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 CHARLIE THORNHILL; 
 
 OK, 
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY.
 
 CHAKLIE THOENHILL; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 % finUL 
 
 CHAELES CLARKE. 
 
 IX THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193 5 PICCADILLY. 
 
 1863. 
 (The right of Translation is reserved).
 
 LONDON 
 BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS. WHITEFRIARS
 
 8&3 
 
 01 
 
 TO 
 
 THE EIGHT HON. THE EAEL SPENCEK, 
 
 GROOM OF THE STOLE TO H. R. H. THE PRINCE OF WALES, 
 
 &c. &c. he., 
 
 THIS FIRST EFFORT IN THE FIELDS OF FICTION 
 
 WITH THE HIGHEST REGARD, 
 
 AND WITH THE MOST SINCERE ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF HIS LORDSHEp'S 
 KIND PERMISSION, BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR, 
 
 I- 

 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 I. THE ROBBERS 
 
 II. THE BATTLE 
 
 III. THE CONSULTATION .... 
 
 IV. "MY FRIEND GEOFFREY" 
 
 V. AN ENGLISH GENTLEMAN'S CASTLE 
 
 VI. "AND ITS inmates" 
 
 VII. TO THE COURSE ..... 
 
 VIII. THE RACE ..... 
 
 IX. THE CHALLENGE ..... 
 
 X. HOjIEWARD . . . 
 
 XI. TIME FOR REFLECTION .... 
 
 XII. CHARLIE TAKES THE WATER LIKE A DOG 
 
 XIII. OUR HOLIDAY ...... 
 
 XIV. THE STEEPLE-CHASE . 
 
 TAGE 
 1 
 
 22 
 
 34 
 
 49 
 
 60 
 
 76 
 
 83 
 
 97 
 
 109 
 
 120 
 
 133 
 
 144 
 
 160 
 
 172
 
 Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAr. PAGE 
 
 XV. A DINNER AND ITS AGREMENS . ... 188 
 
 XVI. UNCLE HENRY 197 
 
 XVII. GRILLED BONES 215 
 
 XVIII. TWO BREAKFASTS 241 
 
 XIX. AN EARLY STAGE OF THE UNIVERSAL MALADY 259 
 
 XX. IN QUEST OF A DOG . 281
 
 CHARLIE THOENHILL. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " Hearken to me, gentlemen, 
 Come and you shall heare, 
 I'll tell you of two of the boldest brethren, 
 That ever borne y-were." —Ballad Poetry. 
 
 It was a beautiful evening about the middle of 
 spring ; and as the sun was approaching gradu- 
 ally the horizon, a small pleasure-boat containing 
 two persons pulled into a creek on the river Lee, 
 a mile or two from Cork. Half a dozen rude 
 steps led through a rustic gate to a very small 
 but neatly kept lawn. The neatness of the place 
 was remarkable, as neither the size of the house 
 nor the garden justified such anticipations. It 
 seemed not so much an evidence of means as of 
 a refinement superior to that of those around, 
 whose cottages, with greater extent, had gene- 
 rally an unkept and neglected look, and bespoke 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 CHARLIE THORNHILL; OR, 
 
 as much an indifference to comfort as an incapa- 
 bility of acquiring it. The cottage itself was 
 utterly without pretension. It consisted appa- 
 rently of about four small rooms exclusive of 
 servants' offices : a verandah, looking to the east 
 and south, gave an ornamental appearance to 
 the building ; and a few creepers, already put- 
 ting forth their earliest leaves, added a certain 
 amount of character to the house, which it other- 
 wise would have wanted. It was very retired; 
 in the semi-obscurity of a setting sun it was 
 almost triste ; and the deep shadows upon the 
 little lawn impressed the superstitious with a 
 feeling of melancholy, not always displeasing, 
 nor very un-Irish. 
 
 The persons who had just disembarked from 
 the boat were (as might have been supposed) a 
 man and a woman. For the development of 
 mystery this union of sexes is indispensable. 
 The strong arm and stubborn will of man 
 require the passionate earnestness of woman to 
 assist or to thwart him. The woman had moved 
 a few steps on to the lawn, or rather grass-plot, 
 and now stopped, watching her companion, as he 
 fastened the boat sufficiently to secure her from
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. O 
 
 drifting down the stream. They were both emi- 
 nently handsome, and still young, though not in 
 their premiere jeunesse. The woman was about 
 seven-and-twenty, of very delicate and ladylike 
 proportions. Her face, as a mere question of 
 feature, was sufficiently beautiful, but its charms 
 were enhanced by an expression which told of 
 love, of fidelity in suffering, of truthfulness, of 
 dependence, of everything most womanlike. It 
 told, too, of anxiety, but not for self — of care for 
 others deeper than for any suffering of her own. 
 The man, who by this time had joined her, was 
 also a very handsome person : less strictly so 
 than the woman, perhaps, in feature. He was, 
 besides, considerably older, though still an 
 upright, active, and well-made man. He had 
 the appearance, essentially, of a gentleman ; but 
 he had a restless, unsettled gaze, and a face in 
 which there was written in a strong hand — 
 impulse, sensuality, self-will. There was no 
 command either of self or others in those hand- 
 some large dark eyes, or in that full lip and 
 ruddy complexion. But as he stood by his wife 
 (for such was their relationship), they moved a 
 noble couple ; and few would have remarked
 
 4 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 these physiognomical defects upon a first in- 
 spection. He was dressed in a sombrero, and a 
 pilot coat, which he had just put on, and which 
 he buttoned as he leisurely approached his 
 companion. 
 
 " Oh ! Arthur, Arthur, how happy we might 
 be here but for these wretched separations ; and 
 if not here, elsewhere ; all places are the same 
 to me, if you could only be as you once were, 
 and with me and the boy." 
 
 " Better perhaps as it is, Norah." 
 
 " No ! impossible. Whatever the sorrow, 
 whatever the mystery, surely it may be better 
 borne when shared with your wife." 
 
 " You would only be teased by the daily 
 annoyance of my difficulties, and could never 
 relieve them." 
 
