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 L I B RAR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
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 or ILLINOIS 
 
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 A BOX FOE THE SEASON. 
 
 % ^pxtmQ Sktt^. 
 
 BY CHARLES CLAEKE, 
 
 AUTHOR OF ' CHARLIE THORNHILL.' 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES.— Vol. II. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. 
 
 1864. 
 
 The right of Tranflaiion is reserved.
 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET, 
 AND CHARING CROSS.
 
 V. 2, 
 
 CONTENTS OF YOL. II. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 XXV. The Stable 1 
 
 XXVI. The Meeting 13 
 
 XXVn. A Pleasant Ride Home 28 
 
 XXVIII. Pumpington 55 
 
 XXIX. Misplaced Confidence 85 
 
 XXX. How TO Choose the Geound 112 
 
 XXXI. A Little Dinner 139 
 
 XXXII. Visitors 156 
 
 XXXIII. A Chapter of Accidents 165 
 
 XXXIV. The Pleasures OF Memory 194 
 
 XXXV. Acheron PiEDiviYus 224 
 
 XXXVI. Coming Down TO EiDE 250 
 
 XXXVII. The Run In 281
 
 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE STABLE. 
 
 AxD so Tom and Munster took possession 
 of wliat was once a respectable farm-house, 
 and was known as " Tlie Chateau." The 
 garden was trimmed and neat, laid-out in 
 gravel walks and box»edgings ; a few new 
 trees on the walls ; a little glass, giving 
 indications of a greenhouse or conservatory, 
 with other advantages for the fabrication of 
 a builder's and mason's bill. There were 
 some arbours here and there, round which 
 the straggling roses had been induced to 
 climb ; there was some water in a round 
 stone basin on the little lawn, with a triton 
 or two, who blew the water out of their 
 horns, and wetted the admiring stranger 
 
 VOL. IL B
 
 2 A BOX FOR THE SEASON, 
 
 whenever he forgot to steer to windward. 
 Inside of the house was everything calcu- 
 lated to make bachelorhood pleasant, and 
 to preclude the absolute necessity for a tea- 
 urn or its presiding divinity. There was 
 no smoking-room, because every room was 
 a smoking-room excepting one ; that was a 
 lady's room to all intents and purposes, and 
 belonging exclusively to the reigning Mrs. 
 Crackenthorpe, who, notwithstanding Mr. 
 Parkinson s surmises, was no other than 
 Tom's own mother. In these days of in- 
 discriminate impropriety, perhaps the re- 
 verend gentleman might have been forgiven 
 for his hasty suspicions ; but it is hard that 
 a young man cannot fit up a room in his 
 cottage for his own mamma without arous- 
 ing the jealous innuendoes of his neighbours. 
 Certainly Tom and his mother had to thank 
 the prurient sensibilities of the age we live 
 m for the insinuation. And then poor 
 Mrs. Crackenthorpe had been in the village 
 several Sundays^ and had not been to 
 church. Why, the little woman might 
 have been a Quakeress, or a Socinian, or an
 
 THE STABLE. 
 
 Anabaptist. It seems, too, that she was 
 very indifferent to the opinions of the Yicar 
 and his friends ; for she only laughed 
 when she heard it, which she did of course 
 through her maid, and said — " The old fel- 
 low is so wicked himself, that he thinks 
 everybody else must be like him." She did 
 wisely, however, to keep it from Tom 
 Crackenthorpe, who honoured his mother 
 above all women, and would certainly have 
 broken the Yicar' s head for his stupidity. 
 You see it was only stupidity after all ; and 
 the talking (pious man !) about what he did 
 not understand. Some men and women 
 would regard that ignorance of the world 
 as a misfortune ; I, on the other hand, 
 am inclined to give it the full reward of 
 merit, as being very rare in these days. So 
 apt, indeed, in such matters is the present 
 generation, that the names of the most cele- 
 brated courtezans are frequently on the lips 
 of matronly women and innocent girls ; 
 and their broughams, horses, opera-boxes, 
 and paramours form the staple of much 
 fashionable conversation. Surely it cannot
 
 4 A BOX FOR THE SEASOIS^. 
 
 be in the hope that frequent repetition will 
 deaden the sense of our women to little 
 irregularities of husbands and brothers, or 
 that a familiarity with such vices will 
 produce a philosophical indifference to their 
 existence. 
 
 Tom's house altogether was a very credit- 
 able performance. His friend Sparkes had 
 suggested this, and ordered that, with Tom's 
 cheque-book in view, in such a manner, 
 and so efficiently, that, excepting that the 
 roof was a little uncertain in case of rain or 
 rather heavy snow, that the pump wanted 
 lowering, the drainage re-arranging, several 
 stench-traps putting down, and that there 
 was little or no soft water, and no ready 
 means of catching it, the Box Hall was 
 quite perfection. One or two of the doors 
 gave Tom and his lodger such heavy re- 
 miniscences of their original intention, by 
 beating in first the crowns of their hats, 
 and then ot their heads, that some rather 
 trite and not complimentary expressions 
 were elicited from them towards the original 
 architect. There we<;e some rats too ; but
 
 THE STABLE. 5 
 
 that might be expected from the nature of 
 the place ; and Crackenthorpe and Munster 
 were both fond of rat-hunting. It is true 
 that it remains a question whether one's 
 own morning-room is the best place for 
 practice. Tom said not, and got some 
 ferrets, some ground glass, some virulent 
 poison, which he was in deadly fear of his 
 favourite Snap swallowing, and a huge cat, 
 a most effective remedy for the one evil ; 
 but which broke all the things that were 
 broken, drank more than sixteen gallons of 
 pale ale in one week, took all the eggs, 
 destroyed several bottles of the best claret 
 (at least they showed the broken bottles, 
 and that number was missing from the bin), 
 and was altogether as mischievous, glutton- 
 ous, and, I may say, as drunken a cat, as 
 the best butler or housekeeper could desire. 
 Well, all this was nothing. What a thing 
 it was to be a housekeeper, a voter, a 
 vestryman, an object of ever - increasing 
 interest to the softer sex ! and then the 
 stables really were excellent. Not that 
 these two faithful friends, one of whom
 
 b A BOX FOR THE SEASOI^. 
 
 found the money, and the other borrowed 
 it, contemplated sleeping there themselves. 
 But the stables were, after all, the chief 
 consideration. "What have they come to 
 Lushenham for but to hunt ? They must 
 have horses, and horses must have houses ; 
 and, as the horses did the hunting, their 
 houses ought to be the best. There was 
 stabling for sixteen. At present Tom had 
 four, and Munster had two — that is to say, 
 ostensibly : they belonged to Mr. Curricle, 
 of wide -spread repute. They had their 
 faults ; but part of the science of horse- 
 manshi|) is to find them out, so, of course, 
 no really creditable dealer is so foolish as to 
 mention them beforehand. They were cal- 
 culated to carry Robert Munster very well, 
 whose hunting was a bit of a farce, and 
 usually performed at other people's expense ; 
 besides, he was not likely to purchase, as we 
 know already, and altogether Mr. Curricle 
 knew his customer. 
 
 I know the world is very suspicious on 
 the subject of horse-dealers in general. 
 They don't get credit for much honesty >
 
 THE STABLE. 7 
 
 and any liberality (which is on the surface 
 undeniable) of which they may happen to 
 be the perpetrators is always placed to 
 interested motives. You see, when men 
 are purchasing horses, they, usually assume 
 a certain amount of self-importance and 
 knowledge of the subject ; and if they hap- 
 pen to take in the dealer, and give only 50/. 
 for what is honestly worth 100/., I never 
 heard of one of my acquaintance suggesting 
 an increase of demand. I have known an 
 honest and liberal man to say to his son's tu- 
 tor — '' I expect my son to derive even more 
 advantages from your tuition than he has 
 from those seminaries of useful and orna- 
 mental literature, Eton and Harrow ; and 
 I must therefore at least make your remune- 
 ration equal to theirs ;" but I never heard 
 of any compact of this nature between the 
 purchaser and professional seller of horses. 
 "You shall give me 20/. more if he goes on 
 well, or if you like him," is a not uncommon 
 form of expression, which sometimes ends 
 in merit being justly recognised ; but it 
 happens quite as often that the horse dis-
 
 8 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 appears, and nothing farther is heard of the 
 conditional surplus fund. 
 
 Now, I quite believe in honest horse, 
 dealing. I do not mean that a dealer 
 is compelled to say — " This horse is an 
 excellent animal — sufficiently good-looking, 
 and goes well through dirt; he is also 
 an admirable water -jumper ; but, to tell 
 you the truth, he had the influenza in 
 the spring of the year : and, though he 
 shows no signs of the infirmity yet, I advise 
 you not to buy him, as he is pretty certain 
 to become a roarer sooner or later ;" or, 
 " This horse I regard as a regular flat, 
 catcher. He has a neat head and neck, 
 good legs and feet, a fine mover, and is, as 
 you see, calculated to make a first-class 
 hack ; but he is really not worth 201. ; for 
 he is, without exception, the worst doer 
 and the softest brute I ever threw my leg 
 over." But then I never heard the most 
 conscientious of shopkeepers say — "There 
 are a quantity of flaws in this china, which 
 none but a dealer's eye can detect. It's 
 true you don't see them, but there they are ;
 
 THE STABLE. 9 
 
 and when you want to part with it, the 
 trade won't have it at any price." Or, " Yes, 
 sir, it is a charming clock to look at, but it 
 won't go any more than North American 
 paper." Notwithstanding this, I think 
 there are honest horsedealers. 
 
 *^ Where are the hounds to-morrow, 
 Drinkwater ? " said Munster, about the 
 second or third morning after their arrival, 
 and when it was time to begin the important 
 business of the chase. 
 
 " Saltmarsh Bottom, sir ; six mile from 
 here, or thereabouts." 
 
 " What sort of a country is it ? " 
 
 " Capital ; pretty near all grass, and 
 beautiful fencing country. What will you 
 ride, sir ? You've got a couple of useful- 
 looking nags ; but. Lor' bless me ! you never 
 knows till you tries 'em." 
 
 " The bay mare with the white foot. 
 She's not so much flesh on her as she might 
 have at the beginning of a season." And 
 Mr. Munster put his hand on the mare's 
 back ribs, at which she gave a gentle squeal 
 and a kick.
 
 10 A BOX FOR THE SEASOI^. 
 
 " Ay ; but she's full of life, if she's short 
 of flesh," said Billy approvingly. And 
 what's Mr. Crackenthorpe going to ride ? " 
 
 " Oh ! the new horse he bought at the 
 Eepository before we went to Wiesbaden, I 
 believe." 
 
 " Oh, no ! indeed he's not though." And 
 Billy shook his head, and dropped his hands 
 deep into his pockets. " Indeed, he's not, I 
 can tell yer." 
 
 " And why not, Billy ? " 
 
 " 'Cos I don't intend to let him. If he 
 don't know when he's well off, he must be 
 taught, as Muster Horsman, M.P., told 'em 
 at Stroud. I'm going to ride him fust my- 
 self, and if he ain't so very bad, why you 
 may have a ride, if you like ; but not a gent 
 with my master's expectations." 
 
 If it be any satisfaction to be put at one's 
 right value, Billy Drinkwater had a way of 
 satisfying most people. Munster was not 
 the least astonished, still less offended, at 
 Drinkwater's plain speaking; and, though 
 he had certainly no intention of riding the 
 kicking horse himself, he was almost proud
 
 THE STABLE. " 11 
 
 that he came second only to his master in 
 Billy's estimation. The fact is, Billy re- 
 garded him only as some chattel or belong- 
 ing of Tom Crackenthorpe, and as such 
 gave him precedence over the chattels of 
 other people. Presently Tom himself ap- 
 peared in the stable-yard. 
 
 " Good stabling, at all events," said he, 
 with a self-complacent nod to his stud- 
 groom. " That's not a very bad box. Drink- 
 water ? " 
 
 " It's not a very good one ; perhaps it 
 would have been, if there was a little light, 
 and more air with less draught ; and, as to 
 the drainage — " 
 
 Tom saw it was not a propitious hour, 
 so he asked which horse he could ride to- 
 morrow. 
 
 " Well, I'm going to ride the new horse, 
 as you bought before you went away : we've 
 sold Peter ; and I'm blest if I think you've 
 a horse fit to carry you." 
 
 " What ! not Yulcan ? Why, he's as hard 
 as iron, and he's good enough for anything. 
 I'll ride Yulcan."
 
 1^ A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 " Dose of physic ; leastways prepared." 
 
 " Then I have the brown horse. What's 
 his name ? Nosegay." 
 
 " He'll put you down in that country. 
 You can have the chesnut, Flowerpot, if 
 you like." This was said with some con- 
 descension, as if he were granting a great 
 favour. " And mind you don't ride him 
 too hard, sir ; he's short o' work since I 
 been away, and he's really a good horse, 
 he is. And as to Mr. Munster, he must 
 get another : he shan't ride him any more." 
 
 Here Mr. Drinkwater cut short all further 
 conversation, by saying that Mr. Cracken- 
 thorpe must be up in time to ride Flowerpot 
 on, as he'd no hack to put him on ; and by 
 walking out of the stable, and putting the 
 key in his pocket.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE MEETING. 
 
 It was a very nice morning — for hunting. 
 It was slightly foggy, with a turn of east in 
 a southerly wind. There was not much 
 stirring, and it looked like scent. Of course, 
 novelists can make what sort of mornings 
 they please ; and it is a matter of wonder 
 to me that, in describing a hunting-day, 
 they invariably forget that little soupcon of 
 east in the atmosphere, which would be 
 sure to give them what they are so seldom 
 able to describe — a run. In the fashionable 
 romances of the day, a hunting-field is a 
 necessary picture, and an accident in the 
 field a certain accompaniment to a hero ; 
 but we always get a run on an impos- 
 sible occasion, and a fall at an impractic- 
 able fence. Then he is taken to the right
 
 14 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 house, and the right woman appears in the 
 right place : he Hngers between Hfe and 
 death, and eventually recovers to be the 
 husband of one wife and the progenitor of 
 many little sportsmen. But if a severe 
 
 horrid critic, like , who really knows 
 
 what sport is, got hold of the book, and 
 turned up his material, what a pretty figure 
 our fashionable author would cut, in the 
 midst of his fox-hunting zeal 1 His horses 
 would be reduced to the pace of a quadru- 
 ped, instead of a steam-engine ; his post 
 and rails under five feet six high ; and the 
 whole thing, put into form, would be scarcely 
 recognisable by the author. " Ne sutor 
 ultra crepidamr 
 
 It was a fine hunting morning ; and 
 Bobby Munster had twice knocked up 
 Cracks from his dressing-room, who was 
 always late, as men of great expectations 
 should be. They breakfasted heartily — a 
 little rapidly ; and, notwithstanding the 
 smell of paint, managed some broiled fish, 
 sausages eggs, and a slice of brawn. Mun- 
 ster made tea, and asked for the beer at the
 
 THE MEETING. 15 
 
 end of it. They pledged each other in it 
 before starting, and seemed to rehsh it 
 exceedingly. There might have been a 
 reason for this thirst — or was it only to try 
 the new tap ? I like myself to know what 
 sort of beer is kept in a house ; but I usually 
 wait until later in the day. 
 
 There is nothing further to remark in the 
 appearance of these ingenuous youths, as they 
 mounted their horses and sallied forth, than 
 that Mr. Crackenthorpe was got up with un- 
 usual care. He was not a person to take ex- 
 traordinary trouble about his toilet generally ; 
 but his blue neckcloth, well-polished boots, 
 best iStting leathers, and Sunday hat, pro- 
 claimed a festival. It may be also remarked 
 that he looked carefully up and down the 
 village, without, however, seeing a living 
 soul, excepting the village schoolmistress, 
 who not only made a reverence herself to 
 two scarlets, but was followed by the half- 
 dozen urchins whom she was driving to 
 school. Tom was beginning to be a squire ; 
 and his rank was acknowledged by a flock 
 of geese.
 
 16 A BOX FOR THE SEASOI^. 
 
 A ride to cover is mucli the same every- 
 where ; so that the six miles between Lnsh- 
 enham and Saltmarsh Bottom was like 
 every other six miles in the world, when 
 the end is the same, and the pursuers of an 
 average amount of intelligence. They first 
 displayed their capacity on the subject of 
 scent, of which they clearly knew nothing. 
 Here, however, they were on a par with the 
 best part of mankind. Then they turned to 
 their horses; and here they were more at 
 home — that is to say, Crackenthorpe was, 
 Munster's knowledge of horseflesh was, at 
 best, questionable ; and, beyond not being 
 pitched off, or hung up in a tree, he had 
 very little appreciation of the capabilities of 
 the animal that carried him. 
 
 '' What sort of an animal is that, Bob ? 
 You got him from Curricle's, didn't you ? 
 He looks a bit leggy." 
 
 " If he's half as leggy as his master, he 
 must be an impostor," said Munster. " He's 
 very easy to ride, and let's you blow your 
 nose or light your cigar without trying to 
 slip from under you. Whether he means
 
 THE MEETING. 17 
 
 tumbling or jumping over liis fences is an- 
 other matter : I shall find out to-day per- 
 haps." Here Bob lit his cigar as illustrative 
 of this remark. 
 
 Presently they passed a couple of grooms, 
 going on to the meet. " Capital time," 
 said Cracks to himself. "What a fool I 
 was to hurry ! " 
 
 They were just then overtaken by Billy 
 Drink water, on the new horse. He was 
 suspiciously temperate, and most provok- 
 ingly amicable as yet — not Billy, but the 
 horse. 
 
 " I think, amost, we've been taken in 
 with this here 'oss," observed Mr, Drink- 
 water. He usually spoke as if he were a 
 partner in the concern generally, in the 
 stable department especially. 
 
 " What makes you think that ? " said his 
 nominal master. 
 
 " He's a deal too good-tempered for that 
 'ere lawyer." 
 
 A whole flood of wholesome recollections 
 crowded at once upon the brain of Squire 
 Crackenthorpe. Money-lenders, a little 
 
 VOL. II. C
 
 18 A BOX FOR THE SEASOX. 
 
 shooting, Christmas, parchments, titles, and 
 deeds, with all the paraphernalia belonging 
 to six and eightpence, thirteen and four- 
 pence, and one guinea ; the red tape and 
 unread documents, which he suddenly felt 
 to be the delusive marks of the friendship 
 of old Sparkes, whose name and person con- 
 jured up, at the moment, the personifica- 
 tion of Old Nick. Grrave doubts beset his 
 mind as to whether he ought not to have 
 proposed for one of the girls ; and he cer- 
 tainly thought that Munster might have 
 helped him out of the difficulty. " Selfish 
 beggar 1 " thought Tom. " And Amelia 
 wasn't so bad-looking, after all. Besides, 
 he need only have hung on till the bill was 
 sent in. What fools we were ! " Here his 
 thoughts turned upon women ; and if scent, 
 horses, and lawyers were impenetrable mys- 
 teries, what was to be made of a woman — 
 of one woman, in particular ? He won- 
 dered he had not seen her. Would she be 
 out ? After all, he had not forgotten her. 
 Perhaps she was not so good-looking as 
 he imagined. " I wonder if she ever goes
 
 THE MEETING. 19 
 
 to church?" To be sure, lie might have 
 cleared up all his doubts at ouce by asking 
 his servant ; but he really could not. " No, 
 no ! hang it ! that will never do. Fancy 
 asking Billy Drinkwater about a lady ! or 
 Munster, who probably does not know, and 
 laughs at everything. Most unprincipled 
 fellow, about women, I ever knew : thinks 
 them all as bad as himself." 
 
 " Hallo, Cracks ! " said young Lawless, 
 riding up at this moment, and greeting 
 his friend with a sudden and hearty slap 
 on the back ; " how long have you been 
 down ? " 
 
 ^' Only four or five days. I've a place at 
 Lushenham, and haven't horses or any- 
 thing else. Munster and I have taken it 
 together." 
 
 This was certainly true, if being in the 
 same fly, and drinking the same claret, 
 and at the same table, constituted partner- 
 ship. 
 
 " All right, old fellow ! Lots of foxes ; 
 and Bumby is the right man to give 'em a 
 shaking. He's had some capital sport in 
 
 c 2
 
 20 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 the cubbing season, and rattled tbe covers 
 well. Besides, his country's so wild, that 
 we're sure of sport, if it's to be had any- 
 where." 
 
 " Who are down here ? " 
 
 " Oh, the usual lot. Boys to open the 
 gates and macadamize the lanes. Half-a- 
 dozen or so that go like blue blazes ; and 
 an occasional draft from Pumpington or 
 the Pytchley, who exhibit their animosity 
 in the field to such an extent as to endanger 
 the neck of the huntsman and the limbs 
 of the hounds, in endeavouring to avoid 
 them." 
 
 " Any women out ? " inquired Tom, with 
 a faint blush. 
 
 *' No, thank God ! I hate women — that 
 is, out hunting. By the bye, there is a 
 Mrs. something or other, like Brandy." 
 
 " Likes brandy ! " said Tom, sotto voce, 
 " Is she pretty ? " 
 
 " 'Pon my soul, I don't know ! I never 
 looked at her. But that's not her name : 
 that's her mother. She lives at Lushen- 
 ham, or somewhere in that direction.
 
 THE MEETING. 21 
 
 Blunder told me, so perhaps it's all a 
 He." 
 
 There was no doubt this was the woman 
 Tom was in search of. He accepted the 
 opening thus given, and called up Billy 
 Drink water. 
 
 " Do you know a Mrs. Brandy, or some- 
 thing of that sort, living in Lushenham ? " 
 ■ " Brandy ? Brandy ? Mrs. Brandy, sir ? " 
 said Drinkwater, touching his hat. Billy 
 was quite a pattern when he was in what 
 he called perminxtuous company. " She's 
 a hold lady as lives in the white cottage 
 near the Yicarage." 
 
 " Does she hunt, then ? " asked Tom, 
 with well-feigned ignorance. 
 
 " Hunt ? Oh, no, sir — leastways, not 
 the fox." Here Billy leered artfully. 
 " It's the young lady — that's to say, she's 
 a widow." 
 
 " What's her name ? " 
 
 " Greystoke ; Mrs. Greystoke." Here 
 Billy dropped behind. 
 
 " Can she ride. Lawless ? " 
 
 " Yes, I'm sorry to say she can, devilish
 
 22 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 well ; and, consequently, she's always in 
 the way. She won't tumble off, and she 
 won't be hung up." 
 
 " I see how it is : you don't know whether 
 she's pretty or no : you're always behind 
 her. Is to-day one of her days ? " 
 
 " Yes ! I should think so. The cattle 
 come about every other day. The boy's 
 light enough, to be sure ; and she usually 
 goes home after the first fox. Turn to the 
 right. There they are, by gad! what 
 beauties ! " 
 
 Tom and Munster scanned the horizon 
 eagerly for the women, and were at a loss 
 when they perceived nothing but hounds. 
 
 " Yoick over, yoick over, Scrummager ! 
 Get to him, Bloodynose ! " and both Scrum- 
 mager and Bloodynose, being good hounds, 
 did yoick in and get to him. Then were 
 heard the " clash, clash ! " of the whips, 
 and the " toot, toot ! " of the huntsman. 
 Presently one hound opened, then another ; 
 then a fine old melodious note, which set 
 all doubt at defiance ; and in a minute or 
 two there was a regular " huntsman's
 
 THE MEETIXG. 23 
 
 chorus " from the whole pack. At this 
 moment, while Tom was contemplating a 
 well-rounded symmetrical habit about a 
 hundred yards a-head of him, attended by 
 a light boy, admirably got up, and proceed- 
 ing to jog on, in hopes of a full view of his 
 divinity (for it was quite clear that it was 
 she), he was diverted from his purpose by 
 a shrill tally ho, and within another minute 
 a cheerful hallo, which proclaimed the 
 game on foot. " Gro-o-o-o-ne away ! " sung 
 out Jack, at the further corner of the 
 cover; and, not to be behindhand, away 
 went hat and habit, and about fifty black 
 coats, and half as many scarlets, in pursuit. 
 Tom Crackenthorpe was an enthusiastic 
 admirer of the chase, and though at that 
 moment longing for a view of the lady in 
 front, he sent the spurs into the chestnut, 
 and, catching hold of Flowerpot by the 
 head, drove him along at a pace that very 
 soon began to overhaul the crowd. They 
 were all brought up in the next field by 
 a " Pray hold hard," the hounds having 
 been forced too far up the hedge-row by
 
 24 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 some old Pumpington swells of Tom's ac- 
 quaintance. In the front of the crowd 
 sat the widow. She looked as handsome 
 as ever, and had lost none of her 
 beauties since Tom's absence on the Con- 
 tinent. He had only seen her once before, 
 but she looked like an old acquaintance. 
 She was sitting well down in her saddle, 
 and evidently preparing for a fresh burst, 
 when, turning her handsome eyes in Tom's 
 direction, she caught sight of him. Whether 
 his gaze was a little too full of admiration 
 or not, it is difficult to say ; perhaps it was : 
 at all events she turned rapidly away, and 
 withdrew herself from the crowd. Just 
 then the hounds, having been turned to 
 the line, and the huntsman having got 
 them through the horsemen as well as he 
 could, took to hunting, and in another five 
 minutes our hero found himself in a narrow 
 grass lane, jogging peaceably along, with 
 one eye on the hounds and the other on 
 Mrs. Greystoke^ who was doing the same a 
 little in front of him. " Hang the woman ! 
 there she is again ; and how quietly she
 
 THE MEETING. 25 
 
 rides ! Lawless always was a bit of a 
 farceur; nothing could be more ladylike." 
 Away they went again ; a quick burst of a 
 quarter of an hour, and nothing more was 
 seen of her, till, after a long check, she 
 trotted in among the macadamizers as 
 coolly and as collectedly as if she had never 
 been out of a walk. It was not at all what 
 Tom expected. She had not jumped a 
 fence. Now and then, too, she exchanged 
 a word or a bow with some man whom she 
 knew; but never was anything so indis- 
 putable as her modesty. 
 
 " What a deuced impudent fellow that 
 Bosville is, to be sure ! " said Tom to his 
 friend Munster. "It's quite evident she 
 don't care for his attention. Look at the 
 fool, how he stands there opening the 
 gate. I suppose her groom can manage to 
 do that for her." 
 
 " Who do you mean ? " said the gentle- 
 man addressed, being at that moment en- 
 gaged in looking for a gate out of the next 
 field, as the hounds had just evinced a desire 
 to rim.
 
 26 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 " Why, Mrs. Greystoke, to be sure. Con- 
 found those hounds ! they're going to run 
 again !" And not yet having acquired 
 sufficient courage to turn away from a run, 
 he was obHged to set Flowerpot going. 
 
 The scent was improving every moment, 
 the fences began to get bigger, and the 
 chestnut more resolute ; and it ended in a 
 capital thing, with a kill at the termination 
 of about five-and-forty minutes. Amongst 
 the first of the macadamizers Mrs. Grey- 
 stoke reappeared. 
 
 Fine hunting mornings not unfrequently 
 turn to rain. As Tom was riding quietly 
 home, having long dismissed all cares of 
 the chase, and thinking of nothing, he felt 
 a large spot on his nose — then another, and 
 another. Munster had already disappeared 
 with some old acquaintance, most men had 
 jogged on, and there was not a soul in 
 sight. Patter, patter came the rain. On 
 the right was a gate, and a hovel of con- 
 siderable size ; and a streak of broken-line 
 of cloud showed that the shower would not 
 be interminable. He was not yet wet ; the
 
 THE MEETIXG. 27 
 
 wind was blowing straight in liis teetli. He 
 had one regalia left ; it was not cold ; and 
 shelter in the hovel v/ould take him home 
 comfortably with a dry skin. Capital idea ! 
 He should still be at Lnshenham early, and 
 Flowerpot would be none the worse for 
 resting out of the wind. Ideas so good are 
 not to waste themselves on a south-easterly 
 wind. He turned through the gate, and, 
 with the easy seat and loose rein peculiar 
 to the highest class of British sportsmen, 
 jogged into the hovel. There sat, unruffled 
 by a single feather, the w^idow Greystoke, 
 and in close attendance that infernal boy.
 
 CHAPTER XXYII. 
 
 A PLEASANT RIDE HOME. 
 
 The end of the last chapter saw Tom 
 Crackenthorpe in a rather dehcate position. 
 To say he was taken aback is not quite 
 strong enough, for the widow was the 
 last person he expected to see, though the 
 first in his thoughts ; and the sight of her 
 nearly knocked him of his horse. Since 
 the day Tom had first seen her at Lushen- 
 ham, she had never looked more beautiful ; 
 and if bright colour, pencilled eyebrows, 
 cleanly cut features, and a fine set of teeth, 
 were any recommendations, the claims of 
 the widow Greystoke were not to be denied. 
 The gentleman, at that moment, did not 
 look his best; indeed, he was no beauty, 
 though a straightforward, manly fellow 
 enough, at the best of times : and there are
 
 A PLEASAXT RIDE HOME. 29 
 
 circumstances which take the shine out of 
 your fast young men. Pumpington life 
 had never exhibited a phase like the present. 
 Tom had always been countenanced in his 
 little flirtations by the men and women of his 
 set. The latter were quite as eager for the 
 fray as he ; and, though truth compels me 
 to add he was somewhat of a glutton, there, 
 were plenty there ready to give him his 
 fill. He had never been accustomed to 
 wade through difSculties to the wished-for 
 haven, but had rather played the game of 
 '*any port in a storm," and run for the 
 nearest. In fact, this was nearly the first 
 time he had found himself in a twelve-foot 
 by six straw-thatched outhouse, occupied by 
 a goddess on horseback, and a Cupid in top- 
 boots too big for him ; and, as the cloud 
 within looked pretty nearly as black as the 
 one without, he was not far from turning 
 round, and making the best of his way off 
 again : nothing but a real waterspout, which 
 began to descend at that moment, wetting 
 the adhesive plaster of his affections, glued 
 him to the spot.
 
 30 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 A flattering writer would say tliat no 
 sooner had he recovered his surprise than 
 she smiled complacently. I am compelled 
 to admit that his unmeaning simper was 
 worthy of the greatest fool in the three 
 kingdoms ; and was met, naturally enough, 
 by a timidity which we know to be the 
 peculiar attribute of widows. He essayed 
 to speak, after a silence of five minutes' du- 
 ration ; but his tongue clave to the roof of 
 his mouth, and when it relaxed he got no 
 further than " Rather a wet morning." As 
 it was quite impossible to contradict this 
 meteorological fact, he had it all to himself 
 •—as much, indeed, as Mr. Spurgeon in his 
 Tabernacle, or any other asserter of indisput- 
 able truths. The widow looked assent ; and 
 young Boots examined the clouds. Another 
 silence, and Tom bethought himself of a ques- 
 tion which must elicit a reply. " Did the 
 lady object to the smell of a cigar ? " " By 
 no means," replied she — without, however, 
 exhibiting much anxiety to prolong the con- 
 versation. Tom carefully unpacked, rolled, 
 and lit a regalia of the most orthodox 
 pattern.
 
 A PLEASA]S"T RIDE HOME. 31 
 
 " You were fortunate in reaching this 
 shelter before the shower/' said he once 
 more, with the desperation of a man leading 
 a forlorn-hope, and not certain of getting 
 much, if successful. 
 
 " And you, too," said she, which might 
 or might not be the case, as the adventure 
 should turn out for Tom Crackenthorpe. 
 He saw it in that light, and replied with a 
 gallantry, the offspring of something beyond 
 even Pumpington — " Most certainly, to 
 have had the pleasure of, a-hem — aw — aw 
 — making — a-hem the acquaintance." And 
 in went the widow ; as when some mis- 
 chievous schoolboy, on some summer's day, 
 touches with presumptuous hand the slowly- 
 emerging snail, no less quickly did she 
 return to that reserve from which she had 
 shown an inclination to come out. Tom was 
 unlucky ; for if any of my readers have an 
 idea of the struggle it cost him to get up 
 this not very uncommon compliment, and his 
 anticipations of victory, they have a concep- 
 tion considerably beyond the ordinary run 
 of that faculty. For a really modest young
 
 32 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 gentleman, who was given to horseflesh and 
 bachelor parties, and who had been accus- 
 tomed to the playful raillery of the Bul- 
 rushes, the Sparkeses, and Clara Jones, this 
 was downright purgatory ; and as the rain 
 was no longer so heavy, and the approach 
 of the thin streaks of light in the sky pro- 
 claimed a total cessation in another minute, 
 Tom was buttoning his coat preparatory to 
 a start, when the lady took the initiative, 
 and saying, " I think it will do now," 
 rode majestically out of the shed, followed 
 by young Boots at a respectful distance. 
 
 " Not made much progress, then," said 
 Tom to himself, as he chewed the end of the 
 regalia with increased rapidity, and then 
 rolled it round between his finger and thumb. 
 " What an infernal sell, to be sure ! I won- 
 der whether she knows who I am, or where 
 I live ? Dash it ! what a pretty woman 
 she is ! she's so quiet, too ! She doesn't 
 think small beer of herself either ; however, 
 I like that, rather. Well, I suppose I must 
 go — there's not much use in stopping here 
 any longer. Come up, lazy ;" and, giving
 
 A PLEASANT RIDE HOME. 33 
 
 Flowerpot, who had been indulging in a 
 short nap, a gentle reminder, he also walked 
 out of the hovel, directly in the wake of the 
 mysterious widow. A sort of irresistible 
 impulse urged him to canter on as soon 
 as he was clear of the field in which the 
 hovel was situated, and the nice soft 
 squashy grass by the side of the road af- 
 forded him the opportunity. As women 
 always ride fast along the road, and usually 
 everywhere else, he did not quite calculate 
 upon catching his late companion so soon as 
 he did ; for, on turning through a gate at 
 the end of the lane which led through some 
 fields, by a short cut, to Lushenham, there 
 she was, having pulled up, in close confabu- 
 lation with the boy. Presently that young 
 man dismounted, and proceeded to examine 
 the off fore-leg of his mistress's horse : not 
 being satisfied with the survey, he proceeded 
 to treat the near leg to the same professional 
 examination. Then he put that down, and 
 his mistress rode on a few paces. And 
 then it was evident that, from some cause 
 or other, the neat-looking bay horse was 
 
 VOL. II. D
 
 34 A BOX FOR THE SEASON". 
 
 dead lame. By this time Crackenthorpe had 
 reached the boy, who was again behind. 
 
 '' What's the matter, boy ? " said he, pull- 
 ing his horse into a walk. 
 
 " Missus has got a stone in her foot, or 
 sprained her leg, or somethin' ; but IVe 
 been a handlin' it, and I can't see nothing, 
 sir." 
 
 Tom could not very well see any woman 
 in such a strait without going to her assist- 
 ance : of course it was with some reluctance 
 that he even then addressed her. " If I can 
 be of any service to you, I shall be very 
 happy ; your servant ^ys you have a stone 
 in your foot." 
 
 " My horse has had, I believe," said she, 
 with a charming smile — '' and I am much 
 obliged ; you see he can scarcely put his foot 
 to the ground." 
 
 " Allow me to give you advice," said 
 Tom, quite emboldened by the change of 
 manner ; ^' if I might suggest such a thing, 
 I should leave the lame horse to the boy, 
 and change saddles immediately. He can 
 come slowly after us," And, in accordance
 
 A PLEASANT RIDE HOME. 35 
 
 with this advice, the boy was ordered to 
 change the saddles, which he did with 
 Tom Crackenthorpe's assistance, whilst Mrs. 
 Grey stoke held Tom's horse. '^ He won't 
 kick, will he ? " And in about ten minutes 
 she was ready to mount. " And now how 
 am I to get up ? " 
 
 " How do you get up at home ? " said 
 Tom. 
 
 " There's a horseblock at the front gate." 
 
 *' There's none here, and I see nothing 
 like it." 
 
 Tom was half afraid to propose inspect- 
 ing the foot, it looked so like presump- 
 tion. 
 
 " Dear, dear ! what is to be done ? " 
 sighed the widow. " How provoking ! " 
 
 " If you — you — you would but allow me 
 to— to " 
 
 " Oh ! really — dear me ! I'm sure I give 
 you a great deal of trouble ; but I'm afraid 
 Robert is rather — rather — too short." 
 
 So, having made a virtue of necessity, 
 she placed a very small neat boot in the 
 palm of Mr. Crackenthorpe, and one hand 
 
 D 2
 
 36 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 on the j)ommel of her saddle, and was in 
 another moment on her sonnd horse. 
 
 Tom started by her side ; and if anything 
 is calculated to break the ice, it is the caloric 
 that may be raised by the last-mentioned 
 process. 
 
 " Now, pray, don't let me detain you, or 
 take you out of your way." 
 
 " I believe our roads lie the same," re- 
 joined Tom ; and he thought he should like 
 to have added — " through life." 
 
 " Impossible ! " said the widow ; "I live 
 four miles from here, and in the very stupid- 
 est of places." 
 
 '' That's exactly my own case," said Tom, 
 with an enraptured smile. 
 
 " Surely not at Lushenham ? " replied she, 
 with a simplicity, which was, if not the result 
 of long practice, the highest effect of natural 
 genius. 
 
 " Precisely. I live in the new house, 
 at the cross roads, formerly inhabited by 
 Farmer Simcox. I am happy to think we 
 are neighbours." 
 
 " I am afraid mamma and I are not very
 
 A PLEASAXT RIDE HOME. 37 
 
 gay. Our position prevents us from going 
 out much, or recei\ang at home ; and I am 
 hunting by order of my medical man." 
 
 Here the widow put her hand to her side. 
 
 " And you are very fond of horse exer- 
 cise ? " 
 
 '^ I love it to distraction ; but I fear we 
 ladies are often in the way." 
 
 '' In the way ? bless me, no ! " said Tom, 
 who had hitherto hated the sight of a woman 
 in the field at any time. " In the way ! 
 One of the most charming things in the 
 world is to see a lady enjoying the fresh air, 
 and enlivening the meet by her presence." 
 Tom spoke in raptures. 
 
 " But not over fences ; surely you confine 
 us to the gates ? " 
 
 " That's a university punishment, and 
 one inflicted upon themselves by old gentle- 
 men in the midland counties, in after life. 
 But, really, I can't see why, if a lady likes 
 to ride "— 
 
 Tom was lying to such an extent as has 
 never been equalled. 
 
 " Well, seriously, I always abstain only
 
 38 A BOX FOE THE SEASOIs^ 
 
 upon the principle that we are in the way 
 — de irop^ in fact — as soon as we leave the 
 road." 
 
 " I'm sure I hope you'll discard that 
 notion as soon as possible, and be found in 
 the first flight." 
 
 Yerily Tom was getting on. Just then 
 they caught sight of Lushenham in the 
 distance, on the banks of the muddiest 
 ditch I ever saw dignified with the name 
 of a river. 
 
 " You like Lushenham ? " 
 
 " Pretty well ; it suits us^ — it's quiet. 
 Charming family at the Yicarage," said 
 she, looking out of the corner of her left 
 eye, but seeing nothing on Tom's face, who 
 knew nothing of the Partingtons. " Charm- 
 ing people ; such girls ! Ah ! you'll see 
 one of them ride some day ; and so good- 
 looking." 
 
