And SUIT enough the sound of a horse's 
 feet was very plainly perceptible. In 
 another moment a lady on horseback 
 dashed up to the front entrance of the 
 house, and walking gentleman number 
 one cried out in an ecstatic tone — 
 
 "Yes, here she is." 
 
 And as he spoke a lady of commanding 
 appearance was seen at the door of the 
 house dismountins: from her horse. The 
 two walking gentlemen were instantly in 
 a flutter of excitement, and they bustled 
 about the room with energy. 
 
 They cast furtive glances at the looking- 
 glasses to see what their appearance was
 
 8 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 tlierein, and tliey ran their hands through 
 their hair with determination. In a few 
 moments more the door of the room 
 opened, and the lady who had just de- 
 scended from her horse appeared. She was 
 all that the walking gentlemen had de- 
 scribed her. She was of commanding and 
 majestic appearance. Over her shoulders 
 flowed a mass of jet black tresses, which 
 reached down to her waist. Her face was 
 dark, glowing, and handsome to perfec- 
 tion. Every feature w^as beautiful in it- 
 self, and harmonized with each other, 
 while the eye which lit up the counte- 
 nance was striking in many characteristics. 
 Dark and lustrous, it seemed to float in 
 softness. But though there was softness 
 in repose, there could be but little doubt, 
 from the general expression of the coun- 
 tenance, that anger or kindred passions 
 could easily generate sparks of fire 
 therein.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 9 
 
 She wore the cavalier hat, that most 
 charming of head-dresses for ladies, 
 adorned with a thick black feather. Her 
 dress at the moment of which we are 
 writing is, of course, the riding-habit, the 
 skirts of which she gracefully carries over 
 her arm, with her riding-whip in her 
 hand. The body of her riding-habit, we 
 should say, is not of the same colour as 
 the other part, as it is crimson, while that 
 of the skirt is dark green. Altogether, 
 as she enters the room, she has indeed a 
 most distinguished appearance, and we are 
 not surprised that the two walking gen- 
 tlemen should have been so enthusiastic 
 in their description of her. 
 
 And she would seem to have been a 
 peculiar attraction in the house, for as 
 soon as it was known that she had re- 
 turned, the drawing-room was imme- 
 diately besieged by the ladies who were 
 staying in the house ; or, at all events, if
 
 10 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 they did not besiege the drawing-room, 
 they came in troops into it from their 
 chambers. And they manifested an ap- 
 pearance of much interest in the pro- 
 ceedings and enjoyment of the dashing 
 Lady. Slie was earnestly pressed by one 
 to inform her if she had enjoyed her ride; 
 and by another she was informed that 
 she did, indeed, look charming in that 
 darling riding-habit ; while a third asse- 
 verated, in order, no doubt, to outdo the 
 rest, that the lady in the riding-habit 
 would certainly turn the heads of half 
 the people in Boulogne. 
 
 And wdio was this dashing lady who 
 attracted so much attention ? If any 
 lady in the house had been asked the 
 question, she would have been utterly 
 unable to answer it ; which must have 
 been a very provoking position for the 
 ladies generally to have been in, because 
 although undue curiosity is not generally 
 
 I
 
 SACKVILT.E CHASE. 11 
 
 a marked cliaracteristic of the sex, yet it 
 would have been more tlian feminine 
 amiability under tlie circumstances wliicli 
 we have endeavoured to describe, if tliey 
 had refrained from canvassing, both 
 amono^st themselves and to themselves, 
 everything connected with the lady in the 
 ridinof-habit. She had been only a few 
 weeks in Boulogne, but while she had 
 been there she had created quite a sensa- 
 tion in the town. It was only known of 
 her that she had come last from Paris, 
 and she had informed some of the ladies, 
 who were very pressing in their inquiring 
 attentions, that to Paris she had come 
 from Madrid. 
 
 The lady was known as Mademoiselle 
 D'Arlincourt, and that was nearly all that 
 was known of her. 
 
 While the ladies of the house and the 
 two walking gentlemen were fluttering, 
 as it were, around Mademoiselle D'Arlin-
 
 12 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 court, one of the servants entered the 
 room and said — 
 
 " A letter for Mademoiselle." 
 Mademoiselle D'Arlincom't took the 
 letter, and the moment she read the 
 superscription, she uttered an exclamation 
 of pleasurable surprise, and she said to 
 those round her — 
 
 " Pardon me — I know you will." 
 Of course all around smiled assent, 
 and she quickly broke open the envelope. 
 Having hastily perused the contents, the 
 ladies near her observed a shade of 
 seriousness pass over her countenance, 
 which expression, however, was quickly 
 transferred, intensified, to their own, as 
 she exclaimed — 
 
 " I am summoned away immediately." 
 " What ! immediately ?" exclaimed all 
 the ladies together. 
 
 " Yes, and to England !" slie cried, 
 witli much animation.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 13- 
 
 " To England !" cliorased all the ladies 
 in tones of astonishment, as though any- 
 body being summoned to England was 
 something startling. 
 
 " Yes ; I must leave for England this 
 very day," said Mademoiselle D'Arlin- 
 court, as she gathered up her riding-habit, 
 and turned to leave the room. 
 
 " Why, the boat leaves in a couple of 
 hours !" exclaimed one of the ladies, quite 
 in a tone of consternation. 
 
 " So soon !" said Mademoiselle D'Arlin- 
 court ; " no matter, I must go by it." 
 
 And she immediately proceeded to her 
 chamber to make the necessary prepara- 
 tions. 
 
 It was soon spread abroad that the 
 mysterious lady who had excited so much 
 attention in Boulogne for the last few 
 weeks was about to take her departure. 
 There was consequently a much larger 
 gathering of the beauty and fashion of
 
 14 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 Boulogne than usual on the quai, in order 
 to witness the sailing of tlie boat; and 
 when Mademoiselle D' Arlincourt appeared, 
 she was scrutinized by hundreds of bril- 
 liant eyes as she took her way down the 
 ladder to the deck of the steamboat. 
 
 The gentlemen thought she had never 
 looked more charming, the ladies were of 
 opinion that she had never looked more 
 distinguished; and as the boat steamed 
 out of the harbour, the query was upon 
 many a toncjue of '' Who can she be?"
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 15 
 
 CHAPTEE 11. 
 
 SACKYILLE CHASE AND THE VILLAGE OF 
 TROUTBROOK. 
 
 Sackville Chase and the village of 
 Troutbrook are intimately associated with 
 each other, and can never be separated 
 in the minds of those who have once 
 visited the spot. The mansion is the an- 
 cestral hall of the Sackville family, and 
 the villasre, with its liostelrv of the Sack- 
 ville Arms, has been an appanage of that 
 family from the time of that grim warrior 
 whom Britons now delight to honour as 
 their Conqueror. Sackville Chase was a 
 delightful domain, according to tradition, 
 even at the time when the JSTorman 
 William ruled in Britain. Indeed, tradi-
 
 IQ SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 tion says that long before that time a 
 castle stood upon the high ground on 
 the very spot where Sackville Hall now 
 stands, and which was a great stronghold 
 in the Saxon days, when the strong and 
 the mighty of the land needed such pro- 
 tection. 
 
 Sackville Chase is situated in one of 
 the most charming spots in England, at 
 practically no great distance from the 
 metropolis, because that modern revo- 
 lutionist, steam, has guided its horse to 
 the spot, and has established him in the 
 place of that mythical White Horse that 
 has been associated with the county in 
 which the Chase of Sackville is situated. 
 It is a magnificent domain now, rich in 
 wooded scener}^ on all sides from every 
 point of view, and Sackville Hall is an 
 ancestral hall, guarded by ancestral trees, 
 which have stood for centuries about 
 that noble park. The house is old — is
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 17 
 
 Mstorically old — for it was an English 
 mansion for generations before it became 
 celebrated for being sacked by a troop of 
 soldiery of the Parliamentary armv. The 
 house is built of brick, and the bricks are 
 almost black with asre now, and its roofs 
 are pinnacled. There is not a corner 
 outside the house, for they are all rounded 
 off into towers, which run up into peaks, 
 like the caps that witches wear when 
 fully attired to play their pranks, as we 
 know they used to do in those good old 
 times when the law, in its might and 
 mercy, bade judges burn old women for 
 being able, or for professing to be able, 
 to tell other people's fortunes at a time 
 when their power was not equal to the 
 protection or the advancement of their 
 own. The windows in this fine old tur- 
 reted mansion had once, in keeping with 
 its general character, been diamond- 
 paned, but modern innovation and the 
 VOL. 1. 2
 
 18 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 dictates of f'asliion have at length intro- 
 duced plate-glass, and all the lower win- 
 dows have large panes in them that a tall 
 man might walk through. The reception- 
 rooms now communicate with the lawn 
 by iron steps, perforated, and with twisted 
 balustrades of the same material, round 
 which in the summer time sweet plants 
 are intertwined, that in the distance look 
 like variegated plumage. The entrance 
 to this mansion is through a gotliic porch, 
 which still displays the blackened teetli 
 of its long- disused portcullis. There had 
 once been a moat all round the mansion,, 
 but in years gone by it had been con- 
 verted into a pleasure-garden, and now 
 scarcely its outline can be discerned be- 
 neath the shrubs and flowering plants 
 that beautify the spot. From the em- 
 brasures of the great windows of the 
 chief reception-room of this old residence 
 the glittering surface of an extensive lake
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 19 
 
 is seen tlirougli the trunks of the great 
 trees that are in all directions clustered 
 in the park, and beneath which great 
 flocks of deer — for they are in profusion 
 all about the park — browse almost undis- 
 turbed. The villao^e of Troutbrook is 
 situated on the very borders of the park, 
 and may be said to be a part of it. It is 
 of very limited extent, and cannot be 
 held to exhibit any marked architectural 
 characteristics. The architecture of the 
 locality has been concentrated in the 
 great house in the chase or park. The 
 houses of Troutbrook are mostly of one 
 design, consisting of cottages, thatched 
 and ancient, the walls being composed, 
 on the outer side, of broad black beams 
 and smooth white plaster. Here and 
 there, houses of modern construction 
 may be seen, but they appear to be garish 
 and out of place. The thatched cottages, 
 with the smoke curling out of their rude 
 
 2—^
 
 20 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 chimneys, are far pleasanter to look on. 
 One of these is the chief shop of the 
 village, which stands at the corner of the 
 roads, commanding on its one side a view 
 of the great house in the park, and on 
 the other the pleasant trout stream that 
 ripples over the road below. A strange 
 agglomeration is this chief shop of Trout- 
 brook. It is not a draper's shop, nor a 
 haberdasher's, nor a stationer's, nor a 
 grocer's, nor a cheesemonger's, nor a 
 hatter's, nor a bonnet-shop, nor a fire- 
 office, nor a baker's, nor a shoe-shop, but 
 it is all these combined in one ; and 
 beyond that, it is the general post- 
 office of Troutbrook — a kind of commer- 
 cial carpet-bag, for it contains anything 
 and everything that a limited population 
 can require. It is the great commercial 
 emporium of Troutbrook. 
 
 A conspicuous establishment in Trout- 
 brook is the blacksmith's forge, where all
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 21 
 
 the horses of the district are shod, and 
 between these two establishments is situ- 
 ated the well-known house of public 
 entertainment — well known to all the 
 travelling communit}' in that locality — 
 the comfortable " Sackville Arms/' be- 
 neath whose protection fox-hunters and 
 farmers, country gentlemen and agricul- 
 turists, take refuge and make merry. It 
 is a primitive building is the " Sackville 
 Arms," like the rest of Troutbrook, and 
 its landlord and landlady are primitive 
 too. The former is rather diminutive, 
 the latter is stout, and both are jolly. 
 The parlour, or '' smoke-room," as it is 
 designated, is a cheery-looking place, 
 especially on a winter evening, when the 
 huge fire is blazing. It is not a parlour, 
 strictly speaking, nor is it a kitchen, nor 
 a drawing-room, nor " a bar." It is one 
 of those rooms that can only be met with 
 in such primitive ^aLlages as Troutbrook.
 
 22 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 The flooring is of staring red bricks, 
 which are polished, and the firephice is a 
 phice worth looking at, and enjoying. It 
 is situated at one end of the apartment, 
 and yawns right across it like a gulf. It 
 is a great arch, the crown of which 
 touches the ceiling, and the springs of 
 which are from the walls on either side. 
 The fire is on the floor, for there is no 
 fireplace, as we usually understand that 
 household appurtenance. Underneath the 
 arch, on each side of the big fire, are 
 large seats with high backs, each seat 
 large enough to contain a dozen occu- 
 pants. 
 
 Over the spot where the fire is usually 
 placed, swinging from a massive and 
 soot-embossed chain, hangs a mighty 
 boiler, which is brightly polished in the 
 summer time, and in the winter Avears a 
 black coat of downy soot, and sings the 
 day and night all through cheerily, and
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 23 
 
 with great power of enunciation. An- 
 other remarkable feature of Troutbrook 
 is the stream aheady adverted to, which 
 runs across the road, and through which 
 all vehicles pass, for there is no bridge 
 save a small wooden passage-way for 
 pedestrians at the side of the road, and 
 from wliicli it is pleasant loungingly to 
 look into the stream to see the bro^vn- 
 backed denizens thereof, disporting them- 
 selves in the crystal stream. This stream 
 runs right round the park of Sackville 
 Chase, and then meanders away tlirough 
 the county, until, expanding as it goes, 
 it falls in a v;ider sheet and deeper 
 volume into another river that carries it 
 away to the sea. 
 
 It is early in the spring-time of the 
 3^ear, and the great trees in the park 
 stretch their skeleton arms towards the 
 sky, standing in strong relief as we look 
 at them from the village. The Earl of
 
 24 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 Sackville is the lord of Sackville Chase, 
 and the lord of other domains in distant 
 parts of the land ; but Sackville Hall is 
 the family mansion, the ancestral house 
 from which his ancestors took their name, 
 and to which, through a long line, as we 
 have before intimated, they have adhered. 
 
 The Earl of Sackville is in the dining- 
 room, and with liim is a gentleman evi- 
 dently much younger in years, and much 
 humbler in rank. Of striking appearance 
 is the Earl of Sackville. At first sight 
 he is anything but prepossessing. 
 
 There is clearly but little art in his 
 attire, wdiich is plain without neatness, 
 and varied, but ill-assorted. He is a 
 nobleman of long and undoubted descent, 
 but his general appearance would give no 
 indication of the fact, if such indication 
 in any case be possible. His companion, 
 as we have intimated, is in striking con- 
 trast to him. The earl is quite fifty
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 25 
 
 years old ; liis companion in the dining- 
 room at Sackville Hall is not half that 
 age. He is tall, has a handsome counte- 
 nance, surmounted by jet-black hair, 
 which is evidently well tended and ar- 
 ranged. He is attired wholly in black, 
 but there is a fashion in tlie habiliments, 
 which in some cases, it is said, indicate 
 the character of the wearer. 
 
 The two are seated over their wine in 
 the dining-room of Sackville Hall, and 
 the earl is gazing abstractedly into the 
 fire. At length he exclaims : 
 
 " Nixon tells me that he is the finest 
 colt that he has ever had yet under his 
 care. If the colt be what he says," the 
 earl added with energy, " I will carry out 
 an object I have dreamt of, and hoped 
 for, for years." 
 
 ''Indeed! may I ask what that is?" 
 inquired Mr. Sheraton. 
 
 The earl rose from his seat and com-
 
 2G SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 menced pacing the apartment, but not 
 in agitation, altliougli lie was evidently 
 under the influence of a feeling that was 
 nearly akin to it. 
 
 " Yes," he said. " Do you know that 
 it has been an object of my ambition, by 
 one great coup, to make a clean sweep of 
 the knights of the betting ring ?" 
 
 Mr. Sheraton smiled a deferential smile, 
 and said, ''A rather malicious object that, 
 is it not, my lord?" 
 
 ''By no means," replied the earl, 
 quickly, and rather sternly. " I have an 
 end, an aim in view — an object to serve — 
 and by any means, no matter what. If 
 it can be accomplished, I wdll adopt them, 
 no matter what they are. I have come 
 down here," he continued, " specially to 
 see how the colt is getting on, and Nixon 
 is to be here this evening in person, to re- 
 port progress. I propose to remove the 
 colt from Nixon's stables to Troutbrook,
 
 SACKYILLE CHASE. 27 
 
 SO that lie may have the trainer's exclu- 
 sive attention, and be out of the way of 
 prjdng eyes. I do not want him to be 
 seen until he acts. Do you understand ?" 
 
 "I think I do," repHed Mr. Shera- 
 ton. 
 
 "And I shall require much of your 
 assistance in this matter," continued the 
 earl. " It is not altogether in your line, 
 I know," said he, smiling ; " but I have 
 no doubt that you can act upon my in- 
 structions." 
 
 Mr. Sheraton smiled too, and it was 
 a very remarkable smile. An observer 
 might have fancied that it was rather 
 addressed inwardly to Mr. Sheraton him- 
 self than to his noble master. This, 
 however, did not strike the Earl of Sack- 
 ville, who said, looking at a clock that 
 was on the mantelpiece, "Kixon should 
 have been here by this time." 
 
 He had scarcely uttered the words.
 
 28 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 when a footman entered and announced 
 that the trainer was in waiting. 
 
 " Show liim in," said tlie earl, and the 
 footman withdrew, but almost immedi- 
 atel}^ returned, ushering in Mr. Jonas 
 Nixon. This individual was peculiar, if 
 not striking, in appearance. He was a 
 square-built man of about sixty ^^ears of 
 age ; and 3^et square-built is hardly a 
 true description of him, for he seemed 
 rather round in all respects. His limbs 
 were round, his body was round, and his 
 head was unmistakeably round, and so 
 was his face ; and yet he was not stout, 
 and certainly he was not thin. He was 
 short in the neck, which gave him an 
 appearance of slightly stooping, and yet 
 he did not stoop. His whole body had a 
 sort of slouching look, especially when he 
 stood in a listening attitude. His attire 
 appeared to consist, as far as could be 
 judged by outward appearances, of a top-
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 29 
 
 coat and top-boots — for these were the 
 only habiliments that were seen, the 
 former reaching to tlie tops of the latter. 
 His general appearance was that of an 
 elderly Jack of Clubs, attired in modern 
 costume, or with his court suit disguised 
 by a modern coat. His face was plump, 
 and almost devoid of expression, save, 
 perhaps, with regard to the eye, which at 
 times gave indication of that cunning 
 which even cunning itself cannot at all 
 times conceal. 
 
 " Well, Nixon," said the Earl of Sack- 
 ville, '' I have brought my secretary, Mr. 
 Sheraton, down to see the colt. This is 
 Mr. Sheraton," and he indicated by a 
 wave of his hand that gentleman, who 
 was still seated at the table, and to 
 whom Jonas Nixon made a suitable 
 obeisance. 
 
 " I told you," continued the earl, 
 "when you were in London, that I in-
 
 30 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 tended to have the colt trained here in 
 the park, if you recollect." 
 
 " Yes, my lord," said Jonas Nixon. 
 
 " What do you think of it?" 
 
 " Well, my lord, you know the best," 
 said Jonas Nixon, cautiously. 
 
 " Well, but what do you think your- 
 self?" inquired the earl, rather peremp- 
 torily. 
 
 *' Why, my lord, I think this," said 
 Jonas : " the entries have to be made 
 this week, and as soon as it's known that 
 one of your lordship's horses is being 
 trained privately in your own park, you'll 
 have a swarm about you of prying touts, 
 and you will always be in danger." 
 
 " I like your caution, Jonas. You are 
 as knowing as ever ; but I have provided, 
 or intend to provide, for that, and I think 
 we shall be able effectually to throw the 
 knowing ones off the scent." 
 
 ** Indeed, my lord — ^liow?" inquired 
 Jonas Nixon.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 31 
 
 *' Why, the colt will be entered in the 
 name of Mr. Sheraton," said the earl. 
 
 " In my name, my lord !" exclaimed 
 Mr. Sheraton, in a tone of surprise. 
 
 The earl smiled and nodded signifi- 
 cantly at Mr. Sheraton, who was shrewd 
 enough to see that he had better be a 
 tacit listener for the present. 
 • " Grood," said Jonas I^ixon, after a 
 moment's thought ; " and will your lord- 
 ship take a bit of advice from me ?" 
 
 " Most undoubtedly, Jonas — who so 
 well able in such a case to give it ?" said 
 the earl, gaily. 
 
 " Then, my lord, don't give the colt a 
 name ; let him be nameless for a twelve- 
 month," said Jonas Nixon. 
 
 "What will be gained by that?" in- 
 quired the earl. 
 
 " That will be sure to throw them off 
 the scent," said Jonas Nixon. " I shall 
 have, as your lordship knows, a consider-
 
 32 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 able string in my stable, and there will 
 be some good ones amongst them, I can 
 assure you. The public don't care to 
 look beyond them here" (and he pointed 
 with his stick over his shoulder towards 
 the park), "especially as there are the 
 two Munchausen colts of your lordship's 
 in my stable. Give one of them a name, 
 and he shall soon become a favourite — 
 trust to me." 
 
 " Jonas, you are a model of stable 
 diplomacy," said the earl, laughing. " I 
 see it now, and so it shall be. We'll 
 name the colt at once. Let the one that 
 comes out best be called Sagittarius." 
 
 " There is no doubt as to which will 
 turn out the best, my lord," said 
 Jonas. 
 
 " Then that one will henceforth be 
 known as Sagittarius," said the earl ; 
 *' and that matter being settled, have you 
 selected the trainer and a helper in whom
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 33 
 
 you have confidence, to be liere to take 
 charge of the colt ?" 
 
 " I have, my lord," answered Jonas. 
 " And you are sure they are trust- 
 worthy ?" said the earl. 
 
 ''They have both been with me all 
 their lives, my lord," replied Jonas, ele- 
 vating his eyebrows. 
 
 " Enough," said the earl. " And have 
 you brought them with you ?" 
 " I have, my lord," replied Jonas. 
 " Let us see them — have them up," 
 said the earl. 
 
 " I will fetch them, my lord." And 
 Jonas Nixon turned and left the room for 
 the purpose. 
 
 " I saw how surprised you were, She- 
 raton, when I said the colt should be 
 entered in your name, and I was glad 
 you checked your surprise," said the earl, 
 rapidly. " When these individuals are 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 34 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 gone, I will explain to you what my 
 plans are." 
 
 Before Mr. Sheraton could reply, Jonas 
 Nixon had returned, ushering in the two 
 individuals of whom he had spoken. 
 They were unmistakeable in their ap- 
 pearance. It w^as clear enough whence 
 they had come, and what was their occu- 
 pation. 
 
 "This, my lord," said Jonas Nixon, 
 pointing to the elder of the two, " is John 
 Busby. John Busby, step forward." 
 
 John Busby did so, and pulled his 
 forelock deferentially down. He had a 
 round bullet head, his hair was short and 
 black, and he wore a corduroy suit and 
 ankle-jacks. 
 
 " Mr. Nixon has told you, I suppose," 
 said the earl to John Busby, " that you 
 are coming into the stables here to take 
 care of a colt belonging to this gentle- 
 man" — pointing to Mr. Sheraton.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 35 
 
 Now, Jonas Nixon had not told John 
 Busby anything of the sort — liow coukl 
 he have done so ? — and so John scratched 
 his head and looked at Jonas. 
 
 " I see you understand," said the earl, 
 with a knowing look at Jonas Nixon, in 
 whose eye there was the faintest indica- 
 tion of a leer. " And the other — what is 
 his name ? inquired the earl. 
 
 The individual alluded to now stepped 
 forward in his turn. He v/as a short, 
 thick person, of doubtful appearance. A 
 stranger might have guessed his age at 
 anything between sixteen and forty — his 
 real age, however, being nineteen. He 
 had the figure of a boy and the face of a 
 man. His body w^as thick and plumpy, 
 his legs thin, with a manifest inward ten- 
 dency about the region of the knees ; he 
 had no neck — at least, none that was per- 
 ceptible — and his face presented some- 
 thing of the appearance of a polished red 
 
 3~:j
 
 36 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 potato. When the Earl of Sackville asked 
 Jonas Nixon the name of this irentle- 
 man, the individual himself, unabashed, 
 stepped forward and announced it in 
 these terms : 
 
 "Tm WillumSturk." 
 
 The earl laughed heartily, and said : 
 "Oh, you are William's Turk, are you ? 
 And who is William, and why are you 
 his Turk?" 
 
 Jonas Nixon, grinning, explained that 
 the individual with the potato counte- 
 nance was William Sturk, and in eluci- 
 dation of his name, spelt it for his lord- 
 ship. 
 
 The earl was as much amused at the 
 explanation as he was at " Willum's" 
 bearing and manner, and he said : " Well, 
 Mr. Sturk, I hear that you have been a 
 long time in the stables of Mr. Nixon. 
 You are coming for a time here. Mr. 
 Nixon has spoken well of you. I think
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 37 
 
 you said, Mr. Nixon," continued lie, turn- 
 ing to Jonas, "that they have never 
 played any tricks in your stable?" 
 
 Before Jonas could reply, "Willuni" 
 dashed in again, and said : 
 
 "There ain't been no tricks in our 
 stable since Agony Jack left." 
 
 The Earl of Sackville looked at Jonas 
 Nixon as for an explanation of this allu- 
 sion, and Jonas said that " Agony Jack" 
 was the nickname of a kind of stable as- 
 sistant who had been in his employment, 
 ^nd who from being lame from the kick 
 of a horse, and from a very suggestive 
 expression of countenance, had obtained 
 the sobriquet which the potato-faced youth 
 had made use of. He further explained 
 that this interesting personage had been 
 discharged from Jonas Nixon's establish- 
 ment on account of some malpractices 
 -connected with a certain favourite. 
 
 " That's the bloke !" exclaimed Willum.
 
 38 SACKVIJJ.E CHASE. 
 
 "Well, then, mind you avoid Agony 
 Jack's tricks and fate," said the Earl of 
 Sackville. 
 
 " I don't know what his i'ate wor, sir, 
 and genelmen all, but I wont do none of 
 his tricks," said Willum. 
 
 " Which he'll act up to wot he says, 
 my lord," joined in John Busby, '' as is 
 best beknown to Mr. Jonas Nixon. Isn't 
 it, sir?" 
 
 Jonas said he knew them well, and 
 would be answerable for their good con- 
 duct ; and the earl added that they had 
 but to conduct themselves faithfully and 
 well to meet a due reward from Mr. 
 Sheraton, in whose service they would 
 be placed. 
 
 " Of that," said Mr. Sheraton, taking 
 his cue, " they may rest assured." 
 
 " Then all that is settled, Jonas ; so 
 take your friends below, and do what is 
 necessary," said the earl.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 39 
 
 Jonas Kixon imderstood this instruc- 
 tion, and at once the three proceeded to 
 that part of the mansion wherein the re- 
 fectory was situated. 
 
 AYhen they were gone, the earl, stand- 
 ing with his back to the fire, said to 
 Mr. Sheraton ^ ''I think it will be an 
 interesting drama." 
 
 Whether it v/ill be so or not, we have 
 yet to see. 
 
 Scarcely had Jonas Kixon and his two 
 assistants left the room before two indi- 
 viduals of a very different stamp entered 
 the apartment. These were a lady and a 
 gentleman. The former was of com- 
 manding appearance, although she was 
 rather too stout to be elegant, which, 
 however, it was evident enough to the 
 observer, she had once been. She was 
 about fifty years of age, but notwith- 
 standing her stoutness, she looked much 
 younger, which illusion was probably not
 
 40 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 a little due to the style of the dress she 
 wore, which was of the most recent 
 juvenile fashion, and was composed of 
 the most costly materials. She had a 
 full round face, with a bright natural 
 colour on her cheeks, sparkling blue eyes, 
 and a profusion of fair hair, while her 
 bust displayed a line of beauty which 
 Hogarth would have called perfection. 
 Her companion was a young man of 
 twenty, attired with Bond-street preci- 
 sion. He was very fair, had plenty of 
 very light hair, and exhibited a mous- 
 tache and whiskers of the same hue and 
 in equal profusion, the entire hirsute pro- 
 duction manifestly being the subject of 
 constant attention and care, and we sup- 
 pose we may add, of cultivation. 
 
 The lady was the Countess of Sack- 
 ville, wife of the Earl of Sackville; the 
 young gentleman was her second son. 
 
 The Countess of Sackville was looked
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 41 
 
 upon as an angel in muslin by tlie con- 
 gregation of St. Bottlenose, in Belgravia. 
 She was the leader of that eminently 
 fashionable, and of course eminently reli- 
 gious circle ; and it was always observed, 
 that when the fashionable minister of the 
 most fashionable church in the West-end 
 of London offered up the prayer that all 
 kinds of human happiness should be 
 showered down upon the possessors of 
 hereditary titles and wealth, he gracefully 
 inclined himself towards the Countess of 
 Sackville when she was present, and to 
 her pew when she was not. The passion 
 of the Countess of Sackville was High 
 Church, and it was good for the heart to 
 see the grandeur of humiliation that she 
 displayed as she took her way up the 
 centre aisle of the church, with the bril- 
 liant members of the congregation gazing 
 with humble admiration upon the stately 
 form that was held by them all to be a
 
 4'Z SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 glory to the edifice in which they bowed 
 down in all meekness in the prosecution 
 of their ardent devotions. Both the piety 
 and the dress of the Countess of Sackville 
 were of the most decided fashion, and 
 were equally elevated and rich. St. 
 Bottlenose Church was the private pro- 
 perty of the Countess of Sackville, and 
 she had been heard to say that as the 
 Sackvilles liad liad amongst their ances- 
 tors bishops in the time when bishops 
 w^ere militant, and which bishops had 
 ecclesiastical edifices of their own, so it 
 would probably come to pass again, that 
 a scion of the house of Sackville would 
 by his ecclesiastical power found, not a 
 new creed or faith, but a new Church. 
 And it was generally believed that this 
 allusion had simply a literal meaning. At 
 all events, the worshippers in St. Bottle- 
 nose often thought about it in church, 
 and frequently conversed upon it out.
 
 SACKVILI.E CHASE. 43 
 
 The Countess of Sackville entered the 
 room rather impetuously, and as she did 
 so, exclaimed : 
 
 " Hubert, here's Eeginald." 
 
 The Earl of Sackville received the inti- 
 mation witliout displaying an}i:liing ap- 
 proaching to rapture, and the affectionate 
 son said in a kind of drawl which just 
 stopped short of a lisp : 
 
 '' How do, pa ?" 
 
 " And where do you think he has been 
 staying for the last fortnight ?" cried the 
 countess, laughing. 
 
 " Well, is it anywhere particular, Ee- 
 ginald ?" inquired the earl, with a forced 
 manifestation of interest. 
 
 The young gentleman affectionately 
 drew his moustache and whiskers through 
 his fingers, turned with a kind of leer 
 upon his delighted mamma, and then 
 said, languidly : 
 
 '' Boulogne."
 
 44 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 Reginald laughed feebly ; the earl 
 laughed too, incredulously, and the 
 countess laughed joyously, as though 
 she were enjoying a joke, as perhaps she 
 was. 
 
 As soon as the new comers entered the 
 room, Mr. Sheraton, first bowing to the 
 «countess, went to the window, and looked 
 out into the park. When Reginald ut- 
 tered the word Boulogne, he turned 
 round as though with a sudden impulse. 
 The Countess of Sackville observed it, 
 and said : 
 
 " Well, I don't wonder, Mr. Sheraton, 
 that you felt some surprise at the state- 
 ment that he has been at Boulogne, when 
 you know that we all thought he was at 
 Rome." 
 
 " And what did 3^ou go to Boulogne 
 for ?" inquired the earl. 
 
 Reginald, laughed, and showed his 
 teeth, and pulled his whiskers, and said :
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 45- 
 
 '' "Well, I liardly know, but I tliink it 
 must liave been to see life." 
 
 " And did you see it ?" asked the earl. 
 
 " AVell, aw don't know — I'm under the 
 impression that I did ; at all events, I 
 saw the finest woman there I ever saw in 
 my life." 
 
 '' 0, Eeginald ! what is that you say?" 
 cried the countess, elevating her finger; 
 " I lioj)e that was not the cause of your 
 visit to Boulosrne." 
 
 " Oh, no, it was one of the efiects," 
 replied Eeginald; and as he was under 
 the impression that he had uttered a 
 witticism, he laughed quite heartily — for 
 him. 
 
 " Eeginald 1 Eeginald ! recollect what 
 is your destiny," said the countess, trying 
 to frown, but pleasurably laughing with 
 her eyes. " EecoUect, you must be a 
 pillar of the Church." 
 
 " Ah, yes, that's all very right, you
 
 46 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 know," replied Eeginald, "but if I am to 
 be a pillar of the Cliurcli, that's no reason 
 why I should be made of stone, you 
 know." And he laughed again, and so 
 did the countess too, and as she did so, 
 she cried, *' That was so well said, that 
 she could quite forgive him." 
 
 " Besides," exclaimed the nascent 
 churchman, '' if a fellah is not to look at 
 the fine women because one is to be in 
 the Church, what's the use of cultivating 
 whiskaws ?" 
 
 " Of course, my dear, I do not mean 
 that you should be precluded from ad- 
 miring fine women" — she slightly drew 
 herself up — '' but from one in your posi- 
 tion, it must be in an orthodox way." 
 