 " Try me, Arthur. For what did I marry you? 
 Was it because you were rich ; because you 
 promised me a great house and many luxuries ? 
 Did ye come courting like a fine gentleman, 
 when ye cantered over on your ragged-looking 
 pony," said Norah, with a touch of humour, in 
 spite of her anxieties ; " and in the old shooting- 
 jacket that Mike begged to frighten away the
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 birds ? It wasn't till the day you were married 
 I knew you'd a decent coat to your back." 
 
 " You married me because j r ou loved me ; and 
 it would have been better that you had been 
 buried first," said the man, bitterly. " It's no 
 use, Norah ; don't ask me ; I can tell you 
 nothing, except this, that I must leave you again 
 for England. Be a good girl, and take care of 
 yourself and the boy. Some day we'll try and 
 leave this place and every sorrow behind us ; but 
 it can't be yet. What does the boy do with 
 himself all day ? " 
 
 " He goes to school in the morning, and seems 
 to be getting on well; but I hardly know much of 
 his schoolfellows. He is usually fishing all the 
 afternoon ; and is always teasing to know when 
 he's to have the pony you have so long talked 
 about." 
 
 " Let him fish, Norah ; it's an innocent amuse- 
 ment, as long as he does not fall into the river : 
 but keep him away from horseflesh ; the less he 
 ever knows of it the better ; it's been very little 
 good to me. But now I must go to meet 
 Burke. I have a word of business to say to him 
 to-night."
 
 6 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 " Well! don't be long. But don't bring Burke 
 here ; I've seen bim once, and I don't like bim. 
 Arthur, dear Arthur, these men frighten me; 
 they are at the bottom of all our sorrow and 
 mystery ; trust me, and confide in me. If I can 
 do nothing else for you, I can pray for you, or 
 die for you, but I cannot leave you." 
 
 Whilst Arthur Kildonald unfastens his skiff, 
 and rows across the river to his rendezvous, I 
 will endeavour to place him before the reader in 
 his true light. He was the son of a man of 
 small but independent property in the west of 
 Ireland, who without influence or position was 
 too much of a gentleman to work for his bread. 
 There are more such in many parts of Ireland, 
 east, west, north, and south. He had, as a boy, 
 but a very moderate education, but he had the 
 advantage, if it may be so called, of a close 
 proximity to a garrison town ; and his father's 
 idle habits and congenial disposition brought 
 him into continual intercourse with the officers. 
 Arthur grew up singularly handsome, and with 
 all those tastes for riding and shooting, and 
 every sort of sport, for which his physical powers 
 and activity so well fitted him. At an early age
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 7 
 
 he was an adept at all games of skill, as of 
 chance. His dexterity as a pigeon-shot found 
 him no unwelcome supplies of pocket-money; 
 and his horsemanship procured him many a good 
 mount in amateur steeple-chases, by which he 
 acquired something more useful to him than 
 reputation. It is difficult to conceive a course of 
 life more fitted to eradicate all good, and to sow 
 the seeds of much evil. A naturally good dis- 
 position soon gave way to the contaminating 
 influences of self-indulgence and gambling. Very 
 little remained to him at the age of five-and- 
 twenty but a questionable recklessness in money 
 matters, which was occasionally mistaken for 
 generosity, and a certain softness of character 
 which rendered him the prey of designing women 
 and men. With the former he was supposed to 
 have had some successes — an idea which his 
 vanity encouraged. With the latter he was 
 always either a tool or a hero. He had much 
 personal courage; and constant admixture with 
 the world had given him a readiness which 
 served him in moments of danger or difficulty. 
 
 His father's death opened the realities of life 
 to him. Up to that period he had been entirely
 
 8 CHARLIE THORNHILL; OR, 
 
 ignorant of his social position. He awoke to 
 find himself an orphan, which gave him little 
 trouble, and a beggar, which was a crushing evil. 
 Hitherto he had not felt the want of money; 
 now and henceforth his life was to be a struggle 
 with the world. It so happened that the small 
 property, of which his father may have been 
 rather said to have received the rents than to 
 have been in possession, eventually came to the 
 hammer ; and was bought by Mr. Thornhill, of 
 Thornhills, an English gentleman of large for- 
 tune, at a price which just served to pay off the 
 mortgages upon it, a few personal debts, and to 
 provide funds for his funeral, which fortunately 
 happened at no great distance of time. With a 
 blindness peculiar to men of violent impulses, 
 Arthur Kildonald could never divest himself of 
 the notion that a great wrong had been done 
 him by the Thornhill family; and though at 
 that time they were quite unknown to him, he 
 cherished a most foolish, almost frantic, anti- 
 pathy to them all. The name of Thornhill stank 
 in his nostrils ; and a savage longing even then 
 possessed him of some day wiping out an ima- 
 ginary stain upon his position in society. From
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. \) 
 
 that time lie led a life of dissipation, supported 
 upon the small remnants of his property, or by 
 the association which he formed with gamblers of 
 every degree, and more especially upon the turf. 
 His connexion with these men led him fre- 
 quently to England. Indeed, for several years 
 he had lived at least eight months out of the 
 twelve in that country ; and a charming manner 
 and congenial pursuits gave him an entree into at 
 least the confines of good men's society. I say 
 men's society — for when I hear of acquaintance- 
 ship formed under any circumstances but those 
 of perfect social equality, I always inquire 
 whether it extends to the ladies of the family. 
 English sporting men are remarkably inexigeant 
 as regards men, but they are very particular that 
 the female apartments are invaded by no unac- 
 knowledged foot. In England he was known 
 only as an unmarried man ; in Ireland his mar- 
 riage was suspected by all, who did not give him 
 credit for a liaison of a very romantic nature. 
 
 Such had been, and still was, the man who 
 now moored his skiff on the left bank of the Lee, 
 a short way lower down the stream than his own 
 house, and on the opposite side of the river.
 
 10 CHAKLIE THORNHILL; OR, 
 
 He stepped lightly on shore, lit a cigar, and 
 walked leisurely inland towards a small inn, 
 which he quickly recognised by a horn lantern, 
 swinging inside of the door, and shedding its dim 
 lustre over a circuit of a few hundred yards. 
 