 Tom, never having seen the young lady 
 in question in the saddle or out of it, made 
 no sign. They were within ten minutes' 
 ride of the village on the main road. The 
 clock was striking four. The children were
 
 A PLEASANT RIDE HOME. 39 
 
 just out of school. Tom's coat attracted 
 the attention which it always demands in 
 that part of England ; and as good luck 
 would have it, those of the population who 
 were not on the road were up at their 
 windows. Tom and the widow were making 
 a triumphal entry, if they had known it ; 
 and the Prince of Wales and the Princess 
 Alexandra may raise more enthusiasm, but 
 they won't be subject to the same spirit of 
 speculation. The very first couple to be 
 seen coming along the road was no other 
 than the Yicar and his wife, accompanied 
 by a daughter, in a hat that made a four 
 o'clock November's sun just sinking behind 
 the clouds in a yellow vapour look like a 
 poached egg in pea-soup. The Yicar, as in 
 duty bound, made a polite bow ; but he 
 was not of that race of gentlemen who care 
 to take off their hat, when something short 
 of that ceremony answers the purpose. 
 There is a great deal in a bow ; and if you 
 wish to stand well with the women, take 
 care that it be a well-considered mixture of 
 deference and self-respect; not so easy of
 
 40 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 accomplishment as some persons imagine. 
 If, indeed, a master of tlie science — a shade 
 of H. M. G. Majesty George lY., or Sir 
 Charles Grandison — would revisit the earth, 
 and compile for Messrs. Chapman and Hall 
 a really scientific pamphlet on the subject, 
 to be launched from Piccadilly into St. 
 James' s-street, it might benefit society, by 
 instructing its junior members. I, for one, 
 believe in the utility of the fine old-fashioned, 
 much-abused hat ; and if it have no other 
 use, it at least enables a man to bow like a 
 gentleman. It is about the only article of 
 dress that keeps the world in order ; and 
 thanks to Providence, it must flourish as 
 long as woman insists upon being recognised 
 in Pall Mall as she should be. Figure to 
 yourself the miserable wretch who seizes 
 his slouched wide-awake by the brim, to 
 droop hopelessly in his raised hand ; or the 
 pork-pie of still more modern date by the 
 centre, to drop it, extinguisher-like, upon 
 the same spot from which he has but now 
 taken it. Surely all his hopes of success 
 with woman must be under it, and are put
 
 A PLEASANT RIDE HOME. 41 
 
 out at once. The notion may appear pre- 
 posterous, the advice from a bald-headed 
 old gentleman gratuitous or interested ; but, 
 depend upon it, the thing to appear in as 
 a gentleman or lady (on horseback) is a 
 chimney-pot. The rest are all adaptations 
 from the coalheaver, and are miserable sub- 
 terfuges for a parsimonious economy under 
 the name of comfort. Tom himself knew 
 perfectly well what was right ; and he re- 
 garded the broad-brimmed, badly-brushed 
 beaver of the Yicar as only too heavy for 
 the arm of its owner. He stared at his 
 parish priest with something like surprise ; 
 but he was brought up in too good a school 
 to have recognised any living soul short of 
 the Royal Family without a special intro- 
 duction. 
 
 " Forward minx ! " said Mrs. Partington, 
 when out of hearing. " So she's picked 
 him up already. Have you called, Daniel ? " 
 
 "Called! Oh! yes; last Friday. He 
 wasn't at home ; but I walked round the 
 house, and just looked at the rooms. Got 
 some nice things : oh ! yes, very."
 
 42 A BOX FOR THE SEASO]S". 
 
 " You might ask him and his friend to 
 dinner at once, I should think. Don't you 
 expect your friend Simpson ? he's a great 
 horseman." 
 
 " Certainly ; if you wish it, dear. Yes, 
 to be sure, his father kept dogs — setters, or 
 beagles, or something of that kind, to be 
 sure. Bit o' fish, soup, and a saddle of 
 mutton. Capital bottle of claret : '48." 
 
 "You told me 36," said the Gorgon, 
 rolling her eyes at this palpable mistake. 
 
 ''36; yes, to be sure, 36 shillings; but 
 it's '48 wine." 
 
 " Then I'd rather not drink much '48 
 wine," said the lady. 
 
 By this time Tom and his charge had 
 got to the second group, which consisted 
 of half-a-dozen village- school children, just 
 released. Their spirits were proportionably 
 buoyant, and, except pulling their forelocks 
 to the big folks at the Hall, and not 
 '' sniffling " when the ladies were present, 
 their manners, at the best, were not quite 
 up to the Eosherville pattern : they ex- 
 pressed themselves unreservedly.
 
 A PLEASAXT HIDE HOME. 43 
 
 ** Billy, here comes tlie 'unters. My ! wot a 
 swell ! and he's got a woman 'unter along with 
 him ! Oh ! shouldn't you like to be him ? " 
 
 " No I shouldn't ; I'd like to be she, 'cos 
 she's the best looking." 
 
 '' But that's the chap as lives in Farmer 
 Simcox's old house. Arn't he a lot o' tin ? 
 that's all," suggested Bill, who appreciated 
 the sinews of existence. 
 
 "So it be; and that's his wife ! " " Hooor- 
 0-0-0," shouted Bill and his companions, as 
 they escorted the couple about fifty yards 
 down the road. 
 
 The next persons they met were Captain 
 Glad wish and his daughter in a small pony- 
 chaise at a foot's pace. They stopped. 
 
 " Well, Mrs. Greystoke ! had a good run ? 
 I'm sure I hope so, for your sake." 
 
 Tom looked silently on. 
 
 " Oh ! I'm not very enthusiastic, you 
 know," replied the widow lady. 
 
 " The most thorough sportsman in the 
 county," said the Captain again, not under- 
 standing this sudden depreciation of the 
 character. " I hope you kill'd your fox."
 
 4i A BOX FOR THE SEASON". 
 
 " And how are you, my dear Miss Grlad- 
 wisli ? " said the widow to Emily, bent on 
 changing the conversation. " Not afraid 
 of the rain for Captain Gladwish? We 
 have had a sharp shower, and my horse is 
 lamed. We have left him behind with my 
 groom, and this gentleman is so good as 
 to take charge of me." 
 
 Tom took off his hat, and Mr. Gladwish 
 addressed an inquiry or two as to the run, 
 and whence he was hunting. 
 
 " What ! Simcox's old cottage ; the 
 Chateau, as it used to be called? Capital 
 quarters. I hope you'll like Lushenham, as 
 I hear you have it on a lease." After a 
 few more words, and a promise to call, if 
 Tom would excuse his getting out, they 
 parted. 
 
 " Mother ! mother ! here come the hunters 
 — quick ! My ! if there ain't the new gen- 
 tleman along with Mrs. Greystoke." And 
 old Betty Dibdin hobbled to the window in 
 hot haste after her daughter Sally. 
 
 " Ah, there they be, sure enough ! and a 
 pretty couple they'd make, Sally."
 
 A PLEASANT RIDE HOME. 45 
 
 *' Lor' ! mother, she ain't fit for the Hkes 
 of him. She's no great shakes, I'll be 
 bound. Why ! Mary Duster told me as 
 they kept the gin in the cupboard and 
 helped themselves ; and as to her beauty, 
 I don't take no account o' that, for she got 
 a bit of Eowley's Mekissor, and Dainty-face^ 
 I think they calls it, and such like powder 
 and things. Lor' bless you ! she's only a 
 painted doll after all." 
 
 " Well, he ain't no ways well-favoured his- 
 -self, Sally ; though he looks like a rale 
 gentleman, he do ; and my ! what a big 
 ring he's got on his finger ! " 
 
 " Bless your old eyes, mother, that's the 
 top of his hunting whip ! But he is a 
 gentleman, for he gave little Tommy a 
 shilling for opening the gate." 
 
 The fact is, he not only gave Tommy 
 Dibdin a shilling ; but Sally, who was the 
 belle of the village, received a salute, as 
 she was doing some extra work at the 
 Chateau, one morning, shortly after their 
 arrival. No wonder she was loud in her 
 praises of the gentleman, and no wonder
 
 46 A BOX FOR THE SEASOX. 
 
 the use of tooth-powder and gin-and-water 
 came under Sally's strictures, as regards the 
 lady. Women will be women, all the world 
 over. 
 
 As soon as it was clearly ascertained that 
 Tom and his friend were positively in resi- 
 dence, of course visitors began to make 
 their appearance ; for, becoming remarkably 
 regular in their attendance at church, and 
 paying a very uncommon amount of respect 
 to the platitudes of the Rev. Daniel Parting- 
 ton, not any excuse could be found for ex- 
 cluding such exemplary characters from the 
 visiting lists of the neighbourhood. It is 
 true that, from the peculiar calls upon two 
 hunting men, who had now increased their 
 studs to four and six respectively, no very 
 great regularity in returning these visits, 
 or in accepting the invitations, which poured 
 in upon them from the villages about, as 
 well as their own, could be expected. A 
 lame horse and a non-hunting day in each 
 week put in requisition the only fly in Lush- 
 enham, and then the visiting was done, en 
 masse. Sometimes Crackenthorpe carried a
 
 A PLEASA^^T RIDE HOME. 47 
 
 roll of cards ; at another time Munster ; and 
 if a speculative invitation arrived for both, 
 they generally took it in turns, or tossed up 
 for the pleasure of reconnoitring the ground. 
 Tom justly observed that life was too short 
 for bad dinners and ugly women ; and, as 
 they took care that their own cuisine should 
 be faultless, to their own mind at least, and 
 as the '44 tap of claret was better than 
 ordinary, it was no great hardship to dine 
 at home after a hard day. The dining out 
 after a day's hunting, excepting with a 
 purpose capable of keeping one awake, is 
 a barbarous custom. Persons of a certain 
 age can have no excuse in the way of obli- 
 gation, extraordinary company, or equally 
 extraordinary cooking and claret. Young 
 men in a state of somnolent spoonyism are 
 an exception to every rule. I have driven 
 from Oxford to Leamington and back be- 
 tween 4 p.m. of one day and 6 a.m. of the 
 next for a single waltz, and thought myself 
 highly rewarded by the possession of a glove 
 with only three fingers and an apology for 
 a back. A few years afterwards I ascer-
 
 48 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 tained, upon comparing notes, that tlie 
 thumb and the little finger, with a few extra 
 strips, was in possession of a fellow who 
 lived in the back building of Trinity, and 
 who eventually made her Mrs. Buddicombe. 
 Of course, I sent him the pieces. 
 
 Well, then ! sooth to say, both Thomas 
 Crackenthorpe and his Jidus Achates were 
 in this state, more or less, before long ; and 
 it must be their excuse for a consumption 
 of ecclesiastical muffins and tea, otherwise 
 disgraceful in the extreme. Considering 
 the parsimonious habits of Mrs. Partington, 
 the two gentlemen were wonderfully wel- 
 come to a second day's table-cloth, which 
 had been smoothed between the family 
 Bible and three heavy volumes of a county 
 history, and some watery soup. Fowls and 
 bacon and a roast joint, not forgetting the 
 365. claret, never found such worshi^Dpers 
 before. At first came the invitation in due 
 form to meet Simpson, who would talk of 
 nothing but his father's beagles and his own 
 pony. 
 
 " Once was a hunting man ; fine country
 
 A PLEASAXT RIDE HOME. 49 
 
 round Brighton," said he, " Devil's Dyke 
 an awful place : positively hawful." 
 
 " Have you been down it ? " asked Tom. 
 
 " Not exactly, not exactly ; but very 
 nearly so — that is, I've been to the top, and 
 looked down." 
 
 Then, as the winter got on, and Miss 
 Matilda had been out hunting with her 
 cousin the Bashi-Bazook, and sometimes 
 with a little brother, and sometimes with 
 Mrs. Grreystoke, whom it was desirable to 
 keep in good-humour on this account, the 
 intimacy increased. The widow was asked 
 occasionally, to make things go off agree- 
 ably, at a moment's notice. Then, when 
 not invited, it was curious to a spectator to 
 see how often she happened to drop in of 
 an evening. Tom occasionally drojoped into 
 Captain Gladwish's cottage, to entertain 
 him and to smoke a cigar. Mrs. Grey stoke 
 was more cautious in her movements there, 
 and if present always made love to the 
 Captain. Ever since their first meeting, 
 Tom had improved the acquaintance wonder- 
 fully. Somehow or other, the widow wanted 
 
 VOL. II. E
 
 50 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 advice about her horses; or would Mr. 
 Crackenthorpe mind her man coming up to 
 the Chateau? and then Tom was always 
 ready to come down to the stable. Then 
 he couldn't help walking into the house. 
 Then he sat down. Then he called, carry- 
 ing Bobby with him, as a makeweight ; and 
 once he found the widow with the piano 
 open, having seen him making that way, 
 and a tune followed, then a song (at which 
 the lady was, for an amateur, no mean 
 adept) ; and so the intimacy increased, until 
 old Mrs. Dibdin's idea that they would 
 make a pretty couple became a prevalent 
 notion in many quarters. It is but due to 
 the widow to say that she behaved ad- 
 mirably ; and that she had toned down her 
 riding propensities to meet Crackenthorpe' s 
 ideas of female propriety. 
 
 Hunting about four and sometimes five 
 days a-week, with an occasional week's frost, 
 does not leave a great deal to recount. Tom 
 enjoyed himself, and so did the widow : 
 and as often as Mrs. Partington would give
 
 A PLEASANT RIDE HOME. 51 
 
 her consent, and Mr. Partington the grey, 
 Matilda appeared at the near meets, in a 
 costume which varied with her capabiHties 
 of imitation, or the state of the wardrobe. 
 The attractions of this young lady were by 
 no means in themselves despicable ; and 
 a very curious piece of information, which 
 gained ground in the village, that she had 
 a something, an indefinite few thousands of 
 her own, left by her grandmother, proved 
 a loadstone strong enough for Bobby Mun- 
 ster. They were not unfrequently thrown 
 out together ; and Bobby, never remarkably 
 keen, began to bear these disappointments 
 with even more than his wonted equanimity. 
 The housekeeping at the Yicarage, never 
 first-rate, did not trouble him ; and the Yicar 
 pushed on with his 365. claret and his 27^. 
 port, his tough mutton and second day's 
 table-cloth, about once a-week during the 
 season, with muffins ad libitum between 
 whiles. All this time the young lady was 
 getting deeper and deeper in the mire. 
 Mamma began to surmise, and she went 
 
 E 2 
 
 viHN^^fSS^^ 
 
 .it40\?>
 
 52 A BOX FOE THE SEASOIS". 
 
 the length of an ogrehke smile to Emily 
 G-ladwish, when the name of Munster was 
 accidentally coupled with Miss Matilda. 
 Bobby was quite taken with the bait ; and 
 having nothing to do but hunt and make 
 love, he indulged the propensity, as if he 
 had been still at Pumpington. There's 
 great wisdom in numbers. Here she had 
 it all to herself; there were no distractions ; 
 and, as the Yicar and his wife were quite 
 convinced of the solvency of a young gentle- 
 man with four horses, an elaborate toilet, 
 and a part owner of the charming cottage, 
 furniture, and articles of vertu^ with which 
 it was fitted, it seemed as if there only 
 wanted a proper time for the consummation 
 to the young people's happiness. 
 
 " Tom, we must have a dinner," said 
 Bobby Munster, who was in high spirits, 
 consequent on the receipt of an unexpected 
 remittance. 
 
 " Who the deuce ever dreamt of going 
 without?" Tom was just preparing to 
 dress, preparatory to that important meal.
 
 A PLEASANT RIDE HOME. 06 
 
 " I mean that we must give Partington 
 and two or three fellows a dinner, who have 
 been civil to us." 
 
 " Certainly : and we can ask old Sparkes 
 from Pumpington, and your friend Cutpurse, 
 the money-lender — " 
 
 " Oh ! hang Cutpurse ! he won't do," 
 said Bobby Munster. 
 
 «< Why not ? Well, then, we must have 
 him alone,*' said Tom. 
 
 " He's such a dreadful blackguard," re- 
 joined the other. 
 
 " You forget the valuable shooting he let 
 us have for next to nothing : we owe him 
 a mount. Billy Drinkwater's been keeping 
 Acheron for him : he won't let any one have 
 a ride till the lawyer has been up." 
 
 '' Well, then, let's have him down directly. 
 What are you going to do to-night ? " asked 
 Bobby. 
 
 ^•I think I shall smoke a cigar after 
 dinner ; will you ? " 
 
 "Why— to tell you the truth, I half- 
 promised to take up those views of the
 
 54 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 Rhine for old Partington to see : lie seems 
 very mncli interested in photography." 
 
 Tom chuckled to himself; and when he 
 was gone, slipping into a pea-jacket, he 
 soon found himself at Mrs. Bransby's fire- 
 side.
 
 CHAPTER XXYIII. 
 
 PUMPINGTON. 
 
 Without professing violent sympathies 
 with the agriculturists, who always know 
 what is best for themselves, frost is a very 
 useful ingredient in the atmospheric mix- 
 ture. The fact is, that if one listened to the 
 farmers, one's notions of Providence would 
 be much deteriorated. There never comes 
 the right thing in the right place ; and if 
 Providence listened to them there would 
 come such an amalgamation of rain, snow, 
 frost, heat, drought, and wind all together, 
 as to spiflicate Murphy, and blow Admiral 
 Fitzroy and his theories clean out of the 
 ground. The prevalent notion among them 
 is, that the whole of the habitable globe is of 
 the same texture, and that the expression 
 of a meteorological want or opinion by any
 
 56 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 one else is a miserable impertinence. 
 Weather was made for crops, and crops for 
 weather ; croppers are quite another thing. 
 Lame horses, overworked hounds, short 
 studs, and gentlemen with broken collar- 
 bones, or love affairs on hand, are not in- 
 teresting to any but the parties immedi- 
 ately concerned ; and, though a frost 
 may come opportunely enough for these, 
 it never sounds orthodox to sport that 
 opinion. 
 
 Impressed with that idea, when Mr. 
 Crackenthorpe rose, and found his sponge 
 imperfectly stuck to the side of his basin, he 
 pondered as to how far he was at liberty to 
 condemn the providential arrangement. He 
 went for safety. 
 
 " By Jove ! Bob,' here's a go ! " said he, 
 flourishing a razor, and preparing to suffer 
 that torture which the well-dressed English- 
 man formerly considered an essential, and 
 which Tom had not yet discarded. " It's a 
 frost." 
 
 " So much the better," said Munster from 
 another room : " I shan't get up."
 
 PUMPINGTON. 57 
 
 "But perhaps it will give by twelve 
 o'clock." 
 
 " Not a bit of it : the wind's nortb-east ; 
 besides, it's just what was wanted." 
 
 " I don't see that, exactly." 
 
 "I do ; all my horses are lame, and two 
 of yours are no better ; Flowerpot's dead 
 amiss, and Acheron's tender all over." 
 
 "Well! what shall we do? We can't 
 stick here. It's a beautiful morning." Here 
 he stepped into a good warm dressing- 
 gown, and appeared at Bobby Munster's 
 door. 
 
 " Come, turn out, old fellow ; let's go to 
 Pumpington." 
 
 " What ! to pay old Sparkes's bill ? Not 
 I." And here the gentleman folded an extra 
 piece of clothing over his head, to shut out 
 all further conversation. 
 
 Crackenthorpe continued his toilet, trust- 
 ing to better influences than his own elo- 
 quence to move his friend. 
 
 In the course of another hour or two they 
 managed to have breakfast, and then the 
 " ordre du jour " was read. Pumpington
 
 58 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 by train, a visit to the Repository, luncheon 
 at the ' Prince Regent,' the club, billiards 
 or pool, a dinner (par hazard), an evening, 
 and — 
 
 " Oh ! put up something, and let's sleep 
 there ; as to coming back with the thermo- 
 meter 6 degrees below freezing point, it's 
 not to be thought of." 
 
 " Yery well ; and just write a line to 
 Thoroughpin, the dealer, and say I don't 
 want the steeplechaser he offered me for the 
 Lushenham Handicap — that's a good fellow. 
 Did you ever see such a letter as this ? — 
 
 * Coach and Horses Inn. 
 *Honer'd sur — I has one liors would suit any 
 gent, he has been steeplechased, is sound, and a 
 good hack, best legs and feet you ever see, not in 
 the stud-book, well up to 8 st. 12 lbs., very fast ; 
 price 250 guineas. If you don^t have him, I shall 
 keep him for the flat. [' Who's he ? ' said Bobby, 
 sohloquising.] Please come and see him. 
 * Yours to command, 
 
 ' Joseph Pimpleton.' " 
 
 " What a nice weight-carrying hunter 
 he'll make when we've finished with him
 
 PTJMPINGTON. 59 
 
 for our game ! You don't mean to refuse 
 such a valuable offer ? " 
 
 " Indeed I do thougli, Bobby ; so write a 
 line, and we'll be off. There's that fellow 
 Jolly has written to ask me to see him. I 
 want to enter something for Pumpington, if 
 I could get hold of a really good one, and 
 he tells me that it would be a great advan- 
 tage if gentlemen would call upon him and 
 talk the matter over." 
 
 Tom got up and looked out of window. 
 It was clear, sunshiny, and unmistakeably 
 frosty. 
 
 Jolly was a most respectable tradesman, 
 a top-boot manufacturer, and otherwise 
 given to the sports of the field. He had 
 become lessee of the Pumpington race- 
 course : and he saw a short cut to fortune 
 by steeplechase handicapping, which set all 
 boot and shoemaking at defiance for celerity 
 and certainty. Nothing delighted him so 
 much as a young man with plenty of money 
 and pluck, bent upon buying experience. 
 Jolly had a large stock of the article upon 
 hand, and lost no opportunity of exposing
 
 60 A BOX FOR THE SEASOIS". 
 
 his wares. I don't know that it was dearer 
 than elsewhere : and he had plenty of 
 customers. 
 
 As neither Crackenthorpe nor Mnnster 
 were yet contributors to a fashionable jour- 
 nal, they found themselves neither incon- 
 venienced by too much attention or curiosity, 
 nor compelled to put up with the patronage 
 or company of a duke on their short journey 
 to Pumpington, and they reached the town 
 without suffering from any incident worth 
 mentioning. 
 
 The stroll up the Parade at Pumpington 
 was familiar to both gentlemen ; cheerful at 
 all times ; and on a bright, frosty afternoon, 
 when the sun has already acquired some 
 power, exhilarating beyond expression — let 
 us add between the ages of eighteen and 
 thirty. Exhilaration beyond that time of 
 life depends chiefly on practical benefit, in 
 which the Pumpington Parade is somewhat 
 deficient. 
 
 "Who's this, Munster, coming down in 
 pink ? he's been out hunting, and just dis- 
 covered it wouldn't do. Couleur perd, as
 
 PUMPINGTON. 61 
 
 that scoundrel used to say at Wiesbaden, 
 when he swept in our money." 
 
 " That's Smith." 
 
 " Curious name." 
 
 " Well, his is," said Bobby ; " look at him 
 when he comes by ; that's Dudley G-reville 
 Falconberg Smith ; he says he's the last of 
 the Falconbergs ; it's a devilish lucky thing 
 that the family's extinct. I hope he's not 
 going to perpetuate it." 
 
 " What does he do here ? " inquired Tom 
 Crackenthorpe, who was absorbed in a con- 
 templation of the gentleman above-men- 
 tioned ; "he looks like the biggest fool 
 alive, at least for his size." 
 
 " What does he do ? Well, he goes out 
 hunting when there's a frost ; and at other 
 times he's taken your place, rather. The 
 women say he's the very nicest man in 
 Pumpington." 
 
 " I should think he was ; but just look at 
 him." 
 
 The last of the Falconbergs was certainly 
 one of those imbeciles who exist in watering- 
 places and spas, as the tame lions of society.
 
 62 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 His face was vei;y pretty : thin nose, droop- 
 ing lids, excellent teeth, wavy hair, and the 
 tiniest of moustaches, just turned at the end. 
 He was about 5 feet 6 inches in height, had 
 very knocked-knees, brittle-looking feet and 
 hands, and weighed about 8 st. 6 lbs. In 
 dress he was of the Dresden china pattern, 
 be-frilled and be-ruffled and be-jewelled, all 
 in the small way. He was not ill-educated 
 — that's to say, as times go ; he spoke 
 French with a tolerable accent, and quite 
 grammatically, which had been taught him 
 by his mamma. He sang Italian songs, and 
 understood one or two of them. Of any 
 classics he was sublimely ignorant, so tender 
 a plant having never been transposed from 
 the domestic hot-house to a school of any 
 kind. His manners were a mixture of the 
 playful kitten and the overgrown school- 
 girl ; and his attention to old women of 
 title, his respect for rank and years, was 
 exemplary. He had ten thousand a-year, 
 and spent four ; he had a few horses, which 
 he couldn't ride, nor his friends either when 
 they came to their full size ; and his great
 
 PUMPIXGTON. 63 
 
 pride, next to his finger-nails, was in his 
 cuisine. A dinner of Falconberg Smith's 
 was a very good thing. 
 
 This young man was a bone of contention 
 in Pumpington in various ways : between 
 the nice amiable young men, who imitated 
 him, and ate his dinners, and took care of 
 him, and the roystering blades, Jack Halston 
 and his followers, who rode over dining- 
 room tables, ran up to town in a frost, had 
 grilled bones and a bishop nightly, and were 
 always being blown up by the masters of 
 hounds whom they delighted to patronize ; 
 between the mothers of Pumpington, who 
 caressed him in secret, and pooh-poohed 
 him to one another, and who paraded him 
 before their daughters as a sort of pump- 
 room koh-i-nor ; between the fathers and 
 the sons, the former of whom held him up 
 as an example when they heard of his 
 thrifty habits and domestic inclinations, 
 when the latter abused him for his abhor- 
 rence of big fences and Hudson's regalias ; 
 and, above all, between the young ladies 
 themselves. They scarcely loved him quite
 
 64 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 as well as their mammas ; but there were 
 
 not more than half-a-dozen that wouldn't 
 
 have been tempted by mammon. The 
 
 Sparkeses worshipped him, all of them ; the 
 
 Bulrushes adored him ; the Flanigans made 
 
 slippers and braces for him ; and Georgy 
 
 Biffin, the high-church woman of the upper 
 
 town, stuffed him a cushion and worked a 
 
 cross upon it for him to kneel upon when 
 
 he turned his face to the east. There were 
 
 just half-a-dozen sensible souls, who did not 
 
 dislike ten thousand a-year, but who did not 
 
 care for an ass saddled with it. Grertrude 
 
 Thompson, Annie Lawrie, YioletFane, and 
 
 Helen Somerville snubbed him, and were 
 
 thorns in his side ; and Harriet Temple 
 
 called him a humbug and an idiot ; but 
 
 Harriet was suspected of smoking, and was 
 
 known to have driven a drag, so that Fal- 
 
 conberg Smith was more of a lady than she. 
 
 The club at Pumpington was a pleasant 
 
 rendezvous. In the lower rooms Bustleton 
 
 read his paper, Torkington chatted with his 
 
 friends, young Listless had all the novels of 
 
 the day, and General Growler cursed the 
 
 Horse Guards and their examinations, with-
 
 PUMPIXGTOX. 65 
 
 out let or hindrance from his wife and 
 daughters. The Pumpington correspondent 
 of the Morning Post, and the sporting con- 
 tributor to the — the, what shall I say ? — the 
 Saturday Review, wrote their articles on club 
 material. Above was the smell of tobacco ; 
 short whist, but plenty of it ; ecarte and 
 billiards from early in the forenoon to any 
 time in the morning. Here were to be 
 learnt the most astonishing performances of 
 the first-flight men ; how Sandman's horse 
 had jumped a lane comprising donkey-cart 
 and gipsies ; how Jones's buggy had cleared 
 the turnpike-gate, and nothing hurt but 
 Jones — to be sure, he was killed ; how Yan- 
 sittart's pony had jumped through the upper 
 panel of his stable-door, and only dropped 
 an eyelash in going through. Here were 
 mysterious hints as to the Unknown, and an 
 offer to take long odds that he was in the room 
 that day between the hours of 3 and 9 p.m. 
 It was in these jovial chambers that 
 matches, and bargains, and dinners, and 
 steeplechases were made. It was the only 
 place in Pumpington where everybody 
 
 VOL. II. F
 
 66 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 seemed quite at home, the sort of shooting- 
 jacket and easy-chair of the whole Spa. 
 Whether it was attributable to the absence 
 of our better parts, I can't say." But I know 
 everybody listened to the most extravagant 
 fables, the most unmerciful badinage, the 
 most antiquated of Joe Millers, or the last 
 and best of Merewether, without a contra- 
 diction. Everybody laughed, and everybody 
 talked of himself, except half-a-dozen eager 
 expectants, who backed the ecarte or whist- 
 players with as much joviality and chaff as 
 if Sayers and Heenan had been requiring 
 their services. 
 
 As honorary members of this society, 
 both Crackenthorpe and Munster enjoyed 
 the entree. 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! delighted to see you, my dear 
 Crackenthorpe, once more among us ; bless 
 my soul ! dine with us ? and you too, Mr. 
 Munster. Egad ! how charmed Mrs. Sparkes 
 and the girls will be ! Seven o'clock ; quite 
 a family party ; no one coming but Falcon- 
 berg Smith." 
 
 " Yery kind of you ; but the fact is we're
 
 PUMPIXGTOX. 67 
 
 engaged. We're only here for a day or 
 two." Tom did violence to his own feelings 
 to escape from Smith. 
 
 " Well, come to-morrow then. There ; 
 it's a hard frost ; no chance of hunting. 
 I'll just ask Halston and Somerville. One 
 more glass of the '44 left." And Sparkes's 
 long nose, starched choker, and well-polished 
 boots looked so hospitable, that no one 
 would ever believe in the bill he sent in 
 to his dear Orackenthorpe for his friendly 
 interference in the matter of the house. 
 By the way, never have anything done by 
 a lawyer under the name of a friend. Let 
 him come like a wolf, then you understand 
 him ; but don't let him feed on your vitals, 
 under the mask of friendship. There are 
 plenty of them, very excellent men ; they 
 do their work, and should be paid for it ; 
 but their friendship is exceedingly dear. 
 Orackenthorpe had found it so. 
 
 '' Hallo, Cracks ! " said Halston, arriving 
 at this moment. " Well, Bobby, we heard 
 of your shooting. Infernal scoundrel that 
 Cutpurse ! " 
 
 F 2
 
 68 A BOX FOR THE SEASON". 
 
 " What ! do you know him, too ? " 
 Munster hardly thought there were two 
 persons so unfortunate as himself. 
 
 " Know him ? I should think so. I had 
 the same hit of sporting on pretty much 
 the same terms. Where do you fellows 
 dine?" 
 
 Jack Halston, who ran away with Clara 
 Jones and married her, and had since found 
 out that the levanting was a sheer act of 
 supererogation, was here *' on his own 
 hook," as he expressed it; having left 
 his wife in a suburban villa for a week. 
 " There's the cleverest fellow here you ever 
 saw — a Mr. Sharp, an electro-biologist, or 
 some such thing ; he sends fellows to sleep, 
 and then makes 'em dance and sing, and 
 play the fool, and say the most outrageous 
 things in the world. We'll go and see him 
 to-morrow evening." 
 
 " Can't." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Short of time." 
 
 " Oh ! that's it, is it ? Dine with me, 
 and we'll go together. You must see this
 
 PUMPINGTOX. 69 
 
 fellow. There's a grocer's boy here that's 
 what they call a medium ; he told us the 
 night before last what old Bulrush had had 
 for dinner. Cold shoulder of mutton and 
 a baked potato, while the old fellow was 
 describing a delicious salmi to Tom Naylor. 
 He says Parson Golightly's hair is a wig ; 
 and that Harriet Temple was eight-and- 
 twenty, and going to be married to Edward 
 Graham." 
 
 Here Crackenthorpe looked out of window, 
 and saw that it was thawing ; there could 
 be no doubt about it; and here was he 
 wasting his time in Pumpington. " Tele- 
 graj^h for the horses?" Of course he 
 would ; and so he did, and determined to see 
 
 the shire at Sir Shakesby Somerville's 
 
 the day after to-morrow. A real Pumping- 
 ton meet is a great thing to see, and though 
 not first-class as sport, made a pretty diver- 
 sion for Mr. Crackenthorpe and his friend. 
 
 In the mean time the mesmerizer had 
 made a great sensation. 
 
 " Bedad, Cracks, my boy," said Captain 
 O'Brian, suspending operations with the
 
 70 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 cue, "ye must see him, and feel him, to 
 appreciate him." 
 
 " Cursed humbug ! " said Growler, which 
 was accepted as slight praise rather than 
 otherwise. 
 
 '' Something in it, something in it, after 
 all ! " exclaimed young Sceptic, the new 
 practitioner, diving his hands into his 
 pockets, and squinting through his spec- 
 tacles. 
 
 Smith said, " It was vewy extwaordinawy, 
 weally ; shouldn't like him to feel his head." 
 
 "He'd feel a long time without finding 
 much in it," retorted young Stamp, of the 
 14th Plungers ; at which rather broad re- 
 mark Smith smiled blandly. Old Priestly, 
 the rector, anathematized him high and 
 low ; and the younger clergy held up their 
 hands in silent horror at his proceeding — 
 " manifestly the works of the devil." In a 
 word, the sensation was great, and that was 
 the object of the advertiser. 
 
 'Forty-four claret, if you take enough of 
 it, is apt to produce peculiar sensations with 
 most men. On the evening of the mesmeric
 
 PUMPIXGTOX. 71 
 
 performance Jack Halston and his friends 
 had been indulging pretty freely; and 
 though it left them sober enough, in the 
 strict sense of the word, still it had brought 
 out the characteristic qualities of each. 
 Halston nearly induced the waiter to stand 
 up to him for five minutes, at about a shilling 
 a minute, before leaving the hotel ; Crack- 
 enthorpe indulged in a series of " tally-ho's" 
 and view-hallos, of different kinds ; and 
 Munster exhibited such a latent taste for 
 practical joking, as to have bonneted two 
 mild-looking gentlemen on the way, and to 
 have sent a policeman in search of a loose 
 donkey, which had found its way on to the 
 pavement at the top of the Parade. As he 
 justly observed, upon a remonstrance, " if 
 he doesn't find several, it will be the first 
 time in my life that the place has been free 
 from them at this hour." 
 
 In these remarkably good spirits, having 
 turned down one street and up another, 
 they arrived at the room set apart for such 
 entertainments. It was very large, quite 
 full, and admirably lighted. All the aristo-
 
 72 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 cracy of the town, and a little of tlie country, 
 were already present, ahd Mr. Sharp was 
 just about to begin. There, in the front 
 seats, were the Sparkeses, and the Bulrushes, 
 the Joneses, and young Falconberg Smith, 
 with a few of his followers ; and on the 
 other side was the strong opposition party 
 of jovial middle-aged fathers and mothers, 
 your steeplechasing fast young fellows, and 
 the independent girlhood of Pumpington. 
 There was an Irish peer, of only moderate 
 means, with a daughter, now past mark 
 of tooth ; two baronets, one a recent im- 
 portation from some West Indian property, 
 where he had lived all his life; two or 
 three cavalry oflScers, an imbecile honour- 
 able, a physician, and the scientific sceptics, 
 who were come to be convinced, of course. 
 Everybody was in a fever of impatience; 
 and as soon as Crackenthorpe, Halston, and 
 Munster had taken their places, a red-headed 
 gentleman, with a portentous beard, and 
 calling himself Philip Sharp, Esq., F.R.S., 
 A.S.S.,F.S.A., came forward in an elaborate 
 shirt-frill, and addressed the audience.
 
 PUMPIXGTOX. 73 
 
 " Ladies and Gentlemen " — but I need 
 hardly take my reader through the intri- 
 cacies of electro-biology, magnetism, mes- 
 merism, and spirit-rapping. Every one knows 
 how remarkable are its phenomena, and how 
 palpably they bear the impress of truth. 
 He directed their attention to the facts 
 elicited by Dr. EUiotson, Baron Dupotet, 
 Mr. Hare Townsend, and a few other great 
 practitioners. He said a great deal about 
 '* cerebro-spinal centres, and the respiratory 
 and muscular systems," and compared them 
 with the " hypothesis of nervous fluid, in- 
 fluenced by extraneous volition ; " with a 
 few other little phrases of that kind, which 
 prove clearly that the devil is a great master 
 of the English language, if he is nothing 
 else. The scientific shook their heads, the 
 women trembled, and the scorners only 
 kicked one another under the seats, and 
 wondered "how the Professor's teeth felt 
 after that last jawbreaker." There could be 
 no doubt in his mind that the age of miracu- 
 lous power had not yet passed away. And 
 if a wooden-legged table could be made to
 
 74 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 dance a reel with a kitclien dresser, there 
 was nothing very extraordinary in seeing a 
 natural cripple assume his just proportions 
 under its influence ; if ignorant people were 
 enabled to read the contents of a letter 
 through half-a-dozen sealed envelopes, it 
 was not extraordinary that gentlemen of 
 education should be compelled, in a state of 
 somnolency, to describe their own peculiar 
 feelings, as well as those of other people 
 with whom they are en rapport ; and if they 
 can be taught to forget their own names, 
 homes, and existences, and assume the 
 names and idiosyncracies of other people, it 
 is not remarkable that they should be cap- 
 able of giving a correct and authentic ac- 
 count of people, places, and circumstances 
 which belong to quite another planet. " In 
 fact, ladies and gentleman," concluded this 
 very free-and-easy and rather good-looking 
 professor of the black art, " I shall be able 
 to show you persons this evening unknown 
 to me, but known to yourselves, under every 
 degree of mesmeric influence, from the
 
 PUMPIXGTOX. 75 
 
 highest intelligence to the most hopeless 
 state of idiotcy, and which can be induced 
 and dissipated by my will." " Now, ladies 
 and gentlemen," resumed this modern necro- 
 mancer, after a pause, " I shall show you at 
 once something inconceivable to the unen- 
 lightened. I am a stranger here, compara- 
 tively, having had but some half-dozen 
 evenings. But there is a certain Mr. Box 
 who is peculiarly susceptible, so much so, 
 that I can bring Box to me at any time or 
 place by simple volition. " Is Mr. Box 
 here to-night ? " 
 
 " Yes," said a cheerful voice at the fur- 
 ther end of the room, which was imme- 
 diately followed by a scuffling of feet, and 
 the elevation of a very stupid face, and 
 rather a dirty one. 
 
 " Now, Box, resist if you can." 
 
 Box endeavoured to get out at once, of 
 course ; but, not succeeding with that alac- 
 rity which he had shown on former occa- 
 sions, Mr. Sharp got alarmed, and again 
 invoked him.
 
 76 
 
 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 '* Come, Box, why don't you come^ sir ? " 
 
 " Cos this 'ere young 'ooman's petticoats 
 won't let me." 
 
 But whether Box at that moment heard 
 the chink of a half-sovereign or not, we 
 can't say ; we only know that, with his eyes 
 wildly glaring at Sharp, he made his rush, 
 and he went down the length of the room 
 at such a pace, that when he reached the 
 platform he caught his toe in the top step, 
 and fell head foremost into the pit of Pro- 
 fessor Sharp's stomach, doubling him up 
 and grassing him at once. 
 
 " There," said he, when he got his wind 
 again, " that's a power of attraction seldom 
 seen to such an extent. Sit down, Box, 
 and go to sleep immediately." Box almost 
 snored. 
 
 " Such is the power of science," said he, 
 pointing to the slumbering imbecile ; but 
 whether he meant his own or Box's was 
 never determined. Then came an invitation 
 to any gentlemen to present themselves for 
 experiment; and about twenty of all sorts 
 made their way to the platform, where a
 
 PUMPINGTON-. 77 
 
 sufficiency of seats was found for their ac- 
 commodation. 
 
 ''Will you go, Tom, if I do?" asked 
 Munster with a sobriety of voice which be- 
 lied his sensations. 
 
 "To be ^'sure I will," said Cracks, who 
 felt inclined for anything ; " come along, 
 Halston." 
 
 " Not I," said Jack ; " I'm deuced near 
 asleep already : I'll stop and dream here." 
 
 Meantime Box was put through his evo- 
 lutions. He laughed and cried, was ordered 
 to feel hot, and got all his clothes off, ex- 
 cepting his trousers, which were kept on by 
 the Professor shouting — " All right, Box ! " 
 who returned to his ordinary senses and 
 temperament, until he was ordered to feel 
 cold, when he shivered, and, after rolKng 
 himself up, under the steps of the platform, 
 set light to the tails of his coat in warming 
 himself at the candles. He fought the Pro- 
 fessor as Heenan, and, fortunately for that 
 gentleman under the influence of Mesmer, 
 missed all the upper cuts. He sang a song 
 in his sleep on the subject of one George
 
 78 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 Barnwell, which commenced in a sufficiently 
 lugubrious manner, but which was becoming 
 so exceedingly lively towards the third or 
 fourth verse that the Professor was com- 
 pelled to shout " All right, Box ! " to save the 
 credit of his performance, with Mr. Falcon- 
 berg Smith and the young ladies of the party ; 
 and he drove a team down the steps of the 
 dais, and upset it in the lap of fat Mrs. Purvis, 
 who sat in the front row. The would-be 
 coachman was, however, woke up this time 
 by a regular nose-polisher from Purvis him- 
 self, a sceptical grocer of six feet two, and 
 weighing some sixteen stone, who added a 
 word of advice, in which "infernal hum- 
 bug" was easily distinguishable. Box did 
 not go to sleep again that evening — on that 
 side of the room at least. As Professor 
 Sharp came along the line, making passes 
 with his hands down this man's face, 
 squeezing the temples of that, and turning 
 the eyelids of a third inside out, it occurred 
 to both Crackenthorpe and Munster that 
 they had seen something very like that face 
 before. Munster avowed as much ; Cracks,
 
 PUMPIXGTON. 79 
 
 resolutely bent on not going to sleep, took 
 less notice, and was shortly dismissed as an 
 incorrigible wide-awake, with several more. 
 Half-a-dozen remained on the platform in 
 various attitudes of profound repose, and, 
 strange to say, Bobby Munster himself, 
 among them, was at length caught napping. 
 No one who knew him, or rather who did 
 not know him very well, could have believed 
 it possible that he could have looked so sub- 
 limely idiotic. He was no great beauty, 
 but deficiency of brains was not the charac- 
 teristic of his physiognomy. 
 