 " And who was this lady ?" inquired 
 the earl. 
 
 " I could not make out," said Eegi- 
 nald ; " they called her Mdlle. D'Arlin- 
 court."
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 47 
 
 At the sound of the name, Mr. She- 
 raton gave a perceptible start — so per- 
 ceptible that the countess noticed it, and 
 said: 
 
 " Why, do you know her ?" 
 
 '' I have not been in Boulogne for some 
 years," he evasively replied. 
 
 Did Mr. Sheraton know Mdlle. D'Arlin- 
 court ? We must wait and see.
 
 48 
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 THE EARL OF SACKVILLE S DERBY FAVOURITE. 
 
 It will be necessary to the due develop- 
 ment of this history that we should occa- 
 sionally make some reference to a certain 
 colt that will take up his residence in the 
 stables attached to Sackville House. At 
 this moment John Busby is conducting 
 this quadrupedal hero to his new home. 
 
 See with what manifest pleasure he is 
 gazing on the figure of liis Derby fovour- 
 ite, ambling past him at the end of a 
 leading rein, which is in the hands of 
 Mr. Willum Sturk. 
 
 " Let him play a bit, Willum — let him 
 'ave his game/' says John Busby.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 49 
 
 "AVot is liis game, John?" inquires 
 Willum, with a wink. 
 
 " I mean his own larky game at this 
 minnit, Willum," adds John Busby, 
 walking by the side of Willum. " You 
 needn't be leery, "Willum, my young 
 swell — you needn't come the wink 'cos of 
 his futur' game, 'cos you wont grin that 
 out of me, Willum. We ain't goin' to 
 make our game yet awhile s, are we, my 
 pet ?" And John Busby went up to his 
 " pet," and patted him on the neck, and 
 his pet in return licked John's hand. 
 
 " Lord ! ain't he a precious baby all 
 over, ain't he?" exclaimed John, proudly, 
 and looking with intense admiration on 
 the pet. 
 
 *' He's the best of all babies," says 
 Willum ; " he never squalls 1" 
 
 " I say, Willum," says John Busby, in 
 a mysterious manner, "do you know 
 what's to-morrow ?" 
 
 VOL. I. 4
 
 50 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 " Tuesday/' replied Willum. 
 
 *' That ain't it," says Joliii, in a some- 
 what contemptuous tone. 
 
 " If it ain't " 
 
 " I don't mean the day o' the week," 
 interrupts John Busb}'. "Just brush up 
 your intellectual wision, Willum, and 
 think wot's to-morrow." 
 
 "Let me see," says Willum, poking 
 his right hand deep into the pocket of his 
 corduroy smalls, and bowing out his knees 
 in the effort — that, we presume, being 
 his particular mode of brushing up his 
 " intellectual wision" — " Let me see ;" 
 and considering for a moment and not 
 seeing, he added, " Well, w^ot is it ?" 
 
 "Why, to-morrow, Willum," said John 
 Busby, " the entries for the Darby comes 
 out." 
 
 " Well," said Willum. 
 
 " Well !" cried John Busby, " and wont 
 he be among 'em?" (pointing to the colt).
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 51 
 
 " Well, 1 suppose lie wool/' replied 
 WiUum. 
 
 " Why, Willum, you haven't got no 
 more ideas nor a muff/' said John Busby. 
 " You suppose he wool ! why, of course 
 he wool /' and then, dropping the indig- 
 nant tone and chuckling, he added, " and 
 wot's more, nobody '11 know nothing about 
 him, eh?" 
 
 " Wh}', how should they?" said the 
 imperturbable Willum. 
 
 " Never mind how should they," an- 
 swered John Busby ; " but you mark my 
 words, Willum, they will know him and 
 summat about him one o' these days, I 
 reckon." 
 
 The subject of this conversation, as we 
 have said, was at the end of a leading 
 rein. On his back was what is called " a 
 dumb jockey /' that is, a wooden instru- 
 ment in the shape of the letter X, which 
 is used in the preliminary stages of a 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSmr OF '.lUrt'J^
 
 52 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 young liorse's education, preparatory to 
 his being made lit for the reception of 
 tlie knees and other supports of the ani- 
 mated jockey. The colt goes ambhng 
 along as John Busby and Willum con- 
 verse, and looks as though he would be 
 delighted to have a game at romps with 
 the bipeds near him. 
 
 "Look at his hi," says John Busby, 
 suddenly stopping, and directing Willum's 
 attention to the organ of vision of the colt." 
 
 " See how it's a l^okin' at us," replied 
 Willum. " 1 do believe he's a winkin' at 
 us. 
 
 " Do you know," says John Busby, 
 solemnly, " that I often thinks that colt 
 understands what people says." 
 
 "Walker! John, Walker 1" said 
 Willum, irreverently. 
 
 " He ain't no common colt, mind you," 
 John added ; "and look how he's 
 growed !"
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 53 
 
 *' Oil, all, lie's growed enough," replied 
 Willum, in a tone wliicli implied that 
 there was common sense in that observa- 
 tion, and there was no denying its truth, 
 " to say nothing of his haction." 
 
 " His haction !" exclaimed John Busby, 
 with enthusiasm, "there ain't nothin' 
 like it in the stud-book." 
 
 By this time they had arrived in front 
 of Sackville House, and as the shades of 
 the winter eveninsr were beo^inninof to 
 darken around, the lights in the dining- 
 room of the house twinkled and glittered 
 through the trees. 
 
 " Just going to dinner," said John 
 Busby, as Willum led the colt across the 
 lawn in front of the house. 
 
 ''I thinks I smells the grub," said 
 Willum, sniffing the frosty air — "I'm 
 sure I does." 
 
 " What a smeller you've got 1" cried 
 John Busby, laughing.
 
 54 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 Willum looked with eager nose towards 
 the dining-room of Sackville House ; and 
 as in doing so he had to look sideways, 
 he could not see what was immediately 
 under his nose — that organ, as we have 
 seen, finding attraction elsewhere. He 
 therefore did not see the trunk of a felled 
 tree which lay in his track, and the con- 
 sequence was that he tumbled headlong 
 over it, and, to the horror and consterna- 
 tion of John Busby, frightened the colt 
 into such a state of unwonted excitement, 
 that he darted off like lightning over the 
 lawn, with the leading-rein streaming in 
 the air like the streamer at a masthead, 
 leaped the fence which separated the 
 flower-garden in front of the house from 
 the lawn, and exhibited for the moment a 
 determination to rush into the dining- 
 room. 
 
 John Busby stood transfixed for an in- 
 stant, while Willum, rubbing his legs,
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 55 
 
 looked steadily and stolidly at tlie trunk 
 of the tree, as tliough it were some won- 
 derful and inexplicable mystery. 
 
 " We must go after liim, or he'll do 
 himself a mischief/' at length exclaimed 
 John, waking up from the consternation 
 into which the incident had thrown him. 
 " Lord ! Lord !" he said, "there he goes 
 in amongst the chrysanthemums. How 
 he is kicking up the mould, to be sure 1" 
 And John Eusby dashed over the fence, 
 closely followed by Willum. 
 
 Mr. William Sturk was quite right in 
 the indications which he said had made 
 themselves manifest to his olfactory organ. 
 The Earl of Sackville's dinner-hour had 
 arrived, and so had a couple of guests in 
 addition to his family circle and Mr. 
 Sheraton. The guests are friends from 
 London, come down for a few days' shoot- 
 ing. One is Lord Dovetail, a young 
 nobleman with large possessions and a
 
 56 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 small intellect. The other is an old man 
 of striking appearance, who is known to 
 all his friends, and indeed, we may say, to 
 the world at large, under the t^obriquet of 
 the "Old Whip," he being almost the 
 sole survivor of those men of rank who 
 in days gone by, and before the iron road 
 had become the great highway, obtained 
 a peculiar notoriety in exhibiting them- 
 selves as amateur coachmen, the scene of 
 their exploits being generally the high- 
 road from the metropolis to Brighton. 
 This old gentleman is short in stature, 
 and he is beginning to look rather sliri- 
 velled from age. He is a tough old 
 gentleman, and has witnessed more cross- 
 country adventures than perhaps any 
 other man living. His reputation in the 
 field is not confined to his own county — 
 it is national; for he has, in his time, per- 
 formed great feats against time, and has 
 beaten Old Time. Indeed, he appears
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 57 
 
 now to be running a match against Time, 
 and the old gentleman with the scythe 
 seems to pant after him in vain. The 
 " Old Wliip," as we have said, is a little 
 man, with two roguish twinkling eyes, 
 which manifestly speak of a love of fun 
 in its broadest sense. 
 
 The other members of the dinner-party 
 are the Countess of Sackville ; the Ho- 
 nourable Reginald, second son of the 
 noble house, whom we have already been 
 introduced to ; a little daughter of the 
 Earl and Countess of Sackville, who is 
 always called " Little Amy," and who is 
 considered to be — that fearful social ob- 
 jection — a precocious child ; and the 
 Eev. Mr. Drone, the Yicar of Sackville — 
 of course the living is amongst those in 
 the gift of the Earl of Sackville — and 
 who is a fox-hunting parson of sixty — 
 they are not so frequently met with as 
 formerly, although we have a right reve-
 
 58 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 rend prelate who dons tlic tops and spurs, 
 and <j;ocs across country witli infinite 
 zest, and whose ecclesiastical dominion 
 has Oxford for its centre. 
 
 "Why, what can that be?'' exclaimed 
 the Earl of Sackville, going to one of tlie 
 windows. " Grracious powers 1" lie cried, 
 as he attempted to open the window — 
 " here's a misfortune !" 
 
 "What's the matter?" all the friends 
 exclaimed at once, rushing up to their host. 
 
 " Why, here's the colt broken loose in 
 the garden," he replied, as he at length 
 succeeded in getting open the window. 
 
 They all went through the window — 
 that is, the Old Whip and the three gen- 
 tlemen — and dashed into the garden, just 
 at the same instant that John Busby 
 jumped over the fence, follov/ed by 
 William Sturk. 
 
 " Why, what is the meaning of this, 
 Busby ?" exclaimed the earl.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 59 
 
 " Let us catcli the colt, and then we'll 
 talk about the meaning, my lord," said 
 John Busby, the perspiration streaming 
 from his face, as much from excitement 
 and trepidation as physical exertion. 
 
 Happily they were not long kept in 
 suspense, for the colt finding, doubtless, 
 that he had been mistaken in the inten- 
 tion of " Willum" towards him, and his 
 first fright over, he came quietly up to 
 John Busby, and yielded himself into his 
 hands. John took hold of the leading- 
 rein, drew a long sigh, took his hat off, 
 wiped his forehead, and then looked at 
 the Earl of Sackville with an expression 
 of resignation to anything the earl had 
 to say. 
 
 " Why, John," said the Earl of Sack- 
 ville, " what is this — how comes this ?" 
 
 " Well, my lord and gentlemen," re- 
 plied John Busby, " I don't exactly know 
 — leastways, it was quite accidental and
 
 60 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 promiscuous, which Willum knows better 
 than I can tell." 
 
 This explanation not being particularly 
 clear, the earl turned to Willum, who 
 touched his cap, and said, "It were the 
 tree, my lord." 
 
 This certainly did not throw much ad- 
 ditional light upon the matter, and the 
 earl, in rather a sharp tone, said to John 
 Busb}^ " Have the goodness to tell me 
 l)lainly and distinctly what is the mean- 
 ing of this." 
 
 " My lord and gentlemen all," replied 
 John, " we w^as a walkin' the colt along 
 all serene, when Willum, which was lead- 
 ing him by the rein, and when we'd got 
 opposite the winder, my lord, Willum 
 tumbled over the trunk of a tree, which 
 frightened the colt as he let him go, and 
 he jumped over the fence and give us 
 this here run, and, thank Providence, 
 there arn't no harm done, my lord and
 
 SACKYILLE CHASE. 61 
 
 gentlemen,'" and John really looked an 
 object of pity for the moment. 
 
 During this explanation the Old Whip 
 had busied himself in looking the colt 
 over and examining his points. Having 
 finished this scrutiny, he came towards 
 John, and solemnly said : 
 
 " John Busby !" 
 
 " Sir to you," said John, touching his 
 hat, and turning quickly away from the 
 Earl of Sackville, very glad, no doubt, to 
 be relieved from the examination which 
 he had been undergoing. 
 
 " John Busby," said the Old Whip, " if 
 ever there w^as a splendid colt in this 
 world, you've got him under your care 
 now, John Busby." 
 
 " Sir," replied John Busby, in a tone 
 of great delight, " sir and gentlemen all, 
 if it was my last will and testament, 
 them's the identical words I'd use my- 
 self."
 
 62 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 '' Do you happen to know, all of you, 
 that it's getting very dark, and that it's 
 a frosty January night ? Do you happen 
 to be aware of that fact, John Busby?" 
 said the Old Whip. 
 
 " Your words is wisdom, sir, which 
 action's better than words. Look alive, 
 "VVillum. By your leave, gentlemen. 
 Now, my beauty — wo-o ! that's a lamb — 
 gently over the beds, my pet — no, not 
 over the fence back again, we'll go round 
 the walks — that's it. Your servant, gen- 
 tlemen;" and John Busby, leading the 
 colt, and attended by his trusty knight, 
 went out by the garden gate and speedily 
 reached the stables. 
 
 On the return of the party to the 
 dining-room, the Countess of Sackville 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " What has this commotion been 
 about ?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing that will interest you,
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 63 
 
 my dear," replied tlie earl : ''' one of the 
 colts got loose in tlie garden." 
 
 " I wish you would have nothing to do 
 with colts," she said, peevishly. " Wlien 
 Eeginald is a bishop, as he shall be," she 
 said, turning fondly to her second-born, 
 who was admiring his " whiskaws" in the 
 chimney-glass, " I hope you will give up 
 all such pursuits." 
 
 " Oh, Lord Dovetail !" cried the pre- 
 cocious Amy, " do tell me what is all tliis 
 about. AVhat a funny fellow j^ou are, 
 Lord Dovetail !" 
 
 At this, of course, they all laughed. 
 " Yes," continued the precocious young 
 lady in the pink sash and white muslin 
 dress with rose-coloured shoes — " yes, he 
 is — you may laugh as much as you like. 
 He is a funny fellow, with his bushy 
 whiskers and pomatumed hair ; and Je- 
 mima, my governess, says he is the nicest- 
 looking man she lias ever seen."
 
 C4 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 " What a cliild it is !" said the coun- 
 tess. 
 
 " I say, Dovetail, you liaven't come 
 down to Sackville for notliing, you see. 
 You have succeeded in securing one con- 
 quest, at all events," said the earl. 
 
 "Ah! — conquest indeed!" rattled on 
 little Amy. " Conquest ! Oh, to be 
 sure. I'll tell Jemima that we'll call him 
 Lord Dovetail the Conqueror !" 
 
 " Have the goodness to hold your 
 tongue, will you, miss ?" said the earl, 
 trying to subdue his merriment, and fail- 
 ing in the attempt, laughing to Lord 
 Dovetail. 
 
 " Come, dinner's on the table," said 
 Amy ; " that will stop our tongues — 
 wont it, Lord Dovetail?" 
 
 " By stopping our mouths, eh !" replied 
 Lord Dovetail. 
 
 And the dinner was disposed of, and 
 the ladies retired, Amy declaring that
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 65 
 
 they ought to stop to hear what the gen- 
 tlemen had to say about the colt, for she 
 was sure they would talk about him. 
 
 And she was right. They did talk 
 about the colt; but it is quite unneces- 
 sary to follow them in that conversation. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 66 SACKVILLE CHASE 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 JOHN BUSBY AND WILLUM MAKE A NIGHT OF IT 
 AT THE SACKVILLE ARMS, AND JOHN BUSBY 
 MAKES THE ACQUAINTANCE OF A MYSTERIOUS 
 STRANGER. 
 
 John Busby and Willum, when tliey had 
 seen the colt safely housed, took them- 
 selves across the park, and they soon 
 found themselves in the parlour of the 
 Sackville Arms, which we have previously 
 described. There were several guests 
 there already. The little landlord was 
 up in the corner nearest tlie hack of the 
 chimney; the village blacksmith, a rol- 
 licking-, bulky fellow, was next to him ; 
 the village sexton and parish clerk were 
 on the other side, with two or three gen-
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 67 
 
 tlemen evidently connected "v\^itli tlie agri- 
 cultural interest, whose chief character- 
 istics were jolly, round, chubby faces, 
 ■drab small-clothes, and leather leggings. 
 They were all smoking, and they had all 
 long pipes to smoke with ; and upon the 
 tables which stood before them were 
 various vessels, which were not empty, 
 and some of which steamed fragrantly. 
 
 " Good evenin', genelmen all," said 
 John Busby, as he took his seat near the 
 parish clerk, " and how's things in ge- 
 neral, Dick?" 
 
 This latter observation v/as addressed 
 to the little landlord. 
 
 "Well, John," the landlord replied, 
 " there ain't nothing partic'lar come down 
 by last train, and things is pretty middlin' 
 in general. Good health, John and gen- 
 tlemen all," and the landlord took a pull 
 at his glass. " Hov/'s things a movin' 
 with you, John?" he inquired, as John 
 
 5—2
 
 OS SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 Busby took a pipe from the table, applied 
 it to his lips to see that the passage 
 through it was uninterrupted, and then 
 filled it with tobacco, going up to the fire 
 and taking a brand therefrom to light the 
 pipe with. 
 
 ' *' We have had two or three queer 
 things this afternoon," replied John, 
 puffing between his words, as he ignited 
 his pipe. " In fact, we've had a hacci- 
 dent." 
 
 "Don't mean that?" said the land- 
 lord. 
 
 " Anything serious at the Hall, sir ?" 
 inquired the parish clerk. 
 
 " Well, you see, it was one of Willum's 
 games again." And John Busby pointed 
 with his pipe towards Willum. 
 
 That young gentleman was going 
 through the operation of lighting a pipe 
 too, and as he tossed the glowing piece of 
 wood with which he had performed the
 
 ' SACKVILLE CHASE. 69 
 
 operation back into tlie fire, he pointed 
 over liis shoulder to John Busby, as 
 much as to say, '' Hear him out ; he'll 
 pitch it strong." 
 
 " What has it been, John ?" inquired 
 the little landlord. 
 
 "Why, one of the yearlings," said 
 John, resuming his seat. 
 
 " Not dead ?" cried the landlord, taking 
 his pipe out of his mouth. 
 
 ''Dead!" exclaimed John Busbv. 
 
 "D it, Spandle, don't talk in that 
 
 way ! Why, blest if it ain't enough to 
 bust a feller's wesket. Dead ! dash my 
 buttons, that would have been a acci- 
 dent !" And John looked quite terrified 
 .at the bare notion of the thing. 
 
 '' Oh, no !" joined in Willum, " the 
 colt's been playing a antic, that's all." 
 
 "Oh! that's it, eh?" said the little 
 •landlord. " Broke loose, or some caper 
 of that sort, I suppose ?"
 
 70 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 "That Avas just it, and there that 
 Wilhim sits a-smokin:,^ his ]:)rosely, just 
 as if lie was as hinnocent of the antic as 
 the colt." 
 
 "AVell, and so I was," said Will urn ; 
 " but there ain't nothing that'll knock 
 out a notion of John's." 
 
 "You're about right there, Willum, 
 my young swell, so you nia}^ shut your 
 mouth upon that ere subject," said 
 John. 
 
 " Be you a-goin' to put any think into 
 yourn ?" inquired AVillum. 
 
 "Eight again, Willum ! To think 
 that I should forsret that for only one 
 second; eh, Spandle?" And John 
 laughed heartily at the notion of his 
 coming into the Sackville Arms and not 
 immediately ordering his usual quantum 
 of that which always cheers in such cases. 
 "Touch the bell, will you, Spandle? 
 Thank you."
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 71 
 
 Spanclle did as lie was directed, and a 
 little dumpling-looking maiden answered 
 the summons. 
 
 '' The perscription, Jemima, my dear, 
 as before," said John Busby. 
 
 " And a dose similarly the same for 
 this here invalide," saidWillum, winking 
 upon Jemima, and declaring that " she 
 was a-looking more plummier than ever ;'* 
 at which she archly said : " Sweet, as be- 
 fore, I s'pose ?" 
 
 " Exact — like yourself, Jemima, my 
 dear, with my best love," said Willum ; 
 and Jemima left the room. 
 
 " Willum," said John Busby, solemnly, 
 " it's very clear that in this house you 
 likes givin' what you takes." 
 
 " Wot's that?" inquired Willum. 
 
 " Sweet and strong !" replied John 
 Busby. 
 
 "Go it, John— go it!" said Willum; 
 but before John could " ^o it" farther,
 
 72 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 Jemima reappeared with two steaming 
 tumblers for the two gentlemen. 
 
 Wlien John Busby entered the apart- 
 ment in the Sackville Arms, he did not at 
 first observe a stranger who was seated at 
 one end of the high-backed seats, smoking. 
 It was rather strange that John Busby 
 did not notice him, because he was very 
 remarkable in appearance. He had a 
 thick moustache and a long and jDrofuse 
 beard, and he wore a slouch hat which 
 almost covered his features. He was 
 sun-burnt and swarthy, and his attire 
 consisted of a suit all made of the same 
 woollen material. It was easy to perceive 
 that he had been a traveller in distant 
 lands. As soon as this person heard 
 John Busby mention the incident con- 
 nected with the colt, he rose and took 
 a seat next to John, on the other 
 side. There was nothing calculated to 
 9.ttract attention in the movement, and
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 73 
 
 yet a close scrutiny would have dis- 
 covered that it was caused by a sudden 
 impulse which the person exhibiting it 
 desired to conceal. 
 
 " Suppose he'd broke any of the 
 winders," said the landlord, reverting to 
 the subject of the breaking away of the 
 colt, and which had been explained by 
 John Busby. 
 
 " Suppose he'd broke his leg," replied 
 John, almost terrified at his own sugges- 
 tion, and in a tone which plainly indi- 
 cated that in John's opinion all the 
 windows in the mansion might have been 
 smashed to atoms, and he would have 
 thought nothing about it, so long as the 
 colt was safe. 
 
 "He kicked up the devil's delight 
 while it did last, I can tell you," said 
 WiUum. 
 
 "Willum," said John Busby, "it 
 would have been something more than
 
 74 SACKVILLE CHASK. 
 
 devil's delight to you, iny young phe- 
 nomenon, if so be as we hadn't got so well 
 out on it." 
 
 " Well, in course I knows that ere," 
 Mr. Willum said. 
 
 "Wot ere?" John Busby inquired. 
 " Wliat is it as you knows?" 
 
 " Why, the consekens, I suppose you 
 means," replied AVillum. 
 
 " Yes," said John, " and wot 'ud that 
 be?" 
 
 " Case o' sack, of course," cried Willum, 
 laconically. 
 
 " Sack's the word, decided," acquiesced 
 John Busby, smoking his pipe solemnly. 
 
 At this point the stranger for the first 
 time addressed the guests at the Sackville 
 Arms. He inquired, not addressing any- 
 body in particular : " Is this a promising 
 young cart-horse that has been exhibiting 
 these antics?" 
 
 He said this in a careless, off-handed
 
 SACKYTLLE CHASE. 75 
 
 way, as though he were not particularly 
 interested in the matter, but it was well 
 to keep up the subject, just for conversa- 
 tion's sake. 
 
 John Busby, without taking his pipe 
 out of his mouth, turned lull upon the 
 stranger, and said, in a deep voice, " Did 
 3^ou ever hear o' tlie Darby ?" 
 
 " Well, I think I have," replied the 
 stranger, '' and I went once." 
 
 "Did you now?" said John Busby. 
 *' You've been to the Darby, have you ?" 
 
 " Once," added the stranger. 
 
 " Then you don't know very much 
 about it, I suppose ?" said John Busby. 
 
 " Well, sir," replied the stranger, " I 
 might know more and I might know less ; 
 but why do you ask me ?" 
 
 '' Why, sir," replied John Busby, wink- 
 ing at the landlord, and carrying on a 
 telegraphic communication with Willum, 
 as much as to say, " I'll have a game
 
 7G SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 with this greenhorn :" " why, sir, you 
 talked about a cart-horse. They don't 
 often run cart-horses in the Darby, do 
 they?" 
 
 " They did not when I saw it," repHed 
 the stranger, cahuly. 
 
 " And they ain't a-going to next year, 
 I reckon," said John Busby, again wink- 
 ins: at his friends. 
 
 "No, I beUeve they have not altered 
 the conditions — at least, not that I have 
 heard of," the stranger said. 
 
 " Well, then, if you fancy that we've 
 got cart-horses down here wot jumps into 
 gentlemen's gardens, and brings out gen- 
 tlemen wot's in the dining-room, just 
 a-going to dinner, why, then, p'raps we 
 may see a cart-horse win the Darby next 
 year." 
 
 '' Excuse me," said the stranger, apolo- 
 getically, " I didn't know what you were 
 talking of; but I infer from what you
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 77 
 
 have now said, that this colt that has been 
 performing such interesting antics to-day 
 is engaged in the Derby," 
 
 " Eight as a trivet there," said John 
 Busby. 
 
 " Wont want no telescope to tell that," 
 added Willum solemnly, smoking. 
 
 How is it that very cautious people 
 are sometimes the most incautious of 
 mortals ? 
 
 " And I suppose you have great hopes- 
 of this same colt," said the stranger. 
 
 " That depends, you see," replied John 
 Busby, mysteriously. "We breeds our 
 tits, and we keeps 'em to ourselves, we 
 do." 
 
 " Except when the}- jumps into flower- 
 gardens," said Willum, winking upon the 
 company generally. 
 
 " Willum, you always will be a-going 
 of your rigs. You gets your grog into 
 you, and then you pitches into us. But
 
 78 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 remember, Willum, that if colts does jump 
 into flower-gardens, it's sometimes caused 
 by muffs tumblin' over trunks o' trees, my 
 young swell." 
 
 "A dig for you, Willum," said the 
 little landlord, laughing, and nudging 
 Willum. 
 
 " You generally gets your change 
 out of John," said the sexton ; '' he 
 don't make no bones about it, does 
 he?" 
 
 '' Well, then, in that case he ain't o' 
 your trade," said AVillum, not relishing 
 the laugh that was turned against 
 him. 
 
 " And I don't make no bones, either," 
 said the sexton, in perfect good-humour ; 
 " I only buries 'em ;" and as he gave ex- 
 pression to this philosophical observation, 
 he buried his own nose in a quart pot, 
 and the resurrection thereof was bright 
 and glowing.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 7y 
 
 " Then this colt is a Derby candidate, 
 is he ?" inquired the stranger. 
 
 " If he is, will you give him your vote 
 and interest ?" said John Busby, looking 
 slily at his questioner. 
 
 " You are a decided wag, sir," said the 
 stranger, deferentially, the tone being of 
 course assumed. 
 
 "D'ye think so?" said John Busby, 
 evidently tickled. " Well, p'raps it's cos 
 of rubbing so often up again these sharp 
 blades in this here parlour of the Sack- 
 ville Arms." 
 
 "Don't you believe it, sir," said the 
 little landlord; "he were born a wag, 
 John Busby were ; he's alwa3^s a-waggin', 
 he be." 
 
 " Why, you'll make him a waginer 
 next," said Willum, rather doggedly. 
 
 " Willum," cried Jolm Busby, " look 
 more lively, my young swell, and don't 
 talk about waginers, or else the genelman"
 
 80 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 (indicating the stranger) " will think 
 there's truth in what he said about the 
 colt and the cart-horse." 
 
 " I don't care what the bloke thinks," 
 said Willum ; " and as it's getting late, I 
 shall hook it." 
 
 " Good night, Willum," said John 
 Busby. 
 
 "Leave us a lock o' yer hair," cried 
 the sexton, without moving a muscle of 
 his countenance. 
 
 Willum merely said — 
 
 " Go it, my pippins ; I'll leave you to 
 it." 
 
 And he accordingly left them to it, by 
 leaving the room and wending his w^ay 
 home. 
 
 The others shortly afterwards dropped 
 off one by one, until only John Busby, the 
 landlord, and the stranger were left ; and 
 John Busby himself rose to depart, when 
 the stranger said —
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 81 
 
 " Don't go yet, Mr. Busby ; have one 
 glass with me, sh', before you go." * 
 
 '' Sir, 3^ou're very pohte, and I can't 
 refuse," said John Busby ; and the glass 
 was immediately ordered in, and John 
 Busby sat down again. 
 
 "Will you be kind enough to see if my 
 bed is all right ?" said the stranger to the 
 little landlord. 
 
 The little landlord took the hint at 
 once, and said, "Immediate." He poked 
 up the fire on the hearth, and caused a 
 galaxy of sparks to fill the great yawning 
 chimney, as they danced fantastically high 
 up. Having accomplished this feat, he 
 said, "Good-night, John," and John re- 
 sponded, " Good-night, old Imck ;" the 
 little landlord left the room, and closed 
 the door after him. 
 
 " You seem to have a great notion of 
 this colt," said the stranger as soon as 
 they were alone. 
 
 VOL. I. 6
 
 82 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 " A Gfrciit notion !" exclaimed Jolm 
 Busby. " It's the biggest notion as ever 
 come into the place wot's pervidcd for 
 notions." 
 
 " There must be something very pro- 
 raising about him, then, I should think,'* 
 said the stranger in an off-hand way. 
 
 John Busby in the course of the even- 
 ing had caused several glasses of his 
 favourite beverage to disappear, and the 
 one he was taking with the stranger was 
 a little stronger — only a little — than those 
 which had preceded it. Under the in- 
 fluence of these stimulants John became 
 communicative, and he informed his new-- 
 found acquaintance that the colt was not 
 only promising, but as he could go like 
 lightning, it w^as not too much to expect 
 that he would make a thundering noise in 
 the world. And John Busby laughed at 
 the notion. 
 
 " Do you know," said the complaisant
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 83 
 
 stranger, " that I have never seen a 3'oung 
 thorough-bred horse in his quarters at 
 home ; and if it would not be too much to 
 ask of you, Mr. Busby, I sliould take it 
 as a great favour if you would let me see 
 this very wonderful colt of yours.'* 
 
 " My bo}','' said John, " I shall be de- 
 lighted to show him to you — for you'll be 
 delighted to see him. All on the quiet, 
 though, mind — all on the quiet. When 
 will you come ?" 
 
 "Shall we say to-morrow morning?" 
 said the stranger. " In flict, it must be 
 to-morrow morning if it is at all, for I go 
 away to-morrovv^ afternoon." 
 
 " To-morrow it shall be, then," replied 
 John Busby ; '' you shall see him go 
 through his paces — such grand action — 
 such a neck — such quarters — and such a 
 head!" 
 
 This appointment having been made, 
 John Busbv found that his i^lass was
 
 84 SACKVJLLE CHASE. 
 
 empty ; and then lie invited the stranger 
 to have a glass with him, and the stranger 
 at once acquiesced. John Busby accord- 
 ingly rang the bell, and the plump hand- 
 maiden having answered it, John Busby 
 said that Spandle himself should bring in 
 the order, which was " two more goes of 
 the same mixter, my dear." 
 
 The little landlord immediately made 
 his appearance, even before the maiden 
 could deliver John Busby's mandate, 
 which may possibly be acc^ounted for by 
 the fact that he had been an attentive 
 listener at the door to what was going on. 
 When the " two more of the same mix- 
 ter" were brought in, the landlord dis- 
 covered, of course, that he was without 
 the stimulant that was steaming before 
 his two guests, and so did John Busby, 
 for he exclaimed, " Come, Spandle, what 
 are you going to have?" 
 
 Spandle was of opinion that he could
 
 SACXVILLE CHASE, 85 
 
 not do better than join liis two guests, 
 and he accordingly did so. The three 
 glasses were placed before the three 
 friends, and they speedily disappeared 
 from before them, and then they were 
 replenished. John Busby gradually grew 
 hilarious, and the more he became ele- 
 vated and genial, the stronger to him 
 appeared the stranger to increase in social 
 qualities. The limits of conversation were 
 speedily passed, and John Busby, under 
 the combined influence of the good cheer 
 and social companionship, became harmo- 
 nious and volunteered a song, which he 
 gave with great gusto, and the burthen 
 of which had reference to the resolution 
 which a gentleman in the rural districts, 
 addressing one Graifer Grreen, had said he 
 would adopt if he had but a thousand a 
 year. 
 
 John became glorious ; the little land- 
 lord was jovial, and the stranger jolly.
 
 S6 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 Late in tlic evening Jolm swore eternal 
 friendship for the stranger — shook him 
 heartily by the hand, and essayed to leave 
 the house. The fact must be confessed 
 — John staggered ; indeed, he rolled 
 about, upon which the stranger volun- 
 teered to see him home, and the little 
 landlord volunteered to go witli the 
 stranger. John received the proposition 
 with uproarious deliglit, the three sallied 
 forth, and John all the way home favoured 
 the little village with strains which were 
 unwonted in that quiet locality. 
 
 John Busby snored fast asleep in one 
 minute after he got into bed.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 87 
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 THE STRANGER AND WILLUM FRATERNIZE — JOHN 
 BUSBY RATHER SHAKY, BUT STILL UP TO HIS 
 WORK — THE COLT TROTTED OUT, AND THE 
 STRANGER TROTS OFF. 
 