 " Is Mr. Burke here, Patrick ? " 
 
 " Is it Lawyer Burke, him as rides the bay 
 cob, yer honour ? " 
 
 " The same, and a very handsome cob it is," 
 said Kildonald ; "a little light below the knee, 
 but a fine mover : how long has he been here ? " 
 
 " He's taken his first tumbler, and maj'be he'll 
 be wanting a second by this time. Will I hould 
 a light to yer honour ? " said Patrick, as he 
 preceded Kildonald to a small but tolerably com- 
 fortable little room, where there was a small turf 
 fire, and Mr. Burke was enjoying a good hot 
 glass of whisky punch, which had been brought 
 to him upon his arrival, some ten minutes before. 
 
 Patrick busied himself for a minute or two 
 about the fire, and then looked at the tumbler, 
 and then at the little kettle, whilst the two 
 gentlemen saluted each other in the customary 
 manner of men who meet pretty frequently, but 
 without great love for one another. As soon,
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 11 
 
 however, as the door closed, Burke, drawing 
 his chair closer to Kildonald, asked somewhat 
 abruptly — 
 
 " You got my letter, I suppose ? u 
 
 " I did." 
 
 " Can nothing be done ? " 
 
 " Nothing in this case ; the horse must win if 
 all goes right ; he's a stone better than the mare, 
 and there's nothing else worth mentioning in the 
 race." 
 
 " By G — he must not win ! it's absolute 
 ruin ; " and Burke moved uneasily on his chair. 
 (t Listen, Kildonald; he belongs to Sir Frederick 
 Marston; can money do nothing with his trainer? 
 Is he to be got at ? " 
 
 " Simply absurd. "Where we can give hun- 
 dreds he can give thousands. Besides, I know 
 the man, and nothing of that kind can save you. 
 You must stand to be shot at;" 
 
 " I tell you every man has his price ; faith, he 
 was no fool that discovered that ! " 
 
 " And I tell you that Turner has not his 
 price; if he has it's beyond your purse and 
 mine : he's the honestest trainer in England." 
 
 " Ye might have added Ireland too, and not
 
 12 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 made it a great compliment anyhow," said Mr. 
 Burke, whose own experience was not of the 
 most encouraging. " Who rides him ? " 
 
 " It's not known : it's a gentleman's race, and 
 will he run on its merits." 
 
 " A gentleman's race ! Come, Captain, there's 
 hope yet. They're worse than the jockeys, and 
 a great deal poorer. Are you up ? " 
 
 " Not yet. But I go to England to-morrow, 
 and know nothing till then. Lord Castleton 
 might have the mount, hut can't ride the 
 weight." 
 
 " Can you ? You've ridden Sir Frederick's 
 horses before this : if you can manage this you 
 may stand two thousand to nothing on it. If 
 
 not the game's over, and once over with me, 
 
 you know what follows." 
 
 " Enough, enough, sir : I have submitted to 
 these threats too frequently not to know what is 
 coming." At the conclusion of Burke's speech 
 Kildonald had risen quickly from the seat he had 
 hitherto occupied. His breath came rapidly, his 
 voice quivered with passion, and his face wore a 
 paleness terrible to contemplate : it had in it a 
 shade of fear, which in a constitutionally brave
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 13 
 
 man bespeaks an inability of action more sick- 
 ening than any outburst of rage. A lion before 
 the braying of an ass is said to stand cowed, or 
 to crouch trembling at the unearthly sound ; and 
 a man of physical power in the meshes of his 
 own vices is an object equally pitiful. Indeed, 
 when he recovered his usual speech his words 
 lacked that hearty ring which real passion lends, 
 and sent forth an uncertain sound tinctured by 
 some motive of feeling undefined. " I have said 
 it is impossible ; is my position to go for 
 nothing ? Am I to be insulted by proposals 
 which cannot be made with safety to the meanest 
 of your confederates ? I am in your power, but 
 I will not be reminded of it every time your 
 accursed avarice makes me an unwilling tool in 
 hands that I despise. You — you — you forget 
 who I am." 
 
 Burke, too, had risen, and the fancied advan- 
 tages of birth and the real advantages of manner 
 and appearance were very obvious. Burke was a 
 broad-shouldered and singularly vulgar-looking 
 man : his head was large, his features coarse, 
 and a profusion of red hair and whisker gave him 
 a farouche appearance. Low cunning was the
 
 14 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 predominant expression of his face, but it was 
 mixed with a roistering air, which sat not badly 
 on one whose avocation, to all appearance, was 
 that of a middle-class horse-dealer. He was 
 really a sporting lawj^er. 
 
 " Faith, Mr. Kildonald, Fll not forget what ye 
 are." And here Burke paused, for he was not 
 sure how far he might drive his confederate to 
 defy him, and to break a bond which, from too 
 frequent irritation, was becoming intolerable. 
 His cunning was not the finesse which plays with 
 the emotions of men, as with facts, or he might 
 have read, in his companion's face or manner, 
 capitulation upon any terms. " However, it's 
 impossible, is it? I'd like to see the thing on 
 the cards that's impossible with you and me. 
 And I've a heavy book on The Leger, too ; and 
 if Sir Frederick's horse wins this I'll never see 
 it out. Seven thousand to Thornhill alone, 
 and " 
 
 " Hold," said Kildonald ; " did you say Thorn- 
 hill? Has he much money on? Quick, man; 
 has he backed Sir Frederick's horse for a stake ? 
 Tell me at once." And such was his vehemence 
 that Burke could not help seeing that his point
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 15 
 
 was gained, and for some reason or other Thorn- 
 hill's fancy would prove his safeguard; so he 
 replied without much hesitation, and with quite 
 as little truth, that he had backed the horse 
 heavily for The Aristocratic Handicap, and must 
 be very short of money if the gray lost for some 
 time to come. In fact, with a tact which did 
 him credit, although not knowing the -extent or 
 power of the feeling, he put a finishing touch to 
 his last coup by asserting that the Irish property 
 must be in the market before long, unless there 
 came a slice of luck, which could only happen 
 through the success of the gentlemen whom 
 ThornhilFs esprit de corps induced him always 
 to back. " Ah ! they all sink or swim together, 
 and they all back their fancy ; and when once a 
 man has a prejudice, and will back it, it doesn't 
 take long to land him : they're soon high and dry 
 after that." 
 