 To a close observer, as Mr. Sharp ad- 
 vanced along the row of the seven sleepers, 
 a look of surprise and a certain hesitation of 
 manner might have been observed when he 
 stood opposite Crackenthorpe and Munster. 
 He recovered himself immediately, however 
 — ^not before he detected an irrepressible 
 desire to laugh in the face of the latter. He 
 regarded it as a good sign, and, as we have 
 just said, Crackenthorpe was sent back, and 
 received in congratulatory folds of crinoline 
 on his presence of mind, whilst Munster
 
 80 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 remained as a very promising medium on 
 tlie platform. 
 
 After several antics of the same fashion 
 as those of Box by various young men, who 
 had all seen Professor Sharp for the first 
 time, of course, and with whom there could 
 be no possible collusion, he called upon our 
 friend Bob. 
 
 " This gentleman is a stranger to me." 
 
 Here Bobby opened his eyes, and almost 
 winked ; however, he refrained from un- 
 seemly merriment, either from his devotion 
 to science, or his respect for his audience. 
 
 " What is your name, sir ? Speak out, if 
 you please." 
 
 " Munster," ^replied our friend, cheerfully 
 and audibly enough. 
 
 " Are you a native of Pumpington, Mr. 
 Munster ? " 
 
 " Not exactly." 
 
 Bobby began to think of the judge and 
 jury, or his friend Mr. Hall and the Bow 
 Street police court. 
 
 ''Be so good as to close your eyes — quite 
 close. Thank you."
 
 PUMPIXGTOX. 81 
 
 He paused a moment, walked to him, lifted 
 the lids. 
 
 " See any green ? " said Bob. 
 
 The people laughed, and the Professor 
 pressed his hand closely upon his head, 
 where he held it. In a minute or two he 
 said — " I think you stated your name to be 
 Munster. Do you recollect your name, sir, 
 now ? " 
 
 And he drew his open hand sharply down 
 within six inches of his face. Bobby was 
 silent ; and the company. Cracks among 
 them, opened their eyes and ears with 
 curiosity. 
 
 '' What is your name, sir ? " 
 _ " Sparkes." 
 
 " Where do you live ? " 
 
 " Pumpington." 
 
 " What are you ? " 
 
 " A flat-catcher." 
 
 " What's that, sir ? " 
 
 " A lawyer," replied the medium. 
 
 " What do you feel ? what are your sen- 
 sations ? " 
 
 " Like the biggest thief in England." 
 
 VOL. II. a
 
 82 A BOX FOR THE SEASOJs^. 
 
 Here there was another round of ap- 
 plause, at Sparkes's expense, in which, how- 
 ever, much to his credit, Munster did not 
 join. 
 
 " Be good enough to come to me." Mun- 
 ster didn't move. " Come, sir, you must 
 come. You shall come." 
 
 The Professor seemed quite as much in 
 earnest as his medium, who closed his 
 fists, strained his muscles, and stood ap- 
 parently with some difficulty rooted to the 
 spot. 
 
 *' Do you see that, sir ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Bob again, with his eyes as 
 closed as ever ; " I do." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 Here the Professor held up a large en- 
 velope. 
 
 " A woodcock," replied Bobby. 
 
 " I call it a letter. So I am disappointed, 
 ladies and gentlemen, this time." And he 
 began to explain the differences of partial or 
 perfect somnambulism, clairvoyance, hell- 
 sehen (very improper language, as young 
 Welby the curate remarked to old Mr.
 
 PUMPIXGTOX. 83 
 
 Drinkwater the cliurcliwarden), and allge- 
 mein klarheit, or perfect lucidity. 
 
 " So do I see a letter, but I see inside it 
 too," said Bobby. 
 
 " All ! Mr. Munster, and what is it ? " 
 
 " A long bill, a lawyer's bill, or a coach- 
 maker's, I can't see which," said the me- 
 dium. 
 
 " Will you state the amount ? " 
 
 " Seventy-five pounds thirteen shillings 
 and fourpence ; and the name ' Sparkes,' to 
 be sure. I wrote it myself ; and very much 
 ashamed of myself I am." 
 
 " Bless my heart ! ladies and gentlemen," 
 said the Professor, with well-feigned be- 
 wilderment, " this is the most extraordinary 
 case of pseudo-identification I ever witnessed ; 
 he still thinks himself Lawyer Sparkes, 
 wherever he may be." 
 
 " Eight, sir ! " roared Mr. Sharp. 
 
 Bobby was himself in a moment. 
 
 " Who are you ? " 
 
 " Munster, v.f Ballynahinch." 
 
 " And what do you see, Mr. Munster^ 
 now ? " 
 
 G 2
 
 84 A BOX FOR THE SEASON". 
 
 " One of the greatest impostors I ever set 
 eyes on," said Bobby, opening his eyes, and 
 staring at the Professor. 
 
 The company rose with one accord, a gentle 
 hiss expanded into a prolonged execration, 
 the back benches began to yell, the ladies 
 made a rush for the door ; and, just as the 
 excitement was becoming serious, Mr. Sharp 
 made a sudden dive through a door in the 
 back of the platform, and was seen no more. 
 Munster and Crackenthorpe found them- 
 selves in the street. " Bobby, I'm going to 
 hunt to-morrow ; now, as your horses are 
 lame, I'd advise you to cut it ; for it's just 
 possible that you and the Professor may 
 figure in the police-sheet, unless old Sparkes 
 insists upon behaving like a gentleman, and 
 shooting you both. At all events, I'd advise 
 you to go ; for you'll be very bad company 
 in Pumpington for the next day or two, at 
 all events." 
 
 ** You're right, Tom ; but I couldn't resist 
 the inclination."
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 MISPLACED COXFIDENCE. 
 
 When Tom Crackentliorpe proceeded to 
 make his toilet for Sir Shakesby Somer- 
 ville's meet, it was curious to observe the 
 care he bestowed upon it, and the different 
 result produced from that which rewarded 
 his exertions on the first morning's hunting 
 in Mr. Bumby's country. No man knew 
 better the distinction between Gorsehamp- 
 tonshire and Pumpington ; and the pro- 
 vincial adornment of his person for the 
 latter might be considered a test of his 
 appreciation of its depth and dirt. Even 
 to his horse the same marked distinction 
 might be observed. 
 
 " A good, coarse, ordinary-looking beast, 
 that looks lost without the pole-chains, will 
 do for that country," said he to his man
 
 86 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 Billy ; and, accordingly, Mr. Drinkwater 
 sent over the brougham - horse, a useful 
 animal, and in good condition — for mac- 
 adamizing. 
 
 " Leathers ? " said Tom, soliloquising — 
 ''not on any consideration. We must be 
 in what they call a bottom before the end 
 of the day, and it's chiefly red clay — looks 
 like tripe and tomato - sauce." Then he 
 turned over the portmanteau, which had 
 arrived only that morning. " Yes, that's 
 right, the old black coat ; quite good enough 
 for these duffers. Ah ! here's the breeches ; 
 them's the jockeys for Pumpington," con- 
 tinued he, surveying with great satisfac- 
 tion some dark strong cords, which smelt 
 strongly of Monmouth Street, having been 
 really laid in stock for bog-shooting in 
 Ireland. " Can't do them much harm ; 
 and I shan't be mistaken for a Pumpington 
 swell. By Jove ! how comfortable they 
 are, after all ! Come on," added he, apos- 
 trophizing an old boot, which hung fire for 
 a minute ; " come on, — you've been this road 
 before pretty often. Now for the choker.
 
 MISPLACED COXFIDEXCE. 87 
 
 Let's see — no ; that's too neat. "White ! ah, 
 white it must be, after the G — S — 's 
 pattern ! Little too much of the church 
 about it, too ; high-class clergyman, eh ? 
 No ; I think the breeches will settle that 
 point. Come, that's not so bad, after all ! 
 I wish to goodness I had a neat gaiter 
 now, instead of these brown boots ; nothing 
 like a neat gaiter for doing the rough like 
 a gentleman, I do believe," said Tom, 
 buttoning the penultimate button of his 
 dark-checked waistcoat, and preparing to 
 descend. " Never saw a man jump a fence 
 in a pair of gaiters in my life ; I wonder 
 how it looks ? " 
 
 I hardly see the reason for this inconsis- 
 tency of the upper man with the lower in 
 these sporting matters ; yet, true it is, they 
 are in vogue with the best men — 
 
 " Ut turpiter atrum, 
 Desinat in piscem mulier formosa superne." 
 
 And so far from laughing when they ^be- 
 hold, our friends applaud it. However, 
 there was Tom Crackenthorpe, looking like
 
 88 A BOX FOR THE SEASOX. 
 
 a bum-bailiff going to a prayer-meeting, or 
 a parson about to enact a bum-bailiff ; and 
 having swallowed bis breakfast, be went 
 into the stables of the ' Prince Regent,' to 
 get on Busy Bee, the famous brougham- 
 horse in question, 
 
 " I wonder whether that ass, Mr. Falcon- 
 berg Smith, will be at this place or not ? " 
 
 Just then Smith rode by on the very 
 neatest of light-weight carriers, dressed in 
 the pink of fashion, and looking as little 
 like Tom Crackenthorpe as can well be 
 conceived. 
 
 " Well, that's a comfort," said Tom ; " I 
 flatter myself we shall be known apart." 
 
 Just then old Sparkes passed. 
 
 " What in the world's he doing down 
 here at this time of day ? " thought Tom, 
 tightening his girths. " Oh, I forgot, it's 
 a late meet, so it is ; and he's been com- 
 mitting a robbery betimes. By-the-bye, I'd 
 better ask him at once to Lushenham, or 
 he'll think I'm concerned in that fool 
 Munster's performance. There's lots of 
 time ; I'll call as I go up."
 
 MISPLACED CONFIDEXCE. 89 
 
 So Tom mounted the Busy Bee. 
 
 " How are you ? how are you ? — dehghted 
 to see you. Come in for ten minutes — 
 plenty of time. Come in and say ' How d'ye 
 do ? ' to Mrs. Sparkes, and have a glass of 
 her orange-brandy — famous stuff ! " said old 
 Sparkes, smacking his lips ; " and she'll be 
 quite offended if you don't come in." 
 
 So Tom got down, and, surrendering him- 
 self to Sparkes and his fate, and the Busy 
 Bee to an incompetent Buttons, he found 
 himself the centre of a very attractive 
 circle. 
 
 "My dear Mr. Crackenthorpe," said 
 Mrs. Sparkes. 
 
 And the whole family and party plunged 
 at once into the weather, and the intended 
 procession from the Bricklayers' Arms to 
 the Paddington Terminus. 
 
 " Mrs. Sparkes, I hope we shall persuade 
 your husband to come over and have a day 
 at Lushenham. I can manage a capital 
 mount for him, and a bed ; or, as we hope 
 to have some steeplechases later, I think he 
 may prefer that."
 
 90 A BOX FOR THE SEASOX. 
 
 "Eeally, you're very good, very good. 
 You know," and here the lady giggled 
 hysterically, " Sparkes is entirely his own 
 master. I'm sure it's very kind of you, 
 and — and — Pa, dear." 
 
 " My love ? " 
 
 At this juncture Sparkes straddled into 
 the room, a very Winkle of propriety in 
 costume ; white cords (that's the real old 
 jam), white tops, striped waistcoat, checked 
 neckcloth, and bright scarlet coat, uncon- 
 scious of mud or stains. 
 
 " My love," said she, smiling on all 
 around, ^4iere's Mr. Crackenthorpe hopes 
 you'll go to Lushenham ; he offers a mount, 
 and all sorts of good things, and you ai^e 
 to go." 
 
 Had any one seen the " aside " she cast 
 at him, they would have understood that he 
 was to go. 
 
 Amelia appeared in the doorway, booted 
 and spurred. 
 
 " What ! are you going ? " said Sparkes, 
 evidently quite astonished at this new 
 vision.
 
 MISPLACED CONFIDEXCE. 91 
 
 " Of course she is, Mr. Sparkes, unless 
 you've some particular objection." 
 
 " Only, my dear, that the — the — bay 
 mare's not quite sound, and — " 
 
 " Fiddle-de-dee, Sparkes ; the bay mare's 
 quite as sound as yourself, I've no doubt ; " 
 and the lady again gave him the benefit of 
 both eyes — barrels, I was about to say — in 
 the waistcoat. 
 
 " You mean, dear, that the bay mare's 
 the better horse ; however, we'll manage. 
 What with Crackenthorpe, and Smith, and 
 Halston, and old Grumbleton, it's hard if 
 I don't find some one to take care of 
 Amelia." 
 
 The latter part of this sentence the old 
 gentleman muttered to himself. It is but 
 justice to Amelia to say that, beyond 
 looking at Falconberg Smith and Tom 
 Crackenthorpe, she took no part in the dis- 
 cussion. She was trying to make up her 
 mind — a large parcel. When ^ve or six 
 people have to get on as many horses, with 
 a shortness of hands in the stable depart- 
 ment, it takes a few minutes more than is
 
 92 A BOX FOR THE SEASON". 
 
 calculated on. When a lady is of the party, 
 the difficulty is increased. Amelia first 
 forgot her handkerchief ; then had got odd 
 gloves, which had to be changed ; then was 
 nearly pitched on to the other side of her 
 horse by Mr. Smith, and had to be pushed 
 back by the gardener, to whom this process 
 of propagation was new ; and finally lost at 
 least Rye minutes in adjusting a refractory 
 stirrup, which had been last used by her 
 short-legged friend Patty Blenkiron. Fal- 
 conberg Smith found her a pin, and Tom 
 Crackenthorpe affixed to her habit a small 
 bunch of violets. In this form they started 
 for Shakesby Court. 
 
 Shakesby Court was a very nice place, 
 seven miles from Pumpington. There was 
 not a woman at the Spa who could not 
 have directed you safely to it, and who 
 would not have taken it with all its incum- 
 brances. It was really a very good house, 
 newly built by the reigning baronet. Its 
 woods and glades were the talk of the town 
 at the present time ; and its beauties en- 
 hanced by the certainty of finding a fox in
 
 MISPLACED CONFIDENCE. 93 
 
 them. Towards this centre all the energy 
 of the Pumpington party was directed. No 
 sooner had they quitted the small round 
 stones which enliven the dullest equitation 
 with the hope of lameness or a fall, than 
 the young lady started at what she would 
 have described as a gentle canter. Of 
 course she took the middle of the road, 
 leaving the greasy turf on the side to her 
 suite. It had the advantage of two days' 
 frost and two hours' thaw, and was not the 
 safest ground in the world for a fall. How- 
 ever on they went. Amelia rode a horse 
 of her own ; her father a cob, which would 
 not be wanted again for a day or two ; 
 Jack Halston his favourite hunter ; and 
 Tom Crackenthorpe the only one that he 
 had. Mr. Falconberg Smith had only 
 three horses out, so that it behoved him to 
 be particular about pace. She neither 
 slackened rein, nor drew bit, till she arrived 
 at Shakesby. Tom's horse was in for a good 
 baking, and he swore that should be his last 
 ride with Amelia Sparkes. Let us see what 
 the rest of the party had to say to it.
 
 94 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 Old Sparkes had but one object in view 
 — the getting rid of his daughter. He did 
 not object to it for the day, but preferred it 
 for good. He had made up his mind that 
 some one else should ride with her through 
 the run ; but whether Smith or Oracken- 
 thorpe were the most eligible party he was 
 at a loss to say. At any rate, Smith was 
 the man more easily caught of the two. 
 Amelia herself was in a very comfortable 
 frame of mind, and would have accepted 
 either. Of course she had a preference, 
 but it is not necessary to state it. She 
 was a fine, showy-looking girl, with nerve 
 enough to have tackled Smith himself; and 
 I know nothing so difficult to manage as a 
 fool. But she really liked Tom the better 
 of the two, and preferred Bobby Munster 
 to either of them. She attributed the 
 evening at the electro-biologist's to super- 
 natural influence, and was not disposed to 
 be hard on his talents in a social point of 
 view. 
 
 Tom was spoony, but not hopelessly so. 
 He had occasionally drunk out of the same
 
 MISPLACED CONFIDENCE. 95 
 
 cup, and had even eaten out of the same 
 plate, and acted the donkey; but he was 
 not past recovery, and counter-irritation 
 was doing great things for him : the widow 
 was a sort of intermittent bhster. Mr. 
 Falconberg Smith was desperately in love, 
 far the best match, and his ample fortune 
 was worth two of Crackenthorpe's ; for he 
 would never have spent two-thirds, and the 
 other would have managed to get through 
 at least five-fourths of his income. Besides 
 which, dear Falconberg was such a " do- 
 mestic creature," as Mrs. Sparkes called 
 him ; and certainly gave one the idea of an 
 early specimen of the gorilla tribe, caught 
 young, and easily domesticated in the zoo- 
 logical gardens of social life. 
 
 Falconberg Smith himself, though in 
 love, was in a hazy state between matri- 
 mony and permanent desertion. As he 
 was not in debt, a rapid flight would have 
 settled the first, and have been the natural 
 forerunner of the second. Not having 
 taken either plunge, we have him with us 
 to-day as an attendant cavalier.
 
 96 A BOX FOR THE SEASON". 
 
 " Very nice person — Sir Shakesby," said 
 Amelia Sparkes, " and waltzes deliciously." 
 
 " Ya-as," said Smith, and pulled u]3 his 
 collars. 
 
 " Not a bad fellow," said Tom, aloud — 
 " selfish beggar ! " sotto voce. 
 
 And so he was. He was one of those 
 naturally self - indulgent men who get 
 everything that is to be got out of their 
 friends at as small a cost of personal incon- 
 venience as possible ; and, from a swagger- 
 ing habit of spending quantities of money 
 entirely upon themselves, have acquired 
 the name of '* capital fellows ! " They are 
 the very pests of society. With plenty, 
 they are always suggesting extravagant 
 amusements to their friends who can less 
 easily afford them, and are never known 
 to pay anybody's share but their own. Sir 
 Shakesby was never known to say " no " to 
 anything. He went everywhere, and did 
 everything, very jovially and very care- 
 lessly ; and he never returned a favour or 
 did a kindness in his life that he could 
 possibly avoid. He was a rollicking blade,
 
 MISPLACED CONFIDENCE. 97 
 
 always in want of something ; always 
 ordering this, that, and the other — cigars, 
 whips, champagne, and jewellery — and 
 sending them to Shakesby Court, where 
 they formed part of an extensive domestic 
 collection. 
 
 Once a year, as Sir Shakesby never 
 omitted an opportunity of dining or sleep- 
 ing in the best houses in Pumpington and 
 its neighbourhood, he found it necessary to 
 give a set-off, and he thought the most 
 economical method was to have a late meet 
 of the hounds and a great breakfast ; where 
 very moderate gooseberry performed the 
 part of Moet or Clicquot, and at which he 
 was quite sure that two-thirds of his guests 
 would be satisfied with walking into his 
 house and admiring the pictures. Heavy 
 breakfasts are quite gone out of fashion ; 
 and when men require jumping powder it 
 is customary to make the cartridge as small 
 as you possibly can. Not to be there, how- 
 ever, and not to be seen at Sir Shakesby 's, 
 was to be nobody ; and to be nobody at 
 Pumpington was a crime of which few of 
 
 VOL. II. H
 
 98 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 the dwellers in tliat charming city would 
 knowingly have been guilty. 
 
 The present was one of these festive 
 occasions. Everybody, men and women, 
 who could be considered on the visiting-list, 
 got off their horses : and half the cads of 
 the county were present, earning honest 
 sixpences and shillings for once in their 
 lives. The Sparkes party, of course, as 
 part of the legal adviser and agent of the 
 baronet, arrived in great form ; and Smith 
 and Crackenthorpe were greeted on their 
 arrival with that joyous hilarity which 
 really meant — " Well, here you are, and 
 make the most of it ; you won't owe me 
 much if you finish the table. But I'm Sir 
 Shakesby Somerville, and don't mean to be 
 proud. Sit down, old fellow, and have a 
 kidney. Glass of champagne. Smith ? Join 
 us, Cracks ? Mr. Sparkes, do me the favour 
 to take care of your daughter. Hopkins, 
 tea to Miss Sparkes directly ; and see that 
 the servants are taken care of when the 
 hounds arrive." The fact is, that if a man 
 has sufficient courage to be thoroughly self-
 
 MISPLACED COXFIDENCE. 99 
 
 indulgent with one hand, and will shake 
 his fellows heartily with the other, he may 
 be member for any county in England. If 
 a man lives like a screw, and wears a 
 threadbare coat, in order to give funds to 
 the county hospital, to clothe the naked 
 and feed the hungry, the world will profit 
 by his liberality, and raise a monument to 
 him when he is dead ; but they won't give 
 him a vote while living, and will prefer 
 that young spendthrift, whose uproarious 
 mirth and discriminating generosity have 
 made him a roaring lion out of a golden 
 calf. Money must be spent ; and if you 
 want the world to see that it is so, you 
 can't do better than make yourself the 
 recipient of your own bounty. 
 
 In the course of an hour or so the rosy 
 gills of the gentlemen and the diminished 
 clatter of plates gave unequivocal notice 
 that the business of the day was nearly over, 
 and the play about to begin. " One more 
 glass, Tippler, and then we'll join the la- 
 dies," said Sir Shakesby to a gentleman who 
 had got throgh about half his usual allow- 
 
 H 2
 
 100 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 ance. " It's the dog pack this morning, I 
 rather think," rejoined Tippler, attaching 
 himself still to his champagne, and ignoring 
 the delicate hint conveyed in the invitation 
 to drink. However, as there were plenty 
 there who were heartily sick of the coffee- 
 room, and anxious for the fray. Tippler was 
 in a minority, and the majority rose from 
 the table at once. Then came the nsual 
 '' one more glass of sherry," or " a trifle of 
 that cherry brandy, just to settle the pigeon 
 pie," and everybody was involved in hunt- 
 ing the beaver. The style of Pumpington 
 hat worn at the cover side by men and 
 women is sufficiently diversified in form to 
 simplify this investigation. There was no 
 necessity for trying half-a-dozen Lincoln- 
 and-Bennets, or Locks, or Chapman-and- 
 Moores, or Andres, to ascertain which was 
 the right fit. The worst accident that 
 could happen was the possibility that Mr. 
 Smith might have changed pork-pies with 
 Miss Jones, or that Miss Fakeaway's round 
 wide-awake, having been accidentally spoiled 
 of its feather, might find its way on to
 
 MISPLACED CONFIDEXCE. 101 
 
 little Captain Buggins's head. Beyond this, 
 casualties were impossible. In a very few 
 minutes the guests were mounting their 
 horses, and the host was inspecting the half- 
 dozen of champagne which Mr. Hopkins 
 asserted to be all that remained over and 
 above to those who had drunk. He had 
 forgotten another odd half-dozen that was 
 lying accidentally in a cupboard in the 
 housekeeper's room. 
 
 Falconberg Smith had found his groom, 
 and his hunter, a new one, and one of the 
 very best-looking horses out — as indeed he 
 ought to have been for the money. He 
 looked ten per cent, better for the cham- 
 pagne he had drunk ; and as he was scrupu- 
 lously correct in all his habits, this morning's 
 potations were not without their effect. A 
 seasoned vessel like Tom Crackenthorpe had 
 nothing to regret but the plebeian appear- 
 ance of himself and Busy Bee, by the side 
 of so much elegance as that of his com- 
 panions. I forget whether I mentioned a 
 slight stammer as a peculiarity of Smith ; if 
 not, it's worth noticing, as giving a charac-
 
 102 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 ter to some of liis remarks, and as a dead 
 lock to love-making, on which he was 
 evidently bent. It was not long before 
 Tom was made to understand that he was 
 de trop. 
 
 " Yery nice horse that of yours," at 
 length said Tom, by way of joining a little 
 in the conversation, which had been carried 
 on rather after the sotto voce fashion. 
 
 " I gave Grimsby three hundred for him," 
 said Smith, hammering away, and rather 
 impeded by champagne in his utterance. 
 " He calls him Sus-sus-sustulit : rather a 
 curious name, isn't it ? " 
 
 '' Yes, it is a curious name. He's not an 
 Italian -bred un', is he?" said Cracken- 
 thorpe, eyeing Sustulit with considerable 
 envy. 
 
 " No, not that I know of," replied his 
 owner, quite abroad at the classical allusion. 
 You see Smith's was the modern school of 
 education. 
 
 "" Not much of a Roman nose either," 
 added Tom. " What an extraordinary 
 name !"
 
 MISPLACED COXFIDEXCE. 103 
 
 '' Grimsby christened liim — I didn't. He 
 said he called him so because he came from 
 Tollit ; but I don't know what he meant." 
 
 " Oh, comes from Tollit, does he ? " said 
 Tom, suddenly brightening up, with a cu- 
 rious twinkle. " Comes from Tollit ? then 
 I know the horse, and I'll tell you really 
 why they call him Sustulit — because he 
 * Hfts ' so infernally. SustuHt's the Latin 
 for a kicker." 
 
 The last of the Falconbergs turned a 
 shade paler, and Amelia Sparkes followed 
 suit. At that moment toot-toot went the 
 horn; and as the servants galloped past 
 with the pack, and the field set their horses 
 into quicker motion, Sustulit gave a bound 
 or two of satisfaction, much to his owner's 
 discomfort, and to the credit of his own 
 name. Not a bad shot of Tom Cracken- 
 thorpe. 
 
 Having subsided into himself, the horse 
 once more allowed a little playful badinage 
 to take place between his rider and Miss 
 Sparkes. Of course the old gentleman had 
 got out of the way. Halston and the others
 
 104 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 of the original party had sought other plea- 
 sures than the delicate eloquence of Mr. 
 Smith. Tom alone remained ; and the 
 champagne — that stimulator of the imagina- 
 tion — had called up before his mind's eye 
 the past and the future, to the exclusion of 
 the present. 
 
 " Amelia ! " sighed Smith. 
 
 The fortunate possessor of that name 
 looked away. 
 
 " Now it's coming/' thought she — " Mr. 
 Smith." 
 
 '* Why-why-why so formal ? Why not 
 Dud-dud-dud " 
 
 ^' Oh ! indeed, I can't. I — I — ought not 
 to — there, then, Dudley ! " 
 
 Tom was well in front, a couple of 
 lengths, and wondering how he should get 
 away without appearing to do so. There 
 was a fence in front of him, and a gate 
 a hundred yards to the left at the bot- 
 tom of the wood. The field was going 
 through the gate, and thither Amelia and 
 her lover were sure to wend their way. 
 Good easy souls ! they saw neither gate nor
 
 MISPLACED CONFIDENCE. 105 
 
 fence. Smith saw a woman, and Amelia 
 saw ten thousand a-year beside her. 
 
 ^' Yes, dearest AmeHa ! let me tell you 
 now" — [At that moment Cracks went at 
 the fence] — " in the sol-sol-solitude of this 
 gay crowd, how much I lo-lo-lo — wo-ah 1 
 gently ! " 
 
 They were close to the fence, without 
 seeing it ; and as the Busy Bee lit safely on 
 the other side of it, Sustulit rushed straight 
 for the same place. The horse stopped 
 short, and Falconberg Smith shot headlong 
 into a ditch four feet deep, and quite full of 
 water. Having safely deposited his master, 
 Sustulit jumped the lot at a stand, and can- 
 tered after Crackenthorpe. 
 
 As the hounds were not running, there 
 was no lack of assistance and condolence ; 
 and when the unconscious Narcissus, who 
 had looked at himself in the water, was 
 dragged out, he was overwhelmed with 
 advice and sympathy. Nobody laughed ; 
 it's not the thing to do. Nobody broke 
 silence for a second, until that irreverent 
 Jack Halston exclaimed aloud —
 
 106 A BOX FOK THE SEASON. 
 
 '' What are you laughing at, gentlemen ? 
 such an accident might have happened to 
 any of us, you know. Bless my soul if 
 it isn't Smith ! Dudley, my boy, what 
 have you been doing in the water ? You 
 must have got your feet wet." They were 
 the only parts of him which had not been 
 thoroughly immersed. " You'd better go 
 home at once ; 'pon my soul you had. 
 You'll catch your death of cold if you stay 
 here. Here comes his horse." 
 
 " Amelia," said Sparkes, " you've had 
 enough riding ; perhaps Mr. Falconberg 
 Smith won't mind taking charge of you ? " 
 
 " Not at all — dehghted ! " said he, chatter- 
 ing as if he'd the ague already. " Where's 
 my horse, stupid brute ? " 
 
 " I told you what a brute he was," said 
 Tom, bringing him through the gate. 
 **' There, jump on mine. I know this fel- 
 low; send mine to Prince's stables when 
 you get home. Come up ! " said Tom, hallo- 
 ing at Sustulit, and hurrying away from 
 the scene of action ; the " Busy Bee will 
 keep you warm, if you only go home a
 
 MISPLACED COXFIDEXCE. 107 
 
 swing trot ; it's about what she's fit for. 
 Dash it ! it is a nice horse to sit upon. Now 
 for a run." 
 
 Dudley Greville Falconberg Smith was 
 too much astonished to refuse, and too cold 
 to finish his offer on the road home ; but a 
 fortnight later Amelia at an at-home got 
 him up to the mark ; and she keeps Mr. 
 Falconberg Smith in pretty tidy order up to 
 this day. 
 
 Tom liked his mount exceedingly, and 
 paid some well-merited compliments to Mr. 
 Smith's groom. 
 
 " Is my horse come in ? " said he, on 
 reaching the hotel. 
 
 " Yes, sir ; some time ago." 
 
 " What did Mr. Smith say of him ? " 
 
 " Didn't see him, sir," said the ostler : 
 " see the stud-groom, sir." 
 
 " Well, what did he say ? " 
 
 " Said he never saw such a brute in his 
 life. His master was so tired with ]3ulling 
 at him, he fainted when he got him up- 
 stairs." 
 
 " Order me something to go to the three
 
 108 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 o'clock train to-morrow. Why is Mr. Smith 
 here without his nnrse ? " muttered he to 
 himself, stamping the mud off his boots at 
 the door of his hotel. 
 
 The next thing was to see Mr. Jolly; 
 what could he have to say ? So Tom per- 
 formed another elaborate toilette. He was 
 determined to propitiate Jolly ; so he adorned 
 his lower person with the very tightest-fitting 
 trousers in his wardrobe. 
 
 " Well, they do look as if I wasn't to 
 be done easily," muttered he to himself. 
 " They'll wonder how I ever got my feet 
 into them : I didn't put 'em on over my 
 head either," added he, surveying them com- 
 placently. " These lace-up boots, too, give 
 a good deal of size to the feet ; though but- 
 tons are rather more horsey." 
 
 Tom Crackenthorpe had made up his 
 mind that an easy way to popularity with 
 the farmers of Lushenham and its neigh- 
 bourhood was by a steeplechase. Everybody 
 would have a chance of riding over his 
 friend's wheat ; so that the foxhunters would 
 have no pull in that respect, and, if it
 
 MISPLACED CONFIDENCE. 109 
 
 was but wet, they might hope to do some 
 damage. As to the gentlemen, as long as 
 they were able to put m a horse or two at 
 the finish of the season, they ought to be 
 satisfied ; and a horsedealer's stake would 
 bring out some young ones for the next 
 hunting season. Tom was remarkably 
 green in these matters, and much too honest 
 for the game he had in hand. 
 
 There are two kinds of steeplechasing. 
 The first is a good, wholesome, legitimate 
 sport, calculated to improve the breed of 
 horses and of men ; that is to say, if horses 
 are trained to run over a country like that 
 round Lushenham, with about 12 st. to 
 13 St. on their backs, they will be good 
 weight-carrying hunters, with a turn of 
 speed, if not quite thoroughbred. They 
 will be very serviceable horses to gentlemen 
 who wish to be carried safely and speedily 
 over Leicestershire or Northamptonshire. 
 So thought Tom Crackenthorpe, in his simpli- 
 city ; and such he determined should be the 
 conditions of the Lushenham meeting when- 
 ever it should take place. He didn't think
 
 110 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 much of the difficulties of his undertaking ; 
 for, having heard much of this sort of con- 
 versation from his friends, he very naturally 
 thought that they would do their utmost 
 to forward their own views, as well as his. 
 " There is but one object in steeplechasing," 
 said he to himself, " and of course everybody 
 hereabouts will promote it. We'll call a 
 committee when we get home." 
 
 There is also another view of steeple- 
 chasing not altogether in accordance with 
 the previous one. The course selected is to 
 be remarkably unlike a natural country. 
 The fences are to be made very easy, and 
 the weights are to vary, for starters, from 
 7 St. to 9 St. The variety of ground gone 
 over is to be as much in keeping with this 
 as possible ; nothing vulgar or heavy, and 
 ridge-and-furrow is to be especially avoided. 
 Ox-fences and stiff timber are forbidden; 
 but there is to be a moderate imitation of it, 
 in low rails and unsound fences. There is 
 to be a great competition for the friendship 
 of the handicapper, and a relinquishment of 
 all stakes and claims upon him in the event
 
 MISPLACED COXFIDENCE. Ill 
 
 of the favoured animal pulKng it off. This 
 sport is not intended for gentlemen, though 
 they occasionally indulge in it. It is in- 
 tended for the professional bookmakers, and 
 the possessors of weedy thoroughbreds 
 which have been given up as useless at 
 Newmarket Heath, unprofitable for the 
 hunting field or the stud ; but one of which, 
 delicately handled, is a positive fortune. 
 Tom was ignorant on some of these points, 
 and went to be enlightened. In the dusk of 
 the evening, an hour before dinner, he 
 reached the house of Mr. Jolly. 
 
 *..
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 HOW TO CHOOSE THE GROUND. 
 
 " Pray walk in, Mr. Crackenthorpe, walk 
 in, sir ; straight on, if you please," said that 
 worthy individual, as he escorted his visitor 
 through a bright, clean, well - lighted 
 saddler's shop, towards a comfortable back- 
 parlour. '^ Very happy to see you, sir ; 
 pray be seated ; there, keep your hat on, 
 Mr. Crackenthorpe. Ah ! you're not 
 ashamed of your head, I see ; when you 
 get to my time of life, sir — eh ! And what 
 shall I offer you, sir ? — one glass of good 
 old sherry ? a present from one of my 
 customers, old Lord Poundington. Not so 
 old either, egad ! he won a steeplechase in 
 Ireland only last week." And here Jolly 
 brightened up ; that is, as far as the most 
 decent suit of black and a very grave
 
 HOW TO CHOOSE THE GROUND. 113 
 
 metliodical-looking face would permit. He 
 miglit have been mistaken for an evan- 
 gelical missionary, as far as appearances 
 were concerned. 
 
 '' Thank you, Jolly," said our friend ; 
 " I will take a glass of that sherry and a 
 biscuit, for I shan't last till dinner, notwith- 
 standing Sir Shakesby's breakfast." 
 
 " Ah ! you have been there ! Well, for 
 my part, I don't care so much about it. 
 Now, a race-horse, Mr. Crackenthorpe — 
 there is something to look at in a thorough- 
 bred 'un." And the methodistical old 
 humbug sighed. 
 
 " There's a good deal more to look at in 
 some of those I saw to-day," said Mr. Jolly's 
 guest, reverting to the unpromising lot 
 which surrounded Sir Shakesby's law^n. 
 " You've spoilt the hunter by your light- 
 weight racing and steeplechasing, Jolly. 
 The thoroughbred ones are only fit to 
 carry your boots, and the half-bred ones 
 the whole of your wardrobe." 
 
 " Bless your heart, sir ! what does it 
 signify" — and Mr. Jolly's eyes twinkled 
 
 VOL. II. I
 
 114 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 at the rich harvests he had made, and which 
 were still in prospect — " what does it 
 signify, about this place, what you ride? 
 And you gents in the shires can always 
 get what you want ; leastways, by paying 
 for it." 
 
 " Still, I don't see the advantage of hav- 
 ing to give a hundred or two more for a 
 thing because you have made it so scarce. 
 That's not what the Agricultural Society 
 would call ' improving the breed of horses.' 
 What we want is a good-bred horse, that 
 can carry a man over a big country with- 
 out breaking his neck." 
 
 ''Well, now, what do you call a big 
 country, Mr. Crackenthorpe ? " 
 
 " Certainly not Liverpool, nor Leam- 
 ington, nor any made courses whatever ; 
 but a good natural four miles of hunting 
 country — say Market Harborough." 
 
 " Positively dangerous ; indeed it is, sir. 
 There was poor Martyr the jockey's wife 
 in tears all day at the last races ; and as to 
 poor Mrs. Dickenson, as soon as ever she 
 saw the brook she went into strong con-
 
 HOW TO CHOOSE THE GROUND. 115 
 
 vulsions, and there she's been ever since — 
 so they say, at least." Jolly sighed again, 
 and helped himself and Tom Crackenthorpe 
 to some more of the old brown sherry. 
 
 " Martyr and Dickenson are both funkers, 
 and only fit for Liverpool, where you are 
 more likely to be killed, but without think- 
 ing of it beforehand. Ask Mr. Bevill his 
 opinion of the Harboro' course, and he'll 
 tell you it's the fairest in England. But 
 now. Jolly, tell me what you want with me 
 about the Pumpington race." 
 
 This was so evidently a step in the right 
 direction, that Jolly immediately proceeded 
 to replenish the glasses again ; but Tom's 
 modesty was as remarkable as his temper- 
 ance, and he put in a feeble remonstrance. 
 " Just one more glass ; there's not a head- 
 ache in a butt of it. What we want, you 
 know, is to get the gentlemen of the neigh- 
 bourhood to patronize us ; and as you and 
 Mr. Munster arn't living far off, and you 
 has a taste for this sort of thing, we thought 
 you might give us a turn ; pon my word, 
 sir, you ought ; a great patron of the hunt- 
 
 I 2
 
 116 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 ing-field, and a young man just entering 
 life, as one may say, and a large fortune 
 and a good deal of influence (Tom felt the 
 warm- water trickling down his back), and 
 such a capital judge of all them things (the 
 sensations were growing pleasanter) ; upon 
 my word, sir, you ought to give us a 
 helpin hand." 
 
 " But what the deuce can I do ? What 
 is it you want ? I have a nomination." 
 
 " You must run a 'oss, you must, indeed, 
 Mr. Orackenthorpe ; and we'll make you a 
 steward next year." 
 
 Tom felt again a satisfactory sensation, 
 and took another glass of sherry at Jolly's 
 request. In fact, this last hit about the 
 stewardship was a clencher ; and the worthy 
 saddler. Clerk of the Course, and Handi- 
 capper in Ordinary to the Pumpington 
 Committee had played his last card but 
 one before finishing the game. 
 
 Such a flattering suggestion to a young 
 man was likely to make an impression. 
 Foolish people imagine that a stewardship 
 implies the necessity for doing or seeing
 
 HOW TO CHOOSE THE GROUXD. 117 
 
 things done, which may promote the objects 
 of the meeting ; and that the honour is not 
 altogether an empty one. Indeed, men 
 have been known rather to act upon the 
 strength of the names which appear ; and to 
 
 quote my Lord and the Duke of 
 
 and Sir , as guarantees of honest 
 
 intentions and good management. But we 
 who are behind the scenes know better 
 than this ; and sincerely honour old Cracks 
 for his integrity, and laugh at him for his 
 simplicity. Of course he thought that 
 he should assist the county members and 
 half-a-dozen sporting young noblemen in 
 making such reforms as have never been 
 contemjDlated since the death of the 
 Liberator ; and that the name of Cracken- 
 thorpe would descend to posterity with 
 those of Lord George, the Admiral, and 
 the gentleman in black, as the greatest 
 benefactors the sporting world has yet 
 seen. Having taken a moment or two to 
 swallow his emotions, and get rid of some 
 natural exultation at such a vision, he pro- 
 ceeded with the conversation :
 
 118 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 " Run a horse ! and what sort of a horse 
 am I to rim ? I've nothing fit but a 
 thoroughbred one, and he's a hack." 
 