 A riNE, bright, crisp, frosty morning in 
 January is very pleasant to those vdio 
 like it. We prefer summer, but when 
 we must have winter, we Hke it to be 
 crisp and bright. A sloppy winter we 
 don't lilve, and a fog in the country to us 
 is an abomination. We don't much mind 
 a fog in London, provided it be a down- 
 right, unmistakeable fog, the colour and 
 almost the consistency of pea-soup, a 
 little smoked, too, as it always is — w^e 
 mean the fog, not the soup. Indeed, we
 
 88 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 don't dislike, just once and away in the 
 very depths of the winter, a thorough- 
 bred dense fog, when a person, not being 
 chained at home, finds it necessary to 
 have a link abroad, in order to get on 
 at all. 
 
 When the stranger stood at the door 
 of the Sackville Arms, or rather the 
 porch thereof, for it was an old-fashioned 
 place, and the front entrance liad an 
 old-fashioned porch — when the stranger 
 stood at the door on the morning follow- 
 ing the scene narrated in the last chapter, 
 he found a bright, crisp, frosty morning, 
 the sun shining — or rather glowing, for 
 it could scarcely be called shining — like 
 a great ball of burnished copper. The 
 stranger stood at the door of the Sackville 
 Arms, and looked up the village and 
 down the village, but he saw nothing but 
 the village either way. Troutbrook was 
 not a populous place. The stranger had
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 89 
 
 not stood at tlie door long, however, 
 before he saw Willum comins: down the 
 village. He was walking leisurely along, 
 and was whistling with mnch energy, 
 thereby blowing out his clieeks until his 
 face looked like a great apple. As he 
 approached the Sackville Arms, he saw 
 the stranger, and stopping his musical 
 performance, said — 
 
 " Mornin ." 
 
 " Good-morning," said the stranger ; 
 " nice morning." 
 
 " Well, it's nice and it ain't nice," re- 
 plied AVillum. " It's nice when you're 
 in it, but it ain't nice getting into it." 
 
 " How's that ?" said the stranger, not 
 exactly comprehending Willum's mean- 
 ing. 
 
 " Why, you see, when a feller wakes 
 of a mornin' he's as warm as a toast, 
 and he don't feel inclined to turn out. 
 Well, that ain't it — it's the turnin' out.
 
 90 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 You puts your legs out first, you know, 
 and Lord! don't it nip your toes? and 
 if you ain't strong-minded, the chances 
 is as how you draws 'em back again into 
 bed. But you must turn out some time, 
 you know," continued Willum, in a tone 
 which seemed to imply that the stranger 
 had contested the proposition; "but 
 when you be once up, and yer togs on, 
 and out in it, why it's all right, just as I 
 am. Goin' to stand anything?" 
 
 The stranger at once accepted the 
 challenge, and re-entered the house, 
 closely followed by Willum. On reach- 
 ing the little half window in the door 
 leading into the little bar-parlour, the 
 stranger said — 
 
 " What's it to be ?" 
 
 " Gin warm, my dear," William re- 
 sponded, addressing the little plump bar- 
 maid, whom we have seen before. 
 
 " What do you have yourself, sir ?"
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 91 
 
 " Thank you, I can't manage anything 
 so early/' said the stranger. 
 
 " Ever try rum and milk ?" Mr. Willum 
 inquired. 
 
 "Sometimes — before breakfast," re- 
 plied the stranger, smiling. 
 
 " Eippin', ain't it ? Better in summer 
 nor winter, though," said Willum. 
 
 "You are going down to the stables, I 
 suppose ? ' said the stranger, 
 
 " Ought to have been there afore this," 
 replied Willum. 
 
 " I am going down too," said the 
 stranger ; "I appointed last night to 
 meet Mr. Busbj here at half-past eight, 
 to go down witL him to see this young 
 race-horse that yoii have got." 
 
 "Did you, though? Was John ra- 
 ther " and Wilhm put his finger to 
 
 his head to imply an in'^errogatory whether 
 John Busby went hom^perfectly sober or 
 not.
 
 i)'2 SACKVII.LE CHASE. 
 
 " Well, he was jolly," said the stranger. 
 
 " Then he ahi't u]), I'll take my 
 davy !" said "Willum, decisively. " What 
 do you say to coming along with me to 
 sce.^ 
 
 " I shall he very glad," replied the 
 stranger. 
 
 " Come on, then," said Willum, as he 
 put his glass down empty. 
 
 The two immediately left die house 
 together, and proceeded down the village 
 towards Sackville Hall. As they passed 
 over the bridge which spanned the trout- 
 stream that ran across the main road, they 
 met an enormous pig \ralking leisurely 
 along with a self-satisfied grunt, and the 
 air of an alderman w^io had disposed of 
 as much turtle as he could conveniently 
 carry. 
 
 " ^Yliat a treme7idous pig !" exclaimed 
 the stranger. 
 
 ''He is a vhopper, ain't he?" said
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 93 
 
 Willum. " He belongs to a widder, lie 
 does." 
 
 "Belongs to a widow!" replied tlie 
 stranger, looking into Willum's face, won- 
 dering, no doubt, why Willum should 
 have given that especial fact with regard 
 to the pig's connections. 
 
 " Yes, he belongs to a widder ; and the 
 strangest part on it is, that there pig's 
 father made her a widder," said Willum, 
 seriously. 
 
 "Wliat!" exclaimed the stranger; 
 " how do you mean ?" 
 
 "Why, it's this here," said Willum, 
 stopping to look at the big pig, as he 
 waddled across the bridge. " That there 
 pig's father was as fine a pig as him — 
 finer of the two. A three-and-thirty stun- 
 ner he were. Well, that pig's father 
 b'longed to this here widder' s husband, 
 which was a gamekeeper hisself — that is, 
 when he was young ; but, getting fat, they
 
 1)4 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 made liim a dairyman, which he were more 
 fit ibr. Well, he used to take a m'eat 
 pride in liis pigs, he did ; and he always 
 seemed to be trying which could get the 
 fattest, himself or his pigs — and he were 
 fat, and no mistake. Well, that there 
 pig's father" — pointing over his shoulder, 
 for they were walking to Sackville Hall — 
 " that there pig's father was an 'orrid 
 grunter, and it used to be old Slummer's 
 delight to stir up the pig and make him 
 grunt whenever he was a showing of him, 
 which he did pretty often, and then he 
 laughed till his big double chin shuk ag'in. 
 Lord ! how he would laugh ! — till he was 
 often so red in the face that you'd fancy 
 he'd never look pale in the face no more. 
 
 * I tell you what it is,' says the vicar gent 
 in black smalls and gaiters from the par- 
 sonage — ' I tell you what it is, Slummer,' 
 he says one day as he was a going by, 
 
 * that pig'll be the death of you, Slummer,
 
 SACKYILLE CHASE. 95 
 
 that he will ;' and he said it quite solemn, 
 and walked on. ISl ow this took Slummer 
 all aback, and he could do nothing but 
 think about it, and he got quite melan- 
 choly ; and one morning, without saying 
 a word to nobody, he went out and stuck 
 the pig, and then got quite jolly again ; 
 and that same night he came into the 
 Sackville Arms, and told us all as how 
 the vicar was out for once, and he took 
 two glasses extra that night." 
 
 *' Well, but how about the pig being the 
 death of the man — or, rather, making the 
 owner of yonder pig a widow ?" inquired 
 the stranger. 
 
 " Hear the finish of it," said Willum. 
 " Old Slummer said he intended to be jolly 
 indeed out of that ere pig, and he invited 
 all on us to go the next day to have some 
 chitterlings and pig's puddings, and he 
 went and he pitched into them so precious 
 voracious, that he busted his internals;
 
 9G SACKVILl.E CHASE. 
 
 and so the pig were the death on him, as 
 the vicar had said, which 1 think is about 
 as remarkable a instance of the gift of 
 profacy as 'as ever been heard on. Here's 
 the gate as leads into the park," said 
 Willum, as he finished his narrative and 
 opened a little wicket. 
 
 They passed through, and, walking 
 across the park, they speedily reached the 
 stables. 
 
 " I'll go and see where John is," said 
 Willum ; " joii stop here a bit ;" and 
 Willum vanished behind some trees. 
 
 He had not been gone many moments 
 before he returned with John Busby, look- 
 ing anything but like the morning, which, 
 as we have said, was bright. 
 
 " I say, John, don't you look fishy, and 
 no mistake," said Willum, after the usual 
 salutations had passed. 
 
 "It ain't for you, Willum, to pass no 
 personal reflections," said John. " This
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 97 
 
 here sort of a morning never does agree 
 with me, sir," he continued, addressing 
 the stranger. 
 
 " Not after a night at the Arms," said 
 Willum. 
 
 " He's always at it, sir," said John ta 
 the stranger. 
 
 "What, the Arms?" cried WiUum, 
 with a wink at the stranger. 
 
 " Let him have his game, sir — let him 
 have his game," said John. " Hallo ! I've 
 left the key behind. Willum, it's on the 
 hook." 
 
 " Which means, that I must hook it and 
 fetch it, I suppose," said Willum, as lie 
 went off to fetch the key. 
 
 "He's right, sir," said John, as soon 
 as Willum was out of sight. " It is pre- 
 cious queer I am this morning, indeed; 
 that there whisky at the Arms is very 
 good in moderation, but it plays the 
 
 VOL. I. 7
 
 9S SACKVILLE CJiASE. 
 
 dickens witli skylights in the morning, if 
 you turn round the corner." 
 
 We presume that John meant, by turn- 
 ing round the corner, if a person went 
 beyond a certain limit with regard to 
 whisky-punch. Willum speedily produced 
 the key, and the stranger was ushered 
 into the stables. 
 
 " There lie is, my pet — my beauty !" 
 said John Busby, patting the colt on 
 the neck — " tliere he is !" and the colt 
 neighed in acknowledgment of John's 
 caresses. 
 
 "Keady for his corn, my pet?" said 
 John. " Now, Willum, give him his 
 breakfast ;" and the colt was accordingly 
 supplied with that meal. 
 
 " Ought to have been done afore," said 
 John Busby ; '' it's a shame to liave kept 
 him a waiting so long, so it is." 
 
 " I didn't," said Willum, laconically, 
 as he came out of the stall.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 99 
 
 " And you liave great liopes, I suppose, 
 of tliis colt?" said the stranger. 
 
 " I suppose tlie guv'ner lias," replied 
 John Busby. " Did you ever see such a 
 colt in all your born days ?" 
 
 "Whose stables are these?" inquired 
 the stranger. 
 
 " That's where it is, you see," answered , 
 John Busby. "These here stables, and 
 this here park, and that there house is 
 the Earl of Sackville's, but this here colt 
 ain't the Earl of Sackville's." 
 
 "That is strange," said the stranger. 
 By-the-bye, did I understand you last 
 night — when you Vv^ere telling us the ad- 
 venture of the breaking away of the colt — 
 that the Earl of Sackville is down here ?" 
 
 " That he is," answered John Busby ; 
 " and he was one on 'em as come out of 
 the dining-room when pet here was a 
 kicking up the devil's delight in the 
 garden."
 
 100 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 " Is lie staying in the country at pre- 
 sent ?" inquired the stranger. 
 
 " AVhy, he's only just come down to 
 have a look at this colt," said John Busby j 
 " and I'm a thinkin', from what Mr. 
 ISIixon said yesterday morning, that the 
 earl is a going back to London to-day. 
 You see the Parliament is a sitting just 
 now." 
 
 " Has he any of his family with him ?" 
 inquired the stranger. 
 
 " Only a swell or two as ain't no re- 
 lation," replied John Busby. 
 
 The stranger for a moment appeared 
 absorbed in thought. He was roused hj 
 John Busby saying — 
 
 " Perhaps you knows the earl?" 
 
 " When I tell you that I haven't been 
 in England until this week for twenty 
 years, there will not be much necessity 
 for mv answering that question," said the 
 
 stran crer.
 
 SACKYILLE CHASE. 101 
 
 "FuiTin parts?" said John Busby, in- 
 quiringly. 
 
 "The land of gold," replied the 
 stranger; "the golden land of the an- 
 tipodes — once the receptacle of crime, 
 still the home of the adventurer; the 
 land that has taken from the mother- 
 country its refuse and returned to it gold, 
 even as the reeking festering heap of 
 rottenness in the field brings from the 
 earth the golden grain." 
 
 He spoke in a tone of abstraction, and 
 almost as though he were communing 
 with himself, and as he did so he looked 
 at his watch. 
 
 " Australy?" suggested John Busby. 
 
 " Australia," said the stranger. 
 
 " Ah, we've got a Australy chap down 
 in this here village," said John Busby ; 
 " went out, I'm told, in rather of a hurry. 
 However that may be, he's come back 
 with lots o' blunt, has squared the folks
 
 102 sa(:kville chase. 
 
 he cut away from, and thinks hisself a 
 cock o' the walk here. But, Lord, he's a 
 reglar hignoramus !" 
 
 John spoke this in a tone of the most 
 supreme contempt. 
 
 " Ah, indeed," said the stranger, " what 
 is he?" 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," replied John 
 Eushy — " was a bullock driver or sumut 
 o' that sort in Australy, I'm told." 
 
 " I daresay I shall know liim when I 
 see him," said the stranger, and then 
 turning from the subject he said, " this is 
 not the only seat the Earl of Sackville 
 has in this part of tlie countr}^ ?" 
 
 " Oh, no — he's got Conquest Abbe}^, 
 about forty miles off, but they never goes 
 there, I'm told," said John. 
 
 "Ah, indeed, why not?" said the 
 stranger, unconcernedly. 
 
 " Well, there's a queer story about it," 
 eplied John ; *' I don't know exactly
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 103 
 
 what it's all about ; but about twenty 
 years ago there was an awful upset in tlie 
 family — something about a girl, and 
 they've never lived in Conquest Abbey 
 since." 
 
 The stranger for a moment was wrapt 
 in thought ; he then suddenly ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 " Has the earl any family?" 
 
 '' Oh, yes," said John Busby, " one or 
 two, but they be all Evangelists, they be, 
 except Lord Belfieur, and he's rather wild 
 and is gone abroad." 
 
 " About what age is he ?" inquired the 
 stranger. 
 
 " He come of age last September, and 
 there was jolly fun down here." 
 
 " Twenty- one !" cried the stranger, and 
 his eyes sparkled with excitement. He 
 clenched his hands and compressed his 
 lips. 
 
 "Ah," continued John Busby, "you
 
 104 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 should Iia' seen them there Evangehsts a 
 giving out the grub in the olden style. 
 They dressed theirselves in what they 
 called gabardines, and handed the bread 
 and the beef to all the poor of the parish, 
 what was seated at a table. Lord, you 
 never see such antics as them there Evan- 
 gelists plays sometimes." 
 
 " What do you call Evangelists ?" asked 
 the stranger. 
 
 " Why, strait-laced folks, what preaches 
 and comes the pious dodge, pervides 
 Bibles for the Bungaree natives, and 
 small-tooth combs for the w^oolly-headed 
 niggers." 
 
 By this time they had reached the vil- 
 lage again, and on approaching the Sack- 
 ville Arms they observed a tall, stalwart 
 man standing at the door. 
 
 " How art thee, John ?" exclaimed this 
 individual, as John Busby and the 
 stranger came up.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 105 
 
 " Why, Mr. Sparke, what brings you 
 down here ?" cried John Busby, in a tone 
 of surprise. 
 
 " Do you mean to say you don't 
 know ?" demanded Mr. Sparke. 
 
 "Why, how should I?" asked John 
 Eusby. 
 
 " You don't know nothing about the 
 Swindleton, I suppose ?" said Mr. Sparke, 
 with a wink. 
 
 " Oh, dang it all, if I hadn't forgot all 
 about that, to be sure. Well, but what 
 have you got to do with it, Mr. Sparke ?" 
 
 Mr. Sparke took John Busby on one 
 side, and behind his hand whispered 
 something into John's, ear. 
 
 " What, the old game, eh ?" said John 
 Busby, laughing. 
 
 " Now there you're quite wrong, for it's 
 a new game entirely," said Mr. Sparke. 
 
 "Take anything?" said John Busby to 
 the stranger.
 
 106 SACKVILLK CHASE. 
 
 " Thank you, no ; I am goin^ up yon- 
 der," and the stranger indicated the direc- 
 tion of Sackville Chase. 
 
 "What, up to the Hall?" inquired 
 John Busby, in a tone of something like 
 consternation. 
 
 ''Up to the Hall," the stranger an- 
 swered. 
 
 " To see the earl ?" gasped John Busby. 
 
 '' To see the earl," the stranger said, 
 and added, between his clenched teeth, 
 " and on important business, too. Good 
 morning," he said to John Busby ; "we 
 shall be sure to meet again soon." 
 
 And the stranger took his way towards 
 the park again. 
 
 John Busby gazed after him until he 
 was out of sight, and then turning into 
 the house with Mr. Sparke, he said — 
 
 " It strikes me that's a mysterious 
 cove."
 
 SACKVILLE CilASE. 107 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 THE STRANGER PAYS A VISIT TO THE EARL OF SACK- 
 VILLE, AT SACKVILLE HALL THE RECOQXITION 
 
 AXD THE THREAT. 
 
 Whe^' the stranger left John Busby, with 
 his friend Sparke,- at the door of tlie 
 Sackville Arms, he took his way, as we 
 have said, towards the park, wliich he 
 speedily reached and entered. As he 
 passed along the pathway which led 
 through this rich domain, he looked 
 around upon the gigantic trees that 
 stretched their skeleton arms out tovrards 
 each other, as though they were holding 
 an energetic debate, and a shade of sad- 
 ness passed across his sunburnt counte- 
 nance. Arrived at a slightly-elevated spot,
 
 108 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 which commanded a view of the broad 
 sheet of the lake, he stood and gazed upon 
 it, absorbed in thought. But the pause 
 was only for a moment, and he continued 
 his progress towards the great house, 
 which was now close upon him. His 
 summons at the door was instantly an- 
 swered by a liveried lackey, who looked 
 with a ludicrous expression of doubt, 
 superciliousness, and curiosity, upon the 
 stranger,, who demanded an audience of 
 the Earl of Sackville. As the demand 
 was made in a tone of decision, such as 
 suppliants at great halls never exhibit, 
 the magnificent footman was partially 
 overawed; and as he had sufficient dis- 
 cretion to see that, while it was possible 
 the stranger might be a sharper, it was 
 equally possible that he might be an 
 eccentric nobleman, he requested the un- 
 known to step into the waiting-room while 
 his message was conveyed to the carl.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 109 
 
 The Earl of Sackville was alone in liis 
 breakfast-parlour, and lie was reading that 
 day's London paper, which had but lately 
 been delivered. He was seated before a 
 blazing lire, his elbow leaning on the 
 table as he read, and the paper resting 
 against a magnificent ormolu lamp, with 
 a stained glass shade of spreading dimen- 
 sions. The expression upon his counte- 
 nance indicated that he was in srood 
 humour that mornino:, for a smile of 
 satisfaction played upon his features — a 
 smile e^ddently not produced by the con- 
 tents of the journal he was perusing, 
 inasmuch as he would occasionally turn 
 away from it, and smile more definitely 
 as he gazed into the fire, his satisfaction 
 manifestly proceeding from the current of 
 his thoughts. He was thus when the 
 magnificent footman announced that a 
 gentleman, who had refrained from en- 
 trusting the glittering functionary with
 
 110 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 his name, desired an immediate audience 
 of the earl. Now it so happened that the 
 Earl of Sackville expected a diplomatist 
 from the establisliment of j\Ir. Jonas 
 Nixon to wait upon him that morning, 
 and believing that the personage an- 
 nounced by the footman was that indi- 
 vidual, and smihng at liis reserve with 
 regard to his name and business, he gave 
 directions that the visitor should be shown 
 in. The gilded pillar of the social edifice 
 of the Sackville domain — the man with 
 the colours, and the plush, and the gold 
 lace — hastened to the waiting-room, and 
 with a bearing of obsequious alacrity — 
 for he could see, or thought he could, 
 that the stranger was an anticipated 
 friend of the earl's — requested to be al- 
 lowed to conduct the visitor at once to 
 the Earl of Sackville. 
 
 In a few moments the stranger stood 
 within the room in which the Earl of
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. Ill 
 
 Sackville was reading his newspaper. The 
 door had been merely opened by the foot- 
 man, and the visitor, without any an- 
 nouncement, entered. He made but one 
 step forward, and then stood stilL The 
 earl, as soon as the door was opened, 
 raised his eyes, and as the stranger stood 
 within the door which was closed behind 
 him, the two gazed upon each other with- 
 out, for the moment, speaking. The earl 
 at once saw that his visitor was not the 
 person he had expected, and in a tone of 
 surprise, slightly tinged with hauteur, he 
 demanded to know who the stranger was, 
 and his business. 
 
 The stranger advanced to the table, 
 and looking full into the* earl's face, said : 
 
 " Have twenty years so changed me, 
 that I am not recognised even by the 
 Earl of Sackville?" 
 
 Why does a sudden pallor come over 
 the countenance of the earl, as he allows
 
 112 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 the newspaper lie lias been reading to fall 
 from his hand on the table ? 
 
 " If that be so," continued the stranger, 
 *' then am I changed indeed ;" and he 
 still gazed intently into the countenance 
 of the earl. 
 
 After a short pause, during which the 
 Earl of Sackville strangely refrained from 
 speaking, the stranger said — 
 
 " The quiver upon your lip, my lord, 
 tells me that I am recognised now, even 
 though twenty years of travel have so 
 changed my appearance." 
 
 " Eaikes !" at length gasped the 
 earl. 
 
 " Ay, Denzil Eaikes, Lord Sackville I" 
 exclaimed the stranger, drawing himself 
 up to his full height; "an unexpected 
 visitor, I know, and an unwelcome one, of 
 course." 
 
 The bearing of the Earl of Sackville 
 has changed. He had previously been
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 113 
 
 almost overcome with surprise, but now 
 his wonted self-possession is restored. 
 
 " And now that you have returned," he 
 said to Eaikes, "wdiat is your business 
 with me ?" 
 
 " Just the reception I might have an- 
 ticipated," replied Denzil Eaikes, in a 
 sneering tone. " How treacherous is the 
 memory of man, where benefits of years 
 gone by are concerned !" 
 
 " If your object in visiting me be to 
 read sneering homilies," said the Earl of 
 Sachville, " spare yourself the trouble ; 
 they are displeasing to me, and cannot be 
 very gratifying to you." 
 
 "Homilies!" exclaimed Eaikes, "ho- 
 milies to you ! — knowing what I do, and 
 our former associations ! Homilies to 
 you ! — rather, if my object were to read 
 them, should I not address them to my- 
 self?" 
 
 " Probably so," said the Earl of Sack- 
 
 VOL. I. 8
 
 114 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 villc. *' I tliougliL 3'ou had Leen provided 
 lor when you left the country. I certainly 
 never anticipated this intrusion." 
 
 " Oh, I readily believe that," said 
 Haikes, with mock courtesy. " You 
 thought you had provided for me. Oh, 
 it was, indeed, a generous heart that 
 prompted such provision, and a noble 
 hand that carried it out." 
 
 " You were reckless in your youth," 
 said the Earl of Sackville. 
 
 " I had Hubert Longreach for my com- 
 panion and friend," replied Eaikes, in the 
 same sneering^ tone as before. "I was 
 confiding in my youth. I was rash in 
 my friendship : I have paid tlie penalty of 
 that indiscretion." 
 
 " You had the world before you," said 
 the earl, doggedly. 
 
 " And you cast me out into it," said 
 Denzil Eaikes through his teeth, and 
 folding his arms as he spoke.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 115 
 
 " I obtained you a new field for the 
 employment of talents that could not have 
 flourished here," said the earl, in a sar- 
 castic tone. 
 
 " Talents that you had profited by," 
 answered Eaikes. 
 
 The Earl of Sackville gave a dubious 
 shrug of the shoulders. 
 
 " Oh, I can understand the sneer that 
 is even in your gesture. I was the ladder 
 by which you compassed your desires; 
 'twas fitting I should be kicked away," 
 said Denzil Eaikes, bitterly. 
 
 "Your holy ministrations were per- 
 formed, I admit. They served their pur- 
 pose — they met their reward," said the 
 Earl of Sackville, with a sarcastic smile. 
 
 " They may yet have to meet their re- 
 ward, but not through me," answered 
 Denzil ; " the}^ may yet have to bear fruit 
 that will be bitter to the palate upon 
 which it may be forced." 
 
 S — 2
 
 IIG SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 '' Do you come to me with implied 
 threats?" exclaimed the Earl of Sackville, 
 rising, and striking the table with his 
 hand. 
 
 As he did so, the two stood on oppo- 
 side sides of the table, and in the eyes of 
 each, as they gazed upon each other, there 
 was an expression of defiance and resolute 
 will. That blood which was supposed 
 to take its purity and worth from long 
 traceable descent, mantled in the cheek 
 of the Earl of Sackville. That blood 
 which knew no descent that was traceable 
 beyond a generation, gave vigour to the 
 look with which Denzil Eaikes confronted 
 the gaze of the Earl of Sackville. Oh, 
 what a sorry cheat is that, which finds a 
 boast in blood, which is the same every- 
 where, whether in decrepit royalty or 
 stalwart pauperism — the same life-prin- 
 ciple through whose agency we are all 
 made inheritors of those ills which flesh
 
 SACKVILLE CPIASE. 117 
 
 is heir to, and to which no human caveat 
 can prevent administration. 
 
 " Do you come to me with implied 
 threats ?" cried the Earl of Sackville. 
 
 " I have come to make a demand," 
 answered Denzil Eaikes, between his firm- 
 set teeth. " I have come for that which 
 I must have." 
 
 "Again there is that tone of threaten- 
 ing purpose," exclaimed the Earl of 
 Sackville, " which you, Denzil Eaikes, 
 more than any man, know is dangerous 
 when applied to me." 
 
 " Indeed," said Denzil Eaikes. " To 
 those with whom you are thrown in con- 
 tact generally, perhaps it might be — has 
 been dangerous ; but yet there are those 
 in the world, perchance, who can afford 
 to brave the terror of such danger, even 
 though i-ts source be Hubert Longreach, 
 Earl of Sackville." 
 
 Again there is that pallor on the cheek
 
 lis SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 of the Earl of Sackville that we noticed 
 on the entrance of Denzil Eaikes. Does 
 blood that boasts its Norman descent 
 blanch the cheek of him through whose 
 veins it flows ? It may do so. It may 
 carry its possessor in the battle-field to 
 death's certainty, and inspire him even 
 with cheerfulness at such a moment. The 
 records in the archives of the Sackville 
 family could show that it had done so at 
 Cressy and at Agincourt, at Bosworth 
 Field and upon Marston Moor. But 
 there is one opponent before which even 
 long-descended blood shrinks into the 
 heart, and throbs in deep pulsations, which 
 fear accelerates. It is a voice at whose 
 sound the cheek is blanched and the 
 nerves are unstrung — at which the heart 
 swells up, and before which even glory 
 shrinks abashed ; and every man has 
 known it, and all mankind have called it 
 — Conscience.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 119 
 
 On the countenptiice of tlie Earl of 
 SackviUe for a moment again appears tlie 
 pallor we liave noticed ; but, as before, it 
 is only for a moment. He is rising into 
 passion now, as he exclaims — 
 
 " Beware, Denzil Eaikes, beware ! You 
 are as utterly forgotten here as though 
 the grave had closed over you when you 
 left these shores." 
 
 " Not by all," answered Denzil Eaikes 
 significantly, and with a peculiar em- 
 phasis. 
 
 " Yes, by all ; for even I, when you 
 have left these walls, and for ever, mind," 
 said the Earl of Sackville, with a marked 
 and emphatic tone — '' even I, before the 
 world, shall have forgotten you." 
 
 " Before the world, yes," replied Denzil 
 Eaikes ; " but what shall all the world be 
 against the canker-worm that maybe I 
 shall be the means of introducing?" 
 
 " I never thought you sentimental.
 
 120 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 You are drivelling now," said the Earl of 
 Sackville, waving his hand contemptu- 
 ously. 
 
 Denzil Eaikes was stung to fury by the 
 mocking tone and the sneer that con- 
 veyed it. 
 
 "Where is Bianca Eoselli?" he ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 " In her grave," answered the Earl of 
 Sackville, without any emotion exhibited 
 in voice, gesture, or countenance. 
 
 "And by whom sent there?" cried 
 Denzil Eaikes. 
 
 " By you, if by anybody," said the Earl 
 of Sackville, with the same imperturba- 
 bility. 
 
 " By you — through me, I will acknow- 
 ledge," said Denzil Eaikes ; " but the 
 guilt was yours." 
 
 " You are not a Jesuit, Eaikes, so don't 
 adopt that species of argument," the Earl 
 of Sackville said, with a supercilious curl
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 121 
 
 of tlie lip. ''But come," lie exclaimed, 
 as thougli lie would at once terminate tlie 
 interview, "why have you returned? — 
 why have you come to me ?" 
 
 " The course of events may show why 
 I have returned. Why I have come to 
 you, perhaps, was mainly dictated b}' 
 curiosity," said Raikes. 
 
 " Indeed, you almost rouse mine," wdth 
 a laughing sneer said the Earl of Sack- 
 ville. 
 
 " Do I, indeed ?" said Denzil Eaikes, 
 with an equal sneer ; "I will gratify it, 
 then. I came to see if the Earl of Sack- 
 ville w^as the same man as Hubert Long- 
 reach, and I find him what I might have 
 expected, a cold-blooded, cold-hearted, un- 
 grateful knave." 
 
 The Earl of Sackville started, as though 
 he would personally attack Eaikes, but he 
 merely bit his lips and scowled upon 
 him.
 
 122 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 " And now that you desire my actual 
 purpose in coming here," continued 
 Eaikes, " I will tell it you empliatically. 
 I have come to tell you that your plot — 
 now of twenty years' date — failed, al- 
 though it was nearly in its results as good 
 to you as if it had not. The good, kind, 
 generous patron of twenty years ago would 
 have got rid of liis faithful friend who had 
 served him — alas ! too well — in an enter- 
 prise wliicli may yet — for I know not, 
 having but recently set my foot in Eng- 
 land — which may yet call retribution 
 down." 
 
 '' Your history quite interests me," said 
 the Earl of Sackville. 
 
 " It may do so yet," said Eaikes. " Oh, 
 it was kind to send me to the other side 
 of the world, and there to leave me ! But, 
 Hubert Longreach, I never despaired. I 
 have waited for a coming moment — a 
 moment that has not yet come. I have
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 123 
 
 wandered over a liemispliere, unknown and 
 uncared-for, for a time. I have been a 
 dweller in the land of gold — I have made 
 none. But, Hubert Longreach, now Earl 
 of Sackville, I have made friends in the 
 New AVorld, who will come and stand by 
 me in this the old. Hear me, Hubert 
 Longreach," he continued, as the earl ex- 
 hibited signs of impatience ; " hear me, 
 as you once did, when I listened also to 
 you. In those days a calamity befel your 
 house, Hubert Longreach. Since those 
 days, as I have learned even in my wan- 
 derings, your house has become great and 
 high in the land ; and you, Hubert Long- 
 reach, the head of that house, now in the 
 plenitude of your power, and at the acme 
 of your prestige — yes, you may yet rue 
 the day when, having by devilish arts 
 caused my removal, on my return — not to 
 home, but to my native land — you turned 
 a deaf ear, and, what is worse, a mocking
 
 124 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 lip, upon him who was by you betrayed, 
 but who, no thanks to you, became not 
 your victim/' 
 
 The Earl of Sackville paced up and 
 down tlie room, not so much in agitation 
 — he seemed to feel none — as in tolerant 
 impatience. At length he stopped and 
 abruptly exclaimed — 
 
 " In the devil's name, what is it you 
 want ? Tell it me, and begone to your 
 congenial haunts." 
 
 " I might have told you if I had found 
 you as I left you, Hubert Longreach," 
 said Denzil Eaikes ; " but my course is 
 for myself. I shall be with you. Earl of 
 Sackville — ay, even in your gilded house 
 by the side of the great river, and in the 
 crowd in the scenes of sports and plea- 
 sure. The Denzil Eaikes of to-day is not 
 the Denzil Eaikes of twenty 3^ears ago." 
 
 " Indeed he is not !" acquiesced the 
 Earl of Sackville.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 125 
 
 " Eemember tliis, Hubert Longreacli/' 
 continued Denzil Eaikes, in a wild and 
 excited tone ; "it was my hand that 
 joined yours." 
 
 " Ha, ha ! I recollect the pious fraud/' 
 cried the earl. 
 
 " Oh yes, you do," said Denzil Eaikes, 
 bitterly ; " but it may turn out that 
 there was less of the fraud than the 
 piety, and that the poor despised instra- 
 ment may become a weapon of sharpened 
 steel." 
 
 Again for a moment there is that 
 strange pallor on the earl's cheek, as 
 though the blood had suddenly rushed 
 down into the depths of the heart. It 
 was remarkable because it was sudden, 
 and Denzil Eaikes could hardly fail to 
 observe it. He did observe it ; and from 
 that observation it was plain to his mind 
 that he had a kind of shadowy hold upon 
 the earl in some undefined fear which he.
 