 The passions which had been roused in Kil- 
 donald, partly by the sense of indignity and 
 dependence, and partly by his fears, were be- 
 ginning to cool. Not so his hatred of Burke. 
 But at the present moment his thoughts had 
 been most opportunely directed into a new chan-
 
 16 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 nel. He had two objects in view, both of which 
 seemed once more within his grasp. The one 
 uppermost in his mind was an opportunity of 
 escape from his present position, which he im- 
 agined a safe retreat on the Continent would 
 give him ; the other was an opportunity of 
 revenging himself upon the family whom he 
 unjustly ^regarded as his oppressors and the 
 usurpers of his birthright. Another motive 
 urgec^ him, of a less interested nature, though 
 not equally powerful, the withdrawal of his wife 
 and children, especially of his boy, from scenes 
 which his natural and acquired refinement showed 
 him to be demoralising and dangerous. How- 
 ever unprincipled in the main, unless utterly 
 worthless, there are few men unactuated by a 
 sense of affection for those dependent upon them. 
 Kildonald was well content to pass his life, or a 
 great portion of it, in pleasures which could not 
 be shared with Norah and her children. The 
 excitement of the gaming-table, the luxuries of 
 the clubs, and the society of men and women of 
 questionable character, above all, the fashionable 
 vices in which he indulged, could never have 
 existed for him as a married man. He knew
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 17 
 
 that the moment he should become hampered by 
 domestic ties, the life he had so long led, and to 
 which he was so much attached, would be closed 
 to him. Men were satisfied with a polished 
 exterior and a capacity for congenial pursuits 
 which his straitened circumstances and fluctuat- 
 ing fortunes could never have commanded had 
 he once exhibited himself in another character in 
 London. Arthur Kildonald, a lounger, a club 
 man, a fine, but not successful whist-pla} T er, the 
 best gentleman jockey of his day, and a constant 
 habitue of every race-course in England, was 
 sufficiently recherche to pass with men for what 
 he seemed to be, without any close questioning 
 as to what he had been. There was not one of 
 his associates who cared, indeed, to know more 
 of him than that he had a bowing acquaintance 
 with most good men in town ; and if whispers 
 had ever been heard as to his stability, or his 
 claim to the position he thus held, they had 
 never been raised beyond a whisper, or interested 
 any one further than to close the doors of certain 
 salons against his reception. He was not affected 
 by it. He never sought greater intimacy in any 
 house than such as answered his own purposes. 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 18 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 He read with indifference " The Morning Post " 
 accounts of festivities into which he cared not to 
 intrude ; and when the season was over, he was 
 well satisfied to forego the pleasures of a country 
 house, and the moors or stubbles, for the charms 
 of Baden or Homburg, whence he usually re- 
 turned to Mount Donald, as he called his cottage 
 on the Lee, to share his good or bad fortune with 
 his family. Thoroughly selfish, thoroughly un- 
 principled, this may still be said for him — that, 
 when within the influence of Norah and his 
 children, he was kind and affectionate, and 
 cherished intentions enough to have paved Cork, 
 in addition to a place which is said to be pretty 
 well paved already. It is useless to attempt to 
 analyse such feelings ; some have suggested one 
 motive principle, some another: the majority of 
 philosophers have made it arise from self-love in 
 the power inherent in the protective faculty. In 
 the present case it was, like the loadstone, strong 
 enough, but it required to be brought within the 
 focus of magnetic attraction. 
 
 But Kildonald had seen enough of men, and 
 of Englishmen especially, to know that, whatever 
 his present position amongst them, a small house
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 19 
 
 in a suburb, or lodgings in a less inhabitable 
 quartier, a cold shoulder of mutton, weekly bills 
 undischarged, and a wife, however charming, if 
 badly dressed, were things not likely to enhance 
 his own value in the eyes of his present com- 
 panions; and he took care, whether honourably 
 or wisely, or not, to run no risk of losing caste 
 by any such escapade. The ground he stood 
 upon was not perhaps the best soil, but, such as 
 it was, it answered his purpose, and he stuck to 
 it. His business was to live : and to live at 
 other people's expense. The world was his 
 oyster ; and if he opened it with a roughish 
 knife, and sometimes cut his fingers, he managed 
 to extract the morsel. With these thoughts, and 
 such as these, passing through his mind, he 
 resumed his seat with an eager and irritable look, 
 but with a fixed determination to go through the 
 disagreeable ordeal which awaited him. 
 
 Had his confederate been a gentleman (for 
 confederates they were to a certain extent), he 
 would have felt but few qualms. But the gross- 
 ness and vulgarity with which Burke proposed a 
 robbery took from its charms, and left but little 
 margin for the imagination. 
 
 c 2
 
 20 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 " Can ye ride the horse ? * said he, when 
 affairs had once more settled into business. 
 "•Will Sir Frederick give ye the mount ? " 
 
 " He will," answered the other, laconically. 
 
 " And can he win as he likes ? " 
 
 " Or lose, I suppose you mean/' 
 
 " Perhaps I do/' 
 
 " Then why not say so ? there's no necessity 
 for any delicacy about the matter, unless ye 
 think Patrick's, maybe, at the keyhole." 
 
 " If he is he'll catch nothing but a cold in the 
 eye. It's mighty little he'll learn from your con- 
 versation, anyhow ; " and as the whisky warmed 
 Mr. Burke, he became more Irish than usual. 
 
 "And what's to prevent me winning, and 
 landing a stake worth double of your paltry 
 offer?" 
 
 " Because winning is never a certainty, and it 
 wouldn't suit us to do so. Besides, they'll be 
 scarce that 'ud lay ye two thousand to nothing 
 about it, either way." 
 
 " It's dangerous, but I can do it," said Kil- 
 donald, thoughtfully. 
 