 " Can he gallop, sir ? " 
 
 *^Oyes!" 
 
 '' I presume he's not in the Stud-book ? " 
 
 " No ; but he can't jump, I should think. 
 He's quite unfit for a hunter. He can't 
 carry anything ; or, I suppose, we could 
 teach him to jump." 
 
 " They'll jump, sir ; between ourselves, 
 there's nothing big enough here to upset a 
 donkey ; we've made it for the gallopers. 
 So if you've anything that can stay four 
 miles, and carry a fair weight — " 
 
 " And what should you call a fair 
 weight ? " 
 
 " Well, now, h-u-um ! that depends so 
 much upon circumstances," said Jolly, 
 balancing each word, and looking down 
 intently upon his thumb-nail, which he just 
 bit, and then admired ; "it depends so 
 much upon circumstances. The top weight 
 of course is nominal ; the real beginning- is 
 at about 11 stone ; and if you go for the
 
 HO-;^ -. --y^^z TEE ':rZ::zyD. 119 
 
 stakes^ you. nnderstand, why, of ooaraesy 1die 
 
 weigtt <?^cr^i^ ^? be ithere or ihereabonlB ; 
 if n::, vr , : conrse, it T¥Mi1rff« all iflie 
 difference I ** 
 
 I I ntqnite 7 iir^ 
 
 "^i^ " ^ " '^^ " •~---nee can. it 
 
 r 1 go tor me stakes or 
 
 **Yon see, sar, tihe stakes :rr -^rr.'z rlz 
 : r —Ten hnndred ponnd^ an ; r 
 
 ii L rod enongh to run for : — - . 
 
 we can't thr:~ i_:i:i id; if jou do- : -^'.-.-i 
 the stakes, wL, - ^ >nsee,i£ir. "^ ::i_i 
 afford to gire _ _ ^ ■' 
 
 **TVl:at d: v.., r_, :, r.:. T:'.^.? I 
 ri ?. pretty good one conldn't lone?" 
 
 ** Not Teiy easSfyj unless theiT dis to 
 
 be one equally good, put in a: ' - ^ 
 Tom began rather tc see li- " : : -.r^ 
 tte ::::?*. 
 
 " B .".' '"^.„. ' becomes :: :._r -:.:. ^rs ; i.' :•-:-!- '. 
 ±i: Tri:_.: : , .; :bem?" 
 
 •'X:: i: _.: jDidersC':.. .:::v:_-:;.1-:t- 
 
 as tbat^ NeTer ibiuks of aiding ::: rzi ; 
 inde^ he'd be quite ashamed to as7 : _ .
 
 120 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 thing. And if he don't win, the next time 
 he's handicapped his horse goes in for 
 nothing. So, you see, anyhow it's a good 
 thing." 
 
 " It's not a bad idea ; but I never heard 
 of it before." 
 
 " Oh ! it's common enough, sir ; every- 
 body does it. There's Popham, of Timber- 
 ville, who handicaps the Grand Patriarchal, 
 lives entirely upon it. It's a good thousand 
 a-year to him. He's a clever fellow, is 
 Popham. All his relations, excepting his 
 aunt, keep race-horses ; and the old lady 
 has one of the best ponies in England." 
 
 " Do you mean to say that Popham 
 pockets the stakes of the Grand Patriarchal 
 at Timberville ? " asked Tom, with a won- 
 derful stare of astonishment. 
 
 " To be sure I do," replied Jolly, with an 
 equally surprised countenance at having to 
 discover so much; and McPhail of Nose- 
 bury, too. If they didn't do something for 
 themselves, I don't see how they could get 
 on at all." 
 
 " And what does the press say ? " again
 
 HOW TO CHOOSE THE GROUND. 121 
 
 inquired Tom, who had a mighty high 
 opinion of the powers of the fourth estate, 
 and imagined a sporting paper was very 
 little behind the Thunderer in importance. 
 
 " Oh ! the press is always at 'em ; but, 
 Lor' ! as long as they sack the money, they 
 don't care about the press. It's always 
 blowing up somebody, and apologising ; and 
 telling wonderful stories, first of Lord This 
 and Lord That, and then of Popham and 
 McPhail, just for the pleasure of contradict- 
 ing itself the next day. I daresay, now, 
 you've seen my name in print before now ? " 
 And Jolly put on a look of supernatural 
 simplicity. 
 
 " Well, I certainly have ; not always in 
 very flattering terms." 
 
 '' Yes ! and I daresay you will again ; but 
 it don't hurt me. Besides, they won't say 
 anything very bad of us ; for we're pretty 
 liberal, and always give them a turn when 
 we can — at least, the most violent of them. 
 I know a gent as had such a case against 
 Popham, and he tried to print it ; but the 
 sporting press was dead against him, to a
 
 122 A BOX FOE THE SEASON". 
 
 man : and the lionestest of 'em said, ' Oh ! 
 it's all right, Mr. Smith, but it's impossible 
 to print that; for he does give ns such 
 breakfasts all the Timberville week : it's 
 impossible, so jou must alter it before it 
 goes to press ; indeed you must.' " 
 
 '' Then you want me to do as every one 
 else does, I suppose ? " and Tom rose and 
 finished his glass. 
 
 " Yes, sir ; and if you've got anything 
 good, never mind about the heavy weights 
 at Lushenham ; send it here for our handi- 
 cap : and mind you back it for a place, at all 
 events." 
 
 '' All right," said Tom, as he put on his 
 hat and walked slowly out of the room, 
 perfectly astonished by the coolness of the 
 proposal. " All right ; good morning, 
 Jolly ; it must be near dinner-time ; that's a 
 good-looking saddle." As Tom was leisurely 
 descending the steps, he turned once more, 
 and said, in a low tone of voice, to Mr. Jolly, 
 who stood on the upper door-step, " And 
 what ought one to back for the Timberville, 
 between ourselves ? "
 
 HOW TO CHOOSE THE GROUND. 123 
 
 " Well, sir, to tell the truth, I wouldn't 
 touch it at present ; it's meant for one of his 
 own lot ; but I don't think he's made up 
 his mind yet. He does owe his brother 
 Sam a turn, and I shouldn't wonder if he 
 puts him into a good thing. Good day, sir :" 
 and Mr. Jolly touched his hat civilly. 
 
 This conversation made a profound im- 
 pression upon Tom Crackenthorpe, and 
 much cooled his steeplechasing ardour. He 
 was really a good, honest fellow, fond of the 
 sport. He liked tumbling about himself, 
 and even preferred to see others doing so. 
 He firmly believed in fox-hunting, and 
 everything provocative of it, from the cor- 
 rect breed of terriers to the highest-bred 
 horse in Lord Stamford's stud ; and he loved 
 steeplechasing, because he fancied he saw in 
 it a mode for making and encouraging good 
 horses and horsemen. Neither did he object 
 to anything that partook of the nature of 
 fan ; and as long as the farmers were satis- 
 fied, and their wives and daughters as- 
 sembled in sufficient numbers, and with a 
 sufficiency of cherry-coloured ribbons, Tom
 
 124 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 was happy. Tlie conclusion he arrived at, 
 after considerable meditation on the subject, 
 was, that Mr. Jolly was a great rascal, but 
 no worse than Mr. Popham, and McPhail, 
 and half-a-dozen more ; and his final deter- 
 mination to have nothing to do with any of 
 the lot. He was committed to a chase at 
 Lushenham, for the good of the neighbour- 
 hood, and to repay the damage which had 
 been done by riding over the crops and grass, 
 and he intended to make it as honest and prac- 
 tically useful as he could. " We'll have a 
 committee meeting as soon as I get back." 
 
 In the mean time, old Sparkes had felt 
 so aggrieved by the public attack made 
 on his reputation by Bobby Munster, that 
 he found it absolutely necessary to write to 
 that gentleman, as soon as he had mastered 
 the information which reached him from his 
 good-natured friends on every side. He was 
 not long in concocting an epistle, remarkable 
 for keeping in view a lawyer-like maxim, of 
 never making any one so much of an enemy 
 but that he might again become a friend. 
 The letter was full of regrets : ** he regretted
 
 HOW TO CHOOSE THE GROUND. 125 
 
 the painful necessity," " the importunities of 
 his friends," "the maKce of his enemies." 
 Above all, he felt satisfied that his friend 
 Mr. Munster would be able to account for 
 this " strange hallucination," and to give a 
 denial to all that had been asserted on that 
 occasion. The fact is, that Sparkes still 
 thought that Amelia had a chance wdth 
 Tom Orackenthorpe, as Mr. Falconberg 
 Smith had not yet proposed ; so he withheld 
 all threats of horsewhipping for the present, 
 and held out nothing but the olive-branch. 
 
 Now Bob was a very clever fellow, and 
 very willing to look over the insult he had 
 offered to old Sparkes ; indeed, it was more 
 a matter of '47 claret and larking than any- 
 thing else ; but how to deny having said 
 what five hundred people heard, or to aver 
 that Sparkes meant Cutpurse or any one but 
 Sparkes, was beyond Bob's ingenuity. He 
 was sorely puzzled for at least a quarter of 
 an hour. At the end of that time he read 
 the lawyer's letter once more, and an inspi- 
 ration almost divine fell upon him. " Hal- 
 lucination," said Bob, talking to himself
 
 126 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 '* strange hallucination : by the piper ! that's 
 it — that's just what it was. Here goes — 
 it will delight all the women, and all the 
 parsons who believe in satanic influence, 
 and pacify half-a-dozen lawyers at once. 
 Here goes." 
 
 " Lushenliam, February 14:tli, 186 — . 
 "Dear Mr. Sparkes, — 
 
 " Your letter has supplied a link iu a chain 
 hitherto wanting. I could not ascertain, on my 
 recovery of my senses, what nonsense I had been 
 talking. If any little trifle slipped out injurious to 
 the feelings of any person, more especially of one 
 for whom I have the highest esteem, and whom I 
 have always regarded as a friend, I cannot express 
 my regret in language sufficiently strong. It has 
 always been understood, not only by your excel- 
 lent Vicar, but by many of your friends, that that 
 mysterious power, under which I was spell-bound, 
 is demoniacal. If anything were required to pro- 
 duce conviction on my own mind of this fact, it 
 would be found in the compulsory falsehoods which 
 it seems I must have uttered under his malignant 
 influence. What renders the case doubly painful 
 is the fact that those falsehoods, like the Father of 
 lies himself, are said to have had an unaccountable
 
 HOW TO CHOOSE THE GROUND. 127 
 
 semblance of truth. In the hands of an honourable 
 person, like yourself, this letter mil doubtless be 
 most satisfactory, and I can assure you that it mil 
 give me great pleasure that you should make any 
 use of it you think best. 
 
 " Believe me, &c. &c., 
 
 "KOBEET MUNSTER." 
 
 Having finished this explanatory epistle, 
 Bob rang the bell, and called for one of Mr. 
 Crackenthorpe's largest regalias, out of the 
 box marked " Superfine best dos Amigos." 
 *' You'd better bring down the box, by the 
 way." 
 
 The next day but one brought another 
 billet from Sparkes, in which the old gentle- 
 man thus began : — 
 
 " My dear Me. Munstee, — 
 
 " Many thanks for your reply, which, I need 
 hardly add, was most satisfactory ;" 
 
 and which ended by a renewed proposal 
 to have a day or two at Lushenham, and 
 the kindest regards of Mrs. Sparkes and 
 the young ladies, who quite missed the 
 pleasure of seeing Mr. Munster at the even- 
 ing parties, &c. &c. &c. Towards the
 
 128 A BOX FOR THE SEAS01S-. 
 
 close of which Bob slipped himself into a 
 hat and coat, and suddenly remembered that 
 he owed a visit to that worthy little man 
 the Rev. Daniel Partington. 
 
 When Tom returned to Lushenham there 
 was plenty to do. The first consideration 
 was the steeplechase ; so he assembled a 
 committee at once. The nominal stewards 
 consisted of all the masters of hounds round 
 about, that capital sportsman Mr. Bumby 
 at the head of them. Then came a string 
 of M.P.s and Lord - Lieutenants, and of 
 swells of every denomination ; and remark- 
 ably well they looked on paper. They all 
 entered something, and some intended busi- 
 ness : those who did not, regarded the 
 payment of the forfeits in the light of a 
 very remote contingency ; and even Tom 
 himself saw one of two things — either that 
 the winner would have to go without a con- 
 siderable portion of the stakes, or that he 
 would have to pay them. It's astonishing 
 how liberal men are, after a cheerful day's 
 sport, with a patent pencil in their hand, 
 and the conditions of a handicap or a sweep-
 
 HOW TO CHOOSE THE GROUXD. 129 
 
 stakes before them. The quantities of 
 chances they speculate upon are marvellous : 
 Death, India, Ireland, the Queen's Bench, or 
 Matrimony. However, on paper, the Lush- 
 enham chase bid fair to be the best of the 
 season. Top weight 13 st., minimum 
 weight 10 St. 7 lb. A sweepstakes of 10 
 sovereigns each, half forfeit, and 200 added, 
 half of which came out of the pocket of 
 Tom himself — Munster's 50/. might be con- 
 sidered as honorary only. He proposed, 
 indeed, to head the subscription list, as a 
 well-known sporting friend of ours is sup- 
 posed to have assisted to build churches in 
 the colonies — by heading the donors with 
 a very handsome sum, of which he pays 
 nothing, but expects to receive a trifle for 
 the liberality with which he acts decoy. That 
 project was, however, abandoned, as half-a- 
 loaf was considered better than no bread. 
 To give nothing at all is not unhandsome ; 
 but a present of minus 251. was something 
 new to the sporting world of Lushenham. 
 
 The working committee made up for the 
 drones by the most active zeal. It consisted 
 
 VOL. II. K
 
 130 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 of Tom himself; Munster ; a sporting young 
 nobleman, Lord Cropperton, who lived a 
 couple of miles off; Mr. Bumpas, a jovial 
 yeoman of sixteen stone ; and a very hard- 
 riding young Sawbones, who had a practical 
 knowledge of the brittleness of other peo- 
 ple's members, and a theoretical belief in 
 the infrangibility of his own. They were 
 first-class men for their work. They had 
 always a paper and pencil for the enlistment 
 of stray steeplechasers. They were always 
 on the look-out for something to run for 
 themselves ; and the doctor was already 
 happy in the possession of a sort of Muderi- 
 deroo, which nobody could ride but himself. 
 In fact, his stud was at the present moment 
 something like the learned Serjeant's hand- 
 writing : of the three which he called his 
 own, one he could ride, but his groom could 
 not ; another his groom could ride, and he 
 could not ; and the third, nobody alive, to 
 get through a run, upon any terms what- 
 ever. They were also very active at their 
 meetings ; they had no end of foolscap 
 paper, and cigars, and Burton beer, and the
 
 HOW TO CHOOSE THE GROUND. 131 
 
 * Eacing Calendar' and 'Bell ;' and they made 
 several propositions and amendments ; and, 
 as those met with very little favour, they 
 all set to talking at once. It generally 
 ended by a proposal to finish the day at the 
 Chateau, which was invariably agreed to, 
 when Tom presided over as good a dinner 
 as it was possible to give them. 
 
 The saddle -room was occasionally the 
 scene of these business-like meetings ; and 
 as upon the present occasion they could 
 neither increase the number of nominations, 
 nor make 500 sovereigns out of 375, nor do 
 anything in the way of accelerating matters, 
 seeing the races were not to be run till the 
 end of the season, they proposed to go and 
 look at the ground. 
 
 " Drinkwater, let's have what hacks you 
 can. Here, one — two — three — oh 1 you'd 
 rather walk ? — four. Let's have the chesnut, 
 and Acheron, and Flowerpot, and, let me 
 see " 
 
 " Not one on 'em ! " said Mr. Drinkwater. 
 "Bless you, they're all done up! they've 
 been in fine exercise this three hours, ex- 
 
 K 2
 
 132 A BOX FOR THE SEASO]N". 
 
 cept the hack, and he was out all day 
 yesterday, and has to come again to-mor- 
 row." And the faithful guardian turned 
 the key of the long stable and put it into 
 his pocket. 
 
 " Oh ! come, nonsense ! " said Tom. 
 " What are we to do ? we want to go over 
 the steeplechase ground." 
 
 " You'd better walk, sir ; it's a good deal 
 safer. As to the doctor there, there's soon 
 to be a wacancy in his district, and he's 
 sure to kill your horse, if he don't do for 
 hisself." 
 
 Having oracularly delivered himself of 
 this axiom, Billy put his hands into his 
 pockets, and retired to his own quarters. 
 The discomfited committee set out for their 
 walk. They went up the hill above the 
 village to a fine large grass-field of un- 
 mitigated ridge and furrow, which com- 
 manded a grand view of the vale below. 
 They were not long in fixing upon a course 
 which included all kinds of fences, of 
 various sizes, but all fitted for the capacity 
 of a hunter. They took, too, a bird's-eye
 
 HOW TO CHOOSE THE GROUND. 133 
 
 view of the country; and amongst tliem 
 managed to make the affair so complicated 
 as completely to puzzle themselves. The 
 line, as they marked it out, reminded one 
 of nothing so much as the Regent's Park 
 canal after an exhibition of the Skating 
 Club ; and the figure of 8 which it was 
 presumed to represent was quite as much 
 like the spread eagle as anything else. If 
 the result was not at first sight what it 
 ought to have been, we can excuse that in 
 the manifest unanimity of the committee 
 for one object. Their views of the " man- 
 ner how" were widely different, but they 
 agreed wonderfully as to the one great 
 necessity — the powers of a hunter and the 
 endurance of his rider. 
 
 " That's a big 'un," observed Farmer 
 Bumpas, as they descended towards a stiff 
 post and rails halfway down the hill-side, 
 with a straggling ox-fence and a fairish 
 ditch on the landing-side. 
 
 " Nothing, positively nothing," argued 
 Sawbones ; ^' going at the pace they'll go
 
 134 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 at it. Sure to get over : no chance of a 
 fall there. What do you say, Squire ? " 
 
 " Good big fence," replied Tom, to whose 
 name this title had been prefixed by his 
 intimates; "but I think a good hunter 
 would do it." 
 
 " I'm sure he would," said the sporting 
 doctor. 
 
 " Well, we can easily settle the question," 
 said Lord Cropperton. " Perhaps Mr. 
 Sawbones will ride over it before the 
 day?" 
 
 " With pleasure, my lord ; which horse 
 shall it be ? " 
 
 " Oh ! whichever you like." 
 
 "Well^ then, I'll have the big brown 
 horse you rode the day before yesterday 
 for second horse. I know he'll go over it 
 or through it." 
 
 " Oh ! I mean one of your own," said his 
 lordship, mightily tickled with the notion 
 that horses were not more valuable than 
 doctors ; " I can't stand horseflesh." 
 
 " Oh ! come, my lord ; if I stand man." 
 
 "No, no; it's impossible to have that
 
 HOW TO CHOOSE THE GROUND. 135 
 
 brown horse over again if you killed him, 
 and—" 
 
 Here Tom stopped the conversation by 
 a remark about the brook. " Not wide 
 enough," said he. 
 
 " Certainly not," said the doctor. 
 
 " Let's shovel it out to about sixteen 
 feet," said Bumpas ; " I'll lend you some 
 hands : they haven't got much to do just 
 now." 
 
 " And we'll put up some bushes in front 
 of it to make them rise," added Tom 
 Crackenthorpe, as a clencher. 
 
 " That's a sneezer," again said Tom, as 
 they came to a rattling double ; the further 
 rail, however, not being so strong as it 
 might have been, would give a chance of 
 getting through, if not over, safely. There 
 was a deep ditch between the rails, running 
 water below, and some very prickly cut 
 blackthorns strewed over it — a sort of open 
 drain. 
 
 " Yes, that's a good fence," said the 
 doctor ; " not so strong as it might be." 
 
 " Bless you, doctor ! strong enough for
 
 136 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 anything ; " and, being on that side of it, 
 Mr. Bumpas sat down on it, when, as if to 
 prove his position, the rail broke in the 
 middle, and let the fat farmer go flop into 
 the blackthorns, whose ill effects were 
 partly counteracted by the running water 
 below. 
 
 " By Jove ! that's lucky," said Sawbones. 
 " You must send up Peggs to-morrow with 
 a good thick rail and some long nails, or 
 we shall have to change the line ; and I'm 
 afraid we shan't be able to get anything 
 bigger round about this country." 
 
 " Come," said Cropperton, who really 
 was a pretty good judge, and had his senses 
 about him ; " come, it's quite big enough for 
 anything, and looks like a capital course, 
 if one could but see it. Describe it to us, 
 Cracks, that's a good fellow. It's as bad as 
 the maze at Hampton Court." 
 
 " Look here. Start from this field, go 
 straight up to that barn, and turn to the 
 right up the big grass-field^ with the big 
 ox-fence at the top, into the ridge and 
 furrow. Bear away to the left towards
 
 HOW TO CHOOSE THE GROUND. 137 
 
 the windmill. At the windmill turn again 
 to the right, and over the bullfinches, by 
 Jones's farm, down the hill into the bottom, 
 over that little double — " 
 
 " Wait a moment," said Cropperton, 
 utterly out of his bearings. 
 
 " Oh ! don't you see ? it's simple enough. 
 You see the bullfinch at the top of the hill, 
 and there are two more which you can't see. 
 Then turn to the right again, and come 
 down-hill to the big double post and rails — 
 old Bumpas's rails, you know; then go 
 straight on to the brook — we'll mark that 
 out before the day. — and after crossing the 
 brook go straight up the hill, over the big 
 rails and fence and ditch once more, and 
 then round the top of the hill, across the 
 road, and you have a good run in of about 
 a quarter of a mile." 
 
 " But why go over the oxer on the side 
 of that hill twice ? Once is enough." 
 
 " Because, if they don't fall the first time, 
 they're sure to come to grief the second." 
 
 " Well, there's something in that, Tom, 
 at all events. Where's Munster ? "
 
 138 A BOX FOE THE SEASOI^. 
 
 " What ! not here ? He's spooning old 
 Partington's daughter. She's got some 
 money, I beHeve ; at least so he says : and 
 I suppose he'll go and get married some 
 day or other. He'll be at dinner. Give 
 us a light. Well, I don't think we can do 
 any more, so we may as well go back to 
 luncheon. It's a splendid place for a chase. 
 The next thing is to square the farmers." 
 
 When Orackenthorpe got home he 
 found an invitation to dine at the Parson- 
 age that day week ; and as he hadn't seen 
 the widow for some few days, he thought 
 he might ascertain beforehand whether she 
 was to be of the party before spoiling his 
 digestion by a clerical feed.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 A LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 Tom Crackenthorpe and Munster had 
 come home in time to dress for what the 
 Rev. Daniel Partington called " a little 
 dinner " towards the end of the hmiting 
 season. March dust was beginning to fly, 
 the days were lengthening, the hounds 
 were beginning to get a little fine and a 
 little footsore, and, there having been no 
 rain nor frost lately, the studs were grow- 
 ing smaller and stiffer day after day. They 
 were making their toilet by daylight, as 
 the Yicar imagined a stretch to 6.30 was 
 as much as could possibly be required for 
 the formation of an appetite. 
 
 " Who's going to dine at the Parsonage, 
 Tom?" said Mr. Munster to his friend; 
 " any one besides ourselves ? "
 
 140 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 " Gladish, I should think, and his 
 daughter. They're intimate." 
 
 " Nobody else ? don't happen to know 
 whether the widow's going, do you ? " 
 
 Fortunately for Tom, it's impossible to 
 see a man's face through an inch and a half 
 of wainscoting, so he answered in the 
 intervals of a close application to his 
 hairbrushes, " How the deuce should I 
 know?" 
 
 " Thought you might have asked her out 
 hunting to-day, that's all." 
 
 And so he had ; and the affirmative 
 reply had put an additional polish into 
 Tom's general appearance, and had stuck a 
 camellia into his buttonhole in particular, 
 to mark the occasion. When Mr. Munster 
 appeared on the landing-place he, too, was 
 not to be despised ; and he rather flattered 
 himself, as he expressed it, " though no 
 great beauty under ordinary circumstances, 
 he knew how to put his war - paint on 
 to the best advantage." He had yellow- 
 ochred himself well to-night. 
 
 '* Tom," said he, looking in at that
 
 A LITTLE DINNER. 141 
 
 gentleman's room en passant, and leaning 
 up against the door-sill, " I want your 
 advice." 
 
 " It's perfectly at your service ; and I 
 hope you will find it as good as it is 
 cheap." 
 
 "I've been thinking, Tom, that this is 
 an infernally miprofitable life we are lead- 
 ing here ; " and Bob looked like an image 
 of virtue in polished boots. 
 
 " That admits of question, old fellow, 
 though I don't want to argue the matter." 
 
 " Well, Tom, to tell you the truth, my 
 old governor cuts up very rough some- 
 times, and I think of settling. He won't 
 do anything for me." 
 
 "And you want to do for yourself. 
 Well, Bob, settling always means one of 
 two things — death or matrimony. Who's 
 the young woman ? and has she any 
 money ? " 
 
 " What do you think of old Partington's 
 daughter — the eldest, I mean ? " 
 
 " To tell you the truth, I never have 
 thought of her at all : that's all a matter of
 
 142 A BOX FOR THE SEASON". 
 
 taste ; but I do think you might have done 
 better in the way of a father-in-law." 
 
 Just then Tom's own amiable weakness 
 came across his mind, and he thought he 
 should have some difficulty in reconciling 
 the world to Mrs. Bransby : so he stopped 
 short, and added, " but that doesn't sound 
 like money, Bob." 
 
 '' Oh ! you millionaires are so exacting ; 
 besides, I mean to work at law again. I 
 shall sell the—" 
 
 Just then it occurred to him that the 
 horses he proposed selling belonged to 
 Mr. Curricle, the dealer and job-master. 
 
 " But you must have something to start 
 with, Bob, if the governor is inexorable ; 
 so I should advise you decidedly not to 
 settle. The moment you're married you'll 
 have all your duns down upon you. They 
 know when to catch you : you'll find 
 ' there's no rest but the grave for the 
 pilgrim of love.' " 
 
 "But she's got 15,000/.; it's accumu- 
 lating." 
 
 " So I should think by her turn-out on
 
 A LITTLE DmNER. 143 
 
 the grey. Well, I beg your pardon, Bob ; 
 I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, but I 
 haven't yet realized the situation. How do 
 you know she has money ? " 
 
 " I heard so before, so I went to Doctors' 
 Commons. All from a godmother. Oh, 
 my eye ! what would I give for a couple ! " 
 
 There's no doubt that with all his senti- 
 ment he would have preferred two god- 
 mothers to one bride. But the one he could 
 get, and the other he could not. 
 
 " What does old Partington say, and the 
 mother, the gorgon ? " 
 
 " Ah ! that's the nuisance : of course, I 
 can't go to him and say, ' My father's an ill- 
 conditioned old beggar, not more than fifty- 
 five, and likely to live as long as I am, so 
 let me marry Matilda, and we'll live on her 
 property.' Still, I must say, they don't 
 seem much averse to business ; and if the 
 thing was once over, they'd come round fast 
 enough ; besides, she is her own master." 
 
 " I'll tell you what, Bob ; if we stand here 
 talking about the girl, I'm hanged if we 
 shan't spoil the fish, — so let's be off. It
 
 144 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 only wants tliree minutes to the half- 
 hour." 
 
 With that they started. 
 
 There's no such latitude ever taken as in 
 dinner-giving. There's your heavy, pom- 
 pous, ponderous affair. Diamonds, stars 
 and garters, blue ribands and turbans, 
 huge epergnes, flowers, powdered footmen, 
 our own man, iced puddings, and perspira- 
 tion. The most gorgeous preparations, the 
 grandest company, the very best dinner in 
 the world with everything in season or out 
 of season, and the very least possible means 
 of enjoying it. And there's your wretched, 
 half - starved, miserable counterfeit ; pre- 
 tended wealth, fashion, and society : a 
 hired cook, hired plate, greasy soup, dirty 
 dishes, badly cooked meat and watery 
 vegetables, stupid people injudiciously 
 placed, and not one single thing to be had 
 till it's stone cold. There's your good 
 heavy substantial repast, in which, if you 
 have the stomach of an ostrich and the 
 lungs of a stentor, you may satisfy your 
 hunger, and take part in the conversation :
 
 A LITTLE DIXNER. 145 
 
 more than you can possibly eat or drink, 
 brown . sherry, sound military port, and 
 loaded claret are the external signs of a 
 hearty welcome, and a deuce of a dyspepsia 
 the next morning. And, lastly, we have 
 to record a wishy-washy table a la Eusse, 
 in which one knows nothing of the sub- 
 stance of what one eats, and is so fearfully 
 puzzled by the mongrel language of the 
 carte that you are unable the next morning 
 to tell your physician, with any sort of 
 certainty, whether you partook of fish, 
 flesh, or fowl. I sigh, at a poor man's 
 table, for the return of the honest soup, 
 fish, roast and boiled, which I used to see 
 in my young days, and enjoyed a first-class 
 dinner the more from its rarity. Naturally 
 the spread at the Parsonage had engaged 
 the attention of the ladies for some days, 
 old and young. 
 
 " You know, my dear, Mr. Cracken- 
 thorpe and Mr. Munster are accustomed to 
 nice little French dishes, and good things; 
 so we must see what we can do in that 
 way." 
 
 VOL. II. L
 
 146 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 " Perhaps, ma,' dear," rejoined Josephine, 
 " they'll like a change." 
 
 Now the young lady's theory was cer- 
 tainly the correct one. 
 
 " Nonsense, Josephine ! " said Miss Part- 
 ington, "what an absurdity! as if Mr. 
 Munster liked, or expected to see, roast beef 
 and potatoes. We can easily manage the 
 dinner with that book of Francatelli's ; and 
 we must have a carte for each person. 
 Let's see, there will be eight of us, if 
 Josephine don't dine." 
 
 Now that's just the right number for a 
 good dinner. 
 
 "Of course the carte must be in French, 
 dear, and I'm afraid Sarah won't make 
 much hand of that," said Josephine again. 
 
 I have always noticed that when people 
 intend to be a little severe in their remarks 
 their mode of address becomes singularly 
 affectionate. In accordance with this prin- 
 ciple, Matilda answered, " My darling 
 Joey, I think I can manage that part 
 of it." 
 
 " Of course, dear, there's my pocket
 
 A LITTLE DINNER. 147 
 
 dictionary in the parlour ; and if there are 
 mistakes, it does not signify much, for I 
 suppose they neither of them understand 
 anything about it." 
 
 This was a cruel backhander ; and, worse 
 than that, had all the sharpness of a double- 
 edged sword, without that oily smoothness 
 which is said to accompany language of 
 this kind. A good deal of the cooking and 
 the time was got over in this way. Mrs. 
 Partington was too good a manager not to 
 have played her part well, and by five 
 minutes before 7 p.m., which was only 
 twenty-five minutes behind time, the com- 
 pany sat down to what they called a nice 
 little dinner. 
 
 The combined efforts of the cook and the 
 three ladies had turned out something 
 which was a mixture of the two last classes 
 of entertainment ; partaking of their nature, 
 but belonging to neither. Flukes, the 
 village publican, was in attendance as 
 waiter. Cracks, alive to possible defici- 
 encies, brought his own man, and there 
 were two maid-servants, who, when they 
 
 L 2
 
 148 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 were not running np against one another^ 
 were listening with intense enjoyment to 
 the facetiw of Mr. Munster. They occasion- 
 ally retired to enjoy a little laugh, and 
 when they were behind the door, and the 
 guests had to help themselves, it is astonish- 
 ing how much better they got on. 
 
 " Lor ! 'Liza, what a funny man he is, to 
 be sure ! I thought I should a busted ; my, 
 if that fool Flukes hasn't broke missus's 
 best trifle-dish." 
 
 There was a little mistake at starting. 
 When the cover was removed from the 
 turbot, it presented the appearance of hav- 
 ing died of the cholera. It rather startled 
 the guests, to see a large black thing, as 
 flat as a pancake, where the fish ought to 
 have been. On inspection it proved only 
 to have been placed wrong side upwards. 
 One disadvantage had been avoided ; there 
 was no epergne of cut flowers to limit the 
 range of vision or conversation, and it went 
 on pretty generally and cheerfully through- 
 out. It is but justice to say that Mrs. 
 Greystoke looked, more bewitching than
 
 A LITTLE DIXXER. 149 
 
 ever, and was more than usually attentive 
 to tlie invalid Captain Gladwish. That 
 gentleman's daughter was, as usual, the 
 picture of good humour, and Matilda had 
 not only dressed her dinner, hut her hair, 
 in the height of the mode Fran false. 
 Crackenthorpe was astonished to find him- 
 self admiring Emily Gladwish so much ; 
 unluckily, however, the widow saw it too, 
 and took an early opportunity of luring 
 him back before the dessert appeared. The 
 French cartes did not convey that informa- 
 tion for which they were intended, and as Mr. 
 Flukes handed the dishes from the sideboard, 
 after carving them, he was applied to more 
 than once for the name of the suspicious- 
 looking object which he was offering. 
 
 " "What is this ? " said Tom, sotto voce, 
 looking at some barbarous production in a 
 mottled gravy — " what is this ? " 
 
 " Eeely don't know, sir," replied Flukes, 
 aloud : " Oh ! yes, sir, I see — filly de buff 
 Napoleon a la Tartarre ! " 
 
 " You must try that, Mr. Crackenthorpe, 
 it's ' a la Napolitaine,' " said Miss Matilda.
 
 150 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 And Tom helped himself. 
 
 " Not such a bad shot of your man," 
 observed Tom, who affected not to recog- 
 nise Flukes in his new position, " mixing 
 up Napoleon and Tartar sauce together." 
 
 " Good run to-day, Munster ? " said the 
 host. " You must have been near here ; I 
 heard the dogs whilst I was burying a 
 corpse. Cold work ! " 
 
 *' Which, the corpse or the hunting ? " 
 asked Munster." 
 
 " Becky seen haller chassore," said Mr. 
 Flukes, again, in a louder tone than ever, 
 the effects of a third of a bottle of goose- 
 berry taken surreptitiously between the 
 courses. 
 
 "What's that?" asked Captain Glad- 
 wish, this time in his innocence. 
 
 " They look like snipe," said Tom, to 
 whom they came next, and who helped 
 himself again. 
 
 " They are snipes," said Flukes in a con- 
 fidential tone, " but we're ordered to call 
 'em ' Becky seens' to-day. They come 
 from France, I believe, sir."
 
 A LITTLE DUSTNER. 151 
 
 " Bumby goes on with the hounds, 
 Munster ? " said Captain Gladwish. 
 
 " Yes, but he loses his huntsman. It's a 
 bad job, for we shall never have a better 
 in this country ; and he's a beautiful horse- 
 man. I hope we shall have your patron- 
 age to the steeplechases at the end of the 
 season ? " 
 
 " Certainly," said the Captain ; while 
 Mrs. Partington, thinking the conversation 
 had taken too sporting a turn, hoped that 
 Mr. Crackenthorpe and Mr. Munster were 
 both archers. " Such a charming club, 
 and the ladies' dresses so becoming — white 
 tarlatan with a green scarf, a white straw 
 hat, and a green paroquet's feather." 
 
 " And what are these ? " once more 
 asked Munster, whether accidentally or to 
 torment Mr. Flukes is not known, as he 
 bent over a dish of most unmistakeable 
 tartlets. " What are these ? " Consulting 
 his carte^ he read, " Tartelettes aux — aux — " 
 Mrs. Partington had already begun an 
 answer to the question, when Flukes again 
 volunteered an explanation.
 
 152 A BOX FOR THE SEASOIST. 
 
 *'Well, sir, my wife made 'em, and I 
 believe they're about twopence apiece." 
 
 " Champagne to Mr. Crackenthorpe," 
 roared and spluttered the Rev. Daniel, by 
 way of covering this misadventure; and 
 Flukes, mindful of himself, immediately 
 selected a virgin victim for immolation. 
 The wire was untwisted, and the string 
 was cut ; when, with a loud report, pop 
 went the cork into the face of the rev. 
 gentleman himself, while the champagne 
 itself followed without an interval's delay, 
 right over the table, half of it into Mrs. 
 Greystoke's lap, and the rest into the salad- 
 bowl, which stood ready to receive it. 
 
 " Most extrornary — most extrornary 1 
 Bless my soul ! what's the man about ? " 
 spluttered Partington, looking wrathfully 
 up, and wiping his eye with his napkin. 
 " What is the matter, man ? " 
 
 " Can't think what's come to it ; I kark'd 
 'un down myself, last summer, and it hadn't 
 ought to be so up this cold weather." 
 Whilst stuffing his thumb into the neck of 
 the bottle, he kept running round the room
 
 A LITTLE DINNER. 153 
 
 to offer some of liis own brew to tlie guests. 
 I think he got the remainder of the bottle 
 entirely to himself. 
 
 The fact is, that no man on small means 
 ought to give a dinner at all. By all 
 means let the hospitable soul take home 
 some friend, or any number of friends, to 
 enjoy his society ; let him give him what 
 he eats himself on a clean table-cloth. Let 
 the dishes and plates be of the hottest ; let 
 the meat be of the tenderest ; and let the 
 waiting consist of as few hands as possible. 
 A dumb waiter and help yourself, in a 
 clergyman's family — indeed, anywhere but 
 on state occasions — is far the pleasantest 
 mode. Let the room look bright and 
 cheerful, especially in winter, with a warm 
 blazing fire and good lamps. Don't let 
 your wife cover her head and uncover her 
 arms ; but let her wreathe her face in smiles 
 and good humour ; and your daughters, if 
 you are lucky enough to have any, endea- 
 vour to follow her example, " simplices 
 munditiis." On no account attempt cham- 
 pagne and claret, unless you happen to
 
 154 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 have them good ; and then let them be appro- 
 priate to the meats or dishes — not presented 
 higglety-pigglety, as if your friends were 
 only asked to be converted into a sort of 
 family pig-tub. There is nothing so much 
 marks the man of refinement or discernment 
 as this fitness of things. Not writing a dis- 
 sertation on dinner-giving, I need not say 
 more ; but a true philanthropist, knowing 
 how much depends upon a good digestion, 
 and the delicacy of its organism, I could 
 not say less. Beware of sweets in a bad 
 house, and the less you indulge in dessert 
 anywhere the better. A poor man thinks 
 my dictum a hard one. He wants society. 
 Does he ? — dinner society ? Then let him 
 cultivate his mind and his manners. There 
 are plenty of good Samaritans in this 
 world ; but the return they look for is an 
 agreeable, pleasant companion, able to fill 
 up a corner well : not a horrible lion, who 
 monopolises the whole conversation, but a 
 good listener as well as talker, and who 
 knows what to say and when to say it. 
 These persons are not common, but there
 
 A LITTLE DINNER. 155 
 
 are sucli ; and they find no difficulty in 
 enjoying society, without holding out a 
 return of tasteless soup, flabby fish, badly- 
 cooked meats, and cheap wines for the sake 
 of it. Let but a man be worth his salt^ and 
 he'll get the meat thrown in.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 VISITORS. 
 
 Tom Crackenthorpe and Bob Munster sur- 
 vived the dinner ; indeed, as their minds 
 were occupied witli other things, their 
 stomachs seem to have been less affected 
 than they might have been. (This shows 
 great sympathy between the two.) Munster 
 improved the occasion with Matilda, and 
 Crackenthorpe, who was blest with a por- 
 tion of that modesty which sits so grace- 
 fully on youth, made eyes at the widow. 
 His soft nothings were breathed usually 
 out hunting, where they could be treated 
 as light badinage, or seriously imbibed, as 
 the case might be. 
 
 It was clear enough to the neighbour- 
 hood that the Chateau would change its 
 name or its nature before another hunting
 
 VISITORS. 157 
 
 season ; and much speculation went on over 
 the teaboards among the ladies — at the 
 Sunday-school, and incoming out of church, 
 and on such-hke conventional occasions — 
 as to which would remain in the village, 
 Mr. and Mrs. Munster, or Mr. and Mrs. 
 Crackenthorpe. 
 