 126 SACKYILLE CHASE. 
 
 as we liave seen, had roused in the earFs 
 mmd. 
 
 " The day will come, Hubert Long- 
 reach," cried Denzil Eaikes, in an excited 
 tone, " when you shall perforce listen to 
 my words — when perchance I may be 
 able effectually to threaten, which I do 
 not do now." 
 
 " Better for you that you should not," 
 said the Earl of Sackville. 
 
 " I am but newly arrived in England, 
 the land of my birth, and at present it is 
 a new land to me," continued Eaikes. 
 " I have to learn to know it again, and I 
 have to become acquainted with old faces 
 again. Until I do that, it is not for 
 Hubert Longreach to know of my exist- 
 ence or my whereabouts. Wliether they 
 will yet be disclosed to him, events must 
 show." 
 
 " Indeed !" sneered the earl. 
 
 " My first step on my return to Eng-
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 127 
 
 land was to discover if the Earl of Sa-ck- 
 ville was still Hubert Longreacli. As I 
 have said, I have found him still the 
 same, and my search shall still be con- 
 tinued. Before I leave you now, Hubert 
 Longreacli, let me tell you again, that, 
 although you sent me forth to the utter- 
 most end of the earth without a friend, I 
 have come back again after these many 
 years — not friendless, as I went ; not 
 hopeless, as I set out." 
 
 " Then what do you want with me ?'' 
 inquired the earl, doggedly. 
 
 " There spoke the impression that I 
 have endeavoured to remove," replied 
 Denzil Eaikes. "You thought I had 
 come a suppliant, and so you treated me. 
 You thought me friendless as when I left 
 you, and so you received me. I am 
 neither the one nor the other. And now, 
 as I take my leave of you, Hubert Long- 
 reach," he continued, rising in excitement
 
 128 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 as lie spoke, " listen well to the words I 
 utter. We shall again come in contact — 
 we shall yet be closely connected, al- 
 though no more allied. I will follow you 
 like an avenging spirit, and if my hopes, 
 dim and confused though I perforce must 
 confess they now are, should produce the 
 fruit I desire, I will strike you down from 
 your eminence even as I smite this gew- 
 gaw here !" 
 
 And as he spoke he struck tlie mag- 
 nificent lamp upon the table with his 
 clenched hand, shivering it into a hun- 
 dred atoms, and then he stood for a 
 moment gazing with a look of defiance 
 upon the earl, Avho appeared transfixed 
 with astonishment. The Earl of Sack- 
 ville uttered no word either of remon- 
 strance or complaint, and Denzil Eaikes 
 turned and quitted the apartment.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 12S^ 
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 DENZIL RAIKES JOURNEYS TO THE METROPOLIS "WITH 
 
 MR. SPARKE PLAYFUL CHARACTER OF MR. 
 
 SPARKE, AS EXEMPLIFIED IN HIS PROCEEDINGS 
 ON THE ROAD. 
 
 Denzil Eaikes returned across tlie park 
 towards Troutbrook moodily, as may be 
 imagined, after the interview which he 
 had just had with the Earl of Sackville. 
 Absorbed in thought, he walked beneath 
 the great elms, and he looked neither to 
 the right nor to the left until he reached 
 the wicket that terminated the pathway 
 in Sackville Chase, and which brought 
 him into the high road that led into 
 Troutbrook. Entering the Sackville 
 Arms, he found that John Busby and 
 
 VOL. I. 9
 
 130 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 his friend Mr. Sparke had just returned, 
 and were enjoying a tankard of ale, a 
 beverage for which the Sackville Arms 
 was famous, and the sample of which that 
 was before him Mr. Sparke declared was 
 just the stuff he liked to lubricate tlie 
 cockles of his heart with. 
 
 "Take a pull, sir," he said, handing 
 the tankard to Denzil Eaikes, who did as 
 he was requested, and took a pull ac- 
 cordingly. 
 
 "What do you think of that brew, 
 sir ?" inquired Mr. Sparke. 
 
 Denzil Eaikes said it liad the real 
 October smack about it, as he wiped the 
 froth from his beard, v/hich we have said 
 was very long and flowing. 
 
 John Busby was quite taciturn. The 
 stranger had been up to see the earl, 
 which was a proceeding he could not 
 altogether comprehend, and it racked 
 John's mind with doubt. At length.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 131 
 
 however, he did essay to speak, and he 
 said, rather tremulously — 
 
 "You've been up to the Hall, sir?" 
 
 " Yes, I have been there," replied 
 Denzil Eaikes. 
 
 " See the earl?" inquired John. 
 
 " I did see him," was the reply. 
 
 " Did he say anything about the colts," 
 John said — " the colts up at Jonas 
 Nixon's ?" 
 
 " Xot one word," replied Eaikes. 
 
 John Busby was manifestly relieved, 
 and he recovered his wonted composure 
 when Denzil Eaikes added — 
 
 " I can assure you my business with 
 him was of a very different character. 
 We had not met for upwards of twenty 
 years, and I waited on him to ascertain 
 if his memory was good." 
 
 "And was it?" inquired Mr. Sparke. 
 
 " Perfectly unimpaired," replied Denzil 
 Eaikes, with a smile which the close 
 
 9— :i
 
 132 SACKVTLLE CHASE. 
 
 observer might have detected was tinged 
 witli an expression of bitterness, if such 
 could be. 
 
 " By-the-bye/' said Denzil Eaikes to 
 John Busby, " I think you told me that 
 the earl seldom visits his other estates. 
 He makes this one his home." 
 
 " Man and bo}^, I've been at Jonas 
 Nixon's better nor thirty year," said John 
 Busby, " and 1 never recollect liearin' of 
 his goin' anywhere else. He comes down 
 here every year arter the Parliament is 
 over. 
 
 '' Isn't it rather strange that he should 
 have such fine estates elsewhere, and 
 never visit them?" remarked Denzil 
 Eaikes. 
 
 " Well, you see, he ain't got a bad 'un 
 in this here Sackville Chase," observed 
 John Busby; ''but I have heerd, mind 
 you," and here Jolin Busby looked 
 cautiously round, as though possibly
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 133 
 
 there miglit be some sliadowy listener 
 hanging about, " I liave heerd as none 
 of the family has ever been to one of the 
 big houses in the north, 'cos of a case 
 of kidnappin', or summat o' that sort. 
 But, Lord ! that's neither here nor there. 
 I know nothin' about it myself." 
 
 " I have heard the storj^," said Denzil 
 Eaikes, in a tone as though he were 
 communing with himself 
 
 " Now, who says some more ale ?" 
 exclaimed Mr. Sparke, who did not appear 
 to be at all interested in the conversation. 
 " I think we could mortify ourselves v/ith 
 another pot. "What do you say, sir ?" 
 
 Denzil Eaikes, to whom the appeal 
 was made, said he had no objection, as 
 he was about to return to town by the 
 train. 
 
 " You don't mean that !" cried Mr. 
 Sparke, in glee. " Why, so am I. 
 We'll go together."
 
 134 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 Denzil Eaikcs could not resist this 
 declaratory invitation, and said he should 
 be very glad to accompany Mr. Sparke. 
 
 "Fact is," said Mr. Sparke, in that 
 freedom and openness of heart vvhich 
 was such a characteristic of him ; " fact 
 is, some friends of mine have been getting 
 up a steeple-chase a few miles from here, 
 and I've come down to settle the ground. 
 Fond of steeple-chasing, sir?" he in- 
 quired, addressing Denzil Raikes. 
 
 Denzil Eaikes said he had always been 
 attached to the sports of the field; but 
 of late years he had not been able to 
 follow them. 
 
 " Ah !" exclaimed Mr. Sparke, with a 
 rich mellow roll in his voice, which would 
 indicate that he was already enjoying the 
 gratification of which the remark he was 
 about to make, to him, at all events, was 
 so suggestive. "Ah, a steeple-chase is 
 the thing for a dodge."
 
 SACKYILLE CHASE. 135 
 
 "Is it ?" said Denzil Eaikes, consider- 
 ably amused. 
 
 '' If there's one thing in life I like 
 better than another, it's a dodge," said 
 Mr. Sparke, rubbing his hands. 
 
 " And if there's one cove in life as can 
 do one," remarked John Busby, " I'll 
 take my davy his name's Sparke." 
 
 " Man of penetration our friend John, 
 sir," said Mr. Sparke to Denzil Eaikes, 
 laughing. 
 
 The dumpling handmaiden of the hos- 
 telry, whose presence we have before re- 
 marked upon, in obedience to a mandate 
 to that effect, placed another foaming 
 tankard on the table, and Mr. Sparke 
 observed to her, as he took the tankard 
 up- 
 
 " Next time I come down, Mary, I'll 
 kiss both your cheeks." 
 
 To which Mary observed, that she be- 
 lieved he'd got cheek enoiigh for any-
 
 136 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 thing, and quitted the apartment amidst 
 a burst of laughter from all three. 
 
 " Well, sir, as I was saying," continued 
 Mr. Sparke, " I have been down here to 
 arrange this little steeple-chase matter, 
 -and I've put John on a bit." 
 
 At this announcement, John Busby's 
 countenance underwent various expres- 
 sions of perturbation, and he endea- 
 voured in vain for a short time to attract 
 the attention of Mr. Sparke, by means 
 of spasmodic winks, twitchings of the 
 nose and mouth, and other facial tele- 
 graphy, which were, however, lost upon 
 the person for whose notice they were 
 intended. 
 
 "Now, sir," continued Mr. Sparke, 
 " any friend of John's is a friend of mine. 
 You've been travelling, it seems, sir. 
 We're going to travel together to London. 
 If you like, and you want to see some 
 of our doings, as a friend of John's, sir,
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 137 
 
 will you accompany me to our steeple- 
 chase ?" 
 
 Denzil Eaikes jumped at tlie offer with 
 avidity, and said he should be delighted 
 to do so, and thereby still more closely 
 make Mr. Sparke's acquaintance. 
 
 John Busby saw it was no use inter- 
 fering; if mischief was to arise out of 
 this, he could see that it could not be 
 averted, and he found consolation in Mr. 
 Sparke's well-known discretion. 
 
 " We'll show you a dodge or two, sir : 
 eh, John ?" exclaimed Mr. Sparke. 
 
 " You can," replied John. 
 
 " You're a man of truth, John," said 
 Mr. Sparke ; *' and there's no disputing 
 your penetration." And he laughed as he 
 handed the tankard to Denzil Eaikes. 
 
 " Now, sir," said Mr. Sparke, putting on 
 his great-coat, "suppose we trudge it?" 
 
 Denzil Eaikes said he was perfectly 
 ready, and the three accordingly left the
 
 133 SACKVILLE ClIASK. 
 
 liouse together, John Busbj volunteering 
 to show them a near cut across tlie fields 
 to the railway station. As tliey took 
 their way through this short cut, they 
 met Mr. Sheraton in shooting costume, 
 and with his dog and gun, and attended 
 by one of the keepers. 
 
 "Good morning. Busby," said Mr. 
 Sheraton, as he came up ; " all well up 
 yonder, I suppose?" and he pointed in 
 the direction of the stables at Sackville 
 Hall. 
 
 " All right, sir," responded John Busby, 
 in a hoarse whisper, as Denzil Kaikes and 
 Mr. Sparke walked on — "All right, sir, 
 and he's took to his new home like a 
 hangel." 
 
 " Whatever you do, be secret," said 
 Mr. Sheraton. "Are those friends of 
 yours?" he inquired, pointing in the 
 direction of Eaikes and Sparke. 
 
 " I'm goin' to see 'em off by the rail.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 139 
 
 sir : one's just come from furren parts, 
 and tlie otlier's a Wliitecliapel tradesman 
 in the clieese line," replied Jolin Busby. 
 We should state that usually John Busby 
 had a strict regard for truth, but it is 
 also our duty to add that Mr. Sparke was 
 not in the cheese line of business. 
 
 " "Well, I wont detain you from them," 
 said Mr. Sheraton. "Good morning !" 
 
 A^^ien John Busby came up with his 
 friends, he said to Denzil Eaikes — 
 
 " Owner of the colt !" and pointing 
 over his shoulder in the direction of Mr. 
 Sheraton. 
 
 *' Oh ! then he does not belong to the 
 Earl of Sackville?" said Denzil Eaikes, 
 in a tone of surprise. 
 
 " Lord bless you ! no," replied John ; 
 *' he belongs to that genelman 1" 
 
 John felt but ill at ease in discussing 
 anything relating to the colt, and he 
 changed the subject by saying —
 
 140 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 " My friend Sparke, here, will be sure 
 to be up to his larks on the road, sir. 
 You mustn't mind what ho does.'' 
 
 " Or who he does," said Sparke. " A 
 railway is a capital place for a dodge," he 
 added to Denzil Eaikes. " Lord, how 
 green the fellows are, and how I do like 
 to chisel 'em !" 
 
 '' That's him all over, sir," said John 
 Busby to Mr. Eaikes, and chuckling with 
 delight. 
 
 By this time they had reached the rail- 
 way station, and Denzil Eaikes at once 
 procured his ticket for his journey, and 
 all three walked on to the platform to 
 await the arrival of the train that was 
 to convey them. 
 
 "You haven't got your ticket yet, 
 have you?" said Denzil Eaikes to Mr. 
 Sparke. 
 
 "Oh yes, I have. All right!" re- 
 sponded Mr. Sparke. " By-thc-bye," he
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 141 
 
 continued, ""vvill you let me look at 
 yours ^ 
 
 " Certainly !" said Denzil Eaikes, pro- 
 ducing the bit of pasteboard referred to. 
 
 Mr. Sparke took it, looked at it, and 
 taking a pencil from his pocket made a 
 note of its number. He then tore off a 
 corner — just a small corner — of the ticket, 
 and handed it back to Denzil Eaikes. 
 
 " What is all that about ?" inquired 
 Denzil Eaikes. 
 
 Mr. Sparke put his forefinger against 
 the side of his nose, winked, and chuck- 
 lingl}' exclaimed — 
 
 " A dodge, mun !" 
 
 Denzil Eaikes thought he had certainly 
 got hold of a character, and he smiled 
 with satisfaction. The train coming up, 
 the two shook hands with John Busby, 
 and got into a carriage. It had been 
 market day at some town down the line, 
 so the carriage was nearly full when they
 
 142 SACKYILLE CHASE. 
 
 got in. Indeed, there were but two seats 
 vacant. Mr. Sparke, when they had 
 taken their seats, put his head out of the 
 window, and, as the train moved away, lie 
 cried to John Busby — 
 
 " Take care of yourself, John 1" which 
 John promised to do, by exclaiming — 
 
 " All rio'ht, old brick !" 
 
 Tlie train rattled on its way, and Mr. 
 Sparke speedily became jolly v/ith all the 
 occupants of the carriage, who were all 
 gentlemen connected with agricultural 
 pursuits. On the line of railway on which 
 they were travelling it was the custom to 
 collect the tickets at a junction station, 
 some ten miles short of the metropolis, 
 and it was here that Mr. Sparke proved 
 himself to be a man fertile in resources, 
 and of an original turn of mind, which 
 surprised and amused Denzil Eaikes. At 
 starting, Mr. Sparke had asked one of 
 the occupants of the carriage to allow
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 143 
 
 him, as a particular favour, to take the 
 seat next the door of the carriage. The 
 request was at once acceded to, and, as 
 we have said, Mr. Sparke made himself 
 agreeable to all present as they journeyed 
 along. When the train arrived at the 
 station where the tickets were collected, 
 and before it had actually stopped, Mr. 
 Sparke opened the door of the carriage, 
 and stepped out on the platform, and 
 commenced walking up and down whist- 
 ling a popular air as the ticket collectors 
 collected the tickets from the different 
 carriages. The collection having been 
 completed, the bell rang for the starting 
 of the train. 
 
 "Are you going on, sir?" said the 
 ticket collector to Mr. Sparke, and holding 
 the door of the carriage open. 
 
 '' Oh, yes ; of course," replied Mr. 
 Sparke, advancing to the carriage to
 
 144 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 " Your ticket, if you please, sir," said 
 the ticket collector. 
 
 " My ticket 1" exclaimed Mr. Sparke. 
 " I gave it you." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir, you have not 
 given your ticket to ine," said the railway 
 official, decisively. 
 
 '* But I tell you I did," remonstrated 
 Mr. Sparke. 
 
 " I can assure you, you did not," said 
 the ticket collector. " I must have your 
 ticket, sir." 
 
 " Dear me, what a fortunate thing," 
 cried Mr. Sparke, as though a sudden 
 thought had struck him, " as I came along 
 in the train I happened to tear off one of 
 the corners of my ticket, and if you look 
 amongst those that you have got in your 
 pocket you will find it," said Mr. Sparke, 
 in a tone of offended virtue. 
 
 The ticket collector at once looked at
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 145 
 
 liis tickets, and of course found the ticket 
 with the corner torn off. 
 
 " Eeally, sir," apologized the almost 
 dumbfoundered official, "I offer you a 
 thousand pardons, sir ; I never made such 
 a mistake before." 
 
 " And, as though luck would have it 
 that I should be armed with double proof, 
 I actually took the number of the ticket 
 down," said Mr. Sparke, in an ingenuous 
 tone ; " and here it is," referring to the 
 memorandum in his pocket-book, " No. 
 9999." 
 
 " I am really very sorry, sir," said the 
 ticket collector, humbly. ''Pray take 
 your seat, sir.'^ 
 
 Mr. Sparke took his seat as requested, 
 and as he did so he favoured Mr. Eaikes 
 with a wink, the concentrated slyness of 
 which made him laugh in spite of him- 
 self. 
 
 VOL. I. 10
 
 146 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 In due course they arrived at the sta- 
 tion in London, and Mr. Sparke said — 
 
 " AVhat do 3^on say to going up to my 
 crib and having a bit of dinner?" 
 
 Denzil Eaikes at once accepted the in- 
 vitation, and a cab being called off the 
 rank, the two drove off to what Mr. 
 Sparke had designated his " crib."
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 147 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 MK. SHERATON AND MDLLE. d'aRLIXCOURT. 
 
 The last time we saw Mr. Sheraton was 
 when he met John Busby and his friend 
 Sparke at Sackville Chase. It will pro- 
 bably have occurred to the reader that 
 we have not yet explained who Mr. 
 Sheraton was. His position was an ano- 
 malous, if it were not a mysterious one. 
 Indeed, it was both. The Earl of Sack- 
 viUe had become acquainted with him in 
 Paris, and had taken a great fancy to 
 him, partly in consequence of some espe- 
 cial service which he had rendered the 
 earl in the gay capital, but mainly upon 
 those general feelings which lead one 
 person to form a regard for another. By 
 
 10—2
 
 148 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 profession Mr. Sheraton was nominally a 
 barrister. He had been " called" in the 
 Middle Temple, and his name was upon 
 the rolls thereof; but of law he knew 
 notliing, and he made no attempt to carry 
 his ignorance in that respect into '' prac- 
 tice" — a negative virtue wdiich is not 
 characteristic of some members of the 
 profession to wdiicli Mr. Sheraton nomi- 
 nally belonged. It has been already inti- 
 mated in the course of this narrative that 
 * he acted as a kind of secretary to the 
 Earl of Sackville ; a position to which he 
 had been but recently elevated, for the 
 acquaintance of the two had not been of 
 many months' standing when they were 
 first presented to the reader. We use 
 the expression "kind of secretary," for 
 although he was so called by the earl 
 himself, when speaking of Mr. Sheraton, 
 yet liis actual position was rather that of 
 companion to the earl than anything else.
 
 SACKYILLE CHASE. 149 
 
 The Earl of Sackville was a man with but 
 few associates, and with probably fewer 
 friends. Although Mr. Sheraton passed 
 much of his time at the residence of the 
 Earl of Sackville, that was not his home ; 
 he had chambers in tlie Temple, where he 
 slept, and where it was supposed he fol- 
 lowed his professional avocations. 
 
 Mr. Sheraton's chambers, or rather liis 
 chamber, was not extensive in size, nor 
 was it attractive in appearance. It was 
 situated at the top of a very winding 
 flight, or series of flights, of stairs, the 
 chief characteristic of which was their 
 elasticity. Not that this quality was 
 natural to the materials of which the 
 stairs themselves were composed, nor was 
 the springy nature of the ascent upon 
 them such as, being founded on security, 
 gratified the pedestrian. The elasticity 
 of which we speak arose rather from an 
 antipathy which appeared to exist between
 
 150 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 the stairs themselves and their supports, 
 tlic original connexion having doubtless 
 been rendered irksome and distasteful, 
 owing probably to the length of its ex- 
 istence, and the oppression which it had 
 had to sustain. At all events, they were 
 stairs up which no secret could be carried, 
 for they never failed to resist the tread of 
 any foot by a shrill lament, which seemed 
 to speak of bodily pain, and gave full warn- 
 ing all around of the near approach of 
 footsteps rising. 
 
 The floor of Mr. Sheraton's chamber 
 was covered by a fabric which in remote 
 ages had been a carpet adorned with 
 many colours. The colonics, however, 
 had long ago depai'ted to a brighter 
 locality, and nothing but the sombre hue 
 of dust remained. Beneath this dingy 
 covering, too, reposed a relative of the 
 grumbling stairs, for here and there, as 
 the visitor or inmate moved about, the
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 151 
 
 slirill complaint which met him as he 
 ascended, assailed his foot again, and 
 seemed to speak of discontent deep-rooted 
 in the place. About the furniture, which 
 both utilized and adorned the room, the 
 sombre dusty hue extended also. In the 
 middle stood a table of most ancient 
 build, on the top of which was plastered 
 a thin layer of what had once been black 
 leather, which was now adorned with 
 sundry penknife cuts, which made the 
 leather curl. About the table papers and 
 a pamphlet or two were strewn, and in 
 the middle rose an antiquated inkstand. 
 Against the heavy wainscoting a book- 
 case stood, suggestive of a bygone age, and 
 within its narrow limits reposed a mass 
 of sallow-looking books, which had seen 
 good service years ago. A few much- 
 worn chairs, and a diminutive table in the 
 corner of the room, made up the sum of 
 all the furniture v/ith which the chambers
 
 152 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 of Mr. Sheraton were adorned, except tlio 
 great arm-chair in wliich he sat himself, 
 and which was the most curious item of 
 the chamber's stock. Tradition could not 
 speak about its age, and its appearance 
 gave no clue by which the interesting fact 
 could be decided ; but its high and orna- 
 mented back spoke of times gone b}^, when 
 George the First was king, and heavy^ 
 well-curled, full-bottomed wigs gave dig- 
 nity to an empty pate. 
 
 It is rather early in the morning, and 
 Mr. Sheraton is at home in his chambers. 
 He has just breakfasted, the usual appli- 
 ances to that meal being on the table, and 
 looking, by contrast with the objects 
 around, out of place. It has always been 
 a matter of surprise to us, when we have 
 visited chambers in the Temple, where 
 the table adjuncts of breakfast and dinner 
 come from or go to. We have enjoyed 
 reunions there, and these articles have
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 153 
 
 always seemed to us to appear and 
 disappear just as they do in some 
 legendary story represented on the 
 stage. 
 
 Mr. Sheraton has just breakfasted. He 
 walks to the window, and gazes across 
 the river upon the bright green hiUs of 
 Surrey in the distance, over the house- 
 tops on the other side of the water. He 
 was waiting the arrival of a young gentle- 
 man who was dignified by the name of 
 " clerk," but who, if he had not been 
 connected with a learned profession, would 
 have been called an errand-boy. At length 
 this individual arrived, and having thrown 
 his cap into a corner, took his seat at the 
 little table which appeared to have been 
 appropriated to him. 
 
 " You are late," said Mr. Sheraton. 
 
 " It ain't ten," said the boy. 
 
 '' You ought to be here at nine." 
 
 " No, I oughtn't. Mugg's clerk don't
 
 154 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 come till ten, and lie gets twelve shillings 
 SL week." 
 
 Mr. Sheraton did not attempt to resist 
 this reasoning, 1)ut, taking down his hat, 
 he said, "Give me a brush, will you?" 
 
 The boy sullenly took down a small 
 clothes-brush which was hanging on a 
 nail in one corner of the room, and stepped 
 behind his master to perform the required 
 operation. Before he commenced, how- 
 ever, he put his two forefingers in the 
 corners of his mouth, and pulled tliat 
 feature into a horrible and ghastly shape, 
 at the same time distorting his eyes 
 frightful!}^ by the aid of his thumbs. 
 Having relieved his feelings by this little 
 performance, he proceeded vigorously to 
 brush the coat wherever that operation 
 was not required, studiously leaving the 
 dusty parts undisturbed. This done, he 
 deliberately hung the brush up again, and 
 took his seat as before.
 
 SACKYILLE CHASE. 155 
 
 " Mind you don't go out while I am 
 away," said Mr. Sheraton, drawing on 
 his gloves, " and if anybody calls, say I 
 shall not be back until the afternoon." 
 
 As Mr. Sheraton proceeded down the 
 staircase, his trusty clerk listened to the 
 sound of his footsteps on the creaking 
 stairs, and having satisfied himself that 
 his master was beyond the precincts of 
 the building, the boy threw up the win- 
 dow, took a chair there, and dravvdng a 
 half-consumed cigar from his pocket, lit 
 it with a lucifer, and composed himself 
 for a dignified, but to him dubious enjoy- 
 ment. 
 
 Mr. Sheraton hastened through the 
 Temple, and soon reached Fleet-street. 
 Passing through Temple-bar, he arrived 
 at a cab-stand -just beyond. It appeared 
 to be " the feeding time " of day upon 
 this stand, for every horse had his coun- 
 tenance deeply buried in a bag of coarse
 
 15G SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 construction. The moment Mr. Sheraton 
 called " Cab 1" tlie Lags upon the first 
 six in the rank were hastily snatched 
 away, and a fierce competition commenced 
 among the drivers for the possession of 
 "the fare." Mr. Sheraton selected the 
 first one that had come to the kerbstone, 
 the horse having been drawn thereto by 
 a tug which appeared almost to dislocate 
 the animal's neck. It was a " Hansom," 
 and into this vehicle Mr. Sheraton stepped. 
 The driver, gathering a thick horse- 
 cloth about him, mounted his box behind, 
 and having arranged his seat, he gave the 
 lengthy rein a violent jerk on one side, 
 which pulled the horse — an animal of very 
 skin and bone it was — on one side, farther, 
 indeed, than the driver wished, for which 
 excess of duty the wretched animal was 
 visited with three or four terrific lashes 
 on the lower part of its body with a long, 
 heavy whip, which seemed enough to tear
 
 SACKYILLE CHASE. 157 
 
 pieces from the poor beast as tlie instru- 
 ment of torture visited it. If the doc- 
 trine of metempsychosis be true, there 
 are certain characters in the world whom 
 we know, who might, with advantage to 
 themselves, and perchance to society, 
 study the life of a London cab-horse. 
 
 Satisfied with the display of profes- 
 sional activity, the cabman varied his 
 exhibition of skill by ferociously flicking 
 the animal under his control about the 
 head, and he seemed quite desirous of 
 proving his dexterity by cutting one of 
 the horse's eyes out. Stimulated by this 
 mode of vigorous action, the horse started 
 off at a canter up Wych-street, and 
 against the kerbstone of each side of that 
 delectable thoroughfare the cab-wheels 
 grazed. And soon they rolled into a wider 
 street, through dark heaps of reeking filth, 
 round which small groups of half-naked 
 children played.
 
 158 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 Along this street, to every second house 
 of which there was a narrow court, choked 
 up with close-packed dwellings, in which 
 hundreds of human beings slept and 
 breathed an atmosphere which no breeze 
 can ever freshen, the vehicle quickly 
 rattled, and turned with dashing haste 
 into Holborn, where the scene was 
 changed to shops of paintless shutters 
 and of various dingy trades, from the 
 second-hand book- shop to that of the 
 marine-store dealer. Eound to the left 
 again the cab swept quickly, and, as by a 
 magician's wand, a sudden change ap- 
 peared. A wide and handsome street of 
 private houses showed, at but a little 
 advance, the green shrubs of a West- 
 End square — an antiquated West-End 
 square now, for fashion has turned her 
 back upon it. On through this little spot 
 of green the cab rolled quickly, and 
 emerged into another handsome street of
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 159 
 
 goodly houses, wliicli brought the equi- 
 2)age to another shrubbery, which adorns 
 a square of vast extent and right noble 
 look. To the left again the wheels were 
 turned, and through a quiet street in 
 which bright furnished drawing-rooms, 
 adorned with many bird-cages, appeared. 
 Again a street of shops was crossed, and 
 for a moment the cab turned up a busy 
 tjioroughfare, along the sides of which 
 greengrocers' stalls were stretched out as 
 far as the eye could penetrate. A quieter 
 street was soon reached, but still of shops, 
 and then was fairly crossed the outpost 
 of the West, the top of Eegent-street. 
 On the cab still passed, through streets 
 which seemed to rival villages in their 
 quietness. The very pavement appeared 
 to yield to every foot, and cause no noise. 
 The passengers, indeed, were few, and 
 those few walked along as though they 
 did not belong to that quarter of the
 
 IGO SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 town, and wished to get out of it as 
 quickly as tlieir business would allow. 
 The butcher-boy alone seemed careless 
 and independent, for, with his tray upon 
 his shoulder, he whistled as he went, and 
 tuo^sred the area bell with the air of one 
 at home in his vocation. The houses 
 were large and noble, and the glimpses 
 which might be caught from the street of 
 the rich furniture within full plainly 
 showed the mighty wealth of the exclu- 
 sive district which was being traversed. 
 All was quietness, for to the inmates of 
 these mansions, most of them, the morn- 
 ing had not yet appeared. 
 
 At length the cab stopped before a 
 liouse in a quiet street off one of the quiet 
 squares near Hyde Park. The house, 
 like most of its neighbours, was of recent 
 construction and of considerable extent. 
 It was white all over, as though built of 
 stone, but like many other things in the
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 161 
 
 West End of London, it was mere surface 
 show. As soon as the door was opened, 
 Mr. Sheraton entered and ascended the- 
 staircase, which was of ample construc- 
 tion. It was winding, and in the centre, 
 from the roof of the house, hung a mas- 
 sive chandeher. He proceeded at once 
 to the drawing-room, which was a large^ 
 elegant apartment, and furnished in a 
 costly style. The three windows, whicK 
 extended from the ceiling to the floor^ 
 were ornamented by rich curtains, made 
 of embossed amber satin. The walls were 
 covered with a paper of diminutive pat- 
 tern, but of most exquisite workmanship 
 — the pattern being worked upon gold, 
 and cream-coloured paper. In the middle 
 of the room, from the ceiling, depended a 
 chandelier for wax candles, which was 
 uncovered, and appeared to have been, 
 recently used. The chimney-piece was of 
 bright marble, and was broad and exten- 
 VOL. I. 11
 
 102 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 sive, but was witliout ornament. On the 
 floor of the apartment a carpet was laid, 
 suiTcrestive of oriental magnificence, and 
 upon it were placed chairs, tables, sofas, 
 and ottomans of the most elaborate and 
 expensive workmanship. 
 
 Eeclining on one of the sofas was a 
 lady, who rose the moment Mr. Sheraton 
 entered, and they warmly and afl"ec- 
 tionately embraced each other. Our 
 readers have been introduced to this lady 
 before. They saw her at Boulogne in 
 the enticing riding-habit; they saw her 
 leave that place suddenly ; they see 
 her now under totally different circum- 
 stances. 
 
 '*' My darling," said Mr. Sheraton, 
 " our plans shall soon commence." 
 
 The eyes of the dark beauty glistened 
 with pleasure as she exclaimed — 
 
 " Is he in the net ?" 
 
 " Not yet," replied Mr. Sheraton ;
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 163 
 
 " but the opportunity is coming when 
 I think we shall be able to secure 
 him." 
 
 "Have you tested him at all?" in- 
 quired the lady. 
 
 " What, this way, do you mean ?" re- 
 plied Mr. Sheraton ; and as he did so he 
 moved his hands about as thouo^h he 
 were shuffling and dealing out playing- 
 €ards. 
 
 The dark beauty nodded. 
 
 " 'No, I haven't," said Mr. Sheraton ; 
 " there is no necessity for that. He has 
 it in him, and therefore we need take no 
 steps on that score." 
 
 " I thought you would have written to 
 me," said the lady, in a slightly coquet- 
 tish tone. 
 
 " My dear, there might have been 
 danger in it," said Mr. Sheraton. " I 
 know that he is suspicious of everybody 
 about him, and of course he is of me, 
 
 11—2
 
 164 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 altliougli he does not show it. Indeed, I 
 don't know that it is altogetlier wise that 
 I should be here now." 
 
 " He has no suspicion that you are 
 married, then ?" said the lady, smiling. 
 
 " Not the least, my dear ; and, of 
 course, he mustn't have the least sus- 
 picion yet," replied Mr. Sheraton. 
 
 Yes, this was Mr. Sheraton's wife, 
 althousfh the world knew nothincr of it. 
 Indeed, the lady was believed in the 
 neighbourhood to be an unmarried fo- 
 reigner of wealth and distinction, and the 
 name she was known by, as at Boulogne^, 
 was that of Mademoiselle D'Arlincourt. 
 Such had been her name when she lived 
 in the home of her youth, in Corsica. 
 Mr. Sheraton had met her in Madrid, 
 under circumstances which may unfold 
 themselves in this narrative, and within- 
 three weeks after their first interview 
 they were man and Avife. This was be-
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 165 
 
 fore lie had become acquainted with the 
 Earl of Sackville. 
 