 " Indeed ye can ; there isn't such a horseman 
 this side of Kildare, nor the other, for the
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 21 
 
 matter o' that. Make it a certainty, and say 
 three thousand to nothing." 
 
 "It is a certainty." And without another 
 word he quitted the room, leaving his friend to 
 digest his whisky-and-water and the chances of 
 " a certainty " together.
 
 CHAELIE THOENHILL; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE BATTLE. 
 
 " And like the impatient steed of war, 
 He snuff 'd the battle from afar." 
 
 Marmion. 
 
 " Go it, Charlie, keep your head up : by Jove, 
 that's a finisher ! " said Bob Wilkinson, the 
 cock of the school, as the baker's boy dropped 
 to a well- delivered left-hander of his opponent. 
 " Beautifully done ! You must win now ; about 
 two more rounds will settle it," added he, as he 
 pulled back Charlie to his second's knee. " Here, 
 give us the sponge, and carry the pail over to the 
 baker ; fair play's a jewel, you know ; M saying 
 which he threw the damp sponge at the baker's 
 backers, and dismissed a little fellow with a 
 stable pail to the opposition party, who certainly 
 looked in want of it. 
 
 " I hope old Gresham won't turn up before 
 the finish ; what a row there'll be if he finds it 
 out," said a dark-eyed young Pickle, who seemed
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 23 
 
 quite as much alive to the fun as to the danger of 
 the master's arrival. " Another five minutes and 
 we shall win, and we'll give Thornhill a jolly 
 feed at old Mother Tucker's, after second school 
 to-morrow/ 1 
 
 " The Doctor's all safe at private lesson, and 
 there's Humphreys minor looking out for Willis, 
 at the bottom of the school lane — he's always 
 sneaking. Now then, time's up, you fellows, give 
 him room : eighteenpence to sixpence Charlie 
 licks him this round. 1 ' This liberal offer, which 
 was not responded to, was made by a very sport- 
 ing-looking young gentleman, with a short stick, 
 and a hat considerably the worse for wear. His 
 name was Stebbing ; he was the great sporting 
 authority of the school, and took manifest interest 
 in the present contest. 
 
 " Don't let him close, Charlie — keep well 
 away ; well stopped," said his second, as the 
 baker made a vigorous but ineffectual attempt at 
 a rally : " now go in ; " and Charlie Thornhill — 
 for it was he — with a coolness that would have 
 done honour to Mr. Sayers, finding the baker a 
 little short of wind after his last effort, followed 
 him up and terminated the round by a " one,
 
 24 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 two, three," of so scientific a character, that 
 young Muffins, as he was politely called, failed to 
 come to time : and the Dunce of the Family was 
 hailed the victor, amidst the cheers of his school- 
 fellows, and the sad disappointment of the 
 "cads." 
 
 The fight had taken place on a greensward, 
 close hy the side of the river, and within no great 
 distance of the school. It was a public thorough- 
 fare, used alike by the Doctor's boys for the 
 purpose of walking or boating, and by the 
 townspeople as a short cut to a more distant 
 part of the parish. It is not surprising that it 
 gave rise to an occasional squabble between the 
 two, which ended not unfrequently in a fight, as 
 in the present case, when two young gentlemen 
 met, whose vanity or obstinacy lay in that direc- 
 tion. When there is a determination to bring 
 affairs to a crisis, there is never any difficulty in 
 finding a reasonable cause; and the politest or 
 quietest man in the world usually has a weak 
 point, if you only know where to find it. There 
 can be no particular pleasure in walking in close 
 proximity to a very dirty wall, abutting on some 
 still more filthy buildings, in preference to about
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 25 
 
 fifty yards of greensward, which ran between it 
 and the river. Yet this was the particular fancy 
 of these young gentlemen ; and on that account 
 an honour coveted particularly by the boys of 
 the town. It was certainly mortifying enough 
 that the blood of a Howard, or the bone of a 
 less aristocratic scion of the banking or brewing 
 interest, should have to yield to the superior 
 weight of young Muffins, Slaughter, or Codfish, 
 as the case might be, backed by a turbulent 
 crowd of young cordwainers, leathersellers, and 
 publicans, only bent upon "smashing the swells," 
 as they were pleased to call the little aristocrats 
 of one of the most celebrated schools of its day. 
 But when insult was added to injury, in half a 
 dozen inexplicable ways, only conceivable to the 
 schoolboy mind, what wonder that, regardless of 
 odds, scarcely a week passed without either a 
 single combat, on such approved rules of fistic 
 etiquette, as to remind us of Holingshed's 
 " Chronicles," and the Mowbrays and Norfolks 
 of former ages; or such a general melee as to 
 rival the celebrated battle of Brenville itself. 
 The credit of Dr. Gresham was almost at stake, 
 so constant and direful had these conflicts
 
 26 CHARLIE THORNHILL ; OR, 
 
 become. A black eye was the normal condition 
 of one half of the school, at least ; and a poor 
 glazier in the suburbs, gained a very handsome 
 livelihood by his skill in making black white, 
 " in painting the lily, in colouring the rose," and 
 in a knowledge of flesh tints, which might have 
 been a lesson to Etty himself. 
 