 I think there was great excuse for this 
 gossip. The ladies were both remarkable 
 enough to form subjects of interest. The 
 sermons of the Eeverend the Yicar were 
 dull in the extreme ; Lushenham was not 
 famous for bonnets ; and the singing of the 
 children in church had been discussed so 
 often that the subject was as dry as a speech 
 of the Chancellor of the Exchequer. So 
 the neighbours settled it their own way, 
 and the two gentlemen were as good as 
 done for. 
 
 It was determined at the Chateau to let 
 off an ukase, and order up a few friends to 
 enliven the place for a day or two. 
 
 The first who presented himself to their 
 notice was Sparkes. Munster would rather 
 have been excused ; he hardly knew whether
 
 158 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 he had quite got over the results of his mes- 
 meric experiments. 
 
 " Of course he has," said Tom. " Didn't 
 he write you word that he was perfectly 
 satisfied with your explanation ? " 
 
 " Well, that's right enough ; but we have 
 flirted with the girls, Tom, and — " 
 
 " We ! Come, I like that, Munster ; you 
 have, not I. Besides, I don't suppose it 
 signifies to old Sparkes ; he must be as 
 much used to it as they, living at Pumping- 
 ton. They'd all have been ofiended if you 
 had not flirted with them. Besides, you 
 can give him a mount — that'll please the old 
 boy." 
 
 ** All right. Anybody else ? I hope he 
 won't object to something playful, for I can't 
 afford to lend him old Sheepshanks, Cur- 
 ricle's best mount." 
 
 '' Must ask Cutpurse ; you havn t paid 
 that little bill. Bob, yet, for the shooting he 
 so kindly let you." 
 
 "It's not due," said Bob, who thought 
 very little about little bills till they were 
 due.
 
 VISITORS. 159 
 
 *^ Tlien pay him next week — I'll help 
 you. 
 
 " 'Pen my soul, Tom, that's very liberal 
 of you ; but I'd rather not pay him, unless 
 you're particularly anxious." 
 
 " Not I ; but I've been keeping Acheron 
 nice and fresh for him, and I thought the 
 mount would go for something." 
 
 " Very well ; then ask Cutpurse. It's a 
 pity we don't know one more infernal rascal 
 to keep him in countenance. Old Sparkes 
 isn't half bad enough." 
 
 " Second post, sir," said Mr. Taplow, 
 placing the letters on the table. 
 
 " Hallo ! Bob, this is lucky — just in time ; 
 though whether he's quite up to the mark 
 or not I can't tell. I should hardly say he 
 was far behind." 
 
 *' What is it — a proposed visitor ? I hope 
 he brings his own steed." 
 
 *' Not he. It's our old friend Stuart, of 
 Heidelberg and Wiesbaden notoriety. I'll 
 mount him on Nosegay. He won't do any 
 harm to the horses, if he don't swindle 
 somebody at hazard or ecarte."
 
 160 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 " Cliarming," said Bob, who cliuckled at 
 the proposed meeting of Mr. Sparkes and 
 the Professor, of whose identity Tom Crack- 
 enthorpe was still in delightful ignorance. 
 
 The consequence of these auspicious ar- 
 rangements was, that in the course of the 
 following week Messrs. Cutpurse and 
 Sparkes appeared at the Chateau. Sparkes 
 had put up all his best hunting parapher- 
 nalia ; his whitest cords, most correct tops, 
 and a checked neckcloth, which was starched 
 to the consistency of a middle-age instru- 
 ment of torture, but in which long practice 
 had enabled Sparkes to swallow a sandwich 
 or to take off his hat to a lady without 
 winking. Indeed, he was one of the 
 straight-necked ones, and no mistake, when 
 really got up after this fashion. They added 
 a knife and fork at their hospitable board 
 for the Rev. Daniel Partington, and per- 
 suaded a sporting young squire and the 
 hard-riding doctor to join them. The 
 dinner was excellent, and the wines were 
 appreciated, by the quantity they swallowed, 
 and the good-humour that reigned through-
 
 VISITORS. 161 
 
 out. Captain Stuart was announced late 
 in the evening, had up the soup and fish, 
 and a sweetbread, a fresh bottle of cham- 
 pagne, and was just in time to commence 
 his first bottle of claret when they had got 
 to their fourth. Sparkes saw several Cap- 
 tain Stuarts, but was beyond distinguishing 
 any one of them ; and when they had had 
 coffee and one of Tom's best regalias, the 
 old gentleman was just enabled to count 
 sixteen people, though he was quite sober 
 enough to recollect that they had sat down 
 only eight. The parson, to do him justice, 
 supported the credit of the cloth by retiring 
 in good time, and leaving the rest of the 
 party to settle their morning's prospects to 
 their own satisfaction. 
 
 Cutpurse and Son, of Pluckham-court, 
 Holborn, were money-lending solicitors of 
 the Jewish persuasion. There is a vulgar 
 prejudice against that highly intelligent 
 race. We confess to sharing it. Cutpurse 
 was quite unmistakably a Caucasian. There 
 was the fine development of feature, so re- 
 markably indicative of the race ; and had 
 
 VOL. II. M
 
 162 A BOX FOR THE SEASON". 
 
 he lived in the days of Eichard the First, 
 his teeth would have been drawn for the 
 very pleasure of extraction. They looked 
 like biting, every one of them. Beyond 
 the speculative shooting we have before 
 mentioned, he could scarcely be called a 
 sportsman ; and the first impression pro- 
 duced by his appearance was that he was 
 lost without an alias and two hats. He 
 felt exceedingly flattered by the invitation 
 to Lushenham, and he was not at all cured 
 of his infatuation until he had dropped nine 
 pounds fifteen shillings at blind hookey to 
 the superior luck of Captain Stuart. This 
 evening he was joyous in jewellery, velvet, 
 patent leather, and black beard, and retired 
 to bed under the impression that such was the 
 ordinary life of the aristocracy of England. 
 
 " Good night, Mr. Cutpurse. There's a 
 nice quiet animal for you to-morrow. Break- 
 fast at nine. We ride our hunters on ; it's 
 only five miles." 
 
 " Good country ? " said Sparkes. 
 
 " Best in England — stiffish — all posts and 
 rails, excepting the river."
 
 YISITOKS. 163 
 
 " River ! " said the Jew. " Is there a 
 toll on the bridge ? " 
 
 " There's no bridge — we jump it." 
 
 Cutpurse stared uneasily. 
 
 " What's my horse to-morrow, my dear 
 Craekenthorpe ? " said Sparkes ; " you 
 know I'm not so young as I was." 
 
 " Pretty good, though, still. Munster, 
 what have you got for Mr. Sparkes ? " 
 
 " Nice, quiet little horse ; kicks a little 
 at starting, but charming to sit upon when 
 he gets warm." 
 
 Sparkes thought of this, and then dreamt 
 of it. 
 
 " What's your weight, Mr. Cutpurse ? " 
 said Munster, eyeing him suspiciously. 
 
 " Well, I don't know ; I weigh different 
 at different times." 
 
 " How many shekels ? — pounds, I mean," 
 said Bobby. 
 
 " Ah, ah ! Good, good ! No pounds, my 
 good friend, Mr. Munster ; you have the 
 pounds." 
 
 " The scales, Tom ; Mr. Cutpurse, in the 
 scales." 
 
 M 2
 
 164 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 And they adjourned to tlie scales. 
 
 '^ Bless my soul, what a lot of money he 
 must have in his pocket ! We can't weigh 
 you without you take it all out. Ah ! that 
 makes a difference. There — is that all ? 
 Well, I think Acheron will carry him. 
 He's the best horse in the country, only you 
 musn't hold him at his fences ; just let him 
 go where he likes, and Sunday itself 
 wouldn't stop him — you'd be out of one 
 week into another without knowing it. 
 Put him down, Tom, 9st. 51bs., 'without 
 his money ; he's nearly lOlbs. lighter than 
 when he came here." 
 
 " And Stuart has gained a pound or two. 
 I'm going to bed, unless Mr. Cutpurse 
 would like another cigar. Good night." 
 
 And Tom Crackenihorpe retired.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. 
 
 A LITTLE headache is the natural conse- 
 quence of a good deal of claret, sherry, and 
 champagne, however excellent they may be 
 of their kind ; and if they are assisted by a 
 gigantic regalia, and a few unsuccessful 
 rounds of blind hookey, it's astonishing how 
 unmistakable it becomes. All things con- 
 sidered. Old Sparkes turned up at break- 
 fast time wonderfully well. He carried his 
 head very steadily between the starched 
 folds of his neckcloth, and didn't seem to 
 care much about anything but his tea. He 
 made, however, a feint of attack upon an 
 admirable ham ; and certainly, if a man can 
 eat anything under the melancholy circum- 
 stances of the case, it is ham. Yorkshire 
 lean with Westphalia fat, I am told, is
 
 166 A BOX FOR THE SEASOX. 
 
 the correct thing. As he proceeded he got 
 better, and by the time he had admitted 
 that that "one glass of cognac" after the 
 'pate was too much for him, he might be 
 said to be convalescent. 
 
 " Now, Stuart, what will you have — tea 
 or coffee ? " 
 
 " Neither, thank you ; never touch either 
 until after dinner," replied the sinister- 
 looking Captain, who was just as cool and 
 comfortable as if he hadn't been sitting up 
 and playing ; indeed, the fact of winning 
 instead of losing may make a difference to 
 some men. Probably the little Jew lawyer, 
 who hadn't spoken a word since he came 
 into the room, was feeling the effect of his 
 loss of weight. He looked unutterably 
 wretched, and, as if to torture him more 
 horribly, Mr. Taplow presented hot plate 
 after hot plate, and muffins and eggs as 
 accidental makeweights, until the poor little 
 Outpurse was fain to ask when the tea 
 would be ready. 
 
 '^ Tea ? What, haven't you had any ? 
 Taplow, some fresh-made tea to Mr. Cut-
 
 A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. 167 
 
 purse. I m afraid these fellows have emp- 
 tied the pot here ; but it won't take ten 
 minutes, and there's lots of time." (Here 
 Cracks, whose head was as strong as Guy 
 Earl of Warwick's helmet, set to work on 
 a kidney.) " But you re going to dress 
 after breakfast, I suppose ? " 
 
 " To tell you the truth," began Mr. Cut- 
 purse, " I really didn't " 
 
 " Never mind — gad ! we'll manage : we'll 
 find something for him : breeches — I believe 
 you. I fancy Munster must have bought 
 up a slop-shop : I never saw such a collec- 
 tion in my life." 
 
 *'Now," said Bob, in a cheery tone of 
 voice : " come along, Cutpurse — I'll rig you 
 out. What colour ? " And the toilette 
 began. 
 
 " There, now, there's a pair of breeches ! 
 I bought those in Bow Street nine years 
 ago, to act Tony Lumpkin in, at my dame's. 
 They're what Nathan called a first-class 
 article ; but there's no belie\'ing a Jew, 
 you know. AYhat ! too small ? Nonsense, 
 you've got 'em on hind-side before ! No,
 
 168 A BOX FOR THE SEASON". 
 
 by Jove, you're riglit ! I thought old clothes 
 would have fitted you to a turn. I say, 
 Cracks -" 
 
 Cracks, being the host, however, didn't 
 respond ; so Stuart went up to assist with 
 his advice. 
 
 " I say, Stuart, have you anything that 
 would fit Mr. Cutpurse down here ? " 
 
 During this time Mr. Cutpurse was se- 
 cretly praying that nothing might fit him, 
 and determining, if luck befriended him, to 
 retire again to bed as soon as the sportsmen 
 were gone on their expedition. 
 
 '* I can lend him a pair of spurs," said 
 the Captain, being about the last thing that 
 the Jew lawyer was likely to want. " But 
 leathers," added he, ** by Jove, that's a diffi- 
 culty ! No, it's not — I see. Look here, 
 Munster, Mr. Cutpurse has some drawers : 
 splendid fit, and nothing to do but to sew 
 the buttons on in the right place. Come 
 here — you can hardly tell them from lea- 
 thers now at this distance." 
 
 And whilst Cutpurse was shivering with 
 cold, having not yet substituted anything
 
 A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. 169 
 
 for his Tony Lumpkin suit, Munster and 
 his friend the Captain took stock of him at 
 a distance, and made these remarks, much 
 as though he were a dummy, or a prize ox 
 at an IsHngton cattle-show : — 
 
 "He must have four buttons on there, 
 just below the knee; and I suppose he'll 
 want four more for his braces ; then a pair 
 of sham tops to his own Wellingtons (lucky 
 he wears Wellingtons). Green — are they ? 
 What, the Wellingtons ? We'll black 
 them all over : 'pon my soul, it's a first-rate 
 idea." 
 
 " But it will be so dreadfully cold ! " Mr. 
 Cutpurse ventured to suggest, in the tone of 
 a man not wishing to push his opinion, but 
 offering rather a suggestion to be taken into 
 consideration. 
 
 " Billy, Billy Drinkwater ! " shouted Mr. 
 Munster out of the window, which he 
 threw open, admitting a refresher from the 
 N.E. upon the half-dressed Jew. " Cold ? 
 oh ! no, certainly not, in exercise." 
 
 And here Billy entered the room, and 
 they continued in a liveher strain to discuss
 
 170 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 tlie matter, as if they now formed a quorum. 
 Cutpurse still sat at the corner of his bed, 
 and the grate, empty of all but last night's 
 ashes, did not add to the present warmth of 
 the room. 
 
 " No, no ! the gentleman won't be cold ; 
 'cos the OSS '11 keep 'un warm — leastways he 
 do me ; and in course my missus can sew 
 on the buttons ; but there ain't over much 
 time, and, as we're a trifle busy, I'll lend the 
 gentleman a pair of mine — the wery best 
 in England — fit him to a turn ; we're jist 
 of a size and not very unlike :" and Billy 
 looked at his broad ugly mug in the look- 
 ing-glass, and leered like a satyr. 
 
 " Come with me, Mr. Munster ; I'll give 
 you the smallclothes. They're the thickest, 
 and the hardest, and the roughest in all 
 England, something between a deal board 
 and a Witney blanket, and if he rides 
 Acheron for a few hours in them, I'm blest 
 if I think he'll ever sit down again in his 
 life. I think he's the gent as let you and 
 master the shooting." 
 
 Under these auspices the toilet was not
 
 A CHAPTER OF ACCIDEXTS. 171 
 
 long in comjDleting. When Mr. Cutpurse 
 appeared under the combined efforts of 
 Billy Drinkwater, Captain Stuart, and 
 Robert Munster, he was a very extraor- 
 dinary mixture, and might have been mis- 
 taken for a loosened Bedlamite, with a 
 monomania for hunting. On his head he 
 wore a white billycock, with a small grouse- 
 feather on one side, which had remained 
 since the twelfth of last August, the trophy of 
 Crackenthorpe's first shot. His waistcoat 
 was his own, and decorated with his usual 
 amount of mosaic work, without which no 
 Israelite considers himself quite a gentle- 
 man. His coat, long in the arms and back, 
 and honoured by a hundred stains and 
 patches, must have been on the same service 
 as Tony Lumpkin's breeches. The small- 
 clothes were such as your true stableman 
 delights in — large and baggy to a degree, 
 until they descend to the small of the knee, 
 to make that part still smaller. His boots, 
 ignorant of tops, were blacked to meet the 
 breeches and his necessities : no man could 
 have mistaken them for anything but what
 
 172 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 they were. His appearance in front of tlie 
 Chateau was a signal for pubHc appro- 
 bation, to which he was enabled to respond 
 only by a miserable and a sickly smile. 
 They had got him up only to get him down. 
 
 The horses were already at the door. 
 
 ** Don't you think the gent had better get 
 up in the field at the back of the yard ? " 
 asked Drinkwater, sidling up to his master. 
 
 "Who do you mean by the gent ? " said 
 Mr. Crackenthorpe. 
 
 " Why, the little gent in them curious 
 breeches and boots," said Billy. 
 
 " No, I don't ; why shouldn't he get up 
 here ? " 
 
 *' Cos it's so precious hard on these 
 stones." 
 
 There was just one drop of the milk of 
 human kindness left in Billy. 
 
 " Yes ; very well ; but we must all go 
 there. It won't do to send him there 
 alone." 
 
 So the party drew off to the stables for a 
 minute, lit their cigars, and inspected the 
 rest of the stud ; having done so, the horses
 
 A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. 173 
 
 were supposed to be in a place perfectly- 
 safe to mount, whatever might happen. 
 
 Horses are very often fresh at starting, 
 as gentlemen know. Acheron was re- 
 markable for his playful disposition ; yet 
 he had his mild days. Not so the horse on 
 whichj Mr. Sparkes had just placed his left 
 hand, preparatory to putting himself into 
 the saddle. He had one trick : he would 
 put his head down, if you allowed him to 
 do so, and give two sharp and decisive 
 kicks ; if these were unsuccessful, he gave 
 up for the day. 
 
 Sparkes, of course, prided himself on his 
 horsemanship and his knowledge of hunt^ 
 ing and everything connected with it. 
 Cutpurse was a snob, and a Londoner ; and 
 how any man in that costume could pretend 
 to ride anything Sparkes did not know. 
 How should he ? He therefore took his 
 seat on Mr. Curricle's other horse, with a 
 charming and rather dignified sang froid. 
 He was scarcely in the saddle, however, 
 nobody looking at him to admire the fresh- 
 ness of his complexion and the coldness of
 
 174 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 his demeanour, when down went his horse's 
 head and up went his heels, with a quick- 
 ness and an elevation which produced 
 immediate results. So quickly was Sparkes 
 on the flat of his back, that nobody saw it 
 done. Everybody saw him there ; but 
 when Crackenthorpe arrived to the rescue, 
 he asked the only question which could 
 have been asked, 
 
 " How the deuce did that happen ? " 
 
 " Happen ? egad, sir, I don't know what 
 you call ' happen ; ' but if it * happens ' 
 often, I should say it was something more 
 than a matter of chance." 
 
 However, as they all offered to change 
 horses, and nothing further of this playful 
 nature appeared, Sparkes was mollified. 
 
 The malicious pleasure with which 
 Munster watched Cutpurse on Acheron 
 was impressive, but this was one of 
 Acheron's quiet days, and notwithstanding 
 the temptation held out to the horse by 
 that gentleman's peculiarity of seat, he 
 walked out of the field-gate, at the back of 
 the stable-yard, like a lamb.
 
 A CHAPTER OF ACCIDEXTS. 175 
 
 " Why, Billy, what's up with Acheron ? 
 he hasn't put his back up," said Munster, 
 hanging back. 
 
 " Well, no, he hasn't ; p'raps he don't 
 know what to make of the gent, or p'raps 
 he's seen the big breeches. He ain't no- 
 ways so playful with me as he used to be ; 
 but he's worse after a bit, sometimes. 
 When he do find it out he'll make up for 
 lost time, I shouldn't wonder." 
 
 And with that Billy shut the gate and 
 touched his hat ; for though a very rough 
 customer, he was scrupulously civil when 
 not affronted. 
 
 As they jogged on to cover, Sparkes 
 finding himself not hurt, and having taken 
 advantage of a stable-brush to put him- 
 self to rights, and Acheron showing no 
 symptoms of changing his present course, 
 things assumed a cheerful appearance. 
 The balmy air had a becoming effect upon 
 Mr. Cutpurse. He looked less green every 
 minute, unless that was to be attributed to 
 the contrast with the surrounding countrj^ 
 He certainly gained confidence fast. He
 
 176 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 ventured, indeed, to toucli Acheron very 
 gingerly over the neck with a hunting- 
 crop he had borrowed ; but as it produced 
 nothing more than a lurch with one hind- 
 leg, and a suspicious falling back of the 
 ears, he determined upon trying it on no 
 more. 
 
 Crackenthorpe was the only one with 
 any weight upon his mind. " Sorry old 
 Sparkes was kicked off," said he to himself, 
 " though he has cheated me most con- 
 foundedly. It's not the right thing to ask 
 a man to your house, and then have him 
 on his back at your own door ; might have 
 hurt him too, poor old buffer. However, 
 he's pretty happy again now, and the horse 
 will carry him. As to Cutpurse, hanged 
 if I know what's going to happen to him. 
 Got no wife, I suppose ; don't look a likely 
 chap for any woman to have fallen in love 
 with ; but then they do marry sometimes 
 without falling in love." 
 
 At that moment he caught sight of the 
 widow G-reystoke, and his ruminations took 
 too grave a turn for transcription. The
 
 A CHAPTER OF ACCIDEXTS. 177 
 
 rest of the party seemed to be enjoying 
 themselves exceedingly. 
 
 By the time they reached the meet, the 
 hounds were already gone on. And I 
 always find, the nearer a man is to the 
 meet, the more certain he is to be behind 
 time. 
 
 Mr. Cutpurse's appearance excited much 
 attention, but it was of a kind more de- 
 monstrative than flattering ; in fact, Tom 
 cursed his ill-luck in not remembering that 
 a man is known by his friends. He was 
 certainly not proud of his acquaintance. 
 
 As the hounds were thrown into cover, 
 he saw Mr. Drink water, who had taken 
 advantage of a hack in the stable, to walk 
 up to the cover side. 
 
 " What will become of Mr. Cutpurse, 
 Drinkwater ? the horse seems quiet 
 enough." 
 
 " Aye ! he won't kick to-day ; he'll only 
 run with the beggar." 
 
 " Then keep him in sight if you can ; I 
 don't want him to be killed." 
 
 VOL. II. N
 
 178 A BOX FOR THE SEASON". 
 
 ''Nor the 'oss either, I should think. 
 He's a deal the most value of the two." 
 
 Tom then paid his compliments to Mrs. 
 Greystoke ; the rest of his party were 
 happily more intent upon their own affairs 
 than on his, and did not trouble him with 
 their company. Munster started at once 
 in pursuit of a grey cob and a habit he saw 
 lower down the cover. Sparkes had found 
 a pal in the hard-riding Doctor ; Stuart 
 was only desirous of a good start, and 
 stuck close to the huntsman ; and Cutpurse 
 soothed Acheron, and followed at an 
 humble distance the bold majority. At 
 that moment a fox was halloed away. 
 
 This is a moment in a man's life, when, 
 if ever number one may be treated as the 
 trump card in the pack, there is an excuse 
 for some selfishness. What with opening 
 the wicket-gate at the cover, which only lets 
 one man through at a time, and then requires 
 considerable energy on the part of the 
 successor to keep it from closing again; 
 what with the three only practicable places 
 out of cover to accommodate a hundred or
 
 A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. 179 
 
 two ardent spirits, and one of those blocked 
 up by a thrusting schoolboy and his pony 
 come to grief; what with your own w^ant 
 of decision, and the remarkable possession 
 of that quality of those behind who are 
 shouting along the line, " Now, then, sir ! 
 pray get on ; who is that in the front 
 blocking up the way?" — what with these 
 and a few other common miseries of get- 
 ting, or rather of not getting away close to 
 hounds, it is nothing extraordinary that 
 Crackenthorpe took care of himself and 
 Mrs. Greystoke ; Bob Munster of Miss 
 Partington, whose cousin, the Bashi- 
 Bazouk, was off on his own hook ; Captain 
 Stuart and old Sparkes severally of them- 
 selves ; and that Mr. Cutpurse on Acheron 
 was left to look out for the practicable 
 places, and on no account to meddle with 
 his horse's head. Whether he did so or 
 not is the question ; he says he did not, 
 the results tend to prove the reverse. 
 
 Checks, thank goodness, are known in 
 every country, notwithstanding the alarm- 
 ing intelligence communicated weekly to 
 
 N 2
 
 180 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 the Field and BelVs Life of a ceaseless 
 pursuit of one fox for an hour and forty 
 minutes over some country or other; and 
 consequently, on this auspicious day, Bumby 
 had a check within ten minutes or a quarter- 
 of-an-hour of finding his fox. 
 
 Most of his field had ridden with some- 
 thing less of severity than Bumby himself, 
 and in tolerable security ; gates had done 
 their duty, and none but the truly blood- 
 thirsty had come to grief in that fifteen 
 minutes. The women and the ponies were 
 all there. At the moment that Scrum- 
 mager was hitting off the scent with the 
 sagacity for which that five-year old hunter 
 is remarkable, disdainful of the distant 
 hallo, or of the more personal attempt to 
 carry him off the line, a small hazel copse 
 on the right of the field, and by no means 
 in the traversed Hne of the hunted fox, 
 opened with a frightful crash. Bump, 
 thump, went a head or a boot ; c-r-a-s-h, 
 with a long crackling noise, went the trees 
 on either side ; and, with his mouth bleed- 
 ing, and his head and tail well out, Acheron
 
 A CHAPTEE OF ACCIDEXTS. 181 
 
 appeared. That lie had got rather the 
 better of his rider was e^ddent frora that 
 gentleman's appearance. He had been 
 pulled out of his saddle, and was sitting 
 behind it, holding on by the reins and the 
 pommel. He had one whole boot, and 
 about two-thirds of the other. His cap was 
 fortunately well down upon his head. His 
 coat had lost one skirt ; and there was a 
 general appearance of loose jewellery about 
 his neck and breast, which belonged rather 
 to a man with difficulty escaping from tbe 
 hands of a garotter. The case was simple 
 enough. 
 
 The first fence had shaken Cutpurse out 
 of his seat on alighting, and as he got back 
 into the saddle after some lengthened 
 operation near the horns, he managed to 
 put his spurs into the horse's shoulders. 
 He was quick at taking a hint, and without 
 any regard to the hounds or the field he 
 made off at a good round pace : most people 
 would have called it running away. He 
 made for a hazel copse, undefended luckily 
 by its usual ditch and fence, and rushed
 
 182 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 unresistedly through it. As he emerged, 
 the sight of the field was to Cutpurse as the 
 advent of the good Samaritan ; and he 
 having ceased from sheer inabihty to pull, 
 Acheron had ceased to resist, and galloped 
 straight into the middle of the people, who 
 made way on every side. Mr. Cutpurse, 
 having crawled back into the saddle, was 
 about to answer the inquiries of his friends, 
 and the derision of the spectators, by 
 abandoning the pleasures of the chase, and 
 endeavouring to secure only a quiet return 
 to Lushenham, when that noisy brute 
 Scrummager gave notice of his success ; the 
 halloo on the hills was repeated, the horn 
 sounded, the horses began to trot, from that 
 trot they broke to a gallop, and before our 
 friend Orackenthorpe could offer his con- 
 dolences, and just as he was on the point of 
 suggesting an exchange of horses, Acheron 
 once more started with his damaged 
 freight. 
 
 " He's off again, by Jove ! What a 
 pluck'd one it is, to be sure ! " 
 
 Cracks looked up, Munster looked up;
 
 A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. 183 
 
 and to the dismay of the first and the 
 dehght of the second, they saw him dis- 
 appearing over the next hill towards a very 
 practicable bullfinch in the opjDOsite direc- 
 tion to the honnds. 
 
 I hope he won't be killed," said Cracks. 
 
 "I hope not either," said Stuart; "he 
 hasn't paid me that nine pounds fifteen yet, 
 and I don't suppose I shall find it in his 
 will." 
 
 Meanwhile the hounds set-to running, as 
 they will run sometimes over a fine scent- 
 ing country; men set-to riding, as they 
 very seldom will ride in any country but 
 Mr. Bumby's ; and by the time they had 
 broken up their fox, every man, excepting 
 those concerned for the horse, the clothes, 
 or the money of the Jew lawyer, had for- 
 gotten his existence. 
 
 No sooner did Billy Drinkwater see him 
 begin to go than he began to consider 
 whether his master's property might not be 
 his particular business. Having made up 
 his mind that it was, with a melancholy 
 sigh he turned from the sport, and cantered
 
 184 A BOX FOR THE SEASO^^. 
 
 up the hill towards the thick bullfinch, 
 which he honestly hoped might bring the 
 two to grief. He found nothing in it but 
 a piece of his own breeches, which had 
 been left there. It was a considerable way 
 round by the gate, and Mr. Drinkwater 
 therefore essayed the fence at a broken 
 place. The best of us fall sometimes ; and 
 by the time Mr. D. had turned a summer- 
 sault or two, and ascertained that the hack 
 was all right as well as himself, he might 
 as well have looked for a needle in a bottle 
 of hay as Acheron or his rider. 
 
 That gentleman's course was erratic ; 
 but, with some sort of reason in his mad- 
 ness, he kept the hounds somewhere to his 
 left hand for a length of time. Occasion- 
 ally Cutpurse, unable to stop him, would 
 still turn him, and in this form or fashion 
 he made the circuit of several large fields, 
 eventually making his exit through, rather 
 than over the fence, and continuing the 
 same amusement in the next pasture. It 
 is but justice to his rider to state that 
 he never fell off — he was here, there, and
 
 A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. 185 
 
 everywhere ; but with a bold defiance of 
 fate, he was still in the saddle. Perfectly 
 exhausted, it is true, but with his arms 
 wrapped convulsively round Acheron's 
 neck, he had the satisfaction of negotiating 
 several very ugly fences, to say nothing of 
 being carried bodily through a piece of 
 timber, which opened involuntarily to 
 receive them. In a given time the horse 
 was quite as much beat as the rider ; and 
 coming down to the bottom of a grass-field, 
 he finish^ed his career by going straight at 
 the Washingborough brook. Of course, 
 Cutpurse let go his hold at the sight of the 
 water, and tumbled ignominiously into the 
 mud, from which he was retrieved by a 
 couple of grinning yokels, at work with a 
 team in the next field ; whilst Acheron lay 
 without sense or motion, luckily high and 
 dry, on the bank, from which recumbent 
 position he made no attempt to rise. 
 
 '' My heye. Bill, I do think he be a dead 
 'un ! " This referred to Acheron. 
 
 " No, he bean't dead ; more's the 
 pity!"
 
 186 A BOX FOR THE SEASON". 
 
 So thought Cutpurse, but he didn't say 
 so — he felt perfectly sure, however, that 
 he was out of any more riding. 
 
 *'He's a broken - back'd 'un, I lay a 
 trifle." 
 
 " Broken back ? What had I better do ? " 
 said Cutpurse, imploringly. 
 
 *' Can't do nothin' but shoot 'un : put un 
 out of his misery, poor thing ! Such a fine 
 'oss, too ; and such a jumper ! I suppose 
 you be throw'd out ; the 'ounds is gone the 
 other side o' the hill, this ten minutes or 
 more." 
 
 By this time one or two more came from 
 the farm, and a couple of women joined in 
 the chorus — " Poor thing ! well, to be 
 sure ! lor, Giles, what is to be done ? " 
 
 " Ha' you got a gun ? 'cos he can't lie 
 here groanin' till master comes home." 
 
 " To be sure ; but who's to shoot 'un ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I dessay the gent 'ud like to shoot 
 'un hisself." 
 
 This bloody-minded sentiment was nearer 
 the truth than Bumpkin imagined. Giles 
 just then appeared at the gate, having
 
 A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. 187 
 
 acted upon the suggestion and gone for his 
 master's gun. Acheron continued to groan. 
 It was a fortunate circumstance for Tom 
 Crackenthorpe that Mr. Cutpurse was no 
 great hand at the knacker's art. First, he 
 had to make up his mind ; then to find the 
 place to bore a hole ; then he presented at 
 half-cock ; and then, when he did pull in 
 real earnest, the gun missed fire. At that 
 moment there came through the field-gate 
 the second whip with a couple of puppies, 
 one of which had been kicked, and which 
 he was leading. Of course he came to see 
 what was going on ; whilst Mr. Cutpurse 
 proceeded to open the nipple with a pin, 
 urged to the work of destruction by the 
 lamentations of the women — " Poor thing? 
 poor thing ! put 'un out of his misery ! " 
 
 " Hollo ! now, then, what are ye at wi' the 
 horse ? — ain't a goin' to shoot him ? What's 
 he done ? — only given ye a black eye ? " 
 
 And here Jack handed over the puppies 
 and his horse to Giles, and began to 
 examine the dying quadruped. 
 
 " He's broke his back," said Mr. Cutpurse
 
 188 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 dolefully, thinking what might be the ex- 
 pense of such a brute, and how much he 
 could save by the carcase. 
 
 " Broke his back ? why, blow'd if it ain't 
 that runaway devil o' Mr. Crackenthorpe's ! 
 Good horse, though. Broke his back, has 
 he ? and you was a goin' to shoot him ? 
 Why, he's only pumped. Come up 'oss ! — 
 come up ! " And giving him a sharpish 
 flick with the point of his whip, Acheron 
 gave a final grunt, and got on to his legs 
 with a prolonged shake. "It's rayther 
 lucky for you, young man, as that 'ere gun 
 don't go off very kindly, or you'd a com- 
 mitted manslaughter^ I should say. I don't 
 know who you be, but darn'd if you ain't a 
 rum 'un, you know, and no mistake ! Here, 
 give us hold o' those couples, young fellar. 
 Broke his back ? I'm blowed if he won't 
 break your neck, now, afore you get home, 
 if you come any of them games any more. 
 He's all alive again." And at that eventful 
 moment Mr. Drinkwater appeared on the 
 other side of the brook, coming down to the 
 scene of the catastrophe.
 
 A CHAPTER OF ACCIDEXTS. 189 
 
 Acheron was ordered up to the farmyard, 
 where he was dressed over a bit, and just a 
 Itttle warm gruel and a pint of ale adminis- 
 tered. Billy Drinkwater crossed by a ford 
 in the neighbourhood, and appeared for the 
 consolation of Mr. Cutpurse. 
 
 " Woay, wo-ay, little man ; Lor' ! he's as 
 fresh as ever — he'll run agen directly. 
 Now, sir, you'd better get up, and be off; 
 just give him a gentle jog to keep him 
 from chilling." And Billy held the stirrup 
 ready for the Jew to get up again. " Nose 
 bleeds, does it ? I know a key's a werry 
 good thing, so is cobwebs ; but whether you 
 put 'em down your back, or up your nose, I 
 can't say ; key up your nose, I suppose, and 
 turn it ; cobwebs down your back, in course, 
 catches the fleas." 
 
 During this suggestive advice, the terrible 
 prophecy of Jack, the second whip, came to 
 mind — " Break your neck, now, afore you 
 get home, if you come any of them games 
 any more." As to getting on Acheron 
 again, it appeared an act of deliberate 
 suicide without extenuating circumstances.
 
 190 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 " I'll lead liim a bit," said Cutpnrse, 
 wliich seemed like a compromise between 
 walking and riding. 
 
 " That's no use, sir ; the horse '11 catch 
 cold. There, give him to me, and I'll jog 
 him home by the side of mine. I dessay 
 Joskins will lend you something to ride to 
 Liishenham when he comes back — won't he, 
 missus ? " 
 
 Saying which, with much coolness, Mr. 
 Drink water just threw the reins over the 
 horse's neck, and, jumping on to his own 
 pony, trotted deliberately off, leaving his 
 master's friend staring after him. 
 
 " Not a going to trust him with any more 
 of our valuable animals, not if I knows it. 
 He'll be blowing their brains out if they 
 begin dancing a bit, and most on 'em do 
 betimes." 
 
 The party at the Chateau was about 
 dressing for dinner, when who should 
 appear but the Jew lawyer ! He had 
 neither bag nor baggage, and no horse ; but 
 he had a very handsome cotton umbrella, 
 evidently the property of Mr. Joskins. He
 
 A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. 191 
 
 would willingly have gone quietly up to 
 his room, with the modesty for which 
 almost everybody in a similar position is 
 remarkable. He was, however, hailed, as 
 he entered, with vociferous acclamation. 
 
 ''Where's Joskins' hack? Had another 
 downer? By Jove, how you must have 
 ridden ! How did you get home — rail or 
 post ? — you don't mean to say you walked ? 
 Why, Drinkwater told you to borrow old 
 Joskins' pony. What have you done with 
 your boot ? How far is it from here ? 
 Why, you must have walked nine miles at 
 least. I wish I could walk like that, don't 
 you. Cracks ? — we could take that shooting 
 then again this year." 
 
 At last the unhappy money-lender was 
 allowed to dress himself; and when he got 
 down it was difficult to say whether he was 
 not a more miserable object than before, so 
 tired and woe-begone was his appearance. 
 
 Dinner, however, restored him. He had 
 just begun to feel himself. Champagne and 
 the crackling fire had done wonders ; and 
 the necessity for eating had spared him quite
 
 192 A BOX FOR THE SEASON". 
 
 such a torrent of questions as he must have 
 submitted to. He had failed in his attack 
 upon the farmer's generosity, who regarded 
 him as an impostor ; and the two females 
 and Griles and Bumpkin had sucked him 
 dry of his small change. He had a black 
 eye, a pain in the small of the back, and a 
 blister on his heel ; but the dinner was so 
 good^ he had just forgotten his misery. 
 
 " Please, sir, could Mr. Drinkwater speak 
 to you for a minute ? " 
 
 " Tell him to come to the door. What is 
 it, Drinkwater ? " 
 
 " The horse is uncommon bad, sir." 
 
 " Which ? " 
 
 "Acheron — the one as Mr. — that gent 
 with the — the— black heye rode ; he'll be a 
 stiff 'un before to-morrow. I've sent for 
 Doseham." 
 
 And Billy retired. 
 
 " That's a bad business ; can't be helped. 
 Have some champagne, Cutpurse ? dry 
 or " 
 
 "Moist, thank you," said Cutpurse, so 
 utterly dumbfounded by this pleasant intel-
 
 A CHAPTER OF ACCIDEXTS. 193 
 
 ligence that he swallowed bumper after 
 bumper of all sorts of wines, and was 
 eventually taken to his room fast asleep 
 with drink and fatigue between Mr. Taplow 
 and a footman. 
 
 " Half-past eleven," said Mr. Taplow, the 
 next morning, drawing up a blind, and ad- 
 mitting a blinding sunshine. 
 
 " Bless me ! you don't say so ? and where 
 are the gentlemen ? " 
 
 " All gone hunting, except Mr. Sparkes ; 
 he's gone to Pumpington." 
 
 "And the horse — the one that was ill 
 last night ? " 
 
 " Oh ! he's been dead some hours, sir." 
 
 As if it was a weekly occurrence ! 
 
 VOL. II.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIY. 
 
 THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 
 
 Before Cutpurse proceeded to dress himself 
 he took a judicial view of his position — in 
 the language of his professional brethren 
 he began to " sum up." The total was not 
 a pleasant figure to look at. According to 
 a fair estimate of his performance he had 
 not reaped much by his visit to his client 
 Mr. Munster. There was the expense of 
 the journey both ways, ready money — there 
 was a matter of nine pounds and more for 
 blind hookey to Captain Stuart, that was 
 not paid yet, and Cutpurse and Co. were 
 accustomed to count interest per day, so 
 that fact was a little gain. There were the 
 usual fees to grooms, servants, &c., which 
 he determined should be unusually small. 
 There was a pair of boots — good ones, too,
 
 THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 195 
 
 originally — of patent leather, green tops, 
 utterly ruined, and one almost entirely 
 missing ; breeches — oh, no ! the rest of the 
 clothes belonged to other people. Then, 
 on the debit side might be placed a fright- 
 ful headache, squeamishness, and utter 
 prostration ; loss of two days' time, and no 
 business done with his clients. Clearly no 
 present want of money with Mr. Munster 
 or his good friends. Was that all ? Well, 
 not quite ; there was that little item of the 
 horse. And here the Jew lawyer crawled 
 out of bed. ''All gone out hunting! 
 Father Abraham ! that's lucky : I must have 
 business, too. I can't stand another night 
 of it ; and even that's better than the day." 
 Here he made a desperate attempt to stand 
 upright. I only hope none of my readers 
 have felt that indescribable all-overishness 
 resulting from too much drink, a solitary 
 ride on a hot-horse, accompanied by three 
 or four falls, and a natural liability to lum- 
 bago. The pain almost overcame his re- 
 solution ; and had he not caught sight of 
 Billy Drinkwater in the stable-yard at that 
 
 ' 2
 
 196 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 moment, he must have crept back into the 
 sheets again. The sight of the redoubtable 
 Billy nerved him to the task, and he pro- 
 ceeded to dress himself. Having recovered 
 himself a little from the first shock, he 
 began to think over the value of the dead 
 horse. " Say thirty pounds," cogitated Mr. 
 Cutpurse, " or even forty ; he can't be worth 
 more than that ; then there's the carcass — 
 say two pounds — to the good. Then there's 
 Munster's bill due next month, and the 
 shooting he took as part payment. Well, 
 I must take off that ; I'd better have stopped 
 at home. Perhaps their friend the Captain 
 may want a loan some day" — and by the 
 time he got thus far he finished his toilet, 
 and crept stealthily and painfully down- 
 stairs. 
 