 " And you think it is pretty safe, do 
 you?" inquired Mdlle. D'Arlincourt ; for 
 as such for the present it is our purpose 
 to designate her. 
 
 " Safe ! my darling," exclaimed Mr. 
 Sheraton ; " we have but to play our 
 cards as you know how to play them, to 
 enable us to jump to our position." 
 
 "And wdien do we commence?" in- 
 quired Mdlle. D'Arlincourt. 
 
 " You must select your horse at once," 
 said ]\Ir. Sheraton ; " for next week our 
 hrst move must be made." 
 
 " The sooner the better," answered the 
 lady ; " I have seen my horse ; indeed, I 
 Iiave provisionally selected him." 
 
 "Bravo!" said Mr. Sheraton. "My 
 darling, I think your genius gets brighter 
 every day. Well, then, my darling, as I 
 was telling you, next week there is a
 
 100 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 steeple-chase meeting coming off close to 
 Sackville Chase, and he has told me that 
 he intends to be tliere, and lias requested 
 me to accompany him. Now, you must 
 be there too." 
 
 " I understand," said the lady, 
 
 " Our exact tactics we will consider be- 
 tween now and then," said Mr. Sheraton. 
 
 "What sort of man do you find him?" 
 inquired Mdlle. D'Arlincourt. 
 
 " Occasionally morose to all about him, 
 witli the exeej^tion of myself," said Mr. 
 ^leraton. " He has a j)assion for the 
 sports, or rather the sport of the turf; but 
 it a23pears to me to be a morbid passion. 
 There is none of that sj^ontaneous, hearty, 
 open-handed bearing which characterizes 
 the genuine lover of the sports of the 
 field. He is, I should sav, doubtful in 
 his friendship, but I am sure he is malig- 
 nant in his hate. He has a brilliant in- 
 tellect, but it is warped by the narrowest
 
 SACKYILLE CHASE. 1G7 
 
 and most contemptible prejudices. He 
 is aiTosfant without dio^nitv, lie is osten- 
 tatious without generosity, and he is, 
 with it all, reckless and splenetic." 
 
 '' Ha I ha ! ha I really, my dear Arthur," 
 exclaimed Mdlle. D'Arlincoui-t, with her 
 silvery, ringing laugh, " anybody would 
 think you had been studying to write 
 upon cliaracter." 
 
 " I liave been studying to take ad- 
 vantage of it, my dear," returned 
 Sheraton. 
 
 " AYell, from your description of him," 
 said Mdlle. D'Arlincourt, " I should say 
 that you are not particularly well as- 
 sorted." 
 
 " May be so ; but it is not for me to 
 act upon such a belief," replied Mr. She- 
 raton. " Do you know that I strongly 
 suspect that there is something connected 
 with the family history of this man that 
 I cannot fathom ?"
 
 1C8 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 "Indeed! why?" inquired Mdlle. 
 D'Arlincourt. 
 
 " Why, sometimes I hear mysterious 
 references, not intentionally made, but as 
 though they accidentally escaped ; refe- 
 rences to a calamity that befel the family 
 years ago." 
 
 " Have you ever questioned him about 
 it ?" inquired Mdlle. D'Arlincourt. 
 
 " I have never directly questioned him, 
 but I have dropped hints, and have en- 
 deavoured to fish him, but he is not to be 
 caught. He flies from the slightest hint, 
 as a deer in the wilds would fly from the 
 sight of man. No ; it will come out some 
 day, I daresay," said Mr. Sheraton. 
 
 " Oh, perhaps it is all your fancy," 
 laughed Mdlle. D'Arlincourt. 
 
 " No, I don't think it is," he replied ; 
 "but never mind whether it is or not 
 now. We have something else to think 
 of, darlino^. Indeed, I should not think
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 109 
 
 of the matter at all if it were not with 
 the hope of turning it some day to 
 account." 
 
 " Where is he now ?" inquired Mdlle. 
 D'Arlincourt. 
 
 " He's gone back to Sackville Hall, 
 whither I must follow him to-night," said 
 Mr. Sheraton. 
 
 "To-night!" exclaimed Mdlle. D'Ar- 
 lincourt, in a reproachful tone. 
 
 " My darling," said Mr. Sheraton, '' we 
 must, you know, look to the future. I 
 need not tell you that I do not hold my 
 present position in the Sackville family 
 because it is congenial to me. My an- 
 cestors were as good as theirs, after all, 
 if it comes to that," he said, somewhat 
 proudly. 
 
 This was said in a tone that partook of 
 bitterness. 
 
 " Oh ! for goodness sake don't talk of 
 ancestors," said Mdlle. D'Arlincourt.
 
 170 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 " If tliat\s to weigli ibr aiiytliing, what 
 would become of me ?" And she laughed 
 again right merrily at what evidently to 
 her was a merry conceit. 
 
 " It is a gross moral absurdity," said 
 Mr. Sheraton ; " ancestors, blood, and all 
 the rest of it." 
 
 " Why, if there were anything in an- 
 cestry," cried Mdlle. D'Arlincourt, gaily, 
 '' what a degraded couple Adam and Eve 
 must have been ! But never mind an- 
 cestry now. I've this morning got home 
 my new riding-habit and hat. You must 
 sec it, dear Arthur, and I'll put it on at 
 once." 
 
 And acting on the suggestion, she left 
 the room.
 
 SACKVILLt CHASE. 171 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 AGONY JACK. 
 
 Mr. Spark e resided in a small street off 
 the Ee^ent's Park. He called liis resi- 
 dence a villa, because it had a square 
 patch of palisaded garden in front, so 
 limited, however, in extent that there was 
 barely room for a doll's walk round it. 
 By comparison with the extent of these 
 grounds, the box borders looked quite 
 gigantic, and were a shrubbery in minia- 
 ture. Against the front of the house 
 there was a trellis work of wood, in which, 
 in the summertime, there entwined creep- 
 ing plants, which gave the dwelling quite 
 a sylvan appearance, and amply justified
 
 172 SACKVTLLE CHASE. 
 
 tlie house being designated a villa, albeit it 
 was but semi-detached ; the other moiety, 
 the next-door neighbour, however, being 
 more modest, for he designated his domi- 
 cile a simple cottage only. Perhaps in 
 no great city in the world is there a 
 stronger predilection for flowers and green 
 shrubs than there .is amongst the inhabi- 
 tants of London, a predilection which 
 probably has grown up with ages, and 
 has become strengthened and chronic in 
 consequence of the diiSiculty of securing 
 the object of desire. People who live 
 almost exclusively upon the green pro- 
 duce of the earth have a strong and 
 almost unappeasable appetite for salt. 
 An effect upon the taste of the Londoners 
 somewhat analogous to this is produced, 
 we presume, from a constant association 
 with bricks and mortar, toned down by 
 smoke, and hence they have a strong pre- 
 dilection for anything green. And the
 
 SACKVILLE CPIASE. 173 
 
 great mole of London is gradually, year 
 Ly year, eating into the green fields and 
 absorbing them ; and every ^^ear the task 
 becomes more difficult with resfistrars- 
 general of public statistics to define 
 where London ends and the open country 
 begins. 
 
 Mr. Sparke and Denzil Eaikes rattled 
 oft' in the cab from the railway station, 
 across the bridge that, in the neighbour- 
 hood, spanned the murky river that on 
 its polluted bosom bears the wealth that 
 has made London great. Through the 
 heart of the great city they passed just 
 at the moment of high 'Change, and on 
 through streets in which a living stream 
 courses up and down all day, and even 
 through the night. In due course they 
 reached " the villa" in the Eegent's Park, 
 and after no great interval, Denzil Eaikes 
 and his nev/ host find themselves at 
 dinner. The meal is soon discussed, and
 
 174 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 tlien ]\Ir. Sparke demonstrates to his new 
 iriend that he is an epicure in the vinous 
 world, and is well skilled in the selection 
 of dessert; for on the table arc choice 
 wines, and albeit it is the winter time, 
 delicious fruits are there, too. 
 
 " And how do you think* I do all this ?" 
 ]3roke in Mr. Sparke, as he took the first 
 glass of wine after dinner. 
 
 Denzil Eaikes smiled as he lifted his 
 i»iass to his lips, and looked inquiringly 
 at Mr. Sparke. 
 
 "The crib itself isn't much, is it?" 
 said Mr. Sparke ; " but it's quite enough 
 for one, and I'm only one, which is the 
 especial number I invariably try to take 
 care of." And he laughed as he said so. 
 "Well, I was going to tell you how I do 
 all this," he continued. "I keep my 
 weather eye open, I do, and that's the 
 only way to do it." 
 
 This certainly did not very much en-
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 175 
 
 ligliten Denzil Eaikes as to the manner 
 in which Mr. Sparke succeeded in accu- 
 mulating round him those luxuries which 
 they were then enjoying. 
 
 '' By-the-bye," said Mr. Sparke, "3'ou 
 were saying that you are but just arrived 
 from x^merica?" 
 
 " I have only been in England three 
 days," answered Denzil Eaikes, " and in 
 all probability 3'ou can be of much service 
 to me. In the first place, I want to find 
 a quiet trainer — a trainer in whom the 
 utmost confidence may be reposed, and a 
 locality in which the world does not much 
 intrude."' 
 
 " My boy I" said Mr. Sparke, " I know 
 the man and the spot that will be the 
 very thing for you."' 
 
 " The spot is .where?' inquired Denzil 
 Eaikes. 
 
 '* Well, it's not an hour's walk from 
 Lord Sackville's place," said Mr. Sparke.
 
 176 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 " Indeed ! Where — what is its name ?" 
 said Denzil Eaikes, in a tone of impe- 
 tuosity that rather surprised Mr. Sparke. 
 Even before Mr. Sparke could answer, 
 Denzil Eaikes continued — " I should like 
 to go down with 3^ou to it." 
 
 " Why," said Mr. Sparke, " it is close 
 to the place where the steeple-chase is to 
 take place next week. W^hat do you sa}^ 
 to going to the steeple-chase with me, 
 and then we can go ?" 
 
 " Agreed," answered Denzil Eaikes. 
 " I will accompany you." 
 
 At this point a knock was heard at the 
 door of the room, and in answer to the 
 summons to the person knocking to enter, 
 the head of the servant of the house was 
 popped into the room, and it announced 
 that one Mr. Boyton had called upon 
 Mr. Sparke. 
 
 " Show him in at once," said Mr. 
 Sparke; and Mr. Boyton was shown in
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 177 
 
 accordingly. He was a short, but not a 
 thickset individual, with a round head 
 and ferret e3^es. He had shining black 
 hair and a bronzed countenance, and he 
 was rather dapper in his general ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 "How are you, Boyton?" cried Mr. 
 Sparke, as this individual entered the 
 room. 
 
 Mr. Boyton, before he answered the 
 question, cast an inquiring look upon 
 Denzil Eaikes — a look that Mr. Sparke 
 instantly observed, and said — 
 
 "All right, Boyton — a friend of mine 
 from America." 
 
 Mr. Boyton, however, was not quite 
 satisfied in his own mind about the 
 friend from America, and when he said, 
 " How do you do, sir?" there was a hesi- 
 tation which plainly indicated that Mr. 
 Boyton would have been better pleased 
 if he had found Mr. Sparke alone. Mr. 
 
 VOL. I. 12
 
 178 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 Boyton was an exceedingly cautious indi- 
 vidual, and Mr. Sparke introduced him to 
 Denzil Raikes as the well-known Clerk 
 of the Scales, at which llaikes ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 "Oh, indeed!" And Mr. Boyton 
 leered. 
 
 *' About as down}' a dodger," said Mr. 
 Sparke, " as you'll find in the calendar. 
 Eh, Boyton?" 
 
 " He keeps his counsel tolerable tight, 
 I'm a thinkin'," was Mr. Bo^^ton's rather 
 suggestive answer. 
 
 "Have you got the tools?" inquired 
 Mr. Sparke, as he requested Mr. Boyton 
 to take a chair. 
 
 " A rippin' work of art," said Mr. 
 Boyton. 
 
 "Is it?" said Mr. Sparke, rubbing his 
 hands with glee. 
 
 " It would take in old Beelzebub him- 
 self," said Mr. Boyton, with a chuckle,
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 179 
 
 wliicli he kept to himself for his own 
 private gratification. 
 
 " Glorious ! And have you brought 
 it with you?" exclaimed Mr. Sparke. 
 
 Mr. Boyton made no direct answer to 
 this inquiry, but his action was peculiar. 
 He wdnked upon Mr. Sparke, put his 
 finger to his nose, and then drew a key 
 from his pocket, the handle of which he 
 applied to his eye, as he would a quizzing- 
 glass. 
 
 ''I should like to have seen it," said 
 Mr. Sparke. 
 
 " All in good time," replied Mr. 
 Boyton. ''I've got it all right; and 
 that's right, ain't it ?" 
 
 Mr. Sparke acknowledged that such 
 would be about right, and added — 
 
 " And nobody could guess, eh ?" 
 
 " Guess ! Why, nobody would no more 
 think it was it than nothing." 
 
 To Denzil Eaikes the qualification of 
 
 12—2
 
 180 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 *'it" — as it doubtless will be to most 
 people — was mystified and unintelligible ; 
 but Mr. Sparke appeared to understand 
 it, for he said — 
 
 "What a chap you are for a dodge, 
 Boy ton !" 
 
 ''And when I comes up to you," said 
 Mr. Boy ton, " in that there line, it 
 sha'n't be nankeens as I'll wear of a 
 Sunday." 
 
 Probably the obscurity of Mr. Boyton's 
 mode of expressing himself arose out of 
 that emulation which we may infer he 
 cherished with regard to his paralleling 
 Mr. Sparke in the quality of " dodging," 
 and in that belief w^e shall not attempt to 
 investigate whether his custom was to 
 wear nankeens on a Sunday, or whether, 
 supposing such to be the fact, it had any 
 bearing upon the business in hand. Again 
 adverting to the subject under discussion 
 between himself and Mr. Sparke, he said,
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 181 
 
 and with a leer that quite distorted his 
 countenance — 
 
 " It's as hollow and looks as sound as 
 a pumpkin." 
 
 " You'll let nobody handle it ?" said 
 Mr. Sparke. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Sparke, have the goodness 
 to look precious hard into my eye," said 
 Mr. Boyton, standing up. 
 
 " What then, Boyton ?" exclaimed Mr. 
 Sparke, laughing. 
 
 " Do you now — 'pon your soul ! — do 
 you now see anything green in this here 
 eye.^ 
 
 Mr. Sparke laughed outright ; and, 
 turning to Denzil Eaikes, asked if the 
 little swell wasn't a rum 'un to look at,- 
 and a devil to go. 
 
 " Anybody handle it !" exclaimed Mr. 
 Boyton, in a tone of scorn, intended to 
 indicate that the question that had been 
 put to him w^as something more than
 
 182 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 ridiculous — " anybody liaudlc it ! Oh, yes, 
 Jem Boyton were born yesterday, lie 
 were !" 
 
 '' I suppose you 11 let me see it, wont 
 you, Jem ?" inquired Mr. Sparke. 
 
 "Well, I don't know as I will," an- 
 swered Mr. Boyton, in a surly tone, but 
 still with a smile upon his lip, which was 
 suggestive of the pleasure he would enjoy 
 when Mr. Sparke did sec "it." 
 
 " I have made all the arrangements 
 to-day about the ground, and the meeting 
 will come off at the time and place an- 
 nounced," said Mr. Sparke. '' I've been 
 on the spot this morning." 
 
 " You'll see that the place for weighing 
 is all right?" suggested Mr. Boyton. 
 
 " I have had a capital hut constructed," 
 replied Mr. Sparke, " which will be quite 
 snug and private, and I myself will take 
 care that no intruders enter." 
 
 "Then that there's the ticket," said
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 183 
 
 Mr. Boy ton. " We'll clo it slick, and no 
 mistake !" 
 
 '' We must take care tliat tliere is no 
 mistake," replied Mr. Sparke. " Lord ! 
 wouldn't tliere be the devil's delight if it 
 should be twigged ?" 
 
 " Don't, Mr. Sparke — don't talk in that 
 there way !" said Mr. Boy ton, in alarm ; 
 " it's enough to take a feller's breath 
 away." 
 
 " But I don't think anybody's likely to 
 twig witli you at the scales. Eh, Boy ton ?" 
 continued Mr. Sparke. 
 
 '^Well, and that's about it, I think," 
 said Mr. Boyton, with a self-satisfied 
 smile. 
 
 At this point of tlie conversation the 
 servant again put her head in at the door, 
 and said Mr. Sparke was wanted. 
 
 "What is it?" inquired that gen- 
 tleman. 
 
 '' If you please, sir, there's a queer sort
 
 184 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 of a man, in a reel coat, as wants to sec 
 you, sir," replied the girl. 
 
 ''Is lie lame?" inquired Mr. Sparke. 
 
 " Yes, sir, and has a stick," answered 
 the servant. 
 
 " It's Agony Jack," cried Mr. Sparke^ 
 in a gleeful tone. " Show him in ;" and 
 the servant proceeded to do so. 
 
 " Now, I'll show you a character, if 
 you like," said Mr. Sparke to Denzil 
 Eaikes. " He's a study, he is." And 
 as he said this, the door was again 
 opened, and in walked the individual re- 
 ferred to. 
 
 He was, indeed, a strange-looking being, 
 and it could be seen at a glance that he 
 was what Mr. Sparke had described him 
 — a character even in his outward ap- 
 pearance. He wore a faded old scarlet 
 hunting-coat, somewhat too large for his 
 person, and on his head was the corre- 
 sponding black velvet hunting- cap, the
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 185 
 
 gloss of other days having faded, and all 
 its glory passed into the brown of ruthless 
 wear and tear. His nether extremities 
 were encased in drab continuations, check- 
 ered with patches of grease ; and on his 
 feet he wore, not a pair of boots, but two 
 odd ones, both of which had seen much 
 service — both of which were military, for 
 one was Blucher and the other Wellington 
 — but neither of which was ever made for 
 the wearer. Such were the habiliments 
 of the individual who was ushered into 
 Mr. Sparke's parlour, and they were in 
 themselves striking enough. But they 
 were not so remarkable as the person 
 of their wearer. His countenance when 
 in repose was strongly marked, and 
 every feature was good; but peculiar 
 associations — the course of life into which 
 this being had been thrown — the out- 
 cast character of his calling, added to 
 unmitigated privation, bordering not un-
 
 186 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 frequently upon absolute want — had 
 warped, so to speak, the expression of 
 the features, and at times almost dis- 
 torted them. As we have said, the 
 countenance in repose was almost hand- 
 some, and the most marked feature was 
 the eye, which was dark, large, and 
 brilliant, and was sometimes lighted up, 
 especially when some strong passion 
 animated it, which was very frequently 
 the case, wdth an expression which could 
 not fail to arrest the attention of the 
 most casual observer. Indeed, a close 
 examination would show that from the 
 waist upwards to the head it was the 
 person of a handsome man ; but down 
 below% from the waist to the feet, the 
 body w^as shrunken, the limbs were dis- 
 torted, and one leg was shorter than the 
 other. Such was the general appearance 
 of the person that was ushered into the 
 presence of Mr. Sparke and his guests.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 187 
 
 and this was the character ]\Ir. Sparke 
 had designated as ''Agony Jack" — a 
 sobriquet which had been applied to him 
 in honour of a faculty which he possessed 
 of hideously distorting his countenance, 
 which he was in the habit of doing on 
 race-courses while following his calling 
 of selling correct cards, and for the exhi- 
 bition of which faculty those who were 
 amused thereby bestowed odd coppers 
 upon him. 
 
 " AVell, Jack !" exclaimed Mr. Sparke, 
 as the individual addressed doffed his 
 hunting-cap, "what's in the wdnd novv'?" 
 
 "Steeple-chase 'Jl come off, I s'pose?" 
 said Jack. 
 
 " I suppose it will," said Mr. Sparke. 
 
 " Am I fust, sir ?" inquired Agony 
 Jack. 
 
 "First for what. Jack?" said Mr. 
 Sparke. 
 
 " The cards, sir," answered Jack.
 
 188 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 " Oil, all ! — the cards, to be sure. I 
 hadn't thouc^ht of them," said Mr, 
 Sparke. 
 
 ''What about the cards, Boyton?" 
 
 " You'll have 'em printed yourself, of 
 course," answered Mr. Boyton. 
 
 "Well, I think we'd better, eh?" said 
 Mr. Sparke, with a twinkle of his eye, 
 which nearly reached a wink. 
 
 " There can't be no doubt about it, 
 sir," joined in Agony Jack. " You must 
 have 'em done yourself, to have 'em 
 krect." 
 
 "He's quite right," said Mr. Boyton, 
 " and he wants to have the sellin' of 'em. 
 Eh, Jack?" 
 
 " Eight as a trivet, that ere, sir," re- 
 plied Agony Jack ; " and I be come up 
 to you, sir, which I must be beggin' your 
 pardon for doing of it, because there's 
 that blear-eyed Billy, which keeps such a 
 sharp look-out, and he wont let a poor
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 1 S9 
 
 cove get liold o' none, if lie once gets liis 
 blessed fist upon 'em." 
 
 " Now let me understand what it is 
 that you want, Jack/' said Mr. Sparke. 
 
 " Oh, I'll tell you in a brace o' shakes !" 
 broke in Mr. Boy ton. " He wants you 
 to let him have all the cards that is 
 printed, at the usual wholesale price, and 
 then he sells 'em to the hawkers about 
 the course. That's it, ain't it. Jack?" 
 
 " That's the werry identical; sir; which 
 you're as good as a prophet, Mr. Boyton," 
 said Jack, with a leer. 
 
 " Jack, you shall have them !" ex- 
 claimed Mr. Sparke. " But it's a regular 
 monopoly, isn't it ?" he added, addressing 
 Boyton. 
 
 " Why, in course it is," replied that 
 worthy gentleman, " or else he wouldn't 
 want it." 
 
 " Well, Jack," said Mr. Sparke, " any 
 new tricks ? Here's a gentleman here
 
 190 SACKVILLK CHASE. 
 
 from America," pointing to Denzil Eaikes; 
 " show liim one of your f ices." 
 
 At this request Agony Jack distorted 
 his moutli in a frightful manner, and 
 glared so hideously with his eyes, that 
 in the suhdued light of the room, which 
 ^ came from the fire, it made him look like 
 
 the realization of some horrid dream, in 
 which some dreadful demon had been 
 the equestrian of a thorough-bred night- 
 mare. 
 
 *' I wonder wherever you could have 
 been born 1" exclaimed Mr. Sparke, laugh- 
 ing at the hideous object before him. 
 
 " Well, I've been told," said Agony 
 Jack, resuming the natural expression of 
 his countenance, " that I were born — 
 but I don't know much about it myself — 
 close agin' Conquest Abbey." 
 
 " Eh ! — what ?" exclaimed Denzil 
 Eaikes, suddenly. 
 
 " Beggin' your pardon, sir," said
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 191 
 
 Agony Jack, " I wouldn't swear it. It's 
 grandmother as lias told me." 
 
 " Grrandmother, eli !" exclaimed Mr. 
 Sparke. " Where's yonr father and 
 mother ?" 
 
 " Never had none," laconically and de- 
 cisively answered Agony Jack. 
 
 " An orphan, eh ?" said Mr. Sparke. 
 
 " An off 'un ! That's true enough," 
 cried Agony Jack, " for I've never heen 
 able to get on yet." 
 
 '' It was that bit of poisoning, I'm 
 afraid, that did your business. Jack : 
 wasn't it ?" inquired Mr. Sparke. 
 
 " So help me ! genelmen all, it was a 
 conspyrasee — it was, indeed!" cried Agony 
 Jack, with much energy, " They said as 
 I dosed a hoss in Jonas Nixon's stable. 
 Why, warn't it in his stable as I got this 
 here?" and he pointed to his shrunken 
 leg. " No, I couldn't ride arter this leg, 
 and so they got up that conspyrasee agin
 
 192 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 me, to get rid on me, and liere I am. 
 Lord ! didn't that there game get grand- 
 mother's blood up !" 
 
 Denzil Eaikes, as Agony Jack is speak- 
 ing, seems wrapt in the contemplation of 
 his countenance ; and as lie gazes, it is 
 plain to see that there is agitation con- 
 cealed beneath his own features, which 
 are disturbed, albeit the fact is not ob- 
 served by his companions. 
 
 As Agony Jack spoke upon tlie subject 
 of his former life, there was that expres- 
 sion of the eye which we before referred 
 to, and it seemed to kindle into a glare 
 as the blood mantled in his face, which 
 was dark in hue, and tlie bronze of 
 which pleasingly harmonized with the 
 jet black hair, which was profuse upon 
 his head. 
 
 Mr. Sparke changed tlie current of the 
 thoughts of the strange being before him, 
 by saying —
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 193 
 
 " Have you got anytliing new in tlie 
 song line, Jack ?" 
 
 The expression of Jack's countenance 
 was altered on the instant, and he ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 " You know, sir, I tried to do a little 
 in the touting line once, but it was no 
 go ; the blackguards hunted me out." 
 
 " T^^iat does he mean by touting ?" in- 
 quired Denzil Raikes, in a half whisper, 
 of Mr. Sparke. 
 
 That gentleman informed Denzil that 
 touts were persons who hung about train- 
 ing quarters and race-courses, and who 
 professed to supply information as to the 
 race-horses whose work came under their 
 observation. 
 
 "That's the very game, sir," joined in 
 Agony Jack; "well, sir, you was asking 
 me about a new song, sir. I've got one, 
 a stunner, about the touts, and it's a-goin' 
 to be printed ; and I shall sing it and sell 
 
 VOL. I. 13
 
 194 SACKYILLE CHASE. 
 
 'em. The swells '11 buy 'em like any- 
 thing-, and wont that be plummy?" and 
 he rubbed his hands in glee. 
 
 " Suppose you sing it for us now," sug- 
 gested Mr. Sparke. 
 
 Agony Jack at once consented. He 
 threw down his cap on the floor, and with 
 appropriate action he broke into the fol- 
 lowing " chant," as he called it : 
 
 AGONY jack's SONG OF THE TOUT. 
 
 Oh, under the hedges we lie, 
 
 And often in ditches we sleep ; 
 No covering but the sky, 
 
 When our nightly watch we keep. 
 Sometimes at the stable-doors 
 We whistle the time away, 
 And oft when the hailstorm pours 
 We close to those doors must stay. 
 We drink and swear. 
 And never care, 
 What the morrow's sun may bring; 
 We've always pluck, 
 We live on luck — 
 So we laugh, and we drink, and sing 
 
 Hurrah ! 
 Oh, gaily the Toutsmen sing.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 195 
 
 Oh, many's the bold and lively trick 
 We play on the youngsters green ; 
 No qualms can ever a conscience prick, 
 Where a conscience has never been; 
 We can measure most closely at once a flat, 
 
 And show him our length of lip. 
 And we know to a T, sir, what to be at, 
 When we're asked for " the genuine tip." 
 So we drink and swear. 
 And never care 
 What the morrow's sun may bring ; 
 We've always pluck, 
 We live on luck — 
 So we laugh, and we drink, and sing 
 
 Hurrah ! 
 Oh, thus do the Toutsmen sing. 
 
 ''Capital!" cried Mr. Sparke. ''And 
 now, Jack, wliat'll you liave to drink ?" 
 
 " I thought it wouhl come to that, 
 sir," said Jack. " If you've got any 
 ruin in the house, sir, I'll just take a 
 toothful." 
 
 " Certainly, Jack ; you sliall have it," 
 said Mr. Sparke ; " and here's a shilling 
 for your song. Mind 3'ou send me one 
 of the first copies out." 
 
 13—2
 
 li)G SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 '* liiglit as the bank," said Jack, taking" 
 the shilling. " Shall I send you one, Mr. 
 Eo3'ton ?" 
 
 " JN'ot for me — no," replied that indi- 
 vidual, gruffly. " I don't want none o*^ 
 your touting songs." 
 
 " How's a poor feller to live, sir ?" said 
 Jack. 
 
 " If he can't live he must die, I s'pose," 
 replied Mr. Boy ton, in anything but an 
 amiable tone. 
 
 Mr. Sparke had by this time handed 
 a glass of rum to Agony Jack, who gulped 
 it down, and then smacked his lips with 
 satisfaction. 
 
 " 'Now then, sir, I'll be off," he said ; 
 and picking up his cap he ^placed it 
 jauntily on his liead, pulled one of his- 
 hideous faces, said " Good night, genel- 
 men all," and quitted the room. 
 
 " You were quite right when you said 
 you were going to introduce an original
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 197 
 
 cliaracter," said Denzil Eaikes to Mr. 
 SjDarke. 
 
 " I'm glad he came in just at this time," 
 said Mr. Sparke, " for we were getting 
 rather dull." 
 
 " Do you know anything of his his- 
 tory ?" inquired Denzil E,aikes. 
 
 " Very little more than what he lias told 
 you himself," replied Mr. Sparke. '' I've 
 heard that Jonas Nixon's people origi- 
 nally took him as a hoy from the work- 
 house." 
 
 " Then he was, as he said, an orphan ?" 
 said Denzil Eaikes. 
 
 " I believe so," replied Mr. Sparke. 
 
 " What is his age ?" inquired Denzil 
 Baikes. 
 
 " I don't wonder at your asking," re- 
 plied Mr. Sparke, " for you would never 
 guess. I believe he's little more than 
 one-and-twenty, although he looks so 
 much older."
 
 198 SACKVJLLE CHASE. 
 
 " Do you know that I feel considerable 
 interest in him, and slioiild like to know 
 more about liim/' said J)enzil Eaikes. 
 " Didn't he say lie thought he was 
 born in tlie neighbourhood of Conquest 
 Abbey?" 
 
 "And tliat was tlie fact, I believe," 
 replied Mr. Sparke ; " although the work- 
 house from which he said he was taken is 
 at some considerable distance from Con- 
 quest Abbey." 
 
 " He talked of his grandmother," said 
 Denzil Raikes ; " where is she, or what is 
 she, I wonder?" 
 
 " Oh, that is all my eye and my 
 grandmother !" replied ' Mr. Sparke. " I 
 don't believe he's got any grandmother at 
 aU." 
 
 " Still, as I said before, 1 should like 
 to see a little more of this individual. 
 Somehow, he has strangely taken my 
 fancy," said Denzil Raikes.
 
 SACKYILLE CHASE. 199 
 
 " You are sure to see liim at the steeple- 
 chase," remarked Mr. Sparke ; " and if 
 3'ou give him sixpence he'll tell you all he 
 knows, and very probably something that 
 he doesn't know into the bargain. Eh, 
 Boyton ?" 
 
 " He's a liar, no doubt," responded that 
 individual. 
 
 Denzil Kaikes said he certainly would 
 take the opportunity of becoming better 
 acquainted with Agony Jack. 
 
 "Smoke?" said Mr. Sparke to Denzil 
 Eaikes, interrogatively. 
 
 " That I do ; indeed, it is my balm," 
 responded Denzil Eaikes. 
 
 And it w^as late in the evening before 
 the trio separated ; Denzil Eaikes well 
 pleased with his newly acquu'ed acquain- 
 tance, who was equally satisfied with 
 Denzil Eaikes.
 
 200 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 THE ROAD TO A COUNTRY STEEPLE-CHASE — MORE 
 TRICKS BY TRAVELLERS. 
 
 The metropolitan station of the railway 
 that leads to the neighbourhood of Sack- 
 ville Chase is thronged with a noisy 
 crowd, composed of various classes of the 
 sporting community. A motley crowd, 
 indeed, they are now congregated on that 
 railway platform. There are betting men 
 of all grades — there are the ''gentlemen 
 sportsmen," and the professional book- 
 makers ; the backers of horses, and there 
 are the owners of horses. That young 
 man in the white overcoat, whose counte- 
 nance is fresh-coloured, and upon whose
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 201 
 
 face not tlie shadow of a hair appears, is 
 an earl of long descent, and whose chief 
 characteristic is a huckstering spirit, 
 which in its practice frequently borders 
 on chicanery. He is " hail fellow well 
 met" with all the men about him, and as 
 he smokes his big cigar, he laughs, and 
 talks, and jokes with them as though he 
 were essentially one of them, and not a 
 member of the House of Peers, and by 
 hereditary right empow^ered to legislate 
 upon the destinies of Europe. He has 
 an enormous rent-roll, and yet he wdll 
 haggle over a shilling. He has a princely 
 domain, but it would almost seem as 
 though his taste would be satisfied by a 
 room in propinquity to a stable. He is 
 with two or three of his order — young- 
 men who in the course of time will suc- 
 ceed to hereditary honours and powers 
 of legislation. At present they have 
 nothing in their appearance at all indi-
 
 20:2 SACKVJLLK CIlASi:. 
 
 cativc of inherent wisdom, al though they 
 give outward evidence of the finished study 
 of their tailor. Publicans are plentiful 
 in that crowd upon the platform, at whose 
 houses, in the evening, anxious and inte- 
 rested customers will wait to hear the in- 
 cidents of the day's sport recounted by 
 the landlord himself. The members of 
 *' the ring" are in profusion on the plat- 
 form, x^niongst them is a pleasing kind 
 of freemasonry which is ahnost unique. 
 They are all of the same calling — they 
 have all the same object in view, and yet 
 there is no jealousy amongst them ; and 
 though there is the most energetic com- 
 petition in their profession, they are all 
 on the best of terms with each other. In 
 this respect we may say they stand alone. 
 At the bar, upon the stage, in the studio 
 — in any profession you please, where will 
 you find such a characteristic ? Even the 
 senate and the pulpit have their warping
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 203 
 
 jealousies. The Eig'lit Honourable Ben- 
 jamin Melcbisedec thinks tliat the Eight 
 Honourable William Merrybrick is a su- 
 preme humbug, while the Eeverencl Olea- 
 Cfinous Honevbourne considers the Eeve- 
 rend Spicey Sturgeon a miserable mounte-- 
 bank. They j)i'^^cli peace and good-will 
 towards men, and they liate one another 
 with a cordial hatred whicli must be quite 
 a balm to their spirits. 
 