 The present was one of these charming little 
 affairs, in which nobody seemed to know which 
 was the aggressor. As far as the account had 
 as yet proceeded, it appears that young Cad- 
 wallader, a Welshman of high descent and small 
 of person, had attempted to secure the much- 
 desired wall, at the no small risk of being poi- 
 soned on the one hand, or squeezed to death on 
 the other. A baker's boy, not unknown to fame 
 amongst his compatriots as a great patron of 
 the noble science, and constantly engaged in 
 strife, asserted his right, as a representative for 
 the borough interests. Being twice as strong, 
 and considerably older, he was not long in 
 setting aside Cadwallader and his claims, and 
 nearly smothering him into the bargain, with his 
 basket, from which he had been delivering bread, 
 in one of the but little fashionable quartiers
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 27 
 
 of the town. But punishment overtakes the 
 unjust man, and sometimes with no slow foot. 
 At a sudden turning in the wall about a dozen 
 of the Doctor's boys beheld the unequal con- 
 test, on their way to their boat; and the baker 
 was taken red-handed. Charlie Thornhill was 
 in advance of his schoolfellows by about twenty 
 yards ; there appeared to be a short and decisive 
 parley, an exchange of some elegant language, 
 not altogether parliamentary, and a very decisive 
 blow from Thornhill, which settled the question 
 of the wall by almost knocking the baker into it. 
 He was certainly taken a little aback by the 
 vigorous energy of the blow ; but we have heard 
 that much is fair in love and war which would 
 not obtain under ordinary circumstances. The 
 first blow is a great point gained. All I advise 
 is, that it be strong enough. It is a rule of very 
 ancient standing that you should first make up 
 your mind whether you mean fighting or not, 
 and then put as much energy as possible into 
 your attack. We must do the English the 
 justice to say, that fair play is their charac- 
 teristic ; and no sooner was it clear that the 
 matter was to be decided by force of arms, than
 
 28 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 a ring was made, and Muffins received the same 
 kindly and delicate attentions as Charlie himself 
 — of course not with quite the same feeling. 
 However, a few minutes served to bring down a 
 host of the baker's friends, and the battle pro- 
 ceeded with a charming regularity, up to the 
 time when we introduced our readers to the 
 scene. 
 
 The baker was far the superior in size and 
 strength; but he had neither the condition nor 
 the science of Charlie. He fought well and 
 lustily for three-quarters of an hour; was de- 
 feated at every point ; and when his face was like 
 an unbaked apple dumpling, and his opponent 
 looked nearly as fresh as when the battle began, 
 he took the advice of his backer, one-eyed 
 Joey, a celebrated dog's-meat man, and retired 
 from the contest, knocked completely out of 
 time. 
 
 " Here, Charlie, put on your coat, and make 
 haste, old fellow; we'll go down the back way 
 over the wall: if any of the masters see us, 
 they'll be sure to know there's been a row ; and 
 old Gresham swears he'll flog the next fellow he 
 catches fighting with the cads." So Charlie, not
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 29 
 
 a little elated with his victory, and with the 
 muscles of his face already beginning to stiffen, 
 but with no extraordinary marks of punishment 
 about him, began deliberately to put on his 
 waistcoat and his coat, and to put himself into 
 such a condition as to attract as little attention 
 as possible — which has not been the usual cha- 
 racteristic of conquerors from Alexander the 
 Great down to Napoleon the Third. Charlie 
 did most things with deliberation, and through 
 life it left him fewer things to undo. 
 
 " Don't you think he had better go to Payne's, 
 and have a coat of paint on that left eye ? " said 
 Eeginald Glanville, who considered personal 
 appearances before all other things; and being 
 a chum of Thornkill's was not anxious to be 
 deprived of his little protege ^ven for a week. 
 81 I'm quite sure his left eye will be as black as 
 a coal before evening chapel, and he won't be 
 able to go into the town for a month/' 
 
 " Never mind his beauty, Dolly," said a young 
 ruffian with a flat nose, and a shock head of red 
 hair, familiarly known as Paddy Carey, from a 
 favourite song to which he treated his room upon 
 all occasions of musical display, but whose real
 
 30 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 name was O'Brien ; " never mind his beauty, 
 Dolly, he'll be handsome enough to keep you 
 company any way: if you've such a taste for 
 the fine arts, there's the baker just gone home, 
 and he'd be a subject worthy of the glazier's 
 talents. Bedad, Charlie looks as handsome as 
 paint itself; and when he's had a raw beefsteak 
 on his left eye with the gravy in it, and a 
 cooked one in his stomach, he'll not know 
 that he's been out of the private lesson room 
 to-day." 
 
 " Grave onus," sighed Bob Wilkinson, who 
 was a punster as well as a pugilist. 
 
 During this colloquy, and the usual congratu- 
 latory remarks which follow on success, at least 
 from the winning side, the boys had continued 
 standing about c a i the edge of the water, dis- 
 cussing the ups and downs of the late fight ; the 
 extraordinary pluck of their young schoolfellow ; 
 the certainty of his being flogged if he were 
 found out; the chances of detection; and the 
 excuses to be made in the event of such an un- 
 toward result. 
 
 There are always some good men, anxious to 
 do their duty so well, however unpleasant, that
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 31 
 
 they may be able to make up for those who are 
 less careful of their responsibilities. I have 
 especially remarked this to be the case with the 
 under-masters in our large grammar schools, 
 where there is always one or more who would 
 willingly compound for want of capacity in school, 
 by an amazing assiduity in the detection of 
 offences, and in bringing the offenders to condign 
 punishment. Dr. Greshanr's was no exception 
 to this rule ; the Doctor's active mind expended 
 itself upon the Greek article, the digamma, and 
 the particle av ; his second master on the dialects 
 peculiar to the Greek Testament writers ; a third 
 on the metres of the Aristophanic choruses, and 
 the philosophy of the Tusculan disputations ; 
 whilst a fourth took compensation for his mental 
 incapacity, or indolence, by the utmost activity in 
 the discovery of mischief. The improvement 
 which has taken place of late years in the system 
 of scholastic education in this country, in really 
 accredited establishments, is so very considerable, 
 that few complaints of unfair espial can ever be 
 made. The great public schools have generally 
 been free from it ; but where dirty work is to be 
 done, there are always tools to do it, which leave
 
 32 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 the hands of the employers comparatively clean 
 in the world's eye. 
 