 " Tea, sir — coffee, sir ? " said Cracken- 
 thorpe's own man, repairing the debris of 
 the breakfast - table. '' Eolls, sir — little 
 boar's head ? yes, sir ; not so much fat. 
 Sir : 
 
 " No, no ! — not boar's head," said the 
 Jew, who expected the roof to fall in upon
 
 THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 197 
 
 him already for his wickedness. '' No — no 
 boar's head ! " thinking of his own. 
 
 " Ham — fried ham in ten minutes," was 
 Mr. Taplow's next offer. 
 
 '^ No — nothing to eat ; just a cup of tea ; 
 and — and — I say, Taplow, could you get 
 my carpet-bag packed up directly, and tell 
 me when the next train goes to town." 
 
 " Town ? yes, sir, certainly," replied Tap- 
 low, with an expression of some surprise. 
 " There's a train at one o'clock, sir ; per- 
 haps I'd better do your things at once ; " 
 and, leaving him abruptly to finish his 
 breakfast, the ready valet and butler pro- 
 ceeded to pack the Jew lawyer's carpet-bag. 
 He packed it to some purpose ; and when 
 the unlucky owner got to town, he found 
 his own dress suit left behind, and the torn 
 coat, hat, boots, and breeches of Mr. Drink- 
 water and his master's in the mouth of his 
 sack. 
 
 The death of Acheron was an awful con- 
 sideration, and no amount of the very best 
 "gunpowder" could drown the reflections 
 which naturally arose. Being somewhat
 
 198 A BOX FOR THE SEASON". 
 
 ignorant of business of this kind, and of the 
 expectations formed by gentlemen on the 
 subject of horse-flesh, Mr. Cutpurse was 
 down upon his luck. It was a painful fact 
 that he was not likely to get free of his 
 present difficulty under fifty pounds, sup- 
 posing he forgot to pay Captain Stuart ; 
 and that ate up a moderate share of his 
 interest upon Munster's loan. However, 
 having satisfied his appetite, he began to 
 speculate on his best method of getting to the 
 station. The best method had reference to 
 the mode of progression least noticeable ; 
 inasmuch as a solemn principle of money- 
 saving, where there was none to be made, 
 taught him that his first duty was bilking 
 the servants, as far as practicable. If he 
 could only collar his carpet-bag, and be off, 
 it was hard if he didn't meet with a chance 
 lift for a shilling or two on the road ; or 
 perhaps the village fly might be got out, 
 and the ostler despatched for his bag 
 at the cost of sixpence. He started to 
 cross the stable-yard in furtherance of his 
 design.
 
 THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 199 
 
 Unfortunately for him, at that moment 
 Mr. WilHam Drinkwater was enjoying his 
 morning pipe in a strong gleam of smi- 
 shine, with his back to the stable pump, 
 and wondering what was to be done with 
 Acheron at the end of the season. " We 
 can't have such a brute as that in the stable 
 any longer ; he couldn't even win the 
 Pumpington Handicap, for the boy isn't 
 born that could steer him under 12 or 13 
 stone at least ; and that being far above 
 Mr. Jolly's cut, I wonder who'll have the luck 
 to get him. I'm blest if here ain't his 
 murderer — it wasn't a bad idea of Mr. Mun- 
 ster ; it's frightened the little man above a 
 bit, I know." Indeed Mr. Cutpurse had 
 not the most cheerful-looking countenance 
 in the world ; and his very gingerly 
 way of walking gave him the appearance 
 of a cat going to steal Devonshire cream in 
 the absence of the dairymaid. The sight 
 of Mr. Drinkwater was unexpected, and did 
 not seem to afford him any remarkable 
 gratification. To avoid him, however, was 
 impossible.
 
 200 A BOX FOR -THE SEASON. 
 
 '^ Mornin' sir ; none the worse for the 
 ride yesterday, I hope ? " 
 
 " Oh, dear, no ! not at all : all the better, 
 thank you. Terrible business about the 
 poor horse. What could it have been 
 from?" 
 
 " Terrible ! I suppose you never was on 
 such a horse before ? " 
 
 " Never ! " and Mr. Cutpurse was about 
 to add something about his determination 
 never to go on such another again, if he 
 knew it, when he was cut short by Mr. 
 William Drinkwater — 
 
 '' No ; I daresay not. The best horse in 
 these parts, and such a stayer ! but you was 
 too hard upon him, indeed you was, sir; 
 and you went miles out of your line, and 
 yet there he was, as one might say, over- 
 hauling the hounds at every step. Ton 
 my word, it is a terrible business. We 
 daren't tell master : dash my wig, if I know 
 what 'ud happen ! " 
 
 " Moses ! what a piece of ill-luck, to be 
 sure ! and I must go by the train." 
 
 "Going by the train? I don't know
 
 THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 201 
 
 how we shall ever tell master : the most va- 
 luable horse we had in the stable ; and he's 
 been a keeping him for you ! — I heard him 
 say so — and now he's dead ! Such is life." 
 And here Billy looked profoundly solenm. 
 
 Cutpurse contemplated the carriage-house 
 weathercock, a fox in full sail up-wind, and 
 was silent. At length he resumed — " Well, 
 now, what do you suppose such a horse as 
 — as — as — that one is worth ? " He forbore 
 to mention the name, because he had for- 
 gotten it, or from delicacy to Mr. Drink- 
 water's feelings. 
 
 " What's he worth ? Why, thirty shil- 
 Hngs, I should say." 
 
 " I mean if he was alive, you know ; " 
 and the Jew blushed at his own temerity. 
 
 " Oh, ah ! You mean what was his price 
 afore you kill'd him, sir. Ah ! now I see. 
 I always said, says I, that little gent's a 
 going to behave like a gentleman. Ah ! 
 it's a deal of money for a stiff 'un, too." 
 As Cutpurse didn't quite understand the 
 drift of this, he waited patiently while Mr. 
 Drinkwater summed up in his own mind
 
 202 A BOX FOR THE SEASO^-. 
 
 the real marketable value of the horse when 
 aKve, " The actual value of an animal of 
 that stamp to a hunting man, a man really 
 fond of riding a good horse to hounds, is 
 about three hundred. He was worth more 
 to us, because we're short of horses, and he 
 was a sound good horse, cut and come 
 again, you know, sir ; besides, between 
 ourselves, he'd have won the Pumpington 
 steeplechase, and our own most likely. 
 Lor' ! he'd a been worth a thousand pounds 
 in a couple of months." And when Mr. 
 Drinkwater looked up to see the effect his 
 words had produced, he was perfectly 
 astounded at the result of his own oratory. 
 So horribly aghast did the little lawyer 
 seem, that in very pity he hastened at once 
 to relieve his mind to a certain extent of 
 the vague impression of the mischief he 
 had done to his host, which he did after 
 the following fashion : '' However, it's no 
 use vexing you about that ; you couldn't 
 tell anything about it ; and I always says, 
 if gentlemen will lend valuable steeplechase 
 horses, they oughtn't to expect more than a
 
 THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 203 
 
 fair return for them, if any little accident 
 does happen." 
 
 " A return, oh ! yes, to ^be sure. I see," 
 said Cutpurse, seeing nothing but Cracken- 
 thorpe's horror at the fatal termination of 
 the affair. 
 
 " I suppose, sir, you never had such a 
 thing happen to you afore ? " 
 
 " Oh, dear, no ! And I haven't the least 
 idea what to do. I'm sure I'm as sorry as 
 if it had been one of my own. AVhat can 
 I do ? " The inquiry was not made with 
 a view to an answer ; it was rather an hys- 
 terical exclamation ; but it got one imme- 
 diately. 
 
 " Well ! you know, sir, custom regulates 
 all such things. If such a thing happened 
 to me, why, as a poor man, putting the 
 horse's value at a fair price, I shouldn't 
 expect to pay above half, not if I kiU'd 
 him by fair riding. But you see gentle- 
 men's different, and I dare say you wouldn't 
 like to offer less than two hundred." 
 
 " Offer less than two hundi^ed ! " repeated 
 Cutpurse, mechanically.
 
 204 A BOX FOR THE SEASON". 
 
 " Well, say a hundred-and-fiftj, perhaps : 
 not offer it to Mr. Crackenthorpe as a 
 present, you know — blow'd if I should like 
 to be the man to do that. He's uncommon 
 quiet till he's put out ; but this here death 
 in the family will stir him up a bit. No, 
 no, sir ; you just take my advice." 
 
 '' Well ! tell me what I ought to do — of 
 course I must do something handsome." 
 
 Billy pursed up his mouth, rolled out a 
 long whiff of reluctant tobacco, and pro- 
 ceeded : 
 
 " You mustn't know as the horse is 
 dead ; that's the gentlemanly way to do it : 
 then you must write to say how pleased 
 you was with Acheron's performance, and 
 that, if Mr. Orackenthorpe will part with 
 him, say at a hundred-and-fiffcy or two 
 hundred, you should like to have him. Of 
 course master understands this ; and he 
 says to all his friends what a liberal gent 
 the gentleman is as killed Acheron ; and, 
 the horse being dead, of course he declines 
 to sell him ; and then you sends him down 
 a handsome hamper of the very best claret
 
 THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 205 
 
 as can be got for love or money, and you're 
 friends for the rest of your lives. And 
 now, sir, shall I send Jem for a fly for the 
 next train ? " 
 
 No, thank you, I'll go myself," said the 
 little money-lender, mindful of a tip to 
 Jem, and at the same time disbursing a 
 sovereign to Billy, whom he looked upon 
 as the pleasantest fellow he had seen since 
 his arrival in Lushenham. Long before 
 the return of the sportsmen, Mr. Cutpurse 
 was on his way to Holborn, determined 
 upon doing a handsome thing at very 
 little expense. 
 
 After the breaking up of this cheerful 
 party, things assumed their ordinary form, 
 excepting that Captain Stuart liked his 
 quarters so much that he proposed to 
 remain a little time : and what with send- 
 ing for a couple of horses from Pumping- 
 ton, which he did under the sanction of 
 Tom Crackenthorpe, and being alternately 
 mounted by Tom and Munster, the Captain 
 had rather the best of the riding. How- 
 ever, the season drew to a close, and he
 
 206 A BOX FOR THE SEASOIS". 
 
 was going to give his friends his services 
 for the steeplechases, which he offered in a 
 most disinterested manner. It is but jus- 
 tice to his discrimination to add that he 
 meant squaring the account by some sort 
 of book, as soon as the weights were out : 
 and indemnification taken into his own 
 hands was not hkely to fall far short of his 
 deserts. 
 
 Munster went on love-making. He had 
 had some practice in early life, and, as he 
 observed, he intended doing the right thing 
 by his tradespeople whenever he got the 
 money, which quieted his conscience to a 
 certain extent. The Yicar was not a man 
 of keen judgment, and gave his consent 
 with some vague idea that a man with a 
 horse or two was a great sportsman, and 
 that a great sportsman must be a great 
 catch. As to the money, well ! the Bar 
 was a profession, and it was quite clear 
 his father must be liberal in his allowance. 
 The Gorgon had some misgivings, but she 
 calmed her perturbation by observing that, 
 as the gentleman did not ask for money, it
 
 THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 207 
 
 was not her business to moot the question ; 
 and a fine old Irish family^ and a connec- 
 tion with a former Ministry, although now 
 out, which would have made old Munster 
 an Indian judge, or given him the mono- 
 poly of leather breeches to the South Sea 
 islanders, satisfied all scruples. The young 
 lady was unmistakably and supremely 
 happy. Her Bob, as she called the happy 
 Yerlobt, was everything, could do every- 
 thing, had everything ; and when he 
 talked, as he sometimes did, of literature, 
 she pictured a rush of publishers to get 
 the first refusal of the new work, at say 
 nothing under five thousand pounds. Con- 
 sidering how little she knew of the world, 
 and the value of a well-blooded sensation 
 novel, with a dash of murder, bigamy, and 
 adultery in it, she was not exorbitant in 
 her expectations. 
 
 Crackenthorpe's suit prospered just as 
 suits always do when there's plenty of 
 money and no pluck. Twenty times he 
 had screwed himself up, and as often he 
 came down again with a run. But he was
 
 208 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 attentive as ever, and the widow twice as 
 discreet. It is no use to conceal tlie fact 
 that that artful woman meant marrying, 
 and nothing presented itself within several 
 points of Tom's form. Had Munster only 
 been a little more shy than he was, perhaps 
 he might have taken longer to jump into 
 the trap that was set for him, and even- 
 tually avoided it. Marriage is marriage 
 with a good many women, and Mrs. Part- 
 ington was one of these, with all her saga- 
 city and decorum. Matilda was not a 
 bad-looking girl ; and she would have pre- 
 ferred a landed estate, or something tan- 
 gible in the Three per Cents. ; but failing 
 that, the girl was to be naarried, and there 
 was an end of the business. The widow's 
 mother^ on the contrary, was a vulgar old 
 woman, and she knew it : so she did 
 not interfere with her daughter's game ; 
 and Mrs. Grreystoke knew quite enough 
 of shy birds to reflect that breadcrumbs 
 injudiciously administered were just as 
 likely to frighten them away as any- 
 thing else. She bided her time, though
 
 THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 209 
 
 slie once or twice thought of a counter- 
 irritant. 
 
 We said that Captain Stuart accom- 
 panied Tom and Munster on hunting 
 mornings. Not being much given to 
 ladies' society, above all in the hunting- 
 field, it is not extraordinary that he should 
 have gone out three or four times without 
 remarking upon the extraordinary beauty 
 of the widow, or on the attention which 
 his host continued to pay her. He only 
 saw that she rode well and quietly, and, 
 when the hounds ran, got out of the way, 
 as she ought to do ; and it seemed to him 
 that his friend Tom did the same — he had 
 not formed an exalted opinion of that gen- 
 tleman's performance. It is right to add 
 that Mrs. Partington had ordered the hat 
 and cockatoo's wings to be dismounted as 
 soon as ever Munster had made his offer, 
 and the grey cob had returned to his duty 
 between the shafts. The Bashi-Bazouk 
 cousin was taken off guard, and allowed to 
 ride where he liked ; and the habit and 
 feathers were put on one side for Miss 
 
 VOL. II. p
 
 210 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 Josephine when she should be considered 
 old enough to make profitable use of them. 
 
 However, before Captain Stuart had 
 been very long at Lushenham, he managed 
 to get a very near sight of the beauty ; it 
 happened in a singular manner, and pro- 
 duced equally singular results. 
 
 The hounds had been running their fox 
 pretty hard for about fifteen minutes one 
 morning, when Mrs. Grey stoke found her- 
 self alone ; not with them, but utterly lost. 
 Whether her friend Tom had been caught 
 by the pleasures of an unexpectedly good 
 start, or, what is equally probable, whether 
 he had unwittingly lost sight of the widow, 
 I can't tell ; all I know is that Tom Crack- 
 enthorpe was not in Eosebury-lane, at least 
 half a mile from the hounds, and the widow 
 was. 
 
 " Now," said she to herself — and people 
 do . not always speak to themselves in the 
 choice language they can make use of 
 before company — " here's a pretty kettle 
 of fish. Where, in the name of Fortune, 
 have I got to, and where are the hounds ?
 
 THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 211 
 
 This comes of the timid and respectable. 
 If my young man don't look after me a 
 little better than this, or give himself a 
 legal right to do so by coming to the point 
 at once, I shall take to the old style again. 
 I do hate this macadamizing process — but 
 it's a long lane that hasn't a turning. He's 
 not likely to see me if I take a jump now, 
 I suppose." 
 
 Just at that moment a horseman emerged 
 from a handgate close by, and followed her 
 up the lane at a pretty good pace. He also 
 said to himself, in the conversational tone 
 more fitted for very intimate use than 
 public airing — " Here's a woman ! Now, 
 what the d — 1 can she be doing here? 
 They're always in the way. Not a bit of 
 use trying to catch the hounds. I presume 
 this is the line, and I must trust to a 
 nick. Wonderfully compact lot that in 
 front ! " 
 
 In the mean time, Mrs. Greystoke, tired 
 of the squelching mud of Eosebury-lane, 
 determined upon quitting it; and seeing 
 an apparently practicable fence, and no one 
 
 p 2
 
 212 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 looking on, she sent the wiry bay horse 
 at it. 
 
 " Bravo ! " said Stuart involuntarily, who 
 was just about the place where her ugly 
 boy ought to have been with the second 
 horse, but that he was some distance off 
 enjoying himself with the hounds ; " that's 
 deuced well done- — looks like a drop ! " 
 
 And he proceeded to pull his horse to- 
 gether before following her example. It 
 was well he did so ; for, on looking over 
 the fence, to his amazement, not to say 
 horror, he saw a moderately-sized pond, with 
 a horse, and a woman, and a hat, and a 
 habit, and a quantity of light brown hair, 
 not by any means so compact a lot as it 
 was a few minutes ago. 
 
 " Now, that's what I call pleasant. I 
 can't let the woman drown, and she cer- 
 tainly will if I don't get to her somehow." 
 
 So turning over the fence a little lower 
 down, Stuart rushed at once to the rescue. 
 She was already struggling up the bank, and 
 a hand from her preserver, as she poetically 
 christened him on the spot, being ignorant
 
 THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 213 
 
 of his proper name, helped to extricate her 
 in a curious condition. When she emerged 
 from the water, her skirt was nearly off, 
 her hair floated all over her shoulders, and 
 she had lost her hat — at least, if a thing 
 whose whereabouts you know well can be 
 said to be lost. Her upper person was 
 dripping with water, her lower with mud. 
 Her horse was getting out lov^er down. 
 Having seen him safely landed, she turned 
 to thank the unknown who had so oppor- 
 tunely arrived ; when, just as he was about 
 to express delicate fears lest she might have 
 sustained some injury, he was startled by 
 an exclamation of some vigour, and 
 " Why, Greorge, you don't mean — " 
 " Grod bless my soul ! Sophy, do you 
 mean — " 
 
 And there can be no doubt that we 
 should have heard what they both did 
 mean, only at the moment their former 
 prayers for a nick seem to have been an- 
 swered ; for the hounds came through the 
 hedge, and foremost in the ruck that fol- 
 lowed was Tom Crackenthorpe.
 
 214 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 " All right ! " said the one, with a most 
 unfeminine wink. 
 
 " Mum's the word 1 " replied the other. 
 
 And in a moment the lady was receiving 
 the condolences and attentions of the whole 
 field. One man proposed to part with his 
 own hat ; another, by dint of dexterity 
 which would have done honour to Poole's 
 foreman, pinned up the tattered skirt ; 
 another produced a dry pair of Berlin 
 gloves ; and half-a-dozen at once recom- 
 mended the masculine substitute for aro- 
 matic salts in the contents of their flasks 
 and sandwich-boxes. The lady behaved 
 remarkably well upon the occasion, and 
 accepted the attentions and drinks with as 
 many wry faces as becomes a lady of the 
 first quality. But for a fortunate cast of 
 Mr. Bumby, who paid no attention what- 
 ever to these irregularities, they might 
 have spent the day in administering con- 
 solation ; the hounds, however, hit off the 
 scent, and a general scatter took place, in 
 which Captain Stuart joined. Tom was 
 most unfortunately left behind with the
 
 THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 215 
 
 lady ; and having blown up the boy for his 
 carelessness, and escorted his mistress to a 
 village inn, where he was so fortunate as 
 to get her a fly on its way from the Bundle- 
 combe Station, he saw her safe into the 
 carriage, and parted w^ith the most impres- 
 sive grasp of the hand that can well be 
 conceived. Tom lit an enormous regalia, 
 and was not fool enough to go in search of 
 the hounds. He rode home in remarkably 
 good spirits on that occasion, and not too 
 fast. He loved to chew the cud of so 
 pleasing a catastrophe in his e very-day life. 
 So he took another pull at his orange- 
 brandy, of which the widow had left just 
 a thimble-full ; and having assured himself, 
 by inspection of a small portmanteau, that 
 he was not likely to be short of cigars, pro- 
 ceeded to think at a foot's })ace. 
 
 " I know what my mother would say. 
 She'd say, ' Tom, what a d — d fool you 
 must be to go marrying a woman that you 
 know nothing about, when with your in- 
 come you might do so much better.' I 
 know she wants me to mary Lucy Butter-
 
 216 A BOX FOR THE SEASON". 
 
 ton, because she'll have all the Buttercup 
 property when her grandfather dies. But 
 what's the use of a lot of money to a fellow 
 that's got as much as he wants ? and what's 
 the use of money at all if you can't have 
 the woman you want ? I know some fel- 
 lows say that all the women go for money. 
 I don't believe that. Dash'd if I think 
 Mrs. Greystoke cares about my money ; 
 'pon my soul, I do think she is very fond 
 of me. What a rum old girl her mother 
 is 1 We should have to keep her out of 
 sight ; I couldn't stand that ; and as to my 
 mother, when they met — oh, lor'! — the 
 little woman would go stark-staring mad 
 at the very sight of the old woman. Hallo ! 
 Stuart, where the deuce did you spring 
 from ? " 
 
 " We lost our fox somewhere near those 
 woods to the left ; and, as there was no 
 chance of a run, and I want this horse 
 again on Thursday, I cut it." 
 
 " Did you do anything after I left ?" 
 " Not much. We dragged on for about 
 thirty minutes ; but scent failed us alto-
 
 THE PLEASURES OF MEMOEY. 217 
 
 gether ; and that cover looks interminable : 
 they say the earths are open, too. What 
 became of that Mrs. — Mrs. — What's-her- 
 name, the woman that fell into the water ? 
 She's a friend of yours, isn't she ?" 
 
 " Oh ! I know her, of course," said Tom, 
 as if it was rather a hardship, or that he 
 had struggled against the acquaintanceship. 
 " I know her, of course ; she lives in our 
 village, you know. I put her into a fly 
 at Toppington Green, and sent her home. 
 But how in the world came you two in the 
 water together ? " 
 
 " Well, Soph — , she, Mrs. Thingumybob 
 rode at a fence out of a lane, and I hap- 
 pened to be going at the same place, and 
 caught sight of her and her horse parted 
 company, and struggling about in a pond ; 
 I suppose she was over the fence before she 
 saw the pond. She couldn't have meant to 
 jump it, she's too good a judge for that." 
 
 " Eather a nice-looking woman ; didn't 
 you think so?" 
 
 "Oh! tol lol for that," said Stuart; 
 " capital horsewoman, and as hard as nails."
 
 218 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 " Well ! I shouldn't have said that," said 
 Cracks ; " neat enough on a horse ; but she 
 never rides at all." 
 
 " Don't she, begad ?" rejoined the other ; 
 and, here recollecting himself suddenly, he 
 added, " Well, she looks like it. Is that 
 the woman Munster calls the widow ?" 
 
 " That's the woman ; you'll be for making 
 up to her?" 
 
 "Any money?" demanded Stuart laco- 
 nically. 
 
 " Must have something, you know. She 
 lives quietly enough ; but the two horses 
 and the boy in boots cost a trifle. He's a 
 terrible boy." 
 
 " Is he ? And has she any other ad- 
 juncts down here besides the boy and the 
 
 " Nothing but a mother — an awful old 
 woman — and a piano." 
 
 " Did you ever hear her sing or play ?" 
 and Stuart waited rather impatiently for 
 the answer to so common a question. 
 
 " Well, she does play and sing a little ; 
 not well, however. You're particular in
 
 THE PLEASUEES OF MEMORY. 219 
 
 your inquiries, Stuart, if you don't mean 
 business." 
 
 " What a clever devil it is !" {sotto voce). 
 " Well, perhaps I do mean business, you 
 knovtr. I shouldn't mind betting a trifle 
 either that I succeed, if I find the money 
 all right." 
 
 " I'll ]ay you a hundred pounds you don't, 
 if you like to book it," said Tom, some- 
 what piqued at the free-and-easy manner of 
 talking of his Dulcibella. 
 
 " Well, then, done with you ! She'll be 
 my wife, if I choose to make her an offer, 
 sooner than yours." 
 
 " All right, old fellow ! put it down ; you 
 can ask me to be best man when it comes 
 off;" and Tom put his horse into a jog, 
 just to keep down his temper. 
 
 By the time they reached home they 
 were just as happy as usual ; and, as Lord 
 Cropperton came to dinner to talk over the 
 steeplechase and other matters connected 
 with horseflesh, conversation did not flag. 
 Munster was in unusually good spirits ; and 
 it crept out by slow degrees, in an under-
 
 220 A BOX FOR THE SEASOI!^* 
 
 hand sort of way, that affairs at the Par- 
 sonage were all right, and a termination 
 put to his anxieties. The wedding was to 
 take place the first of May. 
 
 " Why not April ?" asked his lordship. 
 
 " I couldn't have asked my friends with- 
 out being personal," said Bob. 
 
 " But why the first of May, then ?" asked 
 Crackenthorpe ; " sort of fete-day, regular 
 holiday, in fact." 
 
 ''It is for the sweeps : Bob's relatives 
 want to come to the wedding," said Lord 
 Cropperton, laughing. " He'll play Jack- 
 in-the-green. Joking apart, Munster, it's 
 rather short notice, isn't it?" 
 f. " Lots of bills coming due in June and 
 July, so I couldn't put it off any longer ; 
 and then we're off to Ireland for the autumn. 
 I shall come back and live cleanly after 
 that. A quiet little house somewhere in 
 the Regent's Park, and just a brougham 
 for two months of the season. Happy to 
 see you fellows ; and now let's have a little 
 chicken hazard ; we shan't have many more 
 opportunities."
 
 THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 221 
 
 " Stop, we want to settle about the 
 weights for the steeplechase," said Crop- 
 perton. And accordingly he and Tom 
 Crackenthorpe put their heads together, 
 while Munster and Stuart began calling 
 mains. 
 
 " Seven it is ; that's three to me," said 
 Munster. " Seven again ; confound it ! 
 that's crabs ; one to you : that's ten 
 pounds." 
 
 " I think seven pounds is enough to 
 give ; did you say ten, Bob ?" 
 
 " Yes : that makes three more, Stuart," 
 chimed in Munster. 
 
 " Every fool knows that," said Cracken- 
 thorpe, looking at his list ; " but I don't 
 see why he should have more than seven." 
 
 " Only because he owes me thirteen ; 
 that's all." 
 
 " Ah ! confound your hazard ! I was 
 talking about Sawbone's mare for the steeple- 
 chase ; are you going to run anything for 
 yourself?" 
 
 " Yes, I shall run something. I mean 
 to make some money or lose it. It's the
 
 222 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 last cliance I shall have ; so I shall put by 
 enough for the wedding-presents, and sport 
 the rest." 
 
 Stuart confined himself exclusively to the 
 hazard and regalias : he talked less than 
 usual, and when he announced his intention 
 of leaving in a day or two, he rather excited 
 the astonishment of his two entertainers, 
 whose experience induced them to regard 
 him, however fast, as a remarkably good 
 stayer. 
 
 Two or three days after he did go ; and 
 while Tom and his friend were regretting 
 the vacancy caused by his absence on a 
 non-hunting day, and had just determined 
 upon a visit to some livery-stables at Pump- 
 ington in search of a steeplechaser, the post 
 arrived. 
 
 The first was a letter of invitation ; the 
 second of acceptance ; the third from an 
 impoverished schoolmaster in want of a 
 loan ; the fourth a circular on the subject 
 of fine old port at 285. Gc?. a-dozen ; the 
 fifth from a baby-linen warehouse ; three 
 were bills, and one was a lawyer's letter
 
 THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 223 
 
 evidently. Before putting it behind the 
 fire, Tom thought it desirable to read it ; so 
 he broke the seal, ran his eye down the 
 contents, witnessed the hand and seal of 
 Cutpurse, and then went into a most un- 
 earthly yell of mingled astonishment and 
 dehght. " What the deuce is the meaning 
 of all this ?" said he.
 
 CHAPTER XXXY. 
 
 ACHEROIS' REDIYIVUS. 
 
 At that moment Munster was engaged with 
 devilled kidney and a muffin ; but, hearing 
 this appeal, he stayed operations, and took 
 up the letter which Crackenthorpe passed 
 across the table to him. He read it without 
 that expression of surprise which was so 
 evident on the face of his companion ; and 
 then, having finished his cup of tea, said, 
 " Upon my soul, Tom, that's more than 
 could have been expected from one of his 
 persuasion." 
 
 " But have you read what he says about 
 the pleasures of his ride ?" 
 
 " Certainly ; and I think he has taken 
 a very curious view of what he calls a little 
 accident or two ; he hasn't the slightest 
 idea how near he was being killed ; but I
 
 ACHEROX REDIVIYUS. 225 
 
 suppose you won't ask him any more for 
 that ; his offer seems pretty liberal." 
 
 '*As he didn't break any limbs, a hun- 
 dred and fifty is almost enough for the 
 horse : a leg or an arm would have brought 
 him up to three hundred at least." Tom 
 was so delighted at the prospect that he 
 lit a regalia, and drank the Jew's health in 
 a pewter which graced the breakfast-table. 
 " Read it out, Bob." Bob complied. 
 
 " ' 103, Pluckham Court, High Holborn. 
 
 " ' My dear Sir, 
 
 " ' I take an early opportunity of thanking 
 you and my old friend Mr. Munster [confound 
 his impudence !] for the delightful holiday I passed 
 at your chattow. Busiuess of great importance 
 obliged me to leave your hospitable mansion un- 
 expectedly ; I hope you had a good hunt in my 
 absence. The hurry in which I left Lushenham 
 prevented me making those inquiries after the 
 magnificent quadi'uped I rode, which of course I 
 should have done, especially as I fear I was a little 
 hard upon him.' 
 
 " What fools we must have been ! we 
 thought it was the other way." 
 
 VOL. II. Q
 
 226 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 " ' I hope I am not taking too great a liberty in 
 asking whether you could be prevailed upon to 
 part with so valuable an animal. He carried me 
 so much to my satisfaction, excepting a little acci- 
 dent or two, that I should wiUingly become a 
 purchaser. I hardly know how to put a proper 
 estimate on so valuable a horse ; but if oflSO is 
 any inducement to you to part with him, I shall 
 be most happy to send you a check on the receipt 
 of the horse : he could come up by rail, and be 
 sent on to me at my little place at Clapham, No. 
 21, Bunkum Villas, Streatham Koad. I am not 
 a great hunter, being usually occupied during the 
 day ; but I think I could snatch a Saturday now 
 and then, to enjoy a little sport with the Tooting 
 harriers ; and the ride to and from Holborn would 
 keep me in exercise.' 
 
 " I should tliink it would ; what do you 
 say, Tom?" 
 
 "I'd as soon ride him down Holborn as 
 go to Tyburn in a cart." 
 
 " He'll never suffer again from dyspepsia 
 after one such, morning's exercise, at all 
 events. He'd better alter his name." 
 
 " To what ? "
 
 ACHEROX REDIVIVUS. 227 
 
 " The Doctor — if he don't cure him he'll 
 kill him. But there's a postscript : — 
 
 " ' I hope you will excuse me if I Lave taken a 
 liberty, or done anything to disparage the horse 
 by my offer.' 
 
 " On the contrary, old boy ; such a bit of 
 ginger hasn't been his for many a long day. 
 1601.1 Why, he's not much short of twenty 
 years old, is he Tom ?" 
 
 " He's old enough to know better than 
 he does. What's that about his clothes ?" 
 
 " Oh ! he says — 
 
 " * I have forwarded some things that belong to 
 Mr. Munster and yom- Mend Captain Stuart, which 
 were packed up "with mine by accident. Would 
 you allow your servant to forward the rest of my 
 wardi-obe: a dress-coat, and other things? and 
 beheve me, faithfully yours, 
 
 * Isaac Cutpuese.' " 
 
 " What does he mean by his clothes ? 
 How should I know anything about his 
 dress-coat and other things?" said Tom 
 rather indignantly. 
 
 ^' He means the rest of his boots ; there 
 
 Q 2
 
 22S A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 was but one and a half left, and Billy Drink- 
 water gave them to your gardener to put 
 on the scarecrow in the peas which are just 
 sown. You don't mean to refuse ? " 
 
 " Not I. It's the first time I knew his 
 value. Every man to his taste ; but he 
 didn't look as if he was enjoying himself 
 much when he came out of the hazel copse 
 and went up the hill towards the big 
 bullfinch." 
 
 " He didn't look happy either when I 
 met him on the stairs after his return. 
 I suppose that walk taught him the value 
 of horseflesh. He left a large piece of Billy 
 Drinkwater's breeches somewhere, and the 
 pockets were quite full of mud. Billy 
 looked very closely to see if there wasn't a 
 half-sovereign sticking in it, but he only 
 found a toothpick and a halfpenny." Here 
 they rose ; and Bobby having lit a cigar, 
 he sauntered towards the stables. 
 
 Mr. William Drinkwater was just com- 
 pleting his toilet. The principal instrument 
 of his personal decoration at that moment 
 was a small-tooth comb, with which he
 
 ACHERON REDIVIYUS. 229 
 
 appeared to be drawing off tlie water from 
 his head. On Munster's arrival he sus- 
 pended his operations from before the frag- 
 ments of a small looking-glass, and, with 
 an expression of much simplicity, said — 
 
 " Well, sir, any news this morning?" 
 
 " What do you think of a hundred and 
 fifty for Acheron?" rejoined his second 
 master. 
 
 " Ought to have drawed Moses for two 
 hundred." 
 
 " Why, Billy, you're the biggest Jew of 
 the two ! Surely it's a good price for a 
 dead'un!" 
 
 " Many a ' stiff 'un ' makes a deal more 
 money than that," said the stud-groom sen- 
 ten tiously. " Don't know nothing about it, 
 does he ?" added he, with a nod towards the 
 house. 
 
 " Not if you haven't told him. He looked 
 awfully astonished at such a bid from such 
 a customer." 
 
 " No ! I haven't said anything to him. 
 Lor' ! bless you, he's so simple : it's a lucky
 
 230 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 thing he's got some one to look after his 
 interests." 
 
 " He'll be here in a minute. When had 
 we better send him up ? " 
 
 " As soon as ever he's dressed over : we'll 
 send him off to the station at once. Strike 
 while the iron's hot. If Mr. Orackenthorpe 
 was to find it out, he'd be as difficult to 
 persuade as the other." 
 
 " I suppose Mr. Munster has told you 
 we've had a bid for Acheron," said Tom 
 Orackenthorpe, walking into the stable at 
 that moment, and twisting a cigar in his 
 mouth. 
 
 " Yes, he's said something about it ; and 
 how much have you got for him ? " 
 
 " A hundred and fifty. Pretty good 
 price, isn't it ? " 
 
 '' No ways too much ; look how he car- 
 ried the gent. Never tumbled much, and 
 he hanging round his neck half the time. 
 Dash'd if he ain't a wonderful 'oss ; don't 
 want no riding ; best horse we got." 
 
 " When shall we send him away ? " said
 
 ACHEROX REDIVIVUS. 231 
 
 Tom, half afraid Mr. Drink water might be 
 for keeping him — at least his share of him. 
 " Are you sure o* the money ? 'Cos I 
 ain't so fond o' them Abrahamites." 
 
 " Yes, that's -piettj safe ; what do you 
 think. Bob ? " 
 
 As Bob was pretty deep in the lawyer's 
 books himself, he could afford to sell on the 
 chance ; so he said so. Mr. Drinkwater 
 was lost in doubt. 
 
 "If he hasn't got it handy, he knows 
 where to get it, I suppose," at last said he. 
 " He's sure to have his hand in somebody's 
 pocket at this very moment. Perhaps 
 you'd better send him a telegram, and send 
 the 'oss off by the next train." 
 
 " Eather sharp practice that, Billy." 
 '' No sharper than his own, I'll be bound. 
 Besides, I've known 'em die in a night, 
 and then he'd be uncommonly disappointed. 
 Pity to keep the gent waitin', if he's so 
 very sweet on the 'oss." 
 
 " Tom was not convinced ; but he took 
 out the letter, and gave his faithful retainer 
 the necessarv direction, to be forwarded to
 
 232 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 Bunkum Yillas, Streatliam Eoad, Clapham, 
 for Isaac Cutpurse, Esq. Having made his 
 mind easy on that point, the master and his 
 friend left the stable, and went in search of 
 a steeplechase horse to Pumpington. 
 
 Cutpurse, the morning after he had 
 despatched his letter, rose in remarkably 
 good spirits. He felt that he had done the 
 correct thing, and, what was more, at very 
 little expense. So elated was he with this 
 position, a very new one to him, that he 
 determined upon embarking in a little 
 dinner. 
 
 It was a windy afternoon at the end of 
 March, on the day on which the foregoing 
 discussion had taken place, and which, as 
 we see, had ended by leaving the matter 
 very much in Mr. Drinkwater's hands, that 
 the crafty lawyer, retiring to an inner 
 room, washed his hands, and brushed his 
 coat, turned down the wristbands of his 
 shirt, resettled his collar and neckcloth, 
 and rang his bell. 
 
 " Jenkins." 
 
 " Sir," said that hungry-looking func-
 
 ACHEROX REDIVIVUS. 233 
 
 tionary, appearing with a sheet of copying- 
 paper in his hand, and a pen behind his 
 ear. 
 
 " Has Shuffleton been here to-day about 
 that money ? " inquired Cutpurse. 
 
 " He came this afternoon, and said you 
 must renew." 
 
 " What's his furniture worth ? " 
 
 " Not very good ; all the rosewood's 
 painted, and the hair-sofa and chairs is 
 stuffed with cotton-wool. He said some- 
 thing about his wife and children." 
 
 " They arn't worth much, I suppose. 
 How much did he have in cash ? " 
 
 " One hundred and fifty, and one hun- 
 dred in pictures. He sold them, and we 
 bought 'em back at fifteen pound ten." 
 
 " Ah ! they'll do again. No^ we can't 
 renew : our client wants money ; give him 
 a week; and if he comes here, I' am always 
 in the country. When's Mr. Munster 
 due?" 
 
 " The fifteenth of April. Anything 
 about him ? " 
 
 " He's all right ; accommodate him at a
 
 234 A BOX FOR THE SEASON". 
 
 reasonable figure, say 35 or 40 per cent. 
 He's going to be married ; they always 
 pay." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " I'm going now for good ; " and with an 
 extra polish to his hat, Mr. Outpurse started 
 for his nice little dinner at Simpson's. 
 
 A nice little dinner among three fasting 
 Israelites, when aided by the charms of 
 sharp practice and successful robbery, is 
 apt to last some time. The three friends 
 grew very talkative, and the host enter- 
 tained his guests with his late fashionable 
 sport in the provinces. His prowess in 
 having killed a horse tickled his com- 
 panions mightily ; and they didn't seem 
 to know whether it was to be considered 
 a mark of their host's capability as a 
 sportsman or not. He evidently regarded 
 it in that light himself. After the port 
 and sherry, of which they partook pretty 
 freely, there came cigars and gin-and-water ; 
 and when Mr. Cutpurse looked at his 
 watch, he found it was verging towards 
 midnight. With a journey to Clapham
 
 ACHERON REDIVIVUS. 235 
 
 before him, he thought it late enough ; but 
 he was too poKte to say so, so instead he 
 proposed one more cigar. To his ^horror 
 it was accepted by these gay young 
 bachelors, who had no fear of Mrs. Cut- 
 purse before their eyes. Young fellows 
 are so inconsiderate. 
 
 At length he started. Well he might ; 
 for his shadow by the gas-lamps made 
 some very eccentric movements from one 
 side of the pavement to the other ; and 
 Cutpurse was quite sober enough to see it. 
 He felt very much inclined to quarrel with 
 his shadow, which was now short, now tall ; 
 and then suddenly lurched right into the 
 road. Most extraordinary thing he ever saw 
 in his life. Had he known anything about 
 Ohamisso and Peter Schlemihl, he would 
 have remembered his remedy for having 
 none at all, and have called a cab. He 
 would have done so, but unfortunately 
 there was none at hand. Could not be 
 intoxicated ; quite impossible ! which he 
 ascertained beyond all doubt by wishing
 
 236 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 good-night, in a very loud tone of voice, 
 to every policeman he met. 
 