 Amongst the crowd upon the platform 
 are touts and the fringy hangers-on of 
 race-courses — men whose occupation is a 
 mystery, and whose means of subsistence 
 must be precarious. They are always at 
 race meetings. They travel about from 
 one part of the country to another, and 
 they seem to possess the facult}^ of doing 
 so free of expense. Mr. Sparke, accom- 
 panied by Denzil Eaikes, is on the plat- 
 form, and lie is known and hailed by the 
 whole of this fraternity. He is, it would
 
 204- SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 seem, one of tlieni, for he is immediately 
 surrounded Ly a dozen at Lmst of the fra- 
 ternity in question, who all seem anxious 
 that Sparke should be one of their 
 jDarty in the carriage in whicli they 
 travel. 
 
 As this cannot be, as twelve could not 
 go in one compartment of the carriage 
 together, Mr. Sparke makes a selection 
 of the necessary number to make up his 
 party, and they take possession of a car- 
 riage ; and a very noisy party they are, 
 for irom the moment the train starts they 
 are vociferous in their conversation, and 
 uproarious in their hilarity, and Mr. 
 Sparke was as loud and vociferous as any 
 of them. Practical fun is a speciali/e with. 
 this class, as Mr. Sparke evidenced on 
 this occasion, and as the whole party did, 
 lis will be seen further on. The train 
 stops at the station where on a former 
 occasion we saw Mr. Sparke pla}* a prac-
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 205> 
 
 tical joke with reference to liis railway 
 ticket. Now, it so happened that there 
 was observed standing on the opposite 
 platform a young man who was evidentl}' • 
 connected with the agricultural interest. 
 He was not exactly what might be desig- 
 nated a clodhopper, nor a ploughman, nor 
 a shepherd, nor a form -labourer, but he 
 presented a sort of amalgamation of all 
 those callino's. He was attired in a fus- 
 tian suit, a slouch hat, and an enormous 
 pair of ankle-jacks, protected in the soles 
 by what appeared to be juvenile tenpenny 
 nails of remarkably fine growth. These 
 boots had a thick coatins: of the brov/nest 
 mud, and his nether garments were em- 
 bossed with an elaborate treatment of the 
 same material. Here was an object for 
 the practicM"''fu'n of our voyagers, and 
 it was instantly seized upon b}^ Mr. 
 Sparke. 
 
 " Hollo, vou sir !" exclaimed he, ad-
 
 206 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 dressing: the a2:ricultiiral individual on 
 11 le platform. 
 
 "Hollo!" lie cried, in return. 
 . " What do you mean hy comini,^ out in 
 that disgraceful state, eli ? — what do you 
 mean by it, sir?" exclaimed Mr. Sparke, 
 in a well-feigned tone of indignation. 
 
 The young man was so astounded for 
 the moment that he made no reply, l^ut 
 stared vacantly at the train. 
 
 " What do you mean by it, eh ?" cried 
 Mr. Sparke. 
 
 "Wha-at's tliot to thee?" at length 
 exclaimed the countryman, with his eyes 
 very wide open. 
 
 " How dare you, fellow, come out in 
 that pair of trousers ?" 
 
 " Con't I wor wot trousers I likes with- 
 out axing thee?" inquired the country- 
 man, the blood rushing into his cheeks. 
 
 " You lazy scamp, look at your boots 1" 
 cried Mr. Sparke.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 207 
 
 " Well, wot on 'em ? Did 3'ou poi 
 for 'em?" demanded the irate country- 
 man. 
 
 " You lazy, dirty fellow !" exclaimed 
 Mr. Sparke, " what do you mean by 
 coming out with boots in that state ? If 
 you hadn't got any blacking, wdiy didn't 
 you grease them?" 
 
 By this time the agriculturist was tho- 
 roughly roused, and, being roused, the 
 delight of Mr. Sparke's party was intense. 
 He looked fiercely across the raihvay at 
 the carriage, and cried — 
 
 " I bean't your sarvant, I bean't." 
 
 " You lazy vagabond, I w4sh 3^ou were 1" 
 exclaimed Mr. Sparke. "I should like 
 to get out and give you a thrashing 
 myself." 
 
 ''Ye'ood?" roared the amculturist. 
 "Come on, then; dang it, I be ready for 
 tliee !" 
 
 And to show that he was ready, he
 
 2 OS SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 dashed liisluit on the platform, tucked up 
 his sleeves, and put himself into a figlit- 
 ing attitude, and, of course, the more 
 excited he hecame, the greater was 
 the delight of Mr. Sparke and his 
 party. 
 
 ''Now then," cried the countryman, 
 " come on ! Dang it, I's ready for thee ! 
 Come on, if thee be a mon 1" 
 
 " Why, you coward, you know I can't 
 get out on that side," said Mr. Sparke. 
 " Come round to this side, and I'll teach 
 you to appear in public in that disgraceful 
 state." 
 
 " Ye 'ood ?" roared the countrj'man. 
 " Danged if I doan't." 
 
 And he hastily picked up his hat, and 
 rushed down the platform, round the back 
 of the train, and arrived at the other side 
 just as the shrill whistle of the engine was 
 heard, and the train glided away, leaving 
 ihe enraged country gentleman shaking
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 209 
 
 his fist violently, to the intense delight 
 of those who had worked upon his 
 feelings. 
 
 When the train began to slacken its 
 speed at the station where the collection 
 of the tickets was made, Denzil Eaikes 
 was surprised at a strange movement on 
 the part of all the occupants in the car- 
 riage but himself and Mr. Sparke. They 
 all of them rolled themselves under the 
 seats, and Mr. Sparke spread out the tra- 
 velling wrapper, by which his hidden 
 companions were still more effectually 
 concealed. Denzil Eaikes watched this 
 movement with considerable interest, and 
 the object of it was very soon made ap- 
 parent. The ticket collector came to the 
 window, collected the tickets of Denzil 
 Eaikes and Mr. Sparke, and then passed 
 on to the next carriage. At a signal from 
 Mr. Sparke, his concealed companions 
 
 VOL. I. 14
 
 ?,10 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 came foi-tli from tlieir liiding-place, mucli 
 fluslied by the exertion of getting in and 
 out, and tliey took tlicir seats again as 
 unconcernedly as if nothing whatever had 
 taken place.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 211 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE COUNTRY STEEPLE-CHASE — AGONY JACK THINKS 
 
 HE IS A LORD FIRST MEETING OF THE EARL OF 
 
 SACKVILLE AND MDLLE. d'aRLINCOURT. 
 
 There was great bustle at the station 
 near to Avhicli the steeple-chase was to 
 take place, and at which the train dis- 
 charged its freight. Vociferous in his 
 calling was Agony Jack on the platform, 
 bellowing correct cards for sale, which he 
 disposed of with great rapidity. Eecog- 
 nising Mr. Sparke, he came up to that 
 gentleman and said — 
 
 "I'm doin' plummy, sir !" 
 
 " Good business, eh, Jack ?" said Mr. 
 Sparke. 
 
 ''Rippin' !" was Jack's laconic answer. 
 
 "Oh, by-the-bye, Jack/' said Mr. 
 
 14—2
 
 212 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 SparlvC, " this gentleman," indicating 
 Denzil ilaikes, " wants to liave some talk 
 with you privately. Where can he see 
 yon? 
 
 Agony Jack looked scrutinizingly at 
 Denzil Eaikes, and then said, '' Perhaps 
 the genelman wont mind calling at my 
 town residence ;" and he laughed at Mr. 
 Sparke as he said this. 
 
 " Certainly, I will call anywhere you 
 please," said Denzil Eaikes. " AVhere 
 is it?" 
 
 " Lend me a pencil, sir," said Agony 
 Jack ; and Denzil Eaikes complying with 
 the request, Jack wrote on a dirty piece 
 of paper an address, and handed it to 
 Denzil Eaikes. 
 
 " K'rect card — genelmen sportsmen, 
 have a k'rect card ! names, weights, and 
 colours of the riders, and the winners 
 spotted !" shouted Agony Jack, as he 
 darted limpingly after the crowd that was
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 213 
 
 taking its way up a narrow road towards 
 the race-course. 
 
 Outside tlie station Mr. Sparke found 
 Mr. Boy ton witli a vehicle waiting, and 
 into this vehicle Mr. Sparke and Denzil 
 Eaikes entered, and it drove off in the 
 direction the crowd was taking. 
 
 " You've got it here, I see," said Mr. 
 Sparke, looking down upon a square 
 wooden box that was on the floor of the 
 carriage. 
 
 " Yes, there it is !" said Mr. Boyton, 
 his eyes gUstening ; "I don't mind show- 
 ing it to you now ;" and he unlocked the 
 box, raised the lid, and disclosed a quan- 
 tity of weights — half-hundred weights, 
 quarters, and pounds. 
 
 ''There they are!" exclaimed Mr. 
 Boyton. " No^v, you just pull that one 
 out;" and he indicated a half-hundred 
 weigfht. 
 
 Mr. Sparke did as he was directed, and
 
 214 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 without the slightest exertion he lifted 
 the weight in question. 
 
 "Well, it is a splendid imitation!" ex- 
 claimed Mr. Sparke, laughing. "What 
 do you think of this ?" he inquired of 
 Denzil Eaikes, handing the weight to 
 him. Denzil Eaikes took it in his hand 
 and exclaimed — 
 
 " Why, it's as light as cork 1" 
 
 Both Mr. Sparke and Mr. Boyton 
 laughed heartily as the latter put the ap- 
 parent fifty-six pound weight into the box 
 again. 
 
 "Now you quite understand," said 
 Boyton. " You stands by the side of this 
 'ere box, and when tlie}^ comes in to 
 weigh, you hands me the weights ; and 
 when he comes in — " 
 
 " Now say no more about it," inter- 
 rupted Mr. Sparke ; " I know all about 
 it, and what to do." 
 
 At this point the vehicle came to a
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 215 
 
 walking pace, in consequence of an ob- 
 struction ahead in the shape of a four-in- 
 hand drag. 
 
 "Why, it's the Earl of Sackville 1" 
 cried Mr. Sparke, looking over the seat 
 of the driver. 
 
 And it was the Earl of Sackville, and 
 on the box-seat beside him sat Mr. 
 Sheraton. Tlie other seats were occupied 
 by friends of the earl, displaying every 
 variety of moustache and whisker from 
 the incipient to the bushily- developed. 
 Eunning by the side of the vehicle was 
 Agony Jack, who was begging of the 
 gentlemen and noble sportsmen to buy 
 his cards and see his faces. One of the 
 gentlemen called out to him that if he 
 could climb up behind and get on to the 
 roof of the drag, they would do so. It 
 was scarcely said before it was done, for 
 Agony Jack ran to the back of the car- 
 riage, and, notwithstanding his lameness.
 
 21 G SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 lie skipped up the springs and on to the 
 roof with tlie agihty of a monkey. Having 
 disposed of his cards as stipulated, he 
 seemed inclined to remain where he was, 
 and to that end he comfortably seated 
 himself on the roof of the drag — a strik- 
 ing contrast to the exquisites around him. 
 And there he probably would have re- 
 mained, but recognising Mr. Sparke in 
 the carriage behind, he called out to that 
 gentleman — 
 
 " Hallo ! Mr. Sparke, sir, I'm a noble- 
 man at last !" 
 
 This of course attracted the attention 
 of the Earl of Sackville in front, and he 
 turned round and angrily ordered Agony 
 Jack to descend. Jack laughed and 
 hesitated. 
 
 " Get down, you scoundrel, or I'll 
 knock you off with the whip !" cried the 
 earl, turning round menacingly. 
 
 Agony Jack was down in the road again
 
 SACKYILLE CHASE. 217 
 
 as quickly as he had ascended, and running 
 to the horses' heads, he pulled a hideous 
 face at the Earl of Sackville, for which 
 that nobleman attempted to reward him 
 with a cut of the whip ; but Agony Jack 
 was too wary, and kept beyond reach. 
 Indulging* in another facial contortion, 
 with a shout something between a howl 
 and the bray of a donkey, he went off 
 anion i^st the crowd ahead. Just at this 
 moment a lady, upon a high-spirited horse, 
 dashed up, and for a moment stopped 
 close to the Earl of Sackville's carriaa*e. 
 Only for a moment, however, for a passage 
 being made, she cantered on again, and 
 was soon lost in a bend of the road. 
 
 "What a magnificent woman!" ex- 
 claimed the Earl of Sackville, witli more 
 enthusiasm than miglit have been ex- 
 pected from one of his temperament. 
 
 " Why, it w^as the dark foreign beauty," 
 replied Mr. Sheraton, "who has lately
 
 21 S SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 created such a mysterious sensation up in 
 town." 
 
 The Earl of Sackville put tlie four 
 horses into a sharper pace, as though he 
 were seized witli a sudden impulse. 
 
 Wq are on the steeple-chase course. It 
 is situated in a delightful locality, which 
 in the summer time is beautiful enough 
 to be the home of peris. It is winter 
 time now, but still the scenery is beautiful 
 and attractive. The course is situated in 
 a kind of park, and is upon a gentle emi- 
 nence, at the bottom of which is a stream 
 of water of considerable breadth. The 
 course is marked out by small red Hags 
 placed at intervals, and the whole of it 
 is discernible from the stand, which is a 
 moveable wooden structure consisting of a 
 long, broad flight of steps, surmounted by 
 a tarpaulin roof. 
 
 The Earl of Sackville's drag takes its 
 place opposite to the stand on the other
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 219 
 
 side of tlie course, wliicli is thronged with 
 the country people from miles around. 
 
 Mr. Sparke and Mr. Boyton, with 
 Denzil Eaikes, drive up to the inclosure 
 round the stand, and they alight at one 
 corner, where there is a kind of hut, in 
 which the scales are placed, and into the 
 hut the box containing the weights is 
 conveyed. In the inclosure they find 
 John Bush}', di'essed out in holiday cos- 
 tume, and with him is Willum Sturk, 
 attired for riding, for he is going to ride 
 one of the competitors in the steeple- 
 chase. 
 
 The bell has rung for the saddling — 
 the preliminaries have been got through, 
 and now the competitors, about a dozen 
 in number, are taking their preliminary 
 canters down the course ; AYillum Sturk 
 is in his glory, for he has got a bran-new 
 jacket and new leather inexpressibles, and 
 he is riding for a yeoman of the neigh-
 
 '220 SACKVlIJ.i: CITASE. 
 
 Lourliood well known tliere. There lias 
 been a <^ood deal of niin of late, and the 
 ground is heavy and holdinj^, and in cer- 
 tain portions exceedingly muddy. 
 
 There is the usual confusion of tongues 
 amongst the betting fraternity in the 
 ring, and it would seem that there is a 
 strong favourite in the race, for the odds 
 are exceedingly short against him. Mr. 
 Sparke and John Busby may be observed 
 running here and there in and out of the 
 ring, like the proverbial dog at a fair — a 
 mythical animal that is always, or ought 
 to be, attendant upon that other mythical 
 being, the oldest inhabitant. Every now 
 and then they rush into a corner and 
 compare notes, and then dash back again 
 into the ring, and this they do until the 
 bell rinsrs for startinc^. 
 
 And there the horses are — down in the 
 hollow — just started. It is a very pretty 
 sight to see them come up the ascent,
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 221 
 
 and top the first flight of hurdles, which 
 they all do beautifully. They come in a 
 cluster past the ^and — the one that 
 Willuni is riding taking the lead ; upon 
 observing which the country folks of the 
 neighbourhood cheer lustily, for both 
 Willum and the owner are popular in 
 their native district. In going down the 
 far side of the course, however, Willum 
 comes to grief, for in taking the water- 
 jump the horse makes a false step on the 
 bank, and rolls over into the very centre 
 of the stream, ducking Willum most 
 effectually over head and ears. The horse 
 and his rider, however, struggled out on 
 the side, and Willum, nothing daunted, 
 remounted, and a long way behind fol- 
 lowed the other horses. When they passed 
 the stand the second time, Willum's ap- 
 pearance was hailed with a burst of 
 laughter from all sides, and by encourag- 
 ing cheers from the country folks.
 
 222 SACKVJLLK CHASE. 
 
 It was observed after the water-juni]) 
 was passed that one of tlie horses went 
 prominently in front,* and he maintained 
 that position to the end, winning with 
 perfect ease. Tlie result came like 
 thunder upon the betting ring, and there 
 were exclamations of — " "What ! the top 
 weight won?" "Carry eleven stone, and 
 win? Impossible !" and other ejaculations 
 of a like nature. When the horse and his 
 rider returned into the inclosure for the 
 jockey to be weighed, one excited book- 
 maker, who had laid heavily against him, 
 exclaimed, " 111 go and see him weighed, 
 bio wed if I don't. He's never carried his 
 weight. 111 swear !" and acting on the 
 declaration, he preceded the jockey to the 
 weighing booth. Mr. Boyton was at his 
 post as clerk of the scales, and he very 
 deliberately placed the weights in the 
 scale, receiving them from Mr. Sparke 
 for the purpose. The required weights
 
 SACKVILLE CITASE. 223 
 
 were placed in tlie scale, and to the con- 
 sternation of the betting fraternity the 
 jockey drew the weight exactty. The 
 betting men left the weighing booth dumb- 
 founded, and so they did not observe the 
 wink of Mr. Sparke, nor the chuckle of 
 Mr. Boy ton, nor had they the slightest 
 suspicion that one of those fifty-six pounds 
 was hollow, and was merely made of 
 block- tin ; and they never have known it 
 until now, when in these adventures the 
 knowledge reaches them. 
 
 Agony Jack is getting in quite a harvest 
 to-day. The faces he makes, and the 
 frightful noises he can produce, have been 
 the delight of all the country folks upon 
 the course. Again he is at the side of 
 the Earl of Sackville's drag, and while he 
 goes through his exhibition — for sucli it 
 is — a perfect circle of people is gathered 
 round. Presently the lady in the riding- 
 habit v.'ho had passed the drag in the
 
 2:24 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 narrow lane, canters up and stops to 
 laugh at tlie contortions of Agony Jack, 
 who essays a little dancing, notwitlistand- 
 ing his shortened leg. 
 
 The Earl of Sackville gazes intently 
 upon Mdlle. D'Arlincourt. There is some- 
 thing about her which seems to fascinate 
 him ; and as he gazes on her, Mr. Shera- 
 ton furtively gazes upon him. 
 
 The performance of Agony Jack has 
 been addressed to the occupants of the 
 Earl of Sackville's drag, but he has now 
 caught sight of the lady on horseback, 
 and with a whoop he jumps towards her 
 so suddenly that the horse violently shies 
 — rears up — and falls back upon the lady. 
 
 *' Good heavens !" exclaims Mr. Shera- 
 ton, leaping from the drag, and rushing 
 through the crowd to Mdlle. D'Arlincourt. 
 He is at her side in an instant, and as he 
 picks her up she whispers in liis ear, 
 " There is nothing the matter, dear," and
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 225 
 
 apparently falls into a swoon. By this 
 time the Earl of Sackville is at her side 
 too. 
 
 " Carry her into the drag," he says to- 
 Mr. Sheraton, " and I will drive her at 
 once to the hall." 
 
 Accordingly Mdlle. D'Arlincourt is con- 
 veyed into the carriage ; and the earl, 
 mounting the box, exclaims, "Where is 
 that ugly \allain ?" 
 
 But Agony Jack had vanished. He did 
 not wait for one instant to see the damage 
 he had caused. 
 
 The earl's friends descended from the 
 drag to remain on the course for the rest 
 of the sport, and Mr. Sheraton entered 
 the carriage to attend upon Mdlle. D'Ar- 
 lincourt. The earl then rapidly drove off 
 the course, giving directions to a servant 
 to bring the lady's horse at once to th& 
 hall. 
 
 As soon as they w^ere off the course, 
 VOL. I. 15
 
 226 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 and had got into the hmc, which was quite 
 quiet now, Mdlle. D'Arlincourt was per- 
 fectly recovered, and slie said to Mr. 
 Sheraton — 
 
 " Why, we might almost fancy that our 
 good-fortune had so arranged it." 
 
 " It was very remarkable, indeed," said 
 Mr. Sheraton. 
 
 '* I should like to meet with that mon- 
 strosity again," said Mdlle. D'Arlincourt. 
 
 " He at once vanished wlien he saw the 
 supposed mischief he had caused," said 
 Mr. Sheraton, laughing. 
 
 "Poor little mortal, the mischief was 
 to him, I am afraid," said Mdlle. D'Arlin- 
 court. 
 
 They speedily reached Sackville Hall, 
 and then it was discovered Ijy tlie earl 
 and Mr. Sheraton that Mdlle. D'Arlincourt 
 had sustained no injury, and vras perfectly 
 restored. The carl was gracious and 
 complimentary ; indeed, he was perfectly
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 227 
 
 enchanted witli the lovely foreigner, and 
 lie would not hear of her going to town 
 alone. He therefore commissioned Mr. 
 Sheraton to accompany Mdlle. D'Arlin- 
 court to London by the next train. 
 Mr. Sheraton did so. 
 
 The sports at the steeple- chase in due 
 course came to an end, and the crowd 
 again thronged tlie lane that led down 
 to the railway station. But Mr. Sparke 
 and his party, consisting of Denzil Eaikes, 
 Willum Sturk (restored in his outward 
 man), John Busby, Mr. Boy ton, and one 
 or two others, did not proceed at once to 
 the railway, but took their way to Trout- 
 brook and to the Sackville Arms. The 
 quaint old house of entertainment was a 
 scene of great bustle, not to say confu- 
 sion. All its apartments were occupied 
 by a noisy company in each, who were 
 vociferously discussing the events of the 
 day. Tlie room with the great chimney- 
 
 15— 2^
 
 228 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 corner had its old occupants there, who- 
 were joined by Mr. Sparke and his party, 
 with the exception of Mr. Boyton, who 
 had gone to some obscure region of the 
 house with the box containing the cun- 
 ningly-devised false weights. 
 
 Mr. Sparke was generous, and declared 
 that upon the success of his operations 
 that day he intended to stand glasses all 
 round. 
 
 " Hear, hear, hear !" vociferously ex-^ 
 claimed the sexton. 
 
 '' Three times three 1" cried the parish 
 clerk. 
 
 And these cheers being given, Mr. 
 Willum exclaimed, "And one cheer more !" 
 which was at once responded to. 
 
 So " glasses round " were ordered in,, 
 and they were brought in by the little 
 landlord himself, who was flushed with 
 excitement, for the " Arms " had not had 
 so much business in them for many a long
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 229 
 
 day. In the midst of the hilarity conse- 
 quent upon Mr. Sparke's treat, a head 
 was put in at the door, and the lips of the 
 head exclaimed — 
 
 "Hallo, Mr. Sparke, there you are 
 then !" 
 
 Mr. Sparke turning to the door, cried — 
 
 " What, Agony Jack ! Come in." 
 
 "No — you don't mean that?" said 
 John Busby. 
 
 "Agony Jack!" cried Willum, in the 
 act of taking a pull at his glass, " blest 
 if this ain't a rum start. Wliy so it is," 
 he added, as he looked in the face of 
 Agony Jack, who was now in the room. 
 
 "Give us thee fist. Jack," said John 
 Busby ; " I ain't seen thee this three year 
 -come next Leger." 
 
 Agony Jack had an anxious look, as 
 though something was on his mind. 
 Willum profiered him his glass, which he 
 at once accepted.
 
 230 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 "Well, how have you done to-diiy,. 
 Jack?" inquired Mr. Sparke. 
 
 " Eippin' !" replied Jack, laconically — 
 it seemed to be a favourite expression of 
 his. 
 
 " Cards went off well, did they ?" said 
 Mr. Sparke. 
 
 " Every one on 'cm," said Jack, " and 
 some on 'em at a bob apiece. But what 
 about the lady ?" anxiously inquired 
 Agony Jack. 
 
 "What lady. Jack?" said Mr. Sparke. 
 
 We should state that Mr. Sparke, being 
 busy at the time of the accident, had not 
 heard of it ; and upon its being explained 
 to him, one of the guests in the room said 
 that there had been no harm done ; the 
 lad}'- was all right, and had gone home to 
 London . Upon this inform ation all Agony 
 Jack's anxiety vanished, and he became 
 full of animation and spirits, not a little 
 accelerated as both John Busby and
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 231 
 
 Willum plied him with their glasses. He 
 volunteered the song of the "Tout," 
 which he orave standing^ in the middle of 
 the room, and in the end he made a fair 
 collection from the occupants of the 
 parlour in the Sack villa Arms. 
 
 Denzil Raikes had watched Agony Jack 
 with a close scrutiny all the time he was 
 in the room going through his antics, and 
 when he left, followed him out into the 
 road, and there entered into conversation 
 with him.
 
 232 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 €HAPTEE XII. 
 
 ANOTHER HEMISPHERE, IN WHICH IS INTRODUCED 
 ANOTHER EQUINE HERO WHO WILL RUN THROUGH 
 THIS HISTORY. 
 
 We have described the scene of the 
 steejDle-chase at which Mr. Sparke and his 
 friends figured, as being one of sylvan 
 beauty, and so it was; but it was what 
 might not inaptly be termed secluded 
 beauty, because the views around were 
 limited. Far different are the grand and 
 golden savannahs of the TJnited States, 
 stretching as they do like verdant seas 
 out upon the horizon, and being bounded 
 tliereby. Upon such plains great trees, 
 which in England would form a thickly- 
 wooded scene, are dwarfed, and seem, at
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 233 
 
 but a little distance, rather to Le lying 
 upon than springing out of the green 
 earth. Everything in these regions is 
 upon a gigantic scale. Where mountains 
 rise, they roll their outlines, when seen 
 from afar off, along the blue sky, and 
 seem to be a belt thereon. Upon a 
 nearer approach they resolve themselves 
 into dark, mighty billows, rolling over 
 the earth, and stretching out to heaven, 
 while nearer still the pine trees and other 
 timber look like feathers glittering in the 
 sun. Great rivers, through whose chan- 
 nels vast volumes roll, swell on their 
 course of miles told off in thousands — 
 rivers across whose bosom no bridge that 
 human ingenuity can construct will ever 
 span. And on these rivers, and about 
 these plains, and sweeping from these 
 mountains, the wealth that nature gives 
 and produces pours forth the wide world 
 over.
 
 234 SACKVJLLE CHASE. 
 
 Amongst sucli scenes us these the 
 current of our history must for a short 
 time flow, and we must revert to what 
 in reality is its actual rise, following it 
 down to the broad river that we have 
 alread}^ opened, and to which it is the 
 tributary. 
 
 We must go back twelve months before 
 the time at which our first chaj^ter 
 opened, and we must not only go back, 
 but far away — more than a thousand 
 leagues away beyond the wooded fringe 
 of the Ohio, to a rich spot in the plain 
 of deep alluvial deposit — that strip of 
 farming land which is bounded on the 
 one side by the great river, and on the 
 other by the woody undulation which, 
 as a mark, divides the character of the 
 soil ; that fertile plain which may be said 
 to be the mine of wealth of the State of 
 Kentucky in the United States, or was 
 so once.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 235 
 
 'We are upon as fertile a spot as any 
 in this fertile land, and tlie place is a 
 gentleman's residence of no great extent, 
 but evidently built for, as it is clearly 
 occupied bj^ a person of comfortable 
 substance in the world. The establish- 
 ment may be described as of a kind of 
 composite order. It is neither wholly a 
 villa residence, nor is it wholly a farm- 
 house, but it has the characteristics and 
 appliances of both. At the back of the 
 house is an extensive farm-yard, round 
 which are ranged farm-buildings of every 
 description, including a range of substan- 
 tial stables. The front of the house is 
 of an entirely difierent character. It is 
 covered with verandahs supported by 
 trellis-work, and round the first story 
 runs a trellised gallery. In tlie front of 
 the house is an elegant garden, which in 
 the flower season is a floral picture ; and 
 tlu'ough this garden there is an ample
 
 236 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 carriage-drive up to the house, Avliicli 
 from its front windows looks towards the 
 arborescent-hounded Ohio, which is at no 
 very great distance off, and to which access 
 is easy. 
 
 The family are at breakfast at the 
 moment of which we write. A small 
 family it is, for it consists of the owner 
 of the mansion, his wife, and a little girl. 
 
 A knock is heard at the door of the 
 breakfast-room . 
 
 " Come in," the owner of the mansion 
 says, and the door opening, a head is 
 obtruded into the room. It is a jet-black 
 head, with an immense gash for a mouth, 
 between which are displayed two rows of 
 very white teeth. This sable head gives 
 utterance to the following sound, and then 
 disappears : 
 
 "Yah, yah!" 
 
 " What can be the matter with Pom- 
 pey?" exclaimed Dr. Peacemcad, Avho
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 237 
 
 wiis the owner of the house we have de- 
 scribed. " There's some game going on. 
 I guess." 
 
 " I'll go and see," cried the little 
 girl, and she at once ran to the door, 
 upon opening which she discovered a 
 stalwart nigger who was the owner of 
 the head before referred to,. and who was 
 laughing to himself until he shook again. 
 
 "Come in, Pompey," cried the little 
 girl ; " what ever is the matter ?" 
 
 Answering at once to the invitation^ 
 Pompey stepped into the room, and grin- 
 ning from ear to ear, and in fact all over 
 his ebony countenance, he again gave 
 vent to his previous sounds of "Yah, 
 yah !" adding thereto the mysterious de- 
 claration of — 
 
 " He's come, Dockka, eyah ! eyah ! he's 
 come ! 
 
 "AVho's come?" inquired Dr. Peace- 
 mead.
 
 238 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 " Massa told dis nigs^a to come and tell 
 liim, as soon as massa was down, if any- 
 thing happened." 
 
 " Well," said Dr. Peacemead, smiling, 
 and eagerly, — ''Well, Pompey?" 
 
 " Wal, massa, him took place at one 
 o'clock dis mornin', eyah, eyah !" cried 
 Pompey, in great glee, clapping his hands, 
 looking, as he did so, first at Dr. Peace- 
 mead and then at Mrs. Peacemead, the 
 doctor's wife, and the little girl in her 
 tm'n. 
 
 "And it's all right?" eagerly inquired 
 Dr. Peacemead. 
 
 "All right, massa — nuffen couldn't be 
 better," cried Pompey, still clapping his 
 hands, and evidently much delighted. 
 
 "There, Amy, what do you think?" 
 said Dr. Peacemead to the little girl. 
 
 "Oh! what, grandpa?" replied she, 
 clapping her hands, and running up to 
 Dr. Peacemead. " What is it that Pompey
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 239 
 
 has brouo-lit me ? I know it is some- 
 
 o 
 
 thing." 
 
 "So it is, my darling ; and what do 
 you think it is?" inquired Dr. Peace- 
 mead. 
 
 " Oh, missy !" joined in Pompey, " it 
 am summat, it am;" and he grinned with 
 dehght. 
 
 " What is it, Pompey ?" said the Httle 
 gild, running up to him. " Is it another 
 greyhound? because if it is, that abomi- 
 nable Janet shan't have the care of him 
 at all this time ; for do you know, Pom- 
 pey, she let the last one jump out of the 
 window the day after we went to our 
 house at Louisville ; and although I had 
 tied a piece of blue ribbon round his neck, 
 we never saw him any more. Wasn't it 
 cruel of her ?" And as she w^as a very 
 loquacious little girl, she didn't stop to 
 enable Pompey, who still stood grinning 
 with pleasure upon her, a moment's time
 
 240 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 to answer licr, but continued : "I know, 
 Pompey, it's a nice little greyhound that 
 you have brought me, and he can't run 
 away here, can he?" 
 
 Dr. and Mrs. Peacemead looked on 
 silently, but evidently much amused, as 
 the little lady was thus rattling on. 
 
 "Eyah — no, miss, it ain't no grey- 
 hound, eyah !" said Pompey. 
 
 " Come here, Amy," said Dr. Peace- 
 mead ; and tlie little girl ran up to her 
 grandpapa and put her arms around his 
 neck. 
 
 ^' Do you know that Pompey has come 
 to tell us," continued Dr. Peacemead, 
 " that a beautiful little race-horse has been 
 born in the night?" 
 
 " What ! in our stables ?" cried the 
 little girl. 
 