 Dr. Gresham would with pleasure have pounced 
 upon the actors in the late scene ; but as he was 
 engaged at the moment in a private lecture, in 
 which the question at issue was the probable 
 consequences to the world of the conquest of 
 Syracuse by the Athenians instead of the Romans, 
 there was no prospect of his ever securing an 
 offender for himself. But he would have been 
 very much horrified at the necessity of sitting 
 perdu behind a wall for a quarter of an hour or 
 twenty minutes, to prevent or to punish anything 
 short of immorality or vice. His junior master, 
 Willis, was of a different opinion as to ends and 
 means ; and whilst our young friends had been 
 exulting in the successful termination of an hour's 
 charming sport to every one but the principal 
 actors, Mr. Willis had been watching the pro- 
 ceeding in security, and now presented himself 
 unexpectedly among them, to inquire more mi- 
 nutely into particulars, and to be sure that his 
 eyesight had not deceived him in the persons 
 engaged. Having satisfied himself upon these 
 points, taken another cheerful view of the chief
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 33 
 
 actors in the drama, added a note or two to his 
 memoranda, and buttoned his coat across the 
 chest with a sort of conscious rectitude of pur- 
 pose quite inimitable by a truly honest man, he 
 departed. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 34 y CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 THE CONSULTATION. 
 
 "Wer liigt, urn einem Andern zu schaden, der ist ein boser 
 Bube : wer aber liigt, urn sich selbst aus der notli zu lielfen, der 
 ist ein schuldige Memme. " — German Proverb. 
 
 " I say, Eussell, we shall get into a horrid row 
 about this fight of Charlie ThornhilFs : I knew 
 that brute Willis would be sneaking somewhere. 
 ThornhilFs certain to be flogged, and so will any 
 fourth-form boys that were caught." 
 
 " I don't believe he put my name down at all," 
 said Eussell, throwing himself into a chair ; " if 
 he did it's only a book of Homer, and we can 
 swear the cads began it. I told Thornhill to 
 come up here after dinner, and Wilkinson, and 
 O'Brien, and the rest of the fellows who were in 
 it. I can't think why he makes such a horrid 
 row about it." 
 
 This conversation was going on in one of the 
 studies between Eussell and Glanville, who had 
 come up from their house to the study, to get up
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 35 
 
 their afternoon's lesson, and to concert measures 
 for mitigating the Doctor's anger, which was sup- 
 posed to be great. 
 
 "I believe Jabez Smith to be worse than 
 Willis. He puts old Gresham up to all thsse 
 sorts of things/' said Glanville. " He tells him 
 it's not gentlemanly. How should he know 
 what's gentlemanly or not ? Oh ! here come the 
 other fellows. I wonder whether Willis has said 
 anything about it to Thornhill : he's in his 
 house." And the door opened, and in walked 
 half a dozen of the principal abettors of the late 
 affair of honour, the victor among them. 
 
 " Did Willis say ami;hing at dinner about it, 
 Thornhill ? " said Wilkinson, who came in at that 
 moment with two or three books under his arm, 
 and a short but formidable stick laden with lead 
 at the top, and which added materially to his 
 appearance as a conspirator. 
 
 " Yes ; he said a great deal about his duty. 
 You know he always does. And he said it would 
 be a very serious matter for the fifth and sixth- 
 form boys that were there." 
 
 " Say the cads began it," said a bold, confident 
 
 voice, which proceeded from a handsome but 
 
 D 2
 
 30 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 unabashed junior, who was in the study more by 
 sufferance than right. 
 
 " That's all very fine," said the hero ; " but 
 they didn't. Cadwallader owned to me that he 
 was entirely to blame." 
 
 " Then if I were you I should lick Cadwallader 
 for getting me into a row. It's entirely his con- 
 ceit. I suppose he would have the wall. It's 
 his fault, ' Qui facit per alium facit per se.' " 
 And here the speaker assumed an attitude of 
 considerable importance : as of one who had said 
 a really clever thing. 
 
 " I don^'t think it's worth telling a lie about," 
 said Thornhill, "at all events." And as he 
 spoke he blushed and hung his head, having 
 evidently made a remark which was not likely to 
 meet with general approbation. 
 
 "Well, that's all very fine," said Russell. 
 "You're certain to be flogged, anyhow, and we 
 may be sent away ; the least is a book of Homer, 
 or an imposition of a hundred lines every day for 
 a fortnight. It's just enough to prevent one's 
 going up to the Castle on Saturday. By Jingo ! 
 how black your eye's getting." 
 
 " I think it's as well to tell the truth about it,
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 37 
 
 if Thornhill don't care," said Bob Wilkinson. 
 " As to that confounded Willis " — and here he 
 brought down his leaded stick, which, we regret 
 to say, was used for knocking rabbits on the 
 head and other poaching purposes, upon one of 
 the two study tables with dangerous violence — 
 " he ought to have his neck broken. There's not 
 another master in the school would have sneaked 
 in that way. Jabez might put the Doctor up to 
 a thing or two for our good ; but he would have 
 walked straight into us in a gentlemanly manner, 
 as he calls it, and booked us on the spot." 
 
 " The long and the short of it is, we did begin," 
 said Charlie. " There's no denying it ; and I 
 should not like to look the old Doctor in the face 
 and tell him a crammer. He always behaves like 
 a gentleman to us, and we shall get off pretty 
 easy if we do the same by him." It will be 
 observed that the speaker was younger and lower 
 in the school than any one present. He was 
 singularly deficient in the learning which gave a 
 boy power in those days : he wrote neither longs 
 and shorts, nor Greek iambics ; he was miser- 
 ably dull at all scholarship ; but he had a great 
 reputation as a runner and jumper, a cricketer, a
 
 3$ CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 horseman, and an oar. He had a handsome, 
 cheerful face, indicative of determination rather 
 than passion; a good manner, hut thoroughly 
 boyish in all its ways ; and an utter freedom from 
 anything like affectation. He might he said 
 scarcely to know what fear was. He had no 
 great flow of spirits, hut was rather thoughtful, 
 and his humour took the turn for droll images 
 and illustration rather than for wit or repartee. 
 Books he hated ; hut he never gave his masters 
 reason to doubt him, as he honestly confessed to 
 all the help he got from the upper hoys when 
 accused of it ; and whilst his place was amongst 
 his juniors in school, he was always to be seen 
 arm-in-arm with his seniors out of school. 
 