 " Hallo ! '^ said a sober citizen, up against 
 whom he lurched in a very suspicious man- 
 ner : " where are you going to ? " 
 
 " Where I going] to ? why (hic-cough), 
 home, to be sure." 
 
 " Well, stupid, you don't live in my 
 waistcoat-pocket, do you ? " 
 
 After a while he threw away his cigar : 
 then he stopped, took off his hat, looked at 
 the moon, and distinctly remarked the halo 
 round her ; carefully separated two sove- 
 reigns and a half, which he had received 
 in change, from some silver in his right- 
 hand pocket, and transferred it to his left ; 
 called a cab which was luckily passing, 
 and got in with the loss of nothing but his 
 hat, which rolled off from the door being 
 lower and narrower than usual. 
 
 " Home, cabby ; go home ; " which cabby 
 literally did ; and half-an-hour afterwards 
 he was aroused from a comfortable nap to 
 find himself in a stable-yard near the 
 ' Horns,' at Kennington. It took a little
 
 ACHEROX REDIYIVUS. 237 
 
 time to explain matters, and when tliey 
 were explained lie started on his road once 
 more. He stopped the cab a quarter of a 
 mile from his own house, quarrelled about 
 the fare, which he compromised for half-a- 
 crown by the assistance of a policeman, 
 and went cheerfully to his little villa in the 
 Streatham-road. 
 
 His nap had done him good: he was 
 in a remarkably jovial humour ; on good 
 terms with himself and everybody ; and, 
 like all really honest and prosperous 
 money-makers, had forgotten everything 
 but the necessity of getting up-stairs with- 
 out being caught. 
 
 " Hang the key ! it's got something 
 down it," said he, struggling away at the 
 door-latch ; and so it had. 
 
 After some minutes' blowing into it, and 
 several attempts to find a pin on the door- 
 step, he began to see the necessity of ring- 
 ing. He looked down into the area first ; 
 and, to his great delight, between the 
 shutters he saw a light. 
 
 " Somebody burning the candles. Con-
 
 238 A BOX FOE THE SEASOX. 
 
 found that Jemima ! However, it's lucky 
 slie's up : hope she ain't robbing the house 
 with her vouno' man." So he ventured to 
 ring the area-bell very gently. 
 
 Jemima wasn't long in coming out. 
 " Who's there ? " 
 
 " It's me." 
 
 " Ah, but I wants to know who's me," 
 said Jemima, holding up a dip, which was 
 immediately extinguished by a sou'- 
 wester. 
 
 '' Why, me— Mr. Cut— Cut— you know," 
 said the master, rather indistinctly. " Don't 
 make a noise." 
 
 Jemima disappeared, and in a minute 
 afterwards was unbarring the front door. 
 
 " Lucky," thought Cutpurse to himself. 
 " All right. Xever felt better in my life. 
 Gad ! that last quarter of a mile has quite 
 freshened me up. I wonder what Jemima's 
 young man's like." 
 
 Here he found his way into the passage, 
 and, falling over the umbrella-stand, was 
 brought ujD by the stairs, the villa not 
 being quite a Belgravian mansion.
 
 i ~' 
 
 
 ated." 
 
 wmdTs Toiy 
 
 _._.^__^, ar; yWie
 
 240 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 " Not a drop — not a bit, that is." And, 
 to do him justice, the sudden appearance of 
 his wife had had a marvellous effect upon 
 him. 
 
 " Go down, sir, and see to that ' orsin ' 
 fellow you've brought here to disturb your 
 wife and family. Go down, and mind the 
 candle. I wonder you ain't ashamed of 
 yourself, with your ' orsin,' blackleggin' 
 fellows, eatin' and drinkin' here till past 
 midnight." 
 
 " My dear," remonstrated the now sober 
 Mr. Cntpurse. 
 
 " Don't talk to me, but go down and see 
 that racin' huntin' scamp that's drinking 
 gin-and- water in your kitchen." 
 
 " And thus violently adjured, the master 
 of the house, utterly dumbfounded, took 
 the light out of Jemima's hand, and pro- 
 ceeded to do as he was bid. 
 
 True enough, in the kitchen sat a very 
 respectable man, not particularly the worse 
 for liquor, dressed somewhat like a groom 
 out of place, who, having been made aware, 
 by the complimentary language on the
 
 ACHERON EEDIVIVUS. 241 
 
 stairs, that the gentleman was come home, 
 had finished his glass, smoothed his hair, 
 and stood ready to receive him, hat in 
 hand. 
 
 '' Well, my man," said Cutpurse, " what's 
 this?" 
 
 " Brought a 'oss over from the station this 
 arternoon, sir, and was ordered to give this 
 note into your own hand, and see as you 
 got it safe." 
 
 Cutpurse opened the note, and, after 
 reading a few lines, uttered a faint ex- 
 clamation, turned suddenly green, and 
 dropped quietly into the arm-chair which 
 the cook had so lately vacated. 
 
 " When did you get this ? " gasped the 
 penitent Israelite. 
 
 " Come up along with the 'oss." 
 
 " And where is the horse ? " inquired 
 the gentleman most concerned in knowing. 
 
 " There warn't no stablin' here, so I left 
 him at the Three Balls. Told 'em to give 
 him as much as he could eat, and take 
 greatest care on him, 'cos he's a valuable 
 'oss, said I, and I know'd you wouldn't like 
 
 VOL. II. R
 
 242' A BOX FOR THE SEASON* 
 
 nothin' but what was right. Nice 'oss lie 
 is, only got a bit o' temper of bis own. 
 Kicked off two on 'em — one's gone to tbe 
 infirmary — so they sent me with bim. 
 Wasn't goin to get rid o' me tbat way. 
 But be ain't altogether a nice 'un to ride." 
 Cutpurse read the note again. It was in 
 Billy Drinkwater's band, and was laconic 
 enough, but to the purpose. It ran as 
 follows : — 
 
 " Lushenham, March. 
 
 " SiK, — ^Herewith sends you the horse. Glad 
 you has got him, as he'll make a most waluable 
 hunter to any gent as can ride him. He kicks a 
 bit at startin' ; but that's all play. Master will 
 rite to-morrow morning. Please send back the 
 clothing. 
 
 " Yours to command, 
 
 " William Drinkwater, Esq., 
 " at Mr. Crackenthorpe's. 
 
 " To Mr. Cutpurse, &c. &c." 
 
 Tbe lawyer read tbe note over and over 
 again. There was no mistake about it ; 
 and there sat tbe living messenger of all 
 bis ills. Why the deuce hadn't tbe horse
 
 ACHEROX REDIYIVUS. 243 
 
 killed liim on tlie road, and run away with 
 the note and the body ? No: there he was 
 safe and sound, handed over to him. Cut- 
 purse. And then that villanous whip's 
 warning voice came once more over the 
 spirit of his memory : " Broke his back ? 
 I'm blowed if he won't break your neck ! " 
 &c, &c. And to-morrow morning was to 
 bring him a letter, probably to tell him the 
 name of the banker to whom the cheque 
 might be made payable. A cheque for 
 150/., and Acheron still alive ! 
 
 " Well," said Cutpurse, waking up from 
 his agreeable reverie, " all right, all right. 
 I suppose that's all ? Needn't keep you 
 up any longer." 
 
 " Just this little account for the horse, 
 sir, and my expenses. Deal o' trouble 
 with him. One pound nine and sixpence 
 and a receipt for the company." 
 
 " Confound it all ! " said Cutpurse, diving 
 into his pocket, and iSshing up all his silver. 
 " Oh, I know ! All right," said he, diving 
 again into the other pocket, and fishing up 
 nothing at all. Confound ! Oh, Moses ! 
 
 R 2
 
 244 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 Moses ! Dash my wig ! No ! Yes ! No ! 
 Yes ! yes ! I've gone and given those two 
 sovereigns and a half to that beast of a 
 cabman ! You must call to-morrow, you 
 must — all my money's gone." And with 
 vehement lamentations he went forth from 
 his kitchen. 
 
 However second thoughts are best ; so, 
 consulting a bureau up-stairs he at length 
 dismissed the man, after a good row over 
 the expenses, and retired to bed, but not to 
 sleep. Mrs. C. was not a woman to be put 
 off with any nonsense : before morning she 
 knew all the ins and the outs of Cutpurse's 
 unlucky purchase, excepting what he paid 
 for it ; and to simplify the calculation, he 
 just knocked off the hundred. 
 
 In all his misfortunes he had one con- 
 solation. He was sure of an invitation to 
 the Chateau (perhaps in the summer), 
 when the amusements were less dangerous 
 than at the present season. At all events 
 — it might take time — but he saw his way 
 into a good many hundred - and - fifties 
 through his visit to Lushenham.
 
 ACHERON REDIYIVUS. 245 
 
 During three whole days did Mrs. Cut- 
 purse launch her thunderbolts against the 
 nasty racin' and huntin' lot that had led 
 Mr. 0. astray ; had her own way for a 
 month ; and was at length over-bribed and 
 silenced by a dinner at Grravesend, a new 
 bonnet, and an evening at Rosherville. 
 Long before that Acheron had kicked off 
 half the Jews in London, and was at last 
 bought at Aldridge's by a hard-riding 
 cavalry man, who rode him as second 
 charger, and had two days a-week with 
 the garrison staghounds into the bargain. 
 He realized 30/. at the hammer, and was a 
 very excellent bargain. Amid the sur- 
 rounding gloom one bright gleam shone 
 out upon Isaac Cutpurse. Robert Munster's 
 bill was punctually met — it is said with part 
 of the money the wretched man had himself 
 disbursed for Acheron. When " stiff- uns " 
 are mentioned in the ring Billy Drinkwater 
 winks his eye, and implies that he pnce 
 helped to do something in that way too. 
 
 Two things dehghted the inhabitants of 
 Lushenham and its neighbourhood. There
 
 246 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 was to be a steeplechase and a match. 
 The former of these two was to take place 
 immediately. The farmers had to be remu- 
 nerated for their consideration in keeping 
 up the prestige of the Lushenham country 
 as the very stiffest in England ; and it was 
 well known that nothing was so calculated 
 to repay them for the mischief already done 
 as to give them an opportunity of doing it 
 over again for themselves. " No, no," said 
 these jolly dogs, " we don't want money. 
 You're welcome to ride over the crops, 
 gentlemen, and break the fences. To be 
 sure, there's no denying it does harm when 
 the wheat carries a bit, and the seeds 'spe- 
 cially arn't the better for it. But I'll tell 
 ye what'U put it all straight. Let's have a 
 steeplechase over this very country. None 
 o' your cast-off racehorses, but hunters 
 every one of 'em — 12 st. 7 lb. gentlemen 
 or farmers to ride ; none o' your profes- 
 sionals, but a real honest set-to among our- 
 selves. If you want to see the other sort 
 of thing you can go to Liverpool, or some 
 o' them national affairs ; if you want to see
 
 ACHERON REDIVIVrS. 247 
 
 hunters, why, they can come here, you 
 know." With such sentiments as these, 
 there was no difficulty at aU. Subscriptions 
 poured in from every side. There were 
 stewards without number, some of whom 
 forgot the very existence of such a place as 
 Lushenham ; plenty of forfeits, which were 
 regarded as an excellent sort of joke, pay- 
 able on Aldgate Pump ; and the most 
 accommodating secretary, who seemed to 
 have no fixed idea as to the closing of the 
 stakes. However, like everything else, this 
 had a termination at last, and the stakes 
 did close. There were about thirty entries, 
 half of which were unmistakable starters, 
 candidates for Downshire ; and amongst 
 them were Lord Cropperton, the sporting 
 Doctor, Mr. Falconberg Smith, Tom Crack- 
 enthorpe, Munster, and a certain Captain 
 Stuart. Every day was now employed in 
 looking over the course, just to see that it 
 had not been tampered with. Occasionally 
 a broken rail was found ; Peggs was at 
 once ordered up with stiff timber, hammer, 
 and nails. A gap was invariably mended
 
 248 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 with a hog-backed stile. The cows had 
 made the taking off at the water a little 
 sticky ; the whole was cut away " clean 
 and sound" to the tune of a foot and a half 
 or two feet ; and when a remonstrance was 
 raised against a really formidable bullfinch, 
 with a very wide ditch on each side, the 
 Doctor proposed to send his boy, to sit close 
 by, with bandages and splints ready for 
 action. He considerately added, " I shall 
 charge nothing for his time, and it will be 
 quite a holiday for him." 
 
 Can it be wondered at that beds were 
 taken in the surrounding villages, and stalls 
 and stables secured weeks before ; that 
 houses were opened, and dressing-rooms 
 laid down, and bachelors' rooms extempo- 
 rized, and extra cooks ordered up from 
 Pumpington ? Is it extraordinary that the 
 widow indulged in a new habit, or that 
 Tom fell back upon Poole for something 
 with no end of lining, cuffs, collars, and 
 pockets, which made a coat an article of 
 most expensive luxury, and increased its 
 original cost by about two sovereigns, leav-
 
 ACHERON REDIYIYUS. 249 
 
 ing us to wonder what sort of affair it 
 would have been without those luxurious 
 appendages? Even old Partington stood 
 a couple of new bonnets on the occasion, 
 and the old lady ordered a new silk dress 
 and three-quarters of a yard more front, 
 the same colour as before. So much for 
 the preparations for the steeplechase. The 
 match was between Eobert Munster, gent., 
 and Matilda Partington, spinster, both of 
 this parish, and was set for the 1st of 
 May.
 
 CHAPTER XXXYI. 
 
 COMINa DOWN TO RIDE. 
 
 In a country village remote from cities, 
 but devoted to sport, a steeplechase of any 
 kind would have excited a commotion 
 worthy of recognition. The object being, 
 then, to appease the farmers at the expense 
 of the gentlemen, and to test the merits of 
 the weight-carrying hunter, in distinction 
 to the jumping or galloping hack, the 
 reader will not wonder at the preparations 
 recorded in the last chapter. I was not 
 surprised when I heard that Crackenthorpe 
 had filled his house with as many as could 
 well be got into it, reserving a corner for 
 his friend Captain Stuart, whose arrival, 
 however, had been deferred until the morn- 
 ing of the race. Most houses in the neigh- 
 bourhood had a guest or two of their own,
 
 COMIXa DOWN TO RIDE, 251 
 
 as we have said ; but on the night imme- 
 diately preceding it the rendezvous was at 
 the Chateau, and the generous host and his 
 ally Robert Munster would take no denial. 
 Lord Cropperton was there, and Ned 
 Bingham ; the hard-riding Doctor, and his 
 sister, a good-humoured, sensible, well- 
 behaved girl, rather plain than otherwise, 
 who kept the Doctor's books and his house ; 
 Captain Gladwish ; four bachelors from 
 London, who had already finished the 
 season ; and Mrs. Crackenthorpe. This 
 lady had long determined upon a visit, and, 
 as it was not Tom's way to turn his back 
 upon his own mother, however inconve- 
 nient her coming, he submitted peaceably, 
 and asked the Doctor's sister to keep her 
 company. Emily Gladwish was from home, 
 and he thought Miss Scalpel better com- 
 pany than the Partington division. She 
 had got over the first blush of womanhood, 
 and was more capable of going through 
 the heavy business than the rest. The 
 unprotected widow was out of the question. 
 Of course Mrs. Crackenthorpe had a
 
 252 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 reason for suddenly deserting Torquay and 
 travelling eastward. That reason was as 
 follows : — Some ladies from Leamington 
 visited the place, and, with a sincere in- 
 terest in Tom's welfare, had made some 
 strong representations of the widow's 
 charms. Some said it was a blind only 
 for his real attentions in another quarter ; 
 others gave vague hints of a vicar with 
 two daughters, and an invalid captain with 
 one ; and between them they fairly fright- 
 ened Mrs. Crackenthorpe from the comfort- 
 able quarters in which she had established 
 herself. So she came to sit at the head of 
 the bachelors' party at Lushenham. 
 
 I ought to tell you that Tom was a 
 perfect gentleman in heart and feeling, 
 though sometimes a little rough in manner 
 or speech. His worst enemy could only 
 say that he was fond of his beer in the 
 morning and his claret in the evening ; 
 that he smoked regalias in his drawing- 
 room (but then it was his own) ; and that 
 his dog-carts were apt to be loud. There 
 was nothing in his house to which the
 
 COMIXG DOWX TO RIDE. 253 
 
 purest of mothers or women miglit not 
 have been introduced. Every comfort and 
 convenience was to be found there ; an 
 admirable household, and the best little 
 dinners in the county. He was delighted 
 to have her with him ; but the very best of 
 women can come mal-apropos. It was the 
 case at the present moment ; but if she did 
 not feel it, why need he or Munster ? 
 
 ISTo opportunity had yet arrived for the 
 widow Crackenthorpe to be introduced to 
 the widow Greystoke. The former lady 
 did not hunt, and had only seen her once 
 or twice at the cover side from her son's 
 brougham. That and the inquiries she 
 made did not tend to allay her anxieties, 
 and her present desire was that Tom should 
 pay less attention to the widow Greystoke, 
 and more to her. 
 
 Women have great quickness of appre- 
 hension, and want of charity, in all that 
 concerns their own sex. A bold, dashing, 
 riding female, alone with a mother in a 
 hunting village, might well be an object of 
 suspicion to the simple-minded villagers ;
 
 254 A BOX FOR THE SEASON-. 
 
 that she was so to a lady who had travelled 
 from India to England, through half the 
 capitals in Europe, cannot be wondered at. 
 She had not even the protection of a child, 
 a husband's best representative ; nothing 
 but the name of widow to show for the 
 money. 
 
 The party had been at table about an 
 hour and a half. The chapon^ the ecrevisses 
 had disappeared, and the pudding au citron 
 was going its round, when a ring at the 
 door-bell announced an arrival of some 
 kind. No announcement, however, took 
 place ; the ladies went on with their pud- 
 ding au citron, conversation and champagne 
 flowed abundantly, and in five minutes the 
 circumstance was forgotten. 
 
 '' I hope we shall see Mrs. Crackenthorpe 
 to-morrow ?" said the Doctor. 
 
 " Certainly ; but not on horseback. I 
 have offered your sister a seat in the 
 brougham, which I hope she will accept." 
 
 " With great pleasure, thank you. My 
 brother does all the riding." 
 
 " I suppose we shall have some repre-
 
 COMIXG DOWX TO RIDE. 255 
 
 sentatives of our sex, as usual, on horse- 
 back?" said the widow a little severely, 
 eyeing her son. 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder, mother ; some hun- 
 dreds probably ; it's common enough in 
 this country." Tom felt a little savage. 
 
 " I should think old Partington will 
 stand the grey again on such an occasion," 
 said a sub in the Guards, who, having once 
 seen the Partington equipage, had not 
 forgotten it. 
 
 " I should say not," said Munster ; " we 
 shall have the pretty widow, however, 
 without doubt;" glad to turn the conversa- 
 tion from himself, and rather reckless as to 
 where it went. 
 
 It is but fair to the Guardsman to say 
 that he knew nothing of Munster's engage- 
 ment or of Tom Crackenthorpe's infatuation. 
 "You've seen the widow Greystoke, Mrs. 
 Crackenthorpe, I presume ? " 
 
 " Once or twice," said she rather senten- 
 tiously. 
 
 " I dislike riding-women (thank you ! 
 thought Mrs. Crackenthorpe), they're gene-
 
 256 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 rally so vulgar, so full of the stable 
 (cliarming boy that little Guardsman ! 
 again thought she) ; but I must say that 
 Mrs. Greystoke's a beauty (oh ! the little 
 horror ! almost shrieked Tom's mother) ; 
 don't you think so, Tom ? " 
 
 Tom, who was not unaware of his 
 mother's sentiments, though unexpressed, 
 would willingly have annihilated the pre- 
 cocious young monkey, who was fresh 
 from a private tutor's, and ignorant of the 
 locality on which he was dancing, when 
 just at that moment the door opened, and 
 a most unmistakable fracas in the hall 
 reached the dining-room. 
 
 " What's the matter, Taplow?" 
 Taplow was the discreetest of men, and 
 only grunted, shut the door, and began 
 handing the first thing that presented itself 
 to the first person he saw, 
 
 " Who's that at the front door, Taplow ? " 
 " It's a-a-person as wishes to see you, sir." 
 " Well show him into the drawing-room : 
 burgundy to Mr. Scalpel." 
 
 " It's not a-a-a-he at all," said the valet,
 
 coMma DOWN to ride. 257 
 
 blushing, and endeavouring to make the 
 communication as mysterious as possible. 
 
 " What is it, then ? " said the master, 
 with rising choler, and perfectly innocent 
 of deserving any mystification. 
 
 " It's — it's — an hindividual, sir," re- 
 sponded the valet, thus pressed. " Sherry or 
 madeira, ma'am ? " continued he, addressing 
 Miss Scalpel, and covering his retreat as 
 well as he could. 
 
 " Then send the individual out of the 
 house again, or into the library ; and tell 
 them to make less noise." 
 
 Let us explain. During the latter part 
 of dinner — in fact, when the bell had been 
 heard to ring — a fly had driven up to the 
 door : on the top of the fly was a port- 
 manteau, and inside a very smartly-dressed 
 lady, apparently of middle age, and much 
 given to colours ; indeed, there was a 
 general amplitude of dress, and pattern, 
 and figure altogther, which was apparent 
 on her alighting from the fly and venturing 
 to ask for Mr. Orackenthorpe. 
 
 VOL. II. S
 
 258 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 " Mr. Crackentliorpe is at dinner, mnm," 
 stammered the servant, " and " 
 
 '' Yes, I know he expects me ; bring in 
 the portmanteau, and pay the fly." 
 
 " Beg pardon, mmn, but — but — you see, 
 Mrs. Crackenthorpe's here, and you see, 
 mum, master's " 
 
 '' Well, I can't help who's here; I sup- 
 pose he's got the room he wrote to me to 
 say I could have." 
 
 Just then, hearing the altercation, the 
 housemaid appeared. 
 
 " Here, Mary Hanne, just come here a 
 minute ; this young 'oman says there's 
 a bed for her." 
 
 " Go along, stoopid ! there ain't no bed 
 here for such as she." 
 
 " Well, you go and tell her so." 
 
 " I'm sure I shan't ; it ain't none o' my 
 business : pretty row there'll be when missus 
 hears of this ! " 
 
 ^'Now, then," called out the lady, evi- 
 dently tired of waiting, " what the devil 
 are you doing in the dark there ? Do get
 
 COMING DOVrS TO RIDE. 259 
 
 a candle, and show me ray room : wliy, the 
 man's a downright idiot." 
 
 At that moment Mr. Drink water, having 
 just seen all safe for the night in the stable, 
 came up to the hall door. " Why, what's 
 all tliis ? who have you brought over to- 
 night, Giles— Mr. Stuart?" 
 
 " No," laughed Giles ; " it's a young 
 'oman as come by the train." 
 
 '' Oh ! a young woman. We'll pretty 
 soon have her out. The master don't 
 stand none o' them games ; besides, there's 
 the missus here. Here, I say, my good 
 woman " 
 
 The good woman, who was carrying on 
 a loud altercation with the man who had 
 opened the door, turned round just to say, 
 " Why, you infernal old fool, Billy ! don't 
 you " 
 
 " There, that'll do, now, young woman ; 
 be off at once. Come, Giles, bear a hand, 
 and you too, Richard. Bless my soul ! 
 what a way he will be in to be sure ! I 
 suppose she's got a drop o' drink, and mis- 
 took the house." Saying which, they seized 
 
 s 2
 
 260 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 the yoTing woman by the waist, and were 
 struggling manfully at the top step ; while 
 the young woman, bursting with laughter, 
 and half-throttling Richard, endeavoured 
 to make herself understood. " I tell you — 
 confound it! — I'm — d it, Billy Drink- 
 water, don't you know me ? " 
 
 " Know ye ? why, in course I do ; I 
 knows the whole kit on ye ; bad luck to ye 
 all I out ye go ! so it ain't no use." 
 
 " I tell you, you stupid devil ! I'm 
 Stuart — Captain Stuart." But the noise 
 was now outrageous, and Taplow, with a 
 face of horror, came running along the 
 passage, shouting — " Good heavens ! what 
 is the matter ? You're to go into the 
 library, and wait there." 
 
 " Upon my soul, Billy, if you don't let 
 me go, I'll knock your head off your 
 fihoulders. You great fool ! you've neatly 
 torn my coat off my back. Look at my 
 hat ! " said the half-plucked female, giving 
 her bonnet a kick, and pulling off a quan- 
 tity of false hair, which half-smothered her 
 left eye.
 
 COMIXG DOWX TO RIDE. 261 
 
 "Why, Taplow, surely you know me? 
 now get me a light, pay the cab, and show 
 me up to my room : one would think these 
 people were all mad ; they wouldn't listen 
 to a word. They're all mighty virtuous of 
 a sudden." Saying which, he seized upon 
 his candle and was halfway up-stairs, whilst 
 Taplow apologised below. 
 
 " You see, sir, we never expected you 
 till to-morrow ; and Mrs. Crackenthorpe's 
 here, sir — that's the reason Mr. Drinkwater 
 was so very particular, sir. Hot water 
 directly, sir. Eichard, take up the port- 
 manteau, and tell Mary Anne not to stand 
 giggling there, but to make haste," 
 
 " Please, sir, it's Captain Stuart," said 
 Taplow, re-entering. 
 
 " Then, why didn't you say so before ? 
 Let a side-table be put in the room, and 
 the soup be made hot^ as soon as he's 
 ready." 
 
 " What sort of a person is Captain Stuart, 
 my dear Tom ? " said his mother. 
 : *' Stuart? oh! quiet fellow enough ; you'll
 
 262 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 like Stuart, my dear mother — don't you 
 think she will, Munster ? " 
 
 Munster assented. 
 
 " I suppose he's quieter when he gets 
 inside ? " 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Crackenthorpe ; he expends 
 all his energies at the threshold." 
 
 "Just what he did with his money on 
 the threshold of life. He lives remarkably 
 well upon what he once had ; like the boa 
 constrictor, who subsists for weeks on a 
 single meal, he swallowed all he had in one 
 season." 
 
 " Does he ride to-morrow for any one ? " 
 asked Bingham. 
 
 " He has a nomination for himself," said 
 Munster, in reply ; " who rides for you, 
 Doctor ? " 
 
 " My brother would not forego the chance 
 of breaking his limbs on any account," said 
 Miss Scalpel. " Which horse is it to be 
 to-morrow^ William — the one you can ride, 
 or your groom ? " 
 
 ** The one neither of us can ride ; the 
 other two are not fit."
 
 COMING DOWN TO RIDE. 263 
 
 Here Mrs. Orackenthorpe, signing to 
 Miss Scalpel, and seeing that the conversa- 
 tion had taken a professional turn, rose to 
 go to the drawing-room. 
 
 They had hardly achieved that feat (it is 
 a feat, with the modern style of dress, ex- 
 cepting in large houses) hefore Stuart made 
 his appearance. 
 
 " How are you ? delighted to see you. 
 Hope you got everything comfortable, old 
 fellow ? We didn't expect you to-night." 
 
 " All right : everything very comfortable, 
 thank you," replied he, with his mouth full 
 of soup. 
 
 '^ Fancy that fool Taplow coming in 
 here, and saying first that you were not 
 a He, and then announcing you as a 
 hindividual ! " 
 
 " Not such a fool either. I daresay I 
 did startle them a bit ; as to the man called 
 Eichard, I'm afraid I nearly strangled 
 him. Sherry ; thank you. I'd a bit of an 
 adventure," added the soi-disant Captain, 
 this quiet fellow ; " but it is all right now. 
 Lucky to get off at all ; gad ! I thought it
 
 264 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 was all up at one time. And I bought a 
 horse, too, and entered him. I don't know 
 anything about him ; he's a desperate 
 puller, and kicks a bit at starting, but he 
 can go on at a fair pace. I bought him at 
 Tattersall's." 
 
 " What do you call him ? " asked Crack- 
 enthorpe. 
 
 '' The Devil among the Tailors. The first 
 day I had him he went straight through the 
 glass-doors of a Schneider in Conduit Street, 
 and made his way into the back premises, 
 where he cleared the shop-board in a brace 
 of shakes." 
 
 " That doesn't sound promising for our 
 country : there's a post and rail or two 
 here, not quite like a glass-door in Conduit 
 Street," said Lord Cropperton : " you'd 
 better ride my horse ; Bingham's going to 
 steer the Squire's. He's bought a grey 
 mare." 
 
 " I'll change, my Lord, if you like : that's 
 as much as I can say." 
 
 " But what has that to do with the 
 adventure? Let's have that," said two or
 
 COMIXG DOWN TO RIDE. 265 
 
 three voices at once, with as much eager- 
 ness as if it were the only one to be met 
 with in the world. 
 
 ^^How came you to be an individual? 
 Taplow looked as if he'd seen a ghost — the 
 ghost, in fact." 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you. You all know 
 Stanley Lane, Pimlico ? No ! Well, it's a 
 quiet place ; nobody ever molests one, and 
 the landlady is an old acquaintance of 
 mine. Accidentally, I was a little hard up, 
 waiting remittances in fact, and a few little 
 things due since the last Newmarket meet- 
 ing ; nothing to signify, but tradesmen are 
 so confoundedly suspicious. They thought 
 I was going abroad. I often do make a 
 tour ; I'm not fond of this climate, in fact. 
 What an excellent salmi ! Ah ! champagne ; 
 thank ye ! No — no ice ; the wine's too 
 good for that. Well, I looked out of win- 
 dow only yesterday, and saw — gad ! sir, 
 what do you think I saw ? — hardly believe 
 such a thing in my case ; gad ! I saw a 
 regular bum-bailiff — sheriff's officer — or 
 whatever you call 'em."
 
 266 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 " How in tlie world did you know that ? " 
 asked the young Guardsman, just for infor- 
 mation. 
 
 " How did I know him ? Bless your 
 
 soul, my dear sir ! seen thou , that is 
 
 often read of 'em ; Charles Dickens, and so 
 on, you know ; quite impossible to mistake 
 — not with one of those descriptions before 
 you." 
 
 " Well— what did he do ? " 
 
 " He didn't do much himself; but, like a 
 dog-in-the-manger, he wouldn't let me do 
 much either. There he was, all day long. 
 There's a public in the street ; and when 
 he was gone to dinner, I slipped out, but I 
 was forced to slip back again ; he was out 
 in a minute. Then I waited till night. 
 Sent the servant to look up the area ; there 
 he was still. This wouldn't do ; no remit- 
 tances ; so I sent for the landlady. ' What's 
 to be done ? ' said I. ' Pay him,' said she. 
 ' Where's the money ? ' said I. ' What ! 
 not got the money ? ' says she. ' Yes, I 
 have,' says I ; ' but I mean to keep it.' 
 ' We must manage,' says she ; ' wait here ;
 
 COMIXG DOWN TO RIDE. 267 
 
 I'll go out ; and when I come back we'll 
 see what can be done.' " 
 
 " Oh ! the old story. Borrowed the 
 money, I suppose, at five per cent., and lent 
 it to you at thirty ? " 
 
 "Not at all; she's much too honest for 
 the first, and too wise for the second. She 
 came back with a tallish woman, a mantua- 
 maker, or something, a friend of her own ; 
 no great shakes in the way of beauty — 
 yes, I'll take a little of that pudding, and 
 another glass of that dry sherry — but most 
 stunningly put together ; all colours, and 
 such a bonnet ! There was nothing for it ; 
 I'm not a giant, and she was no dwarf ; so 
 I was soon turned into a rather gaudily- 
 dressed female ; and, what with a little 
 shaving, a brown front, and a Parisian 
 bonnet, I hardly knew myself. As to the 
 gentleman on the watch, there was no more 
 chance of his recognising his prey than the 
 Emperor of China. A cab was sent for; 
 my portmanteau was put outside ; and, to 
 make all safe, the landlady embraced me 
 at the door on getting in ; whilst the bailiff,
 
 268 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 crossing the street, stepped into the hall, 
 and waited patiently there nntil I was 
 gone, doubtless thinking that his victim 
 was up-stairs, and that all difficulties were 
 now over. Mine were nearly, not quite. 
 I covered up my face, but excited some at- 
 tention in the ladies' waiting-room by the 
 manner in which I warmed myself; fact is, 
 I quite forgot myself — to say nothing of the 
 horse-ticket which I was obliged to ask for. 
 My new purchase was already at the sta- 
 tion. I became suddenly not only a woman, 
 but a wife. I spoke of the horse as belong- 
 ing to my husband, who was to join me. 
 Of course, he didn't come ; and I got into 
 the unprotected-females' compartment. I 
 found an old woman and a young one, a 
 nurse with a baby, and two children, who 
 ran up and down from window to window, 
 and played at cricket in the carriage. 
 * Tickets, tickets ! ' shouted the collector, as 
 he ran along the line ; for the life of me, I 
 couldn't find my pocket - holes. Under- 
 neath I had on a pair of woollen-cord 
 breeches; and my purse, tickets, and all,
 
 COMIXG DOWX TO RIDE. 269 
 
 were in the pocket safe enougli : how the 
 deuce to get at them was the thing. ' Any 
 gentleman of the name of Stuart ? ' shouted 
 another, 'with a horse-box on ? Any one 
 know anything about a horse-box, name of 
 Stuart ? ' ' Xow or never,' said I to myself; 
 *I can't afford to lose the horse.' So I 
 pulled up my dress, and pulled out my 
 purse. I was just in time : *A11 right, mum,' 
 said the man as he ran along ; whilst the 
 lady who sat opposite, after a moment's 
 reflection, put her head quickly out of the 
 window, and inquired for a policeman or 
 the guard. * Porter, porter ! ' said she, 
 emboldened by the horrors of being locked 
 up with a maniac or a murderer. But it 
 was too late ; a sharp, shrill whistle, and 
 away we shot." 
 
 " By Joye, you must have been in a 
 considerable fix ! Help yourself to that 
 claret, and pass it to Captain Gladwish. 
 You were safe to be done at the first stop- 
 page. What did you do ? " 
 
 " By Gad, sir, I told her the truth to a 
 certain extent ! I threw myself on her
 
 270 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 mercy. She was a good-looking woman ; 
 and I patted the heads of those cursed little 
 children, who were making mince-meat of 
 my corns every moment. Not exactly the 
 truth, you know, but nearly. I knew she 
 cared nothing about steeplechasing, nor 
 bailiffs and sheriff's officers ; so I made up 
 a little history of a runaway match, and a 
 lovely girl waiting for me and my qua- 
 druped down the line. She saw I was a 
 gentleman, or thought so, at all events ; 
 and when I took leave of her, in the dark, 
 she ended by — " 
 
 '' Kissing you ? " 
 
 " No, but by making the children do so. 
 I'm not good at parting ; but I gave them 
 half-a-crown apiece for good luck. No — 
 no more claret, thank you, Cracks. Ought 
 not we to go to the ladies ? " 
 
 " Your late occupation has improved 
 your manners. Who's for a glass of sherry ? 
 Here, Bingham, help Cropperton. I know 
 he likes one ; and it will do him good for 
 to-morrow." 
 
 With that they left the room.
 
 COmiS^G DOWN TO RIDE. 271 
 
 The morning was fine ; and at an early 
 hour the arrivals bespoke a goodly sprink- 
 ling of company. Hundreds of foot- 
 passengers of all sorts, accompanied by 
 bright-looking women, such as England's 
 peasantry alone can produce, came early 
 to get a good position. They made straight 
 for the brook, or the biggest double they 
 could find in the line of running ; while 
 the better class made their way to the 
 temporary stands. Why are these stands 
 usually erected where the least or worst 
 part of the race is to be seen ? Here they 
 were joined by part of the London division 
 — pickpockets, touts, tipsters, and prophets, 
 low betting men, and welshers, for whom 
 the proximity to the brook proved con- 
 venient later in the day. About twelve 
 came dogcarts and many humbler sorts of 
 vehicles, the staple occupants of which 
 were already accommodated with long 
 pipes and a superfluity of beer. These 
 were followed by heavy waggons, flys, and 
 carriages, on which well-stocked hampers 
 were apparent ; and half an hour previous
 
 272 A BOX FOR THE SEASON". 
 
 to the proposed start, came well-appointed 
 phaetons, two or three drags, and a perfect 
 cloud' of horsemen, from the High Sheriff 
 of the county and the masters of half-a- 
 dozen packs of hounds, down to the well- 
 to-do yeomen and hard-riding farmers of 
 the adjacent counties. 
 
 At the Chateau everything had gone on 
 admirably. Mrs. Crackenthorpe proved an 
 invaluable hostess, cheerful and entertain- 
 ing, and doing all she could for her son's 
 guests. She highly approved of Stuart, 
 who paid her every attention — a thing she 
 was wont to exact, as having once been her 
 due. She was not half so much pleased 
 with the noisy young Guardsman and his 
 friends from London, who saw in her 
 nothing but somebody's mother, a woman 
 of £ve-and-forty, who could not be made 
 love to, or conveniently ignored. Ned 
 Bingham charmed her by his gravity, and 
 Lord Cropperton by his bonhomie. When 
 she started for the course, in a very neat 
 bonnet of her son's colours, she looked re- 
 markably well — for her years.
 
 COMIXG DOWX TO RIDE. 273 
 
 The breakfast was no sooner over than 
 it became necessary for the riders to start 
 for the course, to walk over it, and see that 
 the stewards had put nothing impracticable 
 in their way. Crackenthorpe led, accom- 
 panied by Munster, Stuart, his own jockey 
 Bingham, Lord Cropperton, Captain 
 Forrester, the young Guardsman, and 
 twenty hangers-on, some riders and some 
 owners. In the wake of this interesting 
 body came a donkey-cart. On the top of 
 the donkey-cart sat a grave-looking in- 
 dividual in a paper cap and a flannel 
 jacket; a small boy drove the cart; and 
 inside of it, and sticking out far beyond it 
 fore and aft, were some exceedingly strong 
 new posts and rails. A hammer and rule 
 were in his hand, and his pocket was full 
 of tenpenny nails. 
 
 Of course they passed over the first three 
 or four fences without any objection. 
 There was nobody there who was afraid to 
 ride. At last they came to the ox-fence 
 on the side of the hill — a good post and 
 rails, a straggling fence, and a very broad 
 
 YOL. II. T
 
 274 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 ditch, whicli had the advantage of not 
 being seen till you got close to it. 
 
 " Well, I don't call that such a big fence, 
 after all," said the Guardsman ; *' go pretty 
 fast at it." 
 
 " I should think not," said the Doctor, 
 '' now they've broken the top rail. Here, 
 Stubbs, bring up the donkey-cart." 
 
 " Oh, hang it ! 'pon my soul ! " 
 
 But Scalpel and Tom (who was not 
 going to ride) were inexorable, and a 
 top rail about the size of a man's thigh 
 was put in. 
 
 The brook excited some discussion ; but 
 as it was declared impossible to make it 
 smaller, and it was perfectly symmetrical, 
 the wiser thought it best to be silent, for 
 fear of an improvement in the width by 
 cutting it. 
 
 " At any rate, you can go in and out." 
 
 This was a great consolation ; the going 
 in being pretty certain, the going out 
 problematical. 
 
 " Anybody object to this fence ? " said 
 Cracks and a brother-steward, coming down
 
 COMING DOWN TO RIDE. 275 
 
 to the double post and rails, which had a 
 watercourse and a lot of blackthorn in 
 between, and certainly required some 
 negotiation. . 
 
 '' Yes, I do 1 " " And I ! " " And I ! " said 
 half-a-dozen voices at once. 
 
 " So do I," said the hard-riding Saw- 
 bones. " I object very strongly. There's 
 been some unfair play here." 
 
 " You object, Scalpel ! Why, dash it, 
 old fellow ! this is the favourite bit which 
 you liked so much. What the deuce do 
 you object to ? " 
 
 " Some fellow's been sawing away the 
 second rail : just look where it's cut 
 through. Here, bring the cart." 
 
 " No, no ! let's take our choice," said 
 Bingham. " The Doctor can go where he 
 likes. There's one big enough, where he's 
 standing, to upset a coach." 
 