 " Yes, in our stables," he replied. 
 
 "Oh, grandma!" exclaimed Amy, 
 clapping her hands — " oh, grandma, a
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 241 
 
 beautiful little race-liorse born in our 
 stables ! Do you know, grandpa and 
 grandma and Pompey, that last niglit 
 Janet told me a fairy tale about a great 
 prince who lost himself in a wood, and he 
 was beginning to think he should never 
 get to his palace again, when the fairy 
 came out of an oak-tree and told the prince 
 to shake one of the acorns off the branch, 
 and when he shook the acorn off it turned 
 into a beautiful horse that took him home 
 to his palace. Oh, grandma, a beautiful 
 race-horse born in our stables ! Wont we 
 go and " 
 
 " Stop, stop, stop !" exclaimed Dr. 
 Peacemead. "Where are you going to 
 gallop to ? Why, my little Amy, if the 
 foal gallops half as fast as your tongue, 
 he wont lack speed, at all events." 
 
 " Never mind, my darling,"' cried the 
 old lady, coming across to Amy ; " what 
 was she going to say, love?" 
 
 VOL. I. 16
 
 242 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 *' Why, I'll tell ijou, ruiiipey, what 
 I was going- to say." And she jumped 
 from her grandpapa's knee, and running 
 up to Pompey, said, " If grandpa has no 
 objection, and I'm sure he wont have 
 any " 
 
 *' Well — come — that's jumping at a 
 conclusion," said Dr. Peacemead. 
 
 " Well, then, Pompey, suppose you 
 bring the little young race-horse here, 
 and let us look at him ?" said little Am}'. 
 
 Pompey grinned, and looked at Dr. 
 Peacemead, and Dr. Peacemead smiled 
 and looked at his lady, and the lad}' 
 smiled back again and then looked at 
 Pompey, wdio smiled upon all three. 
 
 "What for?" at length inquired Dr. 
 Peacemead. 
 
 " Oh, that we may see the little love in 
 the room," replied Amy. 
 
 '' What ^oyou say, Pompey?" inquired 
 Dr. Peacemead of Pompey.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 243 
 
 "Walla, Dockka, da coat is tarnation 
 strong. Yali — lie tarnation strong, he be, 
 Dockka," said Pompey. 
 
 " Do you think it would hurt him to 
 bring him in here ?" Dr. Peacemead in- 
 quired. 
 
 " Walla, Dockka," replied Pompey, 
 '•' him don't think it would. Dis berry 
 fine room, windys all tight, an' no drafs. 
 Me an' Sambo can cover him up well and 
 bring him slick along, if Miss Amy like 
 to have him here." 
 
 " Kun along then, Pompe}^, and fetch 
 him 1" cried Amy. " We've quite done 
 breakfast, and grandma will be so de- 
 lighted to see him ; won't you, grand- 
 ma.f^ 
 
 " I never did see such a child in my 
 life," said the old lad}^, in an undertone, 
 to Dr. Peacemead. " What will she say 
 next ?" 
 
 " S'all Pompey fetch him, massa ?" 
 
 IG— 2
 
 244 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 inquired Pompey, grinning with antici- 
 patory delight, for he was highly pleased 
 with the fun of the thing. 
 
 " Well, I suppose you must, if you 
 think there is no harm in it," acquiesced 
 Dr. Peacemead. 
 
 " There ain't no kinder sort o' harm 
 wotsever," said Pompey, conclusively. 
 " Pompey tak car ob dat." 
 
 " Yery well, then, suppose we have him 
 in," said Dr. Peacemead. 
 
 " Yah, yah ! all right, Mas' Dockka," 
 fiaid Pompey, in high glee, and making 
 an awkward obeisance, he quitted the 
 room. 
 
 He proceeded at once to the stables in 
 the rear of the house, and called lustily 
 for " Sambo." 
 
 A voice which appeared to proceed from 
 some hidden recess in the earth replied, 
 ^' Hallo!" 
 
 " War be yo ?" inquired Pompey.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 245- 
 
 " Oop in de lof, nunimer six/' replied 
 the voice. 
 
 ''Den yon jis coom to de stall nnmmer 
 one, and look kinder sharp," responded 
 Pompey. 
 
 '' Dam qnick," answered the voice, 
 Avhich immediately merged into a whistle, 
 and the whistle swelling into a volume, 
 presently made itself manifest as proceed- 
 ing from a short, thick-set, oily nigger, 
 who was very nearly as broad as he was 
 long, and whose attire consisted of a pair 
 of trousers and braces, the trousers being 
 very short in the legs, short as the legs 
 of the wearer were. This rotundity of 
 black animation rolled rather than walked, 
 and when he presented himself to Pompey 
 in stall number one, he rolled on to some 
 hay that was conveniently piled, and still 
 continuing his whistling solo, looked at 
 Pompey with an inquiring expression of 
 countenance, if that could be said to taker
 
 246 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 any expression where apparent immobi- 
 lity of feature was a striking cliarac- 
 teristic. 
 
 "Everlastin' lark, Sambo !" said Pom- 
 pey, when this individual took his seat on 
 the hay heap. 
 
 Sambo left off whistling, and gave 
 practical signs of intelligence by inquiring 
 in a thick greasy voice, with a slight dash 
 of the guttural in it, " Wot ar de game, 
 Pompey?" 
 
 " Lissen to dis ar, now," said Pompey, 
 almost ready to burst with delight ; 
 ''listen to dis ar, now. Wot you tink, 
 niggar ? I goes in to Massa Dockka to tell 
 him ob de foal, and wot does Missy Amy 
 do ? By gor she hab him in dar !" and 
 Pompey shouted with laughter. 
 
 " Hab who in dar ? hab who in war ?" 
 inquired Sambo, twinkling his little eyes, 
 which looked like beads glistening on a 
 black cushion.
 
 SACKYILLE CHASE. 247 
 
 "Why, cle focal ! yah, eyah, eyah 1" 
 roared Pompey. 
 
 " Gammon !" ejaculated the oleaginous 
 nigger. 
 
 " Not nuffen on it," said Pompey ; 
 " and yon and me mus' tak' him up at 
 once to the Dockka and Missy Amy ; 
 so don't sit dar all day on dat dar 
 fodder." 
 
 " Who's to get him away from de mar?" 
 inqui red Sambo . 
 
 " Oh, she'll be kinder quiet. You go 
 and give him his milk, and den we'll skip 
 him up to de drawing-room in a twink- 
 linV' said Pompey. 
 
 " Come along," said Sambo, delibe- 
 rately getting off the hay. " Eyah, eyah 1 
 here's a lark !" and his countenance broke 
 into a laugh — that is, as near as his fea- 
 tures could form one. 
 
 And the two proceeded to the stall 
 where the foal was, and by dint of decep-
 
 248 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 tion persuaded the mare that her ofisprhig 
 was gomg to have "his milk," and the 
 interesting- little stranger was carried 
 into the Lreakfast-room, where Amy was 
 awaiting his arrival with great anxiety. 
 When the foal was introduced, Amy ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 " Oh, what a darling little thing ! Oh, 
 grandma, isn't it a darling ?" and she went 
 up to the foal, who stood like a lamb to 
 be caressed. 
 
 "What a beautiful head !" said Amy. 
 "And oh, what a dear little mouth !" 
 
 And then she ran up to Dr. Peacemead^ 
 and said in a whisper — 
 
 " Grandpa, let me kiss him ! Shall I ?" 
 
 "What, kiss a horse!" exclaimed Dr. 
 Peacemead. " Well, I never heard of such 
 a thing 1" 
 
 " Oh, he has such a sweet little mouth/' 
 said Amy, "that I must kiss him !" and 
 away she ran, and putting her arms round 
 the foal's neck, kissed him.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 249 
 
 And then tlie foal was paraded round 
 the room, and there was not one there 
 that admired him more than the old lady, 
 who patted him and took his head in her 
 arms, and played with him like a child. 
 
 " He's a remarkably fine foal," said Dr. 
 Peacemead. 
 
 "Him jus' am, sa'," replied Pompey; 
 " and Pompey have him notions 'bout dat 
 ar colt." 
 
 " And look at his knees, grandpa," said 
 Amy, stooping down. " "What very large 
 knee-caps, grandpa, he's got! What makes 
 that, grandpa?" 
 
 " Lor', Missy Amy," said Pompey, 
 '• dem is one of hisbery best p'ints — ain't 
 it, Sambo?" 
 
 Sambo's answer was in the affirmative, 
 but it was expressed by a sound some- 
 thing between a groan and a snore. 
 
 " Dem 'ere knees, Missy Ani}^," con- 
 tinued Pompe}^ " shows him am fus'- 
 rater, that do, Missy. Did you eber see
 
 250 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 sich caps, Dockka, sa', in a foal ?" lie in- 
 quired of Dr. Peacemead. 
 
 Tlie doctor admitted that he never Iiad, 
 and said that altogether lie was one of the 
 finest foals he had ever seen. 
 
 " Grandpapa," cried Amy, " I shall tie 
 a blue ribbon round Jiis neck ;" and off she 
 ran to a workbox, and drawing therefrom 
 a blue ribbon, quickly put it on the foal's 
 neck. 
 
 "Well, really," said Dr. Peacemead 
 aside to Mrs. Peacemead, " does it not 
 almost look ominous ?" 
 
 "What does?" inquired Mrs. Peace- 
 mead. 
 
 " That bit of ribbon," said Dr. Peace- 
 mead. 
 
 " How ?" inquired the lady. 
 
 " The Great Derby of England is called 
 the Blue Eibbon of the Turf." 
 
 "Well, what of that?" inquired Mrs. 
 Peacemead.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 251 
 
 " Why, that bit of ribbon upon his neck 
 now may be the symbol of a greater blue 
 ribbon for him in days to come." 
 
 " Oh, that is an idle dream !" said Mrs. 
 Peacemead, laughing. " Why, in the first 
 place, he is never likely to reach England 
 at all." 
 
 " I don't know that," said Dr. Peace- 
 mead. " We cannot say what is in store 
 for him." 
 
 "Well, there's one thing," said the 
 lady, laughing; "if he is destined to 
 shine in the Derby, I don't suppose I 
 shall be there to see him." 
 
 " A few minutes ago, Pompey," said 
 Dr. Peacemead, addressing the negro 
 groom, " you said you had your no- 
 tions about the foal. What did you 
 mean?" 
 
 " Why, dis ar, sa'," answered Pompey, 
 energetically, " dat if ever I see a foal 
 what'll come a race-hoss, dat dar is one."
 
 252 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 *' He is promising, certainly,'' replied 
 Dr. Peacemead. 
 
 " Promisin', sa' — dis niggar should tink 
 lie war. And him promises — mark de 
 words ol) Pompey, Dockka — him promises 
 wont be nothin' to him performances." 
 And Pompey drew himself up with the 
 air of a prophet. 
 
 " Well, Amy, he mnst go back now," 
 said Dr. Peacemead. 
 
 ''Not till I have given him another 
 kiss, though ;" and little Amy again threw 
 her arms round the foal's neck, and kissed 
 him heartily. 
 
 " Now, Pompey, take him back to his 
 mother," said Dr. Peacemead. 
 
 " Yah, Dockka — come along, him leetle 
 pet," said Pompe3^ " Now den, you 
 nigga Sambo, open dat ar door slick." 
 
 And the robust young nigger did as he 
 was required, and opened the door for the 
 passage of the colt. Pompey had led him
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 253 
 
 as far as the door, when he was met by 
 two ofentlemen, one of whom exclaimed in 
 a tone of pleased surprise — 
 
 " Hallo ! why, Pompey, what have you 
 got there ?" 
 
 " All right, Massa Albert, him come in 
 de night, you see." 
 
 " It took place in the night, did it?" 
 said the gentleman addressed, who w^as a 
 fine-looldng young man of about five-and- 
 twenty, and to whom, on his entrance, 
 little Amy ran, exclaiming — 
 
 " Isn't it a little love, papa?" 
 
 " Grood morning, Doctor," said the gen- 
 tleman, advancing into the room, and 
 shaking hands with the Doctor, and then 
 with Mrs. Peacemead — " good morning ! 
 But what is the meaning of the colt being 
 here?" he inquired, smiling. 
 
 Dr. Peacemead explained to him how 
 it was, and then the gentleman — who, we 
 should have stated, was the son-in-law
 
 254 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 of Dr. and Mrs. Peacemead — exclaimed, 
 laugliing" — 
 
 " Oh, Aiii}', Amy ! 3011 must not in- 
 dulge in these fanciful whims when you 
 come to visit grandma." 
 
 •' She shall indulge in anything she 
 fancies," said the old lady, fondly. 
 
 '' You certainly will spoil her," said 
 Amy's father. 
 
 " Oh, jDapa, and grandpa, and grandma, 
 and Pompey!" cried Amy, heartily, " oh, 
 do tell me what we are to call him !" 
 
 "Well thought of," said Dr. Peace- 
 mead. " We are a very good committee 
 for the purpose — what shall we say ?" 
 
 " Let grandma give her opinion. What 
 shall it be, grandma?" said Amy's 
 father. 
 
 Eut " grandma" declined the task, as 
 being utterly unskilled in such matters. 
 
 " Well, then, you must do it yourself, 
 I suppose," said Amy's father to Dr. 
 Peacemead.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 255 
 
 "Oh, I am as deficient as grandma 
 liere, in that respect/' replied Dr. Peace- 
 mead. "No, you must settle it your- 
 selves." 
 
 At this point little Amy was observed 
 hastily to quit the room. 
 
 " Suppose we leave it to Amy ?" sug- 
 gested Mrs. Peacemead. 
 
 " Agreed — so it shall be !" exclaimed 
 Dr. Peacemead, in glee; "and I'll be 
 bound she will select a better name than 
 any of us." 
 
 "Here, Amy !" cried her father at the 
 door. "Where have 3'Ou got to? Come 
 here." 
 
 " I am coming !" replied Amy, from 
 another apartment. " In one moment^ 
 papa — only just wait for a minute !" 
 
 Her papa returned into the room, 
 smiling, and said he had no doubt tliat 
 Amy had some project anent the subject 
 under discussion ; and he was right, for
 
 256 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 in a few moments she came bounding 
 into the room, with a book in her hand, 
 exclaiming — 
 
 " I have got the name, papa !" 
 
 " Very good — we had just decided that 
 you should give the name," said her father. 
 
 " And how do you think I found it ?" 
 she inquired. 
 
 They were of course, each of them, all 
 curiosity to know. 
 
 " Why, it was the hardest word in my 
 lesson yesterday," she said. 
 
 "And pray what w^as that?" inquired 
 her father. 
 
 Before she could reply, Pompey, who 
 had been standing with the colt's head in 
 his arms fondling it, cried out, laughing 
 out as he did so — 
 
 "Oh, Massa Arthur, that am nebber 
 do 1" 
 
 "What will never do, Pompey?" in- 
 quired Amy's father.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 257 
 
 " Dat ar what Missy Amy say." 
 
 " What, did she say that will not do ?" 
 
 " Why, Massa, Miss Amy say — eyah I 
 eyah ! — dat she call 'em colt hard name. 
 Dat nebber do to call 'em colt hard name. 
 Eyah ! eyah !" and Pompey was delighted 
 at his own joke. 
 
 " This Pompey is getting quite a wag^ 
 sir," said Amy's father to Dr. Peacemead, 
 
 "Eyah ! eyah ! eyah !" laughed Pompey, 
 immensely delighted at being designated 
 a wag. 
 
 "Come, now, you are stopping little 
 Amy. What is the name to be, love?'^ 
 said Mrs. Peacemead. 
 
 Amy was looking at the book that she 
 had brought into the room with her, and 
 by the motion of her lips she was evi- 
 dently spelling the word and pronouncing 
 it to herself 
 
 " Now, Amy, what is it to be — is it in 
 that book ?" inquired her father. 
 
 VOL. I. 17
 
 258 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 " I don't tliink I shall tell you yet," 
 said Amy, quite coquettishly. " I shall 
 keep you all in what governess calls sus- 
 pense — s-u-s-p-e-n-s-e !" said she, laugh- 
 ing, and spelling the word. 
 
 " No, no, no ! You mustn't be tanta- 
 lizing," said Dr. Peacemead. 
 
 ''Oh, but it's a very long word, 
 grandpa," said Amy, still conningher book. 
 
 "Along word, eh?" said her father; 
 " well, and so it ought to be, for you are 
 a long time bringing it out." 
 
 "Suppose I let Pompey s^:ellit?" sug- 
 gested Amy, still looking at her book. 
 
 ** Very well ; let Pompey spell it," ac- 
 quiesced Dr. Peacemead, anticipating 
 something funny therefrom. 
 
 " A, E, B," said Amy to Pompey. 
 
 " A, B, C," said Pompc}-, with a broad 
 grin. 
 
 " No, no ; not that," ^aid Amy, pet- 
 tishly. " A, E. What does that speU?"
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 259 
 
 " A, E," said Pompey, scratching his 
 woolly pate, and looking at the colt as 
 though he expected there to find a solu- 
 tion of the mystery which had heen pro- 
 pounded to him. 
 
 "A, R," again said Amy, looking at 
 the hook. '' What does it spell ?" 
 
 " Begar, den, Miss Amy, dis niggar 
 nebher heard ob de name before," said 
 Pompey, puzzled. " Am hayar his Chris- 
 tian name, Miss Amy?" 
 
 " That isn't his name," repHed Amy; 
 " that is only the beginning of his name." 
 
 " Den dis niggar can't consider him 
 nohow, and that's a fac', eyah, eyah I" 
 said Pompey, decisively. 
 
 " A-r," said Amy's father. '' AYell, go 
 on ; what are the other letters ?" 
 
 It was clear from Amy's manner that 
 she was not a little puzzled mth the word 
 herself, for she was conning it over to 
 herself. At length she said — 
 
 17— :j
 
 260 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 " Well, then, you spell it, papa." 
 
 " Very well ; go on then ; we have got 
 Ar — " said her papa. 
 
 " B, I," continued Amy. 
 
 '' B, I," said Mr. Arthur. 
 
 "Tra." 
 
 " Tra." 
 
 *' T, 0" — Amy was going on. 
 
 " Wliy, it's Arbitrator !" exclaimed 
 Amy's father. 
 
 " And a capital name, too," cried Dr. 
 Peacemead. " Arbitrator it shall be. 
 Eh, Pompey ?" 
 
 Now, Pompey, the moment the name 
 was pronounced, was observed to become 
 suddenly serious, and when this direct 
 appeal was made to him, he exclaimed — 
 
 " Oh, no. Miss Amy ! Oh, no, Dockka ! 
 Oh, no, Massa Arthur ! dat ool nebber do !" 
 and he spoke quite in a desponding tone. 
 
 " Why not, Pompey? I think it is a 
 capital name," said Dr. Peacemead.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 2G1 
 
 " Oh, no, Massa, no ! nebl3er say dis ar 
 colt be traitor," pointing to the colt ; 
 " nebber say dat, ^Massa." 
 
 They all laughed at Pompey's mistake, 
 and at his earnestness, and Dr. Peace- 
 mead was at some pains to explain the 
 meaning of the name which it was pro- 
 posed to give the colt. Pompey, although 
 convinced of his error, had still some 
 lingering doubts in his mind, for he con- 
 tinually turned the word over in his 
 mouth, as though he had got a pebble 
 there. It was, however, decided that 
 the name the colt should bear should be 
 that of Arbitrator, and this matter being 
 finally settled and agreed upon. Sambo, 
 who had been a silent spectator of the 
 proceedings, once more opened the door, 
 and the colt was led back to his anxious 
 parent, who was doubtless wondering in 
 her stable whatever could have become of 
 him.
 
 262 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 THE YEARLING ARBITRATOR IS DISPOSED OF, AND 
 SETS OUT UPON HIS JOURNEY IN LIFE. 
 
 We shall not attempt to follow the equine 
 hero whom we introduced in the last 
 chapter through his babyhood. It is 
 enough in that respect to state that he 
 took his milk kindly each day (four 
 bottles daily of the finest new milk from 
 the best cows in the neighbourhood) ; that 
 he was a fine hardy colt from his youth 
 up, and that his beautiful chestnut coat 
 brightened in colour as he advanced in 
 age, until it had become Avhat we see it 
 now that he is a yearling, like polished 
 satin. 
 
 Pompey has taken great care of the
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 2G3 
 
 foal, and the yearling does him much 
 credit. And isn't Pompey proud of his 
 charge? He has nothing else to do but 
 to -attend to him, and the colt is seldom 
 out of his sight, and never out of his 
 thoughts. It is just twelve months since 
 Ave introduced him — we mean Pompey, of 
 course — and looking at him now, as he 
 stands in the stable-yard with his hands 
 in his trousers pockets, we can discover 
 no difference in him. He is talking to 
 another individual, whom we have seen 
 before. This individual, who is standing 
 at a little distance from him, is very short 
 in stature, very stout in person, and ex- 
 ceedingly black in the face. It is Sambo, 
 who has grown more obese as he has ad- 
 vanced in age, and consequently has in 
 appearance decreased in stature. Sambo 
 is leaning against the stable door-post, 
 for, like many persons of stout propor- 
 tions, he prefers ease to activity, and
 
 264 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 whenever the alternative is put to him he 
 does not disguise liis partiaHty for repose 
 over exertion. Pompey looks a giant as 
 he stands near to Sambo ; but it is clear 
 from Sambo's bearing that he does not 
 consider that social superiority is to be 
 measured by personal stature. He talks 
 to Pompey with the air of an equal — 
 albeit Pompey is in reality above him in 
 position in Dr. Peacemead's establish- 
 ment. Pompey is the chief groom in 
 that establishment, and Sambo is his 
 <ihief assistant. The two have a great 
 opinion of each other, and they are at 
 this moment at which we see them hold- 
 ing a discourse upon the merits of Arbi- 
 trator, who for the past twelve months 
 has been under their joint care. As we 
 have said, he has thriven apace, as we 
 gather from the conversation of Pompey 
 and Sambo, which we have interrupted 
 • by this description of the two.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 265 
 
 "I tiiiks liim better ebery day," says 
 Sambo, in a tone which plainly implies 
 that he ought to know, and that he is a 
 judge in the matter. 
 
 " He's a wonnerful colt," says Pompey ; 
 " an' if I didn't know him nufFen ob de 
 sort, I be dam if I shouldn't tink he was 
 horned the ye'r afore las'." 
 
 "He's a big 'un, he am," acquiesces 
 Sambo. 
 
 '' Did you obserb his gallop dis morn- 
 in'?" inquires Pompey, with an air of 
 dignity. 
 
 " Dis nigger kep him eye fixed on de 
 colt," replies Sambo. 
 
 " And what you tink ?" Pompey washes 
 to know. 
 
 " Why dat him fit to gallop ober 
 de mountain and back agin," says 
 Sambo. 
 
 " What a back him got !" says Pompey. 
 
 '* What legs I" suggests Sambo.
 
 2C6 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 "And then his neck — oh, golly!" ex- 
 claims Pompey. 
 
 " And such an *ead ! " continues 
 Sambo. 
 
 This criticism of Arbitrator's points 
 would no doubt have been continued, 
 with continued satisfaction to the two, if 
 the voice of Dr. Peacemead had not been 
 heard exclaiming — " Pompey !" to which 
 exclamation Pompey immediately replied 
 by crying, " Here I be, Massa !" 
 
 And Dr. Peacemead was seen advancing 
 from the house. When he came near 
 to Pompey, that worthy dependent 
 said — 
 
 " Good mornin', Dockka," and grinned. 
 
 Sambo turned his sleepy countenance 
 towards the Doctor, and merely looked a 
 salutation. 
 
 " And how is he ?" inquired Dr. Peace- 
 mead. 
 
 "Lubly as Kosa, Massa," replied
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 267 
 
 Pompey. "Him tuckin' in now like a 
 alligator." 
 
 " Well, I want liim to look all over 
 particularly well tliis morning," said Dr. 
 .Peacemead; "for I expect some gentle- 
 men to see liim, Pompey." 
 
 Pompey was delighted to hear it — ^the 
 gentlefolks he declared would see a sight 
 as would do their eyes good. 
 
 Dr. Peacemead said he was glad to 
 hear it, and he hoped the colt would be 
 so considered in the country to which he 
 was going. At this announcement Pompey 
 dropped his lower jaw, and in a voice 
 almost tremulous, said — 
 
 "Him not g\vine away, Dockka? — 
 don't say him gwine away !" 
 
 "Why, he's been disposed of almost 
 ever since he was born," said Dr. Peace- 
 mead. 
 
 Pompey looked very dejected, and as a 
 relief to his feelings, he gave Sambo a
 
 2GS SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 slap on tlie side of his face wliicli knocked 
 his head against the door-post, and told 
 him to go and see to the colt. Sambo, 
 with a perfectly unruffled countenance, 
 turned into the stable as he had been 
 desired, and without saying a word. 
 
 " Wh}^, Pompey, you didn't expect tlie 
 colt was going to stay here all his life, 
 did you?" said Dr. Peacemead. 
 
 "No, Dockka, him nebber taut dat," 
 replied Pompey; "but 'ab Massa sell 
 him ?" he inquired. 
 
 "He is sold, Pompey, and for great 
 achievements, I hope," said Dr. Peace- 
 mead. 
 
 " Might as well 'ab sold me wid him, 
 Massa," said Pompey, dolefully. 
 
 "It is not altogether improbable that 
 
 you will go with him," replied Dr. Peace- 
 mead. 
 
 "What, sell Pompey? — ole Pompey, 
 
 Dockka?" exclaimed Pompey, in a tone
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 2GD 
 
 of much greater consternation than that 
 which he had used before. 
 
 "No; I did not mean that," said Dr. 
 Peacemead, smiHng. 
 
 Pompey brightened up again. 
 
 " But I think it not unhkely that they 
 may want you to attend him to his em- 
 barkation." 
 
 "What am dat, Massa?" inquired 
 Pompey. 
 
 "Why, he's going across the sea," 
 said Dr. Peacemead. " In fact, he's going 
 to England, Pompey." 
 
 " Oh ! what will Missy Amy say, 
 Massa?" inquired Pompey. 
 
 " She'll know nothing about it," said 
 Dr. Peacemead. " She is now up in 
 Louisville, on a visit, and when she comeS' 
 back Arbitrator will be half way across 
 the Atlantic." 
 
 Pompey drew a deep sigh and turned 
 towards the stable. Before he reached
 
 270 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 the door, Sambo put out his liead, and 
 exclaimed — " Him 'ab done him feed !" 
 and then drew it back again. 
 
 Dr. Peacemead and Pompey went into 
 the stall together, and there was Arbi- 
 trator. How different in appearance to 
 that which he presented on our first in- 
 troduction to him twelve months before ! 
 Then he was scarcely strong enough to 
 support himself, and was so light that 
 Pompey could carry him without much 
 exertion. Now he is a noble steed, fully 
 occupying the stall in which he is placed, 
 and bearing out, indeed, all the encomiums 
 of Pompey, both implied and expressed. 
 He is as quiet as a lamb, and, at the time 
 Dr. Peacemead enters with Pompey, there 
 is a kitten playing on his back. 
 
 " He is a magnificent fellow, certainly !" 
 exclaims Dr. Peacemead, in admiration. 
 
 " Oh, Massa, he be !" said Pompey. 
 *' Why not Massa keep him?"
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 271 
 
 " Wliy, Pompey — wliy sliould we keep 
 him here ?" aro'ued Dr. Peacemead. " We 
 have nothing in which he could distin- 
 guish himself here ; but where he's going, 
 Pompey, he'll gain a renown that will ex- 
 tend all over the world, and perhaps make 
 you, Pompey, famous as well." And 
 Dr. Peacemead good-humouredly smiled 
 upon Pompey, who, notwithstanding, was 
 dejected. 
 
 " Now, den, you stupid nigger !" cried 
 Pompey, in a tone of authoritative supe- 
 riority, " why don't you clean dat are rack 
 out ?" 
 
 This was addressed to Sambo, who, 
 leaning against the side of the stall, was 
 listening to all that was going on, but 
 without the slightest expression upon his 
 fat countenance except one of utter 
 indifference to anything or anybody. 
 Receiving Pompey 's admonition with 
 stolid imperturbability, he goes to the
 
 272 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 rack and listlessly cleans it out, while 
 Arbitrator looks upon him evidently with 
 an eye of curiosity. 
 
 While they are thus engaged in the 
 stable, a noise of the tramp of horses is 
 heard in the farm-yard, and Dr. Peace- 
 mead exclaims — 
 
 " Here they are ; now Pompey, let's go 
 out and receive them." 
 
 And accordingly Dr. Peacemead, ac- 
 companied by Pompey — Sambo is left in 
 charge of Arbitrator — proceeds into the 
 farm-yard, and there, as he said, were the 
 three gentlemen he had expected. One 
 of these, to whom Dr. Peacemead at once 
 paid his respects, had dismounted. He 
 was short in stature, but striking in ap- 
 pearance. No one, judging from his ap- 
 pearance, would have taken him for an 
 American, and yet he had characteristics 
 which were without doubt of American 
 origin. If the scene had been in Italy
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 273 
 
 instead of in one of the States of Xortli 
 America, an observer might have con- 
 cluded that although an Italian he had 
 points in his appearance which decidedly 
 were not Italian characteristics. His 
 countenance was sallow, and if not abso- 
 lutely wrinkled it was deeply furrowed. 
 His features were small and angular, and 
 such as would lead an observer to the 
 conclusion that they belonged to one who 
 was in possession of shrewdness with re- 
 gard to the faculty of taking care of one's 
 self. Although he had come to Dr. Peace- 
 mead's on horseback, yet he wore a cloak, 
 that ugliest of all habiliments that a 
 horseman can wear, and this cloak gave 
 him the appearance of being shorter than 
 he really was. 
 
 "Good morning, Mr. Van Bruggen," 
 said Dr. Peacemead, shaking hands with 
 this gentleman. 
 
 VOL. I. * 18
 
 274 SACKVILI.E CHASE. 
 
 "Good morning, Doctor," responded 
 Mr. Vein Bruggen, who had rather a shrill 
 voice. '' I have hroiiglit Arhitrator's 
 guardian spirit, you sec," continued he, 
 pointing to one of his companions. 
 
 The individual indicated liad not dis- 
 mounted from his horse, hut remained at 
 a little distance hehind Mr. Van Bruggen. 
 He showed in great contrast to this latter 
 gentleman ; for he was not only stalwart 
 in huiid, but his personal attire was of a 
 character well calculated to arrest atten- 
 tion. He wore upon his head a cap which 
 was in itself a curiosity, as much from 
 the fashion of its construction as the ma- 
 terial of which it was made. At a little 
 distance it had somewhat the appearance 
 of the work of art wliich surmounts the 
 Monument of London on Fish-street Hill, 
 and which is supposed, or at all events was 
 intended by its originator, to represent a 
 globe of flames, but which might just as
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 275 
 
 well be taken to illustrate a gilded hedge- 
 hog comfortably rolled wp. The cap 
 which the attendant of Mr. Van Bruesren 
 wore was neither fur nor woollen stuff, but 
 appeared to be a compound of both. It 
 was globular in shape, and was a kind of 
 stunted cross between a grenadier's cap 
 and the monstrous bear-skin headdress 
 which the sword-bearer of the city of 
 London is compelled on state occasions to 
 make himself look hideous with. Whence 
 it came, why its peculiar fashion had 
 been adopted, and what its advantages 
 were, were matters strictly confined to 
 the foundation upon which at the moment 
 of which we write the cap was resting. 
 The wearer of this remarkable headdress 
 was a swarthy individual, attired in a 
 rough suit of coarse drab material, and 
 his legs were incased in gaiters, com- 
 pounded of leather and a heavy woollen 
 mystery, which manifestly proclaimed 
 
 IS— 2
 
 •276 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 defiance, and were impervious to all kinds 
 of weather. 
 
 Mr. Van Bruggen had designated tliis 
 personage as Arbitrator's guardian spirit, 
 from which we may infer that henceforth 
 that nol^le animal is to be placed under 
 the care of this gentleman. And such is 
 the case. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Van Bruggen," says Dr. 
 Peacemead, " I calculate you would like 
 to see Arbitrator?" 
 
 " I think we should. Doctor," said Mr. 
 Van Bruggen, " or rather I want Sweeney 
 to see him. That's what you're come 
 over for this morning, I think, isn't it, 
 Dennis ?" 
 
 This was addressed to the individual 
 in the cap, who replied — 
 
 " Yes, I calc'late that's a fact." 
 
 Pompey has stood all this time near to 
 the stable door, troubled in his mind at 
 the notion of Arbitrator's going, a fact
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. Z i / 
 
 wliicli is painfully confirmed b}^ tlie con- 
 versation he lias just heard. 
 
 "ISTow, Pompey, out with him!" ex- 
 claims Dr. Peacemead. " Don't he in the 
 dumps, Pompey ; as I told you, you shall 
 go and see him off from Xew York." 
 
 Pompey with a dejected air turned into 
 the stable, and then Dr. Peacemead told 
 Mr. Yan Bruggen, laughing as he did so, 
 of the attachment entertained by Pompey 
 for the colt. 
 
 " Niggers and colts often fancies one 
 another," Mr. Dennis Sweeney ventures 
 to observe. 
 