 And Bingham's advice was followed. 
 Altogether it was pronounced to be a 
 stiffish course, but not too much for a good 
 horse ; quite impracticable, thank goodness ! 
 for a Newmarket weed, and a boy on his 
 
 T 2
 
 276 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 back, but just the thing for a hunter, and 
 totally different from the Leamington and 
 Livei'joool pattern — more like Market Har- 
 borough. 
 
 When the hour drew near for starting, 
 the horses appeared on the course, closely 
 clothed and hooded, as preserving that 
 mystery to the last which attaches to all 
 racing. Lord Oropperton's determined^ 
 big brown horse was known by the coronet 
 on the clothing ; Crackenthorpe's by its 
 colour, a raking grey, which had replaced 
 Blue Peter. The rest were not at first 
 detected, save only Stuart's nomination, 
 who disposed of the boy who rode him up 
 in so masterly a manner, that Billy Drink- 
 water, who happened to see it, shouted, 
 ^''If there ain't old Hacheron again, I'm 
 blest ! " When his master cantered him 
 before the stand, preparatory to starting, 
 his late proprietors began to think they 
 might have asked too little for him ; whilst 
 such were Stuart's misgivings, that he 
 was almost doubtful whether the thirty 
 guineas he bad given at Tattersall's, with-
 
 COMIXG DOWN- TO RIDE. 277 
 
 out recognising him, was not rather too 
 much, 
 
 " Bob, here's our old acquaintance. 
 Where did you get Acheron, Stuart ? " 
 
 " Acheron ? That's the Devil among 
 the Tailors. I bought him of some cavalry 
 man who couldn't sit on him, at Tatter- 
 sail's." 
 
 " He looks well. Have you backed 
 him ? " 
 
 "Yes, for a trifle — one hundred sove- 
 reigns to ten, four times over." 
 
 " I'll lay it you, if you like," said Cracks, 
 in a good-natured tone of voice. 
 
 " Done ! " said the Captain, pulling out 
 his book in a phlegmatic way. " They're 
 off." 
 
 I am not going to describe a steeple- 
 chase, even had I the pen of Homer or 
 Whyte Melville. The judicious selection 
 of ground had secured a few most unmis- 
 takable croppers, as, indeed, should be the 
 case ; but then the fences were of such a 
 character that all the horses jumped at
 
 278 A BOX FOR THE SEASON;. 
 
 them, and there were none of those ngly 
 cases for the coroner which arise from a 
 slipshod way of galloping through. There's 
 nothing so dangerous as a too-easy course 
 and a daisy-cutter. Over the big double, 
 the first time round, two or three came to 
 grief, the Doctor especially choosing a good 
 stiff place, which did not give an inch, but 
 turned him over. He did not, however, 
 consider himself out of the race until his 
 horse and he, landing in the water (if that's 
 not a bull), began swimming rapidly down 
 the stream, and eventually got out on the 
 wrong side of a flag. Two strenuously 
 refused the big bullfinch near the beginning 
 of the course ; but Ned Bingham came 
 down at it by over-jumping, but recovered 
 himself and his lost ground before the third 
 mile. The horses going best were Lord 
 Cropperton's brown horse Gipsy and 
 Stuart upon The Devil among the Tailors, 
 who, having taken the bit between his 
 teeth, led throughout ; and it was not till 
 the third mile that his rider got a pull at 
 him. When he did, his enemies and his
 
 COMIXG DOWN TO RIDE. 279 
 
 followers predicted his failure. " Of course, 
 he must come back." But there could be 
 no doubt that, with a good man on him, 
 Acheron was not to be sneezed at ; and 
 Stuart, if he knew nothing else, knew how 
 to ride. Half-a-mile from home, there 
 were but three in the race — Cropperton, 
 Bingham, and Acheron. " He can't win," 
 said those who had laid against him. " By 
 Jove, he will 1 " said the less-partial judges 
 of steeplechasing : " he's pulling double 
 now ! " Two fences from home, the big 
 brown horse made an effort, and soon 
 found nothing but an accident could favour 
 him. Bingham reserved his rush, on the 
 grey, to the last fence, some bushed hurdles, 
 at which they both went best pace. There 
 was a minute's doubt on the part of the 
 multitude. " The grey wins ! " " No, he 
 don't ! " " Yes ! " " No ! " By Jove, he 
 does ! for the Devil went so fast that, on 
 landing, he nearly fell, and Bingham 
 galloped in, a winner by about a length ; 
 the Devil, late Acheron, a good second ; 
 and Lord Cropperton's brown horse third.
 
 280 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 There were some late arrivals, whicli need 
 not be mentioned ; and last of all the 
 Doctor, who was, as he said, not inclined 
 to lose his ride, though his chance of 
 winning was out. He looked extremely 
 wet, but no ways disconcerted.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 THE RUN IN. 
 
 Tom Crackenthorpe's success was hailed 
 with some clamour by the many. He was 
 popular in the neighbourhood : spent his 
 money like a gentleman, kept a good house, 
 and was " hail-fellow-well-met " with his 
 neighbours of every degree. Of course 
 there were a few, who knew nothing about 
 him, who said that he had made the steeple- 
 chase for himself, who did not know that 
 his horse was almost a stranger to the 
 course, having been bought out of a dealer's 
 stable not many weeks before, and that he 
 owed his triumph to the fact of having 
 paid liberally and exercised considerable 
 judgment in his selection. But his calumni- 
 ators were found to be losers on the race, 
 having backed Stuart's horse from his
 
 282 A BOX FOR THE SEASON". 
 
 information — not altogether unprejudiced, 
 in their opinion. The result was highly 
 satisfactory at Lushenham. 
 
 The widow was in great force, but had 
 adopted a new line altogether. This was 
 the result of a conversation which took 
 place at the cottage a few days before the 
 steeplechase. 
 
 " Well ! my dear," said Mrs. Bransby, 
 sipping a glass of warm brandy-and-water, 
 and spreading out her handkerchief over 
 her knees to save her dress from fire or 
 water ; " how do you mean to manage now 
 the hunting is all over ? Those horses and 
 the boy must go back ; pretty penny that'll 
 be, I know." 
 
 " They're gone back ; and I suppose the 
 expense is my business, mother, and not 
 yours." 
 
 Mrs. Greystoke was evidently not on her 
 company manners, 
 
 " Hoity toity ! bless my heart, Kitty ! 
 I suppose it arn't treason to make a re- 
 mark ?" and the old lady swallowed several 
 spoonfuls.
 
 THE RUN IN". 283 
 
 " That depends entirely upon tlie sort of 
 remark, mother." 
 
 " It don't strike me that the business 
 gets on quite so fast as it ought to ; and, 
 as I took the cottage and holds myself 
 responsible " 
 
 " The business gets on quite fast enough 
 to please me, and is pretty nearly over ; so 
 don't you fidget about your responsibilities." 
 
 " Why, Kitty, my own dear girl," and 
 the glowing enthusiasm of Mrs. Bransby 
 shone in every feature, " do you mean to 
 say 
 
 " Yes, I do mean to say — that if you'll 
 only let me manage my own affairs I shall 
 be much obliged to you." 
 
 " To be sure, Kitty. Well, now, who'd a 
 thought it ? So he has really come up to 
 the mark at last ; and it's all right ? Give 
 you joy, my dear ; and so you've sent the 
 'unting 'orses away. I knew it was a good 
 plan though. They all like your ridin' 
 women, they do. It wasn't so in my day ; 
 it was the quiet sow as sucked the broth. 
 But what have you got to go about in?
 
 284 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 Surely yon mean to go to the steeple- 
 chase ? " 
 
 "Of course I do ; I've sent for a neat 
 brougham and servant from Pumpington, 
 and I shall go as the quiet sow. I think it 
 will suit his mamma better ; and she looks 
 very sharp after him, I can tell you. One 
 can get about in a brougham well enough 
 in the summer." 
 
 *' So can two, my dear ; and I find it 
 uncommon lonesome here sometimes. Don't 
 you think you'd better ring the bell, Kitty, 
 and have these things taken away ?" Mrs. 
 Bransby finished her tumbler; "he often 
 comes in about this time after dinner." 
 
 " He won't come in to-night, so you 
 needn't be in a hurry." 
 
 " Why not?" said the old lady. 
 
 " Because his mother won't let him," said 
 the young one. 
 
 " Well ! I shall go to bed, at all events, 
 my dear," rejoined Mrs. Bransby, rising 
 and setting her wig straight. " Don't you 
 forget now, Kitty, mind ! quiet's the thing
 
 THE RUX IX. 285 
 
 while the old woman's here ; colour don't 
 look well in a brougham." 
 
 The consequence was that a dark-green 
 brougham, with a good-looking horse and 
 servant, conveyed the widow Greystoke to 
 the most convenient corner of the course 
 for seeing without being seen. She was 
 dressed in the most becoming possible 
 manner consonant with thorough respecta- 
 bility, which occasionally, in happy contrast 
 to mysterious levity, delights to make itself 
 hideous with affected plainness of apparel. 
 She wore a handsome dress of French grey 
 silk trimmed with black lace, a white tulle 
 bonnet, a black lace mantilla or shawl, 
 gloves faultless in shape, and contrasting 
 with the felicitous hue of the bonnet's trim- 
 mings, and one handsome but exceedingly 
 classic bracelet, of Rome Roman, giving 
 effect to the rich sobriety of the rest of her 
 costume. With her she carried her dear 
 young friend Josephine Partington, the 
 discreetest of confidantes, and the least 
 attractive of rivals in the world.
 
 286 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 Strange to say, she did not subdue Mrs. 
 Crackenthorpe. That lady was strong in 
 prejudice, and when she saw the woman 
 whom she suspected of rivalling her in the 
 affections of her son so apparently irre- 
 proachable and capable of doing it, she 
 disliked and suspected her more than ever. 
 
 To tell the truth, the widow Greystoke 
 was a successful contrast to the widow 
 Crackenthorpe. The latter lady was a 
 dresser too ; but bright in colour, rich in 
 texture, effective in tout-ensemble, behind 
 the other in talent ; and when she looked 
 at the widow, the real Simon Pure — bonnet, 
 robe, shawl, and ornament — she was com- 
 pelled to admit that she was not much 
 surprised at Tom's infatuation. Had she 
 been asked for a reason she never could 
 have given it ; but she would have asse- 
 verated, none the less, " Mrs. Greystoke is 
 not the woman for my son." 
 
 Tom Crackenthorpe seemed to have no 
 interests beyond the brougham. Certain 
 misgivings held possession of him as to the 
 prudence of such a marriage, and his in-
 
 THE RUN IN. , 287 
 
 tended mother-in-law would have sufficed 
 to have shaken the stern resolution. But 
 Tom, it must be confessed, had taken a 
 longer slide on the slippy surface of love- 
 making than he intended, and one of two 
 things was likely to happen — either an 
 unmistakable fall, causing considerable grief 
 to the adventurer, or a fatal plunge right 
 in, to his eternal weal or woe. Mrs. Crack- 
 enthorpe had no idea of the extent of the 
 mischief done, and for her peace of mind it 
 was as well that it was so. 
 
 The example of Robert Munster had also 
 an evil effect upon him. Love-making is 
 very catching : and although it is but just 
 to say that Munster gave no great cause 
 to the enemies of the tender passion to 
 blaspheme, still, to see one's intimate friend 
 and colleague admitted to all the privileges 
 of incipient matrimony, standing, indeed, 
 on the threshold of the sacred temple, and 
 looking within, though not yet partici- 
 pating in the mysteries of that social insti- 
 tution, it was all Tom could do to refrain 
 from proclaiming his own happiness at the
 
 288 A BOX FOE THE SEASON. 
 
 expense of a nine-days' wonder. However, 
 notwithstanding the widow's innuendoes, 
 Tom had escaped that last extremity of 
 bachelorhood as yet. 
 
 We have seen what took place at one of 
 the cottages in Lushenham three days before 
 the race : let us inspect the Chateau three 
 days after. All the men were gone, of 
 course ; there was nothing more to be got 
 out of Lushenham that season. Some had 
 to arrange for their London season, and 
 others to get money for the following 
 Monday at the Corner ; so Tom and his 
 mother had the Box to themselves, with 
 one exception — Stuart was still there. 
 He was evidently not quite in his usual 
 spirits since the race ; and, being reduced 
 to a becoming melancholy by his inability 
 to meet his new liabilities, he was propor- 
 tionably agreeable to Mrs. Crackenthorpe. 
 Tom was not fond of blue devils in any 
 one, and, having discussed the matter of 
 Acheron, and expressed his surprise at his 
 running so well, he did not trouble himself 
 about the matter. Excepting that he had
 
 TEE RUX IX. 289 
 
 voluntarily lent Stuart a couple of hundreds 
 to settle, lie liad not much to do with the 
 results but to receive the money. But what 
 woman ever saw a man " down on his 
 luck " without wishing to give him a help- 
 ing hand? Certainly not the mother of 
 Tom Crackenthorpe : so from the moment 
 she knew he had been in difficulties, and 
 the steeplechase was likely to add to them, 
 she took thQ soi-disant Captain under her 
 esj^ecial protection. 
 
 Dinner was over on the Saturday night, 
 and Tom Crackenthorpe had disappeared — 
 as he said, for one hour on business, which 
 was no compliment to Mrs. Grey stoke. 
 The widow Crackenthorpe was seated before 
 the fire on a low, luxurious piie-dieu, with 
 nothing whatever in her hand (no woman 
 ever so much hated work). Stuart sat 
 opposite in an easy-chair, indulging in an 
 occasional disjointed remark, like a half- 
 dumb piano out of tune, and wondering, 
 meanwhile, whether it would be better to 
 go to Tattersall's and pay, or whether he 
 should temporize with his creditors and 
 
 VOL. 11. u
 
 290 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 realize, when the lady looked up from a curi- 
 ously shaped coal in the fireplace, and said^ — 
 
 " Mr. Stuart, how long have you known 
 Tom ? — I mean my son." 
 
 " Not very long ; only since last autumn ; 
 but long enough to like him." 
 
 " So I perceive. Do you know this 
 neighbourhood ? " 
 
 " Not in the least. I have been here 
 once or twice before in my life." 
 
 " Then you can be of no earthly service 
 to me." And the lady sighed. 
 
 " I'm sorry to hear it, Mrs. Crackenthorpe ; 
 I should have been happy to have repaid 
 some of the great obligations I owe your 
 son." For once Stuart felt as he spoke : 
 the 200/. cheque was beating against his 
 waistcoat pocket. " Will you ring the 
 bell ? and v^^e'Il have a cup of tea. As Tom 
 is not come in yet, it is not necessary to 
 wait." The tea came, the fire got brighter, 
 and the lady more wakeful as the evening 
 advanced. 
 
 " You've been out hunting here this sea- 
 son, Mr. Stuart ? "
 
 THE RUN IX. 291 
 
 " 1 have, several times," said tlie gentle- 
 man. 
 
 " There's a lady who rides here, I believe, 
 with the hounds ? " 
 
 " There are several : Lady Mary Bashful, 
 Miss Wilford, Mrs. Toppington, and " 
 
 " I mean a lady from Lushenham," cut 
 short the widow Crackenthorpe. 
 
 " Certainly, Mrs. Crackenthorpe : there's 
 the parson's daughter, whom Munster 
 is going to marry ; nothing very extra- 
 ordinary " 
 
 " I mean a very pretty woman — a 
 widow." 
 
 " Beauty, after all, is a matter of taste ; I 
 certainly don't admire Matilda Partington 
 myself; but, of course, Munster's ideas of 
 beauty " 
 
 " Do you know a woman whose name is 
 Greystoke, and who lives in the little white 
 cottage near the Parsonage ? " Woman 
 was strongly accentuated. 
 
 " Greystoke ? Greystoke ? " said Stuart, 
 as if a little uncertain. " Oh ! yes, un- 
 doubtedly, Mrs. Crackenthorpe ; but, really, 
 
 u 2
 
 292 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 there are so many women out hunting now- 
 
 a-days that " 
 
 " Just so, Mr. Stuart ; but that it is, 
 between ourselves, which makes me — which 
 — in fact — you understand — but I shouldn't 
 like it to go any further, and I'm sure I may 
 trust you." 
 
 Stuart said she might ; and if that was 
 all she had to communicate, the lady might 
 have saved herself the trouble of looking 
 for a confidant. After another pause, 
 during which Mrs. Crackenthorpe looked 
 at her handkerchief, and played with the 
 lace and the monogram, and Stuart looked 
 at his boots and his watch, the attack was 
 recommenced. 
 
 " I can't help thinking that Tom is very 
 fond of you, Mr. Stuart ; he often speaks 
 of you and Mr. Bingham as his greatest 
 favourites." 
 
 " I have the most substantial reasons for 
 believing it at this moment." 
 
 " Ah ! you men, too, have so much influ- 
 ence over one another on certain subjects 
 -— vou understand me ? — on certain subjects
 
 THE RUN IX. 293 
 
 — SO much more than even his own family. 
 
 Now there is a — a — what shall I call it ? 
 
 a sort of entanglement into which, I'm sure, 
 Tom is falling, and — and — if— that Mrs. 
 Greystoke— oh ! Mr. Stuart, I can't bear to 
 think of it, and yet I can'i make him under- 
 stand my views of it at all — not at all. I 
 cannot think it would be for his happiness 
 — he can't know anything about her. Now 
 you, you know — you can't think what an 
 effect ridicule has upon Tom ; and if you 
 feel under any obligation to him, it would be 
 such a thing to prevent him making a fool of 
 himself. Now, do, do say a word or two ! " 
 
 " I can't flatter myself that I can have 
 much influence over " 
 
 " Try— do try, Mr. Stuart ; and if you 
 only knew what I^ should feel ; the eternal 
 obligation " 
 
 " I'll do my best, Mrs. Crackenthorpe. I 
 don't think I shall succeed with your son, 
 but suppose I try the lady ? " 
 
 "Ah! Mr. Stuart," said she, laughing, 
 " I don't want you to run your head into the 
 lion's mouth for "
 
 294 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 " For Tom ! I've been in the lion's 
 mouth before, and if you'll keep my coun- 
 sel, Mrs. Crackenthorpe, I think I can 
 make a clear field of this in a few days." 
 
 Tom's step was heard outside the door, 
 and the conspirators stopped. 
 
 On Monday Stuart went up to Tattersall's, 
 and made good use of his money or his 
 credit ; and, as he carried back his masque- 
 rade costume in his portmanteau, it is to be 
 presumed that he was enabled to stop the 
 mouths of his c;reditors for a time. 
 
 Tom Crackenthorpe was sufficiently per- 
 plexed by the requirements of his mother, 
 and the demands on his time made by Mrs. 
 Grreystoke. As affairs drew to a crisis that 
 lady became a little exigeante^ and the 
 embryo Squire had something to do to keep 
 the two ladies apart, and to satisfy all 
 inquiries on either side. He led but a 
 sorry life of it between love and duty, 
 which, unfortunately, are sometimes incon- 
 sistent with one another. What with 
 lying to both parties — which he did, I 
 regret to say ; what with dodging in and
 
 THE RUX IX. 295 
 
 out of both houses, for the widow could no 
 longer take a ride ; and what with the rest- 
 less nights he endured, always the portion 
 of the undecided, he looked as miserable as 
 it was possible for one of ihQ most jovial 
 young bachelors upon earth. Eobert Mun- 
 ster was in town, assisting in his prepara- 
 tions for the most important event in a 
 man's life, and in satisfying his friends and 
 the money-lenders that he was on the high 
 way to meeting his bills by a prosperous 
 marriage; and, as most of them had dis- 
 covered that Miss Matilda Partington cer- 
 tainly was an heiress, if there was any 
 truth in Doctors' Commons, they were not 
 loth to advance at something under thirty 
 per cent. Old Munster added to the gene- 
 ral hilarity by a grumpy but tacit consent, 
 and took himself off to Ireland, after writ- 
 ing a congratulatory letter to the bride- 
 elect, ending with an Irish howl of glorious 
 anticipation that Eobert would prove as 
 charming as a husband as he had been 
 dutiful as a son. 
 
 There was joy in the halls of Lushenham,
 
 296 
 
 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 therefore, when, at the end of another fort- 
 night, Stuart reappeared. What with bil- 
 liards and steeplechasing conversation, an 
 occasional cigar, and some excellent '47 
 claret, Tom's soul became less restless, and 
 Mrs. Crackenthorpe seemed to place every 
 reliance in her guest's promises. They 
 were fulfilled in a rather unexpected 
 manner. 
 
 Sunday morning rose bright and cheer- 
 ful on the 14th of April, 18—. Tom 
 Crackenthorpe made a point of going to 
 church ; Stuart did not. Without wishing 
 to analyse motives, we cannot withhold our 
 praise from the former of these two gentle- 
 men, who always set an example of pro- 
 priety to the young men of his acquaintance 
 by all outward observances. Partington 
 spat and sputtered as usual ; the music was 
 just as charming as ever, excepting that 
 the bass got a bar and a half a-head of the 
 trebles; Lord Cropperton yawned at the 
 end of the customary twenty minutes ; and 
 the school children had adopted their spring 
 coughs with their summer bonnets. Tom
 
 THE RUX IX. 297 
 
 stole a look or two at the widow, then at 
 his mother; the two ladies were as re- 
 ligiously disposed as a couple of recluses, 
 and looked at nothing but the bonnets of 
 the Yicar's wife and daughters. The 
 longest service must have an end, and the 
 congregation at last found itself in the 
 churchyard. The usual compliments of the 
 day were passed ; and, just as Tom was about 
 to retire, the widow returned his salute with 
 a rather resolute blush, and an empressement 
 more than ordinary. As she held out her 
 hand, and showed a set of teeth which did 
 her early dentist great credit, she said, 
 with a smile which belied a sigh, or a sigh 
 which belied a smile, " Mr. Crackenthorpe, 
 I come to say good-bye ; we leave to- 
 morrow." 
 
 " To-morrow ! " said Tom, employing all 
 the breath that remained to him. 
 
 " Yes, to-morrow : the season is over, and 
 I think — I think my health is pretty well 
 re-established ; I shall have no better op- 
 portunity of saying adieu." And with a 
 sweeping curtsy which comprehended the
 
 298 A BOX FOR THE SEASOX. 
 
 Squire and his mother, the Yicar, his wife, 
 daughters, and congregation in general, 
 and a gentle sigh which went home to Tom 
 alone, Mrs. Greystoke took her leave. 
 
 That Sunday afternoon Tom spent in 
 company with an enormous regalia; Mrs. 
 Crackenthorpe, in comfortable security of 
 mind, in the Lushenham Hall ])ew. Stuart 
 was not at home ; he had walked out over 
 the late steeplechase ground, and, lighting 
 a cigar, he sat quietly down on a hog- 
 backed stile, and turned over in his mind a 
 few disjointed thoughts. " Well, it's done : 
 that's a comfort. I suppose this is the first 
 honest action I've done for some years. 
 Let's see how it pays. The marriage, if 
 successful, I presume they'd have come 
 down handsomely at first. In six months 
 he would have paid more handsomely to 
 have got his release. Wonderful game in 
 my hands, to be sure. For what have I 
 sacrificed it ? To save a capital fellow 
 from a very awkward predicament. What 
 prompted me ? Gratitude, gratitude ! 'pon 
 my soul — nothing else. I can hardly be-
 
 THE RUX I^s". 299 
 
 lieve it. I wonder what he'd come down 
 with if he knew it all ? Not much, for a 
 week or two. Very cheap to his mother at 
 a thousand. However, he's a deuced good 
 fellow is Cracks. And, considering I've 
 cut my own throat, I don't feel so had, after 
 all. 'Gad ! I helieve I'm a very honest 
 fellow ! " And with this sentiment he fin- 
 ished his cigar, and turned once more 
 towards the Chateau. If appetite has any- 
 thing to do with conscience, Stuart's must 
 have been singularly clear. If Tom was 
 buried in the depths of despair, his friend 
 was in the seventh heaven. Tom was 
 distrait, and began already to discover that 
 Lushenham was confoundedly stupid. Stu- 
 art spoke of his own misfortunes and neces- 
 sities with considerable aplomb, and ap- 
 peared to have begun a new life, full of 
 hopeful anticipations. Mrs. Crackenthorpe 
 and he carried on an uninterrupted and 
 very animated conversation on dozens of 
 subjects, and had it all to themselves. At 
 length the lady retired, and Tom set to 
 work at the claret in right earnest. Men
 
 300 A BOX FOR THE SEASON". 
 
 can't go on drinking and smoking and 
 staring at each other in that way without 
 conversation ; so at last they began — first 
 about the late season, then about the next, 
 then about the studs for sale, then about 
 Acheron, thence they got to riding, then to 
 women, and by a not difficult transition to 
 the widow. " Ah ! she's gone — going, that 
 is, to-morrow." 
 
 " Gone ? impossible ! " 
 
 " Going to-morrow — so she said, coming 
 out of church," replied Tom, with a slight 
 choking, which might have been the claret. 
 
 " Curious woman ; couldn't make her 
 out," said Stuart apologetically. 
 
 " I don't think you ever liked her ? " 
 
 " Not much, certainly : do you recollect 
 a bet we had some time ago ? " 
 
 " Certainly — one hundred," said Tom ; 
 " you'd have lost." 
 
 " How do you know ? Do you mean, to 
 say, Crackenthorpe, you really thought of 
 marrying Mrs. Greystoke ? " 
 
 Tom looked profoundly sheepish, took his 
 regalia out of his mouth, turned it round,
 
 THE RUX IX. 301 
 
 put it back again, and replied in a low 
 tone — " I might have done so." 
 
 " You couldn't/' said Stuart, shooting out 
 his head, and fixing his eyes steadily upon 
 his companion. 
 
 " And why not ? " 
 
 " Because she's married already." 
 
 If the earth had opened and the claret- 
 jug and its contents had suddenly disap- 
 peared, Tom could not have looked more 
 disconcerted. 
 
 " Oh, nonsense ! " and he turned round, and 
 threw his legs up on the sofa on which 
 he was sitting, and sent out a whiff of 
 tobacco which bespoke unutterable con- 
 tempt. " Whom to ? " 
 
 *' Suppose I say it's to me ? " 
 
 Tom elevated his eyebrows, and was per- 
 fectly awful to look at as a grand example 
 of disbelief. 
 
 " Will you listen to me while you smoke 
 your cigar ? " said Stuart. 
 
 " Of course I will, if you wish it." 
 
 Tom rang the bell and returned to his 
 recumbent position.
 
 302 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 " Bring another bottle of claret, make the 
 fire Tip, and tell Mrs. Orackenthorpe not to 
 wait tea for us ; we'll have a cup of coffee 
 in here." 
 
 Had I the pen of a Fielding, a Le Sage, 
 or a Defoe, I should have thought it my 
 duty to have headed a chapter, thus late in 
 my sketch, with ^ The Story of Captain 
 Stuart.' Not having the lively imagina- 
 tion of those writers, who interwove story 
 within story, and — very types of a steam- 
 engine — worked wheels within wheels, I 
 shall make our adventurer give the salient 
 angles of a life remarkable for nothing but 
 its systematic deviations from rectitude and 
 prudence, and its final inconsistency in an 
 act of honesty to serve no purpose but 
 an impulse of gratitude. An analysis of 
 the human mind will show that the two are 
 not incompatible the one with the other. 
 Let him tell his tale in his own way. 
 
 " You know, old fellow, you've been 
 deuced kind to me. You got me out of a 
 mess the week before last, that money 
 won't repay." Cracks thought it wouldn't
 
 THE RUN i:n. 303 
 
 either ; but he didn't say so. " The long 
 and the short of it is, I owe you a good 
 deal " — one way or the other he did — " and 
 I don't see how I could do otherwise than 
 tell you the truth." Tom w^aited to see how 
 much that was worth, to knock off the 
 balance. " Well, then, my father was a 
 clergyman, one of your pluralists, as you 
 call 'em. He'd a living in Essex, and 
 another in Sussex — both of them pretty 
 good — and a small estate in Wales. In 
 fact, he was tolerably well off, and as long 
 as we lived at home it was all very jolly. 
 We had lots of horses and company, and 
 did pretty much as we liked ; and the old 
 gentleman never grumbled. But there was 
 one thing he hated — he hated to pay a good 
 stiff sum out of his income for anything that 
 didn't show — didn't seem to tell, you know, 
 such as education. My eldest brother went 
 to Cambridge, and he spent a lot o' money ; 
 and Dick, he took to the law— and that 
 cost a good heavy sum, I suppose, for the 
 premium, or whatever it is ; and Charles, 
 he went into the army, and this sickened
 
 304 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 the governor ; and, when it came to me, he 
 would keep me at home. I'm hanged if I 
 know where I learned to read or write — 
 my sisters or the governess must have 
 taught me. As to school, I believe I went 
 once, but I ran away ; at all events, it was 
 only by snatches, and the old gentleman 
 used to growl so when the bills had to be 
 paid. Of course I liked being at home — 
 and I used to hunt and shoot, and amuse 
 myself ; and I think he liked to have 
 somebody to go out with the girls — it saved 
 him trouble. I was always with the officers 
 at Fort Muster ; and, what with blind 
 hookey, and hurdle-racing, and duck -hunt- 
 ing on Sunday, and the garrison hounds, I 
 wasn't good for much at eighteen." 
 
 " Yery few people are," said Tom paren- 
 thetically ; " I wasn't myself." 
 
 " The worst of it was, too," continued 
 Stuart, " that the governor never made me 
 any allowance, so that I never knew the 
 use or value of money, any more than the 
 proper way to get it. If I wanted a horse, 
 I got it ; and if nobody could or would lend
 
 THE RUX IX. 305 
 
 me money — neither the officers nor my 
 sisters (who were like all other sisters, and 
 spoilt me because I was the worst of the 
 lot) — I used to give a bill at three or six 
 months — an easy method, you know, of 
 paying double for everything. Originally 
 I don't think I meant to be dishonest ; but 
 I had imbibed a sort of idea that it was 
 right to have money, i. e. pocket-money, 
 but that all bills took care of themselves. 
 They only seemed to want renewing to 
 make all smooth ; and I had at one time 
 invented a mental arithmetic, by which a 
 man could live, and everybody else indeed, 
 for ever, at so much every three months, 
 according to the size of the original invest- 
 ment in stamped joaper. I find that it does 
 not answer for individuals, though I am 
 told it has been extensively employed in 
 the United States of America. When I was 
 twenty-one years old my father died. We 
 ceased to have a home ; his fortune was 
 divided, and he had not insured his life for 
 a penny : in one year's time I had entirely 
 dissipated the few hundreds that came to 
 
 VOL. 11. Y
 
 306 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 my share ; and perhaps my greatest regret 
 has been that I was fool enough to spend 
 half in satisfying my creditors, from whom 
 I ought to have run away. I was arrested 
 a dozen times ; and, as it was not unfre- 
 quently at the house of a brother or sister, 
 who meant to be kind to me, I soon dis- 
 gusted every member of my family. I 
 lived partly on the turf, partly on my late 
 friends who had not found me out, and 
 partly by a promiscuous sort of gambling. 
 I have been a private in a cavalry regi- 
 ment, officiated as an English tutor and 
 chaplain at a German spa, and driven a 
 Hansom cab, without detection ; and I can 
 safely affirm that the last occupation was 
 by far the honestest and least vicious of the 
 whole. As there is a theory extant that 
 no man can be utterly done until he is mar- 
 ried " 
 
 " Of course not," said Tom ; " if going 
 down hill, the double weight quickens 
 your efforts ; if rising, it impedes them. 
 But go on, as I don't see how that affects
 
 THE RUN IX. 307 
 
 your case : help yourself, and give us the 
 claret." 
 
 "You'll see whether it affects my case. 
 Admitting the truth of this theory, I pro- 
 ceeded to put the climax to my absurdities. 
 I was in luck at the time ; had won some 
 money at a hell ; had changed my name, 
 and had become rather a fast man about 
 town. I was one night behind the scenes 
 at a low theatre on the other side of the 
 water. I was attracted by a remarkably 
 pretty face, good manners, a fine figure, 
 and an air of respectability, aided by an 
 obese mamma, who guarded her darling 
 from the chilling effects of the night air 
 and the warm importunities of the Surrey 
 roues, I was admitted as a privileged 
 visitor. They speculated upon my ready 
 money, I on the prospect of happiness and 
 a home by my wife's exertions. We were 
 a nice couple, and, having deceived one 
 another thoroughly, and achieved a noto- 
 riety which boded no good to us mutually, 
 we agreed to separate. We have not mefc 
 
 X 2
 
 308 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 for about eight years : whether she con- 
 tinues, during the summer months, to dance 
 on the tight rope as formerly, to lead the 
 village choir in ' Masaniello,' or to capti- 
 vate all hearts on market-day on the fiery 
 steed Demonologos at Mr. Cooke's Circus in 
 the provinces, I can't tell : she rides the 
 high horse in the winter, at all events. I 
 was lucky. An aunt, who was ignorant of 
 the extent of my vagabondism, but knew 
 enough of it to control her generosity, 
 left me a bare suiBSciency, to be paid by 
 monthly instalments, upon condition that I 
 took my mother's name. I have since 
 complied strictly with the injunction." 
 
 " And who in the world was your wife, 
 and what has become of her ? " said Cracken- 
 thorpe, suddenly sitting upright on the sofa. 
 
 " We called ourselves Fisher, which was 
 the name of my father and family ; and for 
 one week I called her Kitty." 
 
 " And you've never seen her since ? " 
 
 " Ive never seen Kitty Fisher since, but 
 I've been introduced to a lady who closely 
 resembles her."
 
 THE RUN IN. 309 
 
 " And where is she ? " said Tom, getting 
 quite anxious. 
 
 " She's going to London to-morro.w morn- 
 ing, and she calls herself Mrs. Greystoke." 
 
 Tom Crackenthorpe rose, took a tumbler, 
 emptied about one-third of a bottle of claret 
 into it, and drank it solemnly off. He then 
 took Stuart's hand, and said — " Now I un- 
 derstand all about it ; better late than never. 
 So that woman meant to marry me ? " 
 
 " Undoubtedly ; and she generally does 
 what she means." 
 
 " And you recognised her at first?" 
 
 " Immediately." 
 
 " Why not have mentioned it before ? " 
 
 " Could I have guessed she was likely to 
 have fixed her talons in you as she did in 
 me ? She stung me hard enough to have 
 left her sting behind. No, no, Cracken- 
 thorpe. I haven't been educated to have 
 any principles ; never cultivated them ; but 
 gratitude growls wild, I suppose, in some 
 soils ; so I started her ; told her it wouldn't 
 do. You know, between ourselves, I had 
 a bit of a struggle, and I felt once or twice
 
 310 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 like a d d rascal. I suppose you never 
 
 knew what it was to be a beggar, or a 
 cabman, or a horse-soldier, or a prisoner in 
 Whitecross Street ? " 
 
 " Never," said Tom ; " but I can feel for 
 you, Stuart. You've done me a service, 
 though it's a little hard to take the physic 
 at first ; so finish the bottle, and let's go 
 to bed." 
 
 A few weeks afterward the two went 
 abroad together ; since which time Stuart's 
 affairs have righted themselves by slow 
 degrees ; and he congratulates himself upon 
 having narrowly escaped being the greatest 
 scoundrel unhung. 
 
 Now for Robert Munster. 
 
 The first of May came round, as such 
 days must come. It was a gala day for the 
 village of Lushenham. The county paper 
 gave a most flourishing account of the bride 
 and bridegroom, the school-children and 
 the flowers, the pathos of the spluttering 
 divine who stammered over the service, 
 the grandeur of the mother-in-law, and the 
 loveliness of the bridesmaids. But it is
 
 THE RUN IN. 311 
 
 mine, and mine only, to recount a terrible 
 truth connected with these matrimonial 
 quicksands, on which are wrecked the hap - 
 piness of so many. There, on that fatal 
 morning, sat, encircled by her ordinary 
 companions, the real Simon Pure, the ori- 
 ginal Matilda Partington, the actual heiress, 
 the possessor of twenty thousand pounds, 
 the niece of the Reverend the Yicar, and 
 his ward, neatly preserved, and justly, for 
 his own son, atthat time serving in one of 
 Green's merchant-ships. No one could see 
 this young lady without admiration. She 
 could have well dispensed with her attractive 
 fortune ; and when Bobby Munster first set 
 eyes on her, even on his wedding morning, 
 he could not help feeling that he might 
 have waited and fared better. It was, I 
 am glad to say, not till after the happy 
 knot was tied that a formal introduction 
 took place to " My cousin. Miss Matilda 
 Partington, of Cold Shoulderingham,'' and 
 it was not till the third day after that happy 
 moruing that the bridegroom had ascer- 
 tained bevond all doubt that he or Doctors'
 
 312 A BOX FOR THE SEASON'. 
 
 Commons had made a slight mistake. Then 
 arose in all its horrors the ghastly array of 
 bills accepted, payable, which could not be 
 paid ; of the little house, and the wedding 
 tour, and the dear, innocent, unsuspicious 
 girl, who was for spending money as if 
 her Bob's nightcap had been Fortunatus's 
 wishing-cap ; and, as these two ill-regulated 
 minds clashed rather unmusically whenever 
 expenses came on the tapis, Kobert Munster 
 decided upon falling back upon the fathers. 
 The newly-married couple were hurried 
 into a cheap and dull town in Flanders : 
 the bills were collected, taxed, and com- 
 pounded for by the elders, and there habit 
 and hard work has almost reconciled the 
 pair to their lot. Bob practises his profes- 
 sion, and is thankful for a brief — when he 
 can get it ; he occasionally writes an article, 
 and is paid for it, but not in the Times nor 
 the Quarterly, His wife is nursing her 
 second baby. His w^ork and her nursing 
 have wrought a wonderful effect. Perhaps 
 he's as well without the heiress, after all. 
 For a happy marriage, however, it was
 
 THE RUX IX, 313 
 
 very like an Armstrong shell : for it dis- 
 abled the couple itself, two fathers, a 
 mother, several sisters, an indiscriminate 
 phalanx of money-lending Jews, and a 
 lady at Pumpington. Bob looks back to 
 that season at Lnshenham with mixed feel- 
 ings, at best. 
 
 The Chateau has been let. Its owner 
 returned from the Continent, and hunted 
 through the winter with increased satisfac- 
 tion that there were no more widows about 
 the country. But he met with an enemy 
 nearly as dangerous in the wire-fencing. 
 It turned him over as effectually as Mrs 
 Greystoke herself; and if she broke his 
 heart, she did nothing towards damaging 
 his horse's knees. 
 
 Stuart became his right-hand man when 
 he came into his well-nursed property, and 
 manages to see a good deal of sport upon 
 the agency of the Crackenthorpe estates. 
 Mrs. Crackenthorpe thinks she never can 
 be sufficiently grateful to the wily Captain, 
 who now eschews bills and " lives cleanly." 
 
 Tom is about to be married to an old 
 
 VOL. II. Y
 
 314 A BOX FOR THE SEASON. 
 
 acquaintance — Emily Gladwish. His sus 
 ceptible temperament could not get through 
 the winter without something to fall in 
 love with. The Pumpington belles were 
 too far off to fan a flame which wanted 
 constant feeding ; and one day, when his 
 mother had imprudently left him to make 
 a visit of a fortnight, the irrevocable word 
 popped out. The widow Orackenthorpe 
 returned only in time to be apprised of 
 everybody's consent but her own ; and, 
 although she would have preferred a lady 
 of title, or of strikingly brilliant position, 
 the sweet temper and winning ways, the 
 bright and cheerful intellect and feminine 
 grace of Tom's dear Emily, reconciled her 
 to a state of unclouded happiness for her 
 son. 
 
 She dispenses Tom's boisterous hospitali- 
 ties in another county, and the Box for a 
 Season knows him no more. It is still the 
 residence of a bachelor, who dehghts in 
 the grand pasture-lands of our favourite 
 hunting country, and who has matured the 
 ill-directed though honest endeavours of
 
 THE RUN m. 315 
 
 Tom Crackentliorpe for the development 
 of steeplechasing to something Hke an effi- 
 cient result. May his efforts be crowned 
 with success; and may the nationality of 
 that glorious sport find an honest parentage 
 there, in lieu of an unjust and cruel 
 stepmother, who has utterly crippled her 
 bantling, elsewhere ! 
 
 Another House reigns in the place of the 
 Crackenthorpe dynasty, but the Chateau at 
 Lushenham continues to this day to be the 
 pleasantest bachelor's box in the county. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREKT, 
 AND CHAKING OKOSS.
 
 ^
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 041678928 
 
 >i