 '' Is that so?" says i\Ir. Yan Bruggen, 
 laughing. 
 
 " Oh, one animal often takes a fancy to 
 another," Mr. Dennis Sweeney says in 
 confirmation of his previous remark. 
 " But a nigger ain't the sort o' chap to 
 take care of a thorough-bred, and there 
 ain't no two ways about that."
 
 27 S SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 Dr. Peacemead observes tliat if ever 
 there was a faithful being in the world, 
 that chara(jter was Pompey, who had just 
 srone into the stable ; and what was more, 
 there were few people who knew better 
 the points of a good horse, or who could 
 better take care of one. 
 
 Mr. Dennis Sweeney remarked that 
 there might be prodigies in niggers as 
 well as in pigs. 
 
 Mr. Van Bruggen takes no part in this 
 brief ethnological discussion, but from the 
 expression on his countenance, we may 
 conclude that he is not a little amused 
 by it. 
 
 " Now den, dam stoopid nigger," 
 Pompey is heard to exclaim, inside tlie 
 stable, "why can't yo' give 'em brush 
 'thout stannin' tliar?" 
 
 "We may infer that this admonition is 
 addressed to the stolid Sambo, for no re- 
 sponse is heard to it, and a hissing sound
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 279 
 
 is immediately heard, Avliicli, from certain 
 parenthetical interjections which are dis- 
 tinguishable, it is clear proceeds from the 
 lips of Pompey itself, while in the act 
 of giving Arbitrator his final brush over 
 before introducing him to the company 
 in the farm-yard. At length Pompey 
 appears at the stable door, leading oat 
 Arbitrator, upon whose appearance Mr. 
 Dennis Sweeney gives vent to his admi- 
 ration in these terms — 
 
 " Thunder and lightnin' ! but that's 
 the colt to go slick away like a tarnation 
 flash." 
 
 " I think he's something like, sir. I 
 calculate you'll have to travel a long way 
 through the States to better him," said 
 Dr. Peacemead. 
 
 " Mas2:nificent 1" exclaims Mr. Van 
 Bruggen, who, though usually rather 
 phlegmatic in his bearing, brightens up 
 into something like enthusiasm, as he
 
 280 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 gazes upon the fine proportions of the 
 equine hero before him. 
 
 " Walk him round, Pompcy," said Dr. 
 Peacemead. 
 
 Pompey, with quite an air of impor- 
 tance, did as he was desired, and it was 
 clear that the more the party saw of him, 
 the more they liked Arbitrator. 
 
 The visitors to Dr. Peacemead on this 
 occasion, it will be remembered, were 
 three in number. Two of them we have 
 introduced to the reader, but the third 
 has not as yet said anything for himself 
 or the advancement of this history. He 
 is a short shrivelled man, and he rides on 
 a short shrivelled pony, and he wears a 
 short great-coat, continuing below the 
 tails of which are a pair of top-boots. 
 While Arbitrator is being led round the 
 farm-yard, this individual dismounts, and 
 closely inspects the horse as he passes 
 round.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 281 
 
 " Well, what do you think of him, 
 Mose ?" inquires Mr. Van Bruggen of 
 this individual. 
 
 *' Stunning !" is the laconic reply of 
 the gentleman addressed as Mose, that 
 being the familiar for his actual name of 
 Moses Flop, once a celebrated jockey, and 
 still a first-class judge in equine matters. 
 
 " Will you take a spin upon him ?" 
 Mr. Yan Bruggen inquired of this per- 
 sonage. 
 
 " I think I had better," he replies. 
 " Now, blackey," he continued, addressing 
 Pompey, ''just clap the saddle on him." 
 
 " Sambo," cries Pompey, " out wid de 
 saddle, double quick;" and Pompey is 
 evidently delighted at the spin that Arbi- 
 trator is going to have. 
 
 Sambo has brought the saddle out, and 
 the bridle also, and while he throws the 
 former on to the back of Arbitrator, 
 Pompey adjusts the latter.
 
 2S2 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 '' Now, Massa," exclaims Pcmpe}^, in 
 glee, "liim all ready. Gib tie genelman 
 a leg-up. Sambo." 
 
 And the obese nigger proffers his ser- 
 vices to Mr. Moses Flop, as that gentle- 
 man advances to Arbitrator. He is in 
 the saddle in an instant, and says to 
 Pompey — 
 
 " Just lead him out of the yard." 
 
 Pompey takes hold of the rein, and 
 does as he is desu'ed, and Arbitrator is 
 led across the farm-yard, with Dr. Peace- 
 mead, Mr. Van Bruggen, Dennis Sweeney, 
 and Sambo at his heels. The gate at the 
 far end of the farm-yard opens into an 
 extensive meadow, the circuit of which is 
 a very fair gallop for a colt of twelve 
 months old. The moment his feet touch 
 the turf, the gallant animal pricks up his 
 ears, and he begins to amble with excite- 
 ment, or rather with an eager desire for 
 action.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. . 283 
 
 " Woo, boy ! steady, my little man," 
 said Mr. Moses Flop, patting the arched 
 neck of the beautiful steed beneath him. 
 " Steady, little boy— steady !" 
 
 "Plenty of fire,'' Mr. Van Bruggen 
 observes. 
 
 " He's got it in him ; I can see that 
 already," replied Moses Flop. 
 
 " Ain't him lookin' splendid, Dockka?" 
 Pompey inquires of Dr. Peacemead, his 
 eyes glistening v/ith admiration as he 
 gazes upon Arbitrator. 
 
 " He is. You are quite right, Pompey," 
 Dr. Peacemead replies. 
 
 "Now then, little boy, off we go," 
 says Moses Flop, and gathering the reins 
 in his hand, with an almost imperceptible 
 motion of his body he puts the horse into 
 a canter, which very speedily advances 
 into a gallop that brings out the stride of 
 the noble animal in all its development. 
 Graceful as the sweep of some great bird
 
 2 84 , SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 of the mountains, Arbitrator skims over 
 the ground, and as lie does so lie is 
 watched in silent admiration by the gen- 
 tlemen standing at the gate of the farm- 
 3^ard. Eound the far side of the meadow 
 he goes, the horse and his rider so grace- 
 fully steady that they appear part of each 
 other, and seem animated by the same 
 impulse. Eound the bend at the bottom 
 of the meadow they come, approaching 
 the farm-yard gate again, and still the 
 party standing there gaze without speak- 
 ing. Arbitrator and his rider are now 
 close upon them again, and the horse is 
 in the full swing of his stride. He comes 
 on in that triumphant sweep, without the 
 slightest semblance of exertion, and as 
 he approaches the starting point, his rider, 
 by a touch of the rein, so gentle that it 
 might have emanated from the gloved 
 finger of a timid maid, intimates to the 
 animal that his task is done, and Arbi-
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 285 
 
 trator, as quiet as a lamb, stands at the 
 bidding of his rider. 
 
 A murmur of approbation springs from 
 the little party at the gate, and Pompey, 
 in the exuberance of his excitement, gives ' 
 Sambo a slap on the side of the head, and 
 requests to be informed by tliat interest- 
 ing individual, "if that arn't a sight to 
 do a nigger's eyes good?" at which Sambo 
 grunts, and merely says — " Pompey, 
 don't do dat ar; it hurts," alluding, of 
 course, to the vigorous mode which 
 Pompey had adopted of calling Sambo's 
 attention to the scene before him. 
 
 "Well, what do you think of him 
 now ?" Mr. Van Bruggen inquires of 
 Moses Flop. That gentleman, still 
 sitting on the back of Arbitrator, re- 
 plies — 
 
 " Now, mark my words, Mr. Van 
 Bruggen." 
 
 "I will," that gentleman says, laughing.
 
 286 SACKVILLE CIIASi:. 
 
 " Well, tlicn ; now don't you g-o to be 
 gammoned," said Mr. Moses Flop. 
 
 "About what?" inquired Mr. Van 
 Bruggen. 
 
 " Why, this," replied Moses Flop. 
 " Wlien you've got him over there, don't 
 you go to be gammoned into knocking 
 him about — just let him win a race at 
 Goodwood, say, and if he don't win the 
 Derby, then my name ain't Moses Flop ;" 
 and that gentleman emphasized his de- 
 claration by a slap on the pummel of the 
 saddle, which made Arbitrator start. 
 
 " Hoorah !" roared Pompey. " Hoorah, 
 Sambo 1" and he again visited Sambo as 
 before, at which Sambo, in a thick unc- 
 tuous voice, cried " Hoorah !" too, to the 
 intense enjoyment of Dr. Peacemead and 
 his guests. 
 
 Moses Flop having dismounted. Arbi- 
 trator is led back to his stable, and as he 
 walks away in the hands of Pompey, he
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 287 
 
 looks indeed the Lean ideal of a beautiful 
 race-horse — treading the turf like a deer, 
 and exhibiting a pattern of gentleness 
 and docility. 
 
 "Now, gentlemen," said Dr. Peace- 
 mead, " I should fancy you must by this 
 time be quite ready for some luncheon/' 
 
 The proposition was evidently well re- 
 ceived, for the whole party at once turned 
 through the farm-yard gate, and Dr. 
 Peacemead said to Sambo — " Now, Sambo, 
 run on and tell them in the house that we 
 are coming to luncheon." 
 
 ''Yes, Massa; him do dat, by golly!" 
 exclaimed Sambo, with unusual animation, 
 smacking his lips after the declaration, 
 and then rushing off across the farm-j^ard. 
 This unvv^onted energy, however, made 
 Sambo flounder about a good deal, inso- 
 much indeed that, attempting, indis- 
 creetly for a gentleman of his proportions, 
 to clear a refuse mound, he tripped on
 
 288 SACKVILLK CHASE. 
 
 the top of it, and rolled over into a quag- 
 mire composed of the highly-coloured 
 drainings of sundry well-stacked manure 
 heaps. The whole party roared at this 
 mishap of Sambo's, and Pompey coming 
 out of the stable just at the n:ioment that 
 Sambo floundered into his unsavoury bath, 
 that enthusiastic gentleman, holding one 
 side of his person with his left hand, 
 pointed with the other at Sambo, and in- 
 dulged in a roar of laughter which ma- 
 terially increased the merriment of the 
 whole party. As they stood laughing at 
 the plump nigger and the ludicrous figure 
 which he presented, Sambo, who was the 
 only one of the party who could not see 
 the fun of the thing, raised himself from 
 his recumbent position, and getting on to 
 his feet, stood and gazed at the quagmire 
 as though he were examining some na- 
 tural curiosity. 
 
 " Why, Sambo, what on earth did
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 289 
 
 you do that for?" exclaimed Dr. Peace- 
 mead. 
 
 Sambo looked down upon his soiled and 
 now fragrant garment, and said — 
 
 " By golly, him in a mess !" 
 
 The truth of the declaration, on the 
 part of Sambo, was beyond dispute; it 
 was but too manifest to a plurality of 
 senses. 
 
 "We must, it seems, announce our 
 ov7n advent to luncheon," said Dr. Peace- 
 mead, laughing. 
 
 Mr. Dennis Sweeney went up to Sambo, 
 and looking at him with an expression of . 
 countenance which probably was intended 
 for commiseration, said — 
 
 "I should advise you to go and get 
 some lavender water. Lor', how he 
 stinks ! — phoo !" and he turned away, 
 holding his nose. 
 
 Dr. Peacemead and his party at once 
 proceeded into the house, and Sambo was 
 
 VOL. I. 19
 
 290 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 left to tlie care of Pompey, wlio stood 
 laughing in the most heartless manner at 
 his companion. He indulged in a little 
 badinage, too. 
 
 " Don't you tink you want a towel. 
 Sambo, arter der bath ?" he inquired, 
 grinning with intense enjoyment. 
 
 " Dang if him knows what to do," said 
 Sambo, in a tone of bewilderment, and 
 holding his arms as well as he could out 
 from his body. 
 
 At length Pompey took compassion 
 upon him, and led him into an out-house 
 where there was an unlimited supply of 
 water ; and as Pompey was seen shortly 
 afterwards carrying a change of garments 
 in the direction of that apartment, it may 
 be inferred that Sambo had there under- 
 gone a course of ablution. 
 
 Dr. Peacemead and his guests are 
 seated round the table in the dining- 
 room, and they are engaged upon a sub-
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 291 
 
 stantial lunclieon, which is spread out in 
 profusion before them. 
 
 "Then you have made arrangements, 
 have you/' said Dr. Peacemead, address- 
 ing Mr. Van Bruggen, " to take him 
 away at once ?" 
 
 " I have not only made arrangements 
 to take him away," rephed Mr. Van 
 Bruggen, " but he must be in New York 
 this week to be embarked." 
 
 " Are they aware on the other side of 
 his coming ?" inquired Dr. Peacemead. 
 
 " I have to-day received a letter from 
 Eaikes," said Mr. Van Bruggen, "in 
 which he states that everything has been 
 arranged — the entries have been made in 
 proper form, and a place has been pro- 
 vided for • his reception. Eaikes appears 
 to be exceedingly anxious about him, and 
 says he has many things to communicate 
 to me which he cannot do by letter, and he 
 urges me to return at once to England."^ 
 
 19—:?
 
 292 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 " Eaikes, if I remember rightly, is a 
 native of England ; is he not ?" inquired 
 Dr. Peacemead. 
 
 " Yes, he was born in England," said 
 Mr. Van Bruggen, " but it is a life-time 
 almost since he left it." 
 
 " A tarnation smart fellow is Eaikes, 
 sir," says Mr. Dennis Sweeney. 
 
 " Yes, he has had experience of many 
 sorts," said Mr. Yan Bruggen ; " and if 
 they get over him in the old country, 
 why they will only have one more to get 
 over." 
 
 " Eather a close chap, isn't he, sir ?" 
 Mr. Dennis Sweeney suggests. 
 
 " Why, he can keep his own counsel," 
 Mr. Van Bruggen replies, " if that is 
 what you mean, and that is a quality that 
 is very valuable in England." 
 
 " And anywheres else, too, I calculate," 
 Bays Mr. Dennis Sweeney. 
 
 " It is, indeed. I don't mean to
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 293 
 
 infer that it is a quality appreciable 
 only in England," continued Mr. "Van 
 Eruggen. 
 
 At this point Pompey made his 
 appearance again, and announced that 
 a man had arrived with, "by goll}^ 
 sich a wonnerful big box on four 
 wheels !" 
 
 "Oh, it's the van," said Mr. Van 
 Bruggen, "in which Arbitrator is to 
 travel to New York. I brought it myself 
 specially from England." 
 
 Dr. Peacemead said he had never seen 
 one of these machines, and he was very 
 desirous of examining it. 
 
 " One parting toast, then," said Mr. 
 Van Bruggen, " and then we will go and 
 look at it." 
 
 They all jGJled up their glasses and rose 
 from their seats. 
 
 "The toast is this," said Mr. Van 
 Bruggen : " Arbitrator. May he arbi*
 
 294 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 trate successfully on the Downs of Epsom 
 in that tourney whose guerdon is the Blue 
 EibbonoftheTurf!" 
 
 They all heartily drank the toast, and 
 Mr. Dennis Sweeney made an addendum 
 to it by exclaiming — 
 
 " And may he show his tail to the whole 
 lotr 
 
 To which Mr. Moses Flop said — 
 
 " Hear, hear 1 that was the point." 
 
 They all then proceeded into the farm- 
 yard again, and there they saw the big box 
 on wheels which had excited Pompey's 
 wonder. 
 
 " A capital contrivance !" exclaimed 
 Dr. Peacemead, examining the interior of 
 this vehicle. " Why, you might take a 
 horse all over the world in this, and he 
 wouldn't be any the wiser by his change 
 of location." 
 
 "There's nothing new in that," said 
 Mr. Moses Flop. ''We've had 'em in
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 295 
 
 use in England for this twenty year or 
 more." 
 
 " Strange that we have never had them 
 over here, isn't it, Mr. Van Bruggen?" 
 said Dr. Peacemead. 
 
 ''Why, we haven't the same need of 
 'em here at present," said Mr. Van Brug- 
 gen, "or of course we should have had 
 'em long ago." 
 
 " And that's a fact l" observed Dennis 
 Sweeney. 
 
 Pompey was very curious to examine 
 the inside of the van, too, and he came 
 up to Dr. Peacemead, and in a whisper 
 said — 
 
 " What am it for, Dockka ?" 
 
 "Why, Pompey, that's to be Arbi- 
 trator's carriage," replied Dr. Peace- 
 mead. " He's to be a gentleman, you 
 see." 
 
 Pompey clapped his hands and de- 
 clared that that was the tarnationest best
 
 296 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 fixin' he'd ever see, and then relapsing 
 into dejection, he whispered again to the 
 doctor — 
 
 " Den him is gwine, Dockka?" 
 
 " Going ! Yes, he's going now. So 
 you go and get his travelling clothes 
 on. 
 
 And Pompey turned away with a sigh 
 and entered the stables. 
 
 Arbitrator was very speedily equipped 
 for his journey, and was brought out to 
 be handed to his carriage. At first he 
 did not seem much to like the accommo- 
 dation that had been provided for him, 
 and it was only by the united persuasive 
 efforts of Dennis Sweeney, Moses Mop, 
 and Pompey that he was induced to enter 
 the van. He did so, however, at last, 
 and Pompey was directed by Dr. Peace- 
 mead to equip himself to accompany the 
 van on its journey. This he very soon 
 did, and Mr. Van Bruggen and his com-
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 297 
 
 panions having mounted their horses. 
 Arbitrator bade adieu to the home of his 
 youth, to set out upon those travels which 
 it is part of the purpose of this history to 
 trace.
 
 298 SACKVILLE CHASE, 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ARBITRATOR TAKES HIS FIRST JOURNEY BY RAIL- 
 WAY, AND IS INTRODUCED TO AN ENGLISH 
 TOURIST. 
 
 Although Arbitrator was not altogether 
 pleased with the van into which he was 
 introduced in the last chapter, yet his 
 displeasure on that occasion was as 
 nothing compared with the repugnance 
 which he exhibited at the first view which 
 he obtained of a railway train. The van 
 in which he had been conveyed from Dr. 
 Peacemead's was driven into the station 
 of the railway which was to convey our 
 quadrupedal hero to New York, just as a 
 train had arrived ; and just as Arbitrator 
 was released from his bondage in the van
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 299 
 
 for tlie purpose of being fed and other- 
 wise attended to, the engine of the newly- 
 arrived train gave a snort and a shriek, 
 which made him rear bolt upright and 
 stand upon his hind legs, his fore feet in 
 the air, as though he were suddenly seized 
 Avith a desire to have a pugiHstic encoun- 
 ter with the iron monster that was hiss- 
 ing and fuming at no great distance from 
 him. Arbitrator snorted too, and his 
 nostrils were distended as though in de- 
 fiance of what he doubtless considered a 
 shrieking antagonist ahead. In vain did 
 Dennis Sweeney try the arts of persuasion 
 which he knew as being applicable in 
 such cases — in vain did Moses Flop ad- 
 dress Arbitrator by the endearing and 
 coaxing terms of " gently, little boy^ — so 
 ho, my little man!" — blandishments of 
 this kind were of no effect upon Arbitra- 
 tor in his then state of excitement. Even 
 the voice of Pompey, rendered tremulous,
 
 300 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 it must be acknowledged, by tlie attitude 
 the horse had assumed, was not to Arbi- 
 trator's ears as that of the charmer, albeit 
 it was an affectionate and familiar one to 
 him. Still did he snort defiance to that 
 iron foe that was menacing him with its 
 steaming hiss, and still did he battle with 
 the air with his fore legs, as though 
 squaring at his antagonist. 
 
 "Take care that he doesn't back on 
 the rail," said Moses Flop to Dennis 
 Sweeney, who had got firm hold of the 
 long leading-rein. 
 
 " IVe got tight hold of him," replied 
 Dennis ; " but we shall do nothing with 
 him until that infernal engine has gone 
 away upon its travels." 
 
 As though the monster in question had 
 heard Dennis's exclamation, it gave a 
 louder shriek than before, and with la- 
 bouring breath started away again upon 
 its journey, and then Arbitrator became
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 301 
 
 comparatively quiescent. As tliey had to 
 wait a short time for the arrival of the 
 train that was to convey the party to New 
 York, Mr. Van Bruggen, who had been a 
 silent spectator of the behaviour of Arbi- 
 trator, directed Dennis Sweeney to take 
 the horse to a certain stable refectory 
 which he indicated, and Arbitrator was 
 conveyed thither accordingly. In the 
 meantime, Mr. Van Bruggen, accompa- 
 nied by Moses Flop, strolled into the 
 town. It was pretty well advanced into 
 the afternoon when they returned to the 
 railway station, and the shades of a spring 
 evening were beginning to deepen over 
 the land. They found Dennis Sweeney 
 with Arbitrator waiting for them, the 
 steed having been fully equipped in tra- 
 velling costume. Mr. Van Bruggen and 
 Moses Flop examined him all over to see 
 that everything w^as right, and having 
 satisfied themselves thereof, Mr. Van
 
 302 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 Eruggen directed Dennis Sweeney to 
 place the colt in tlie van. 
 
 *' What sort of an animal do you call 
 that ?" inquired a voice close behind Mr. 
 Van Bruggen. 
 
 Mr. Van Bruggen immediately turned 
 round, and observed that the person who 
 had put the question was a very tall, 
 spare, and rather peculiar-looking indi- 
 vidual. Everything about him appeared 
 to be long. He had long legs, long arms, 
 a long body, a long neck, but not a long 
 head. His long legs looked longer per- 
 haps than they really were, in consequence 
 of their being encased in trousers that 
 fitted so closely that they gave the legs 
 which they encased somewhat the appear- 
 ance of big sausages — each leg a couple 
 of big sausages connected at the knees. 
 His arms also belonged to the sausage 
 family, but were of smaller bulk and not 
 quite so elongated. The encasement of
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 303 
 
 his neck, too, was exceedingly tight, and 
 over it was turned down his white shirt- 
 collar. His suit was of a sporting cha- 
 racter, and on his head he wore a hat 
 made after the fashion of an English 
 wagoner's, — that is, dome-shaped at the 
 top, and fitting close to the head, with a 
 broad flat brim. His face was whisker- 
 less, but he had the outline of a mous- 
 tache, whose colour was indefinite, and 
 whose growth was stunted. 
 
 Such was the individual who had ex- 
 claimed close in Mr. Van Bruggen's ear, 
 " What sort of an animal do you call 
 that?" 
 
 " I believe he is a thorough-bred race- 
 horse," replied Mr. Yan Bruggen, eyeing 
 the person who had put the question. 
 
 " A thorough -bred race-horse ! " ex- 
 claimed the gentleman with the sausage 
 legs ; " why, you haven't got such a thing 
 in all these United States of America."
 
 304 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 And to make this sweeping declaration 
 the more emphatic, he consigned himself 
 to perdition, if it did not convey the 
 truth. 
 
 " Indeed !" said Mr. Van Bruggen, 
 smiling. 
 
 " Thorough-bred !" exclaimed the elon- 
 gated stranger ; "I don't believe there's 
 anything thorough-bred in this land ex- 
 cept the niggers." 
 
 " I fancy that declaration is about as 
 near the mark as the other," said Mr. 
 Van Bruggen, mildly. 
 
 " Wh}^, they told me tliat your Ken- 
 tucky riflemen out here could shoot 
 through the eye of a needle, but strike 
 me stark naked on the spot if I wouldn't 
 shoot any of them for their skins," said 
 the stranger. 
 
 "You are not an American, I see," 
 said Mr. Van Bruggen, who was amused 
 with the person who had thrust his con-
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 305 
 
 versatioii upon him, notwithstanding the 
 braggart tone in which it was conveyed. 
 
 " An American ! ' ' exclaimed the stranger, 
 in a tone of scorn. " No, I should think 
 not. I come from a land of monarchy, 
 thank my stars !" 
 
 " England, of course," Mr. Van Bruggen 
 suggested. 
 
 "Yes, England; and I shall go back 
 to it more satisfied than ever. Ah ! there's 
 nothing like monarchy and an aristocracy, 
 you may depend upon it." 
 
 " To those who have never known any- 
 thing else, very likely," said Mr. Yan 
 Bruggen. "But was your visit to the 
 United States with a view to study our 
 institutions ?" he inquired. 
 
 " Yes, partly," said the stranger. 
 
 " And how long have you been in 
 America?" inquired Mr. Van Bruggen. 
 
 " Oh," said the stranger, sweeping his 
 walking-stick over his head, as if to imply 
 
 VOL. I. 20
 
 306 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 that distance was a matter of little con- 
 sequence to him wliile upon his travels — 
 " Oh, I have been here three weeks, 
 almost." 
 
 " And you have in that time studied 
 the institutions of America, have you?" 
 said Mr. Van Bruggen, in a slightly 
 sneering tone. 
 
 " Oh no, I haven't. I had no necessity 
 to do that," said the stranger, lightly. 
 
 " Indeed 1" cried Mr. Van Bruggen. 
 " Pray, may I ask how that was ?" 
 
 " Why, haven't we had all our great 
 novelists here ?" said the stranger. 
 
 " Yes, they have been over here," ac- 
 quiesced Mr. Van Bruggen. 
 
 "Well, then, haven't they depicted 
 with a minuteness and a truth every 
 phase of your institutions, and what does 
 it all come to ? Shall I tell you ?" 
 
 Mr. Van Bruggen expressed his wil- 
 lingness to be enlightened upon the point.
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 307 
 
 " Bosli !" exclaimed the gentleman with 
 the long body; and he did so with an 
 emphatic adjective, a figurative garnish 
 that he seemed very partial to. "A nice 
 population youVe got here !" he con- 
 tinued; and then he expressed him- 
 self to be ready for perdition again, 
 if the only free and independent citi- 
 zens of the United States were not the 
 bo'hoys. 
 
 " You have, I presume, then, been 
 thrown a good deal amongst them," said 
 Mr. Yan Bruggen, slily. 
 
 The long gentleman said — 
 
 '' Curse me if I could help myself; I 
 think they're like mosquitoes here !" 
 
 " Every nation has its peculiar classes, 
 I believe," mildly suggested Mr. Van 
 Bruggen. 
 
 "Yes; but these bo'hoys are such an 
 unmitigated set of hounds, that I'll tell 
 you what I should like. Shall I?" 
 
 20—2
 
 30S SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 Mr. Van Bruggen expressed his wil- 
 lingness to hear. 
 
 "Why, I should like to see all their 
 heads rolled into one, and then I should 
 like to give 'em a punch on the head that 
 would knock 'em into smithereens." 
 
 And he laughed at his own conceit. 
 
 " What a country this is !" he con- 
 tinued; "here have I been at this hotel 
 here" — indicating with his stick the es- 
 tablishment he referred to — " here have 
 I been in this hotel for four-and-twenty 
 hours, and strike me stiff at once if they 
 can make a cup of Badminton." 
 
 Mr. Van Bruggen thought there must 
 be some mistake. Had the gentleman 
 made himself clearly understood ? 
 
 " Understood ! — no, of course not ; how 
 should I?" he answered. "You don't 
 suppose that anybody in this country 
 knows how to mix Badminton, do you?" 
 
 Mr. Van Bruggen thought that a dili-
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 309 
 
 gent search might discover such a 
 person. 
 
 " Impossible, my dear fellow — utterly 
 impossible. You may take it from me 
 that that cup is the real touchstone of an 
 English gentleman — nobleman and gen- 
 tleman, I ought to say. It is that that 
 will distinguish him from the vulgar ass, 
 the low snob, the plebeian muff, the wan- 
 dering adventurer, and the miserable 
 pauper." 
 
 "Well, I am glad to learn how to test 
 the British nobility," said Mr. Van 
 Bruggen, with the faintest possible indi- 
 cation of a sneer. 
 
 "It's infallible, my dear fellow. Let 
 your hotel-keepers, having first thoroughly 
 studied how to make Badminton, make it 
 a rule in hot weather to ask every tra- 
 veller on his arrival if he would like to 
 have some Badminton. If he says ' No,' 
 let them expel him at once — kick the
 
 310 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 snob out there and then. If he declines 
 to take the divine mixture, known to the 
 Mite only as Badminton, they may be sure 
 he is no peer." 
 
 Mr. Van Bruggen hinted that, perhaps, 
 they might not care much about having 
 peers at all. 
 
 " There it is again, you see. Here am 
 I, a nobleman in England; and I'll be 
 blest if I don't find that nearly everybody 
 that travels is an honourable here." 
 
 Mr. Van Bruggen laughed at this, and 
 said he presumed they must be born to it. 
 
 " Oh, not at all. That's where it is, you 
 see. In England a man is born to a title, 
 and it is respected accordingly; here a 
 man assumes himself to be an honourable, 
 and consequently no one believes him. 
 Why, will you believe it, at most of the 
 hotels that I have been to, they actually 
 suspected me — suspected me, the son of 
 an earl in England ; and yet you'll con-
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 311 
 
 tend that you've got institutions here. 
 What did I come over here for — tell me 
 that?" 
 
 Mr. Van Bruggen said he really 
 couldn't ; he didn't know. 
 
 " Of course not ; how should you ? 
 Fashionable movements are not recorded 
 here," said the long stranger, warming 
 with his subject. " Why, I do believe 
 that I might travel with my dogs and my 
 double Manton aU through these starred 
 and striped States, and the different public 
 people — I mean at the pubHc-houses — 
 would pay me no more attention than if 
 I was one of the ornithological species 
 that swim in these great slimy, muddy 
 rivers that run through this country." 
 
 Mr. Van Bruggen ventured to remark 
 that he did not think an3rthing ornitholo- 
 gical inhabited waters of any kind. 
 
 " There you show the lamentable igno- 
 rance that is prevalent in this benighted
 
 312 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 country. If there is nothing ornitholo- 
 gical in the waters, I should like to know 
 what you would call a whale ?" 
 
 And the tall stranger looked down 
 upon Mr. Van Bruggen as though he 
 had thoroughly and completely shut 
 him up. 
 
 " I came over to this country to hunt 
 the prairies and shoot buffaloes," he con- 
 tinued, with great volubility. "I found 
 the buffaloes, it's true ; but what are the 
 prairies? A lot of flat fields, nowhere 
 staked out. If I had 'em in England, I'd 
 devilish soon turn 'em into fields, I can 
 tell you. And as to your Indians, don't 
 talk to me about them ! Why, you can 
 see better Indians than you've got on your 
 prairies any night at the Victoria Theatre 
 in London. Your buffaloes are the only 
 things you have to be proud of; even 
 them you can't appreciate, for nobody ever 
 shot a buffalo until I did. And now that
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 313 
 
 I have taught 'em the way, I don't believe 
 they'll know how to follow it. All this, 
 of course, comes of not having a native 
 aristocracy and a legitimate monarchy." 
 
 "And a national debt and a heavy 
 taxation," suggested Mr. Yan Bruggen. 
 
 " Of course ; you've just hit it. A 
 nation with its enormous national debt, 
 its revered aristocracy, and its glorious 
 monarchy, is about the proudest spectacle 
 the world has seen since Alexander the 
 Great, with his Roman legions, conquered 
 Grreat Britain." 
 
 Mr. Yan Bruggen ventured to say that 
 that was very likely. 
 
 "Where are you going to take that 
 thing?" said the stranger, suddenly 
 breaking off, and pointing to Arbitrator. 
 
 " Well, I don't mind telling you," said 
 Mr. Yan Bruggen in a whisper, and with 
 a manifest twinkle in his eye; "but 
 knowing that he never can be appreciated
 
 314 SACKVILLE CHASE. 
 
 in a country like tliis, without an aristo- 
 cracy, I'm going to take liim over to 
 England, where there is an aristocracy 
 that can appreciate him, and consequently 
 where there is sure to be honour and fair 
 dealing." 
 
 " My dear sir, I highly appreciate your 
 motives — give me your hand, sir ; you're 
 a man after my own heart !" exclaimed 
 the stranger, offering his hand to Mr. 
 Van Bruggen. " I am returning to 
 England myself; we'll go in the same 
 ship, and I'll introduce you in the 
 proper circles over in the old country. 
 Here's my card." And he handed Mr. 
 Van Bruggen his card, on which was 
 
 inscribed — 
 
 Lord Belfleur. 
 
 Mr. Van Bruggen said he should be 
 happy to have Lord Belfleur's society on 
 the voyage ; and probably, he added, he 
 might in some way or other be enabled to
 
 SACKVILLE CHASE. 315 
 
 reciprocate the kindness which the noble 
 lord had promised to favour Mr. Van 
 Bruggen with in England. 
 
 " You are going by this train, I sup- 
 pose ?" said Lord Belileur. 
 
 Mr. Van Bruggen intimated that he 
 was. 
 
 " All right !" exclaimed Lord Belfleur ; 
 " I'll just go and see that my precious 
 dogs are properly attended to, and join 
 you again in a minute or two ;" and he 
 went off in the direction of the town, 
 his arms swinging about like a windmill, 
 and his legs appearing like stilts. 
 
 ^&^;^g=o It is requested that Books returned to the 
 ^^ Library be enclosed in Paper, more particu- 
 larly when sent by Servants, or Carriers. 
 
 END OF VOL. I.
 
 tOKDON : 
 
 SAVILL IkXD BDWABDS, PKINTKB8, CEIKDOS STBBET, 
 
 COVBWT Qi-UDYV,
 
 \