 Some philosophers, with more recollection of 
 their boyhood than virtues of their own, have 
 affirmed that all children are by nature cowards 
 and liars. We regret to be obliged to differ from 
 these learned persons, or to oppose our own 
 speculations to their personal experiences. But 
 though we are not inclined to go with them to 
 the full extent of their assertions, we are obliged 
 reluctantly to admit that truth is not the distin- 
 guishing feature of youth. We believe many are
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 39 
 
 made liars by a certain constitutional weakness 
 or fear of the results of truth- speaking. They 
 have not found that advantage in veracity for 
 which they have been taught to look. With all 
 that our nature has to answer for, we prefer to 
 affix this stigma to their education, and should 
 like to visit upon their instructors that punish- 
 ment which too frequently falls upon innocent 
 shoulders. In the world the mummeries and the 
 glare of fashion will not sparkle so brightly by 
 the naked light of day as under the false splen- 
 dour of candle-light, which may be in some sort 
 compared to falsehood. Alloy in gold and silver 
 is found to render the precious metal malleable 
 and useful, and more fitted for every- day work, 
 whilst it debases the coin and detracts from its 
 true value. But those who know the intrinsic 
 worth of the unadulterated mineral will not part 
 with it for the specious mixture, any more than 
 they who have found the inestimable price of 
 truth will exchange it for the current coin of 
 falsehood. If the world gives a boy no know- 
 ledge of the advantages of honesty, it can scarcely 
 blame him for using that which appears to pos- 
 sess a practical superiority over it. The excel-
 
 40 CHARLIE thornhlll; or, 
 
 lence of truth, even in the world, is evinced in 
 the fact that a lie is only valuable according to 
 its capacity for representing what is true : and 
 amongst boys there is. an innate estimation of 
 " the honest," though they are frequently averse 
 to practise what they admire. The truthfulness 
 of Charlie Thornhill was, unwittingly, the secret 
 of his popularity. Courage, especially physical 
 courage, is not a rare quality, and is frequently 
 dependent on material conformation; but the 
 courage which despises falsehood in a society 
 which is false, will always command respect, 
 although it sometimes fails of success. 
 
 " There goes the bell, and I haven't looked at 
 my Horace. I'm sure to be called up ; give us a 
 construe, Cleverley, that's a good fellow. I only 
 want the last part. Simpson's sure to be called 
 up before me ; he hasn't been put on this week." 
 And all speculation on the late fight and its 
 consequences was at once merged in " Et militavi 
 non sine gloria ; " of which charming little ode, 
 its meaning or construction, Master Charlie was 
 shortly found to be sublimely ignorant. He 
 derived considerable consolation, however, from 
 the fact that had he only been put on, according
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 41 
 
 to his calculation, at the end of the lesson instead 
 of at the beginning, he should have given a not 
 very original, but a very excellent translation, 
 derived from the joint efforts of Cleverley and a 
 crib during the five minutes of probation after the 
 ringing of the school-bell. 
 
 After afternoon school, and before the locking 
 up for the night, it was the custom of Dr. 
 Gresham, or one of his masters, to read prayers, 
 which consisted of portions of the liturgy and the 
 lessons for the day, in the school chapel. I am 
 not quite sure of the light in which the learned 
 Doctor regarded this portion of scholastic duty. 
 If not so reverently as might be, I must beg the 
 reader to bear in mind that it was in days before 
 the contention between High Church and Low 
 Church and No Church had assumed such 
 marked features as now ; when a test as strong, 
 though not so comprehensible, must be applied 
 to schoolmasters and teachers as the Corpo- 
 ration Act itself. I can, however, affirm that for 
 the boys themselves it was robbed of its reli- 
 gious character to a certain extent by the custom 
 of learning the morning's repetition during the 
 psalms, and by the calling over which imme-
 
 42 CHARLIE thorxhill; or, 
 
 diately followed. Neither do I think that the 
 religious sentiment was much strengthened by 
 the habit of standing in crowds at the chapel 
 door, and administering condign punishment to 
 public offenders against scholastic etiquette, 
 refractory fags, the unwashed, and the miserable 
 and uncongenial of every degree. I think many 
 of them must have prayed heartily for release 
 from, or power over, their oppressors ; and many 
 a vow was registered as to how they would lick 
 their fags when their turn came. Beyond that 
 I know not what the supplications might have 
 been. 
 
 On the evening in question the prayers were 
 finished, and the monitor had called over; 
 but the Doctor did not leave his seat, and his 
 arched and strongly-marked eyebrows contracted 
 with an unwonted frown. 
 
 "Wilkinson, Eussell, Glanville, Cleverley," 
 said the Doctor; and then there was a pause, 
 whilst he prepared his pencil with a knife : it 
 was before the common days of Mordan and Co. 
 Then he continued, in a voice more awfully 
 sonorous than before, striking dismay into the 
 palpitating bosoms before him, " O'Brien, Jen-
 
 THE DUNCE OE THE FAMILY. 43 
 
 kinson major, Walker, Thornhill, and Cadwal- 
 lader, stand out ; n and out they stood. •'•'The 
 monitor lias brought me your names, as being 
 concerned in another disgraceful scene with the 
 town's boys. Follow me into my study. Thr 
 monitor will attend." 
 
 Here was a pretty state of things. The 
 chapel was the recognised place for the settle- 
 ment of all such public wrongs. Nothing but 
 the most heinous offences ever found their way 
 to the Doctor's sanctum, which consisted of 
 all the mystery which oaken bookcases. Eliza- 
 bethan windows, crimson curtains, coats of arms, 
 and the oldest black letter in folio volumes 
 could impart. If the Doctor was heavily lei 
 in school, grandly solemn in chapel, playfully 
 erudite in society, he was simply awful and 
 sublime in his study. Here complaints of 
 private wrong were heard, and grievances re- 
 dressed : the Doctor's study was a templum 
 cut off from vulgar tread, and approachable only 
 by sixth-form high-lows. Their case was evi- 
 dently a heavy one ; and they followed the 
 monitor in a few minutes in melancholy silence 
 into the precincts of the unwritten law.
 
 44 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 The great man — and he was a great man, if 
 great and varied learning, and a capability of 
 imparting it, could make him so — was already 
 seated. Ponderous tomes of reference orna- 
 mented the chairs and tables, even the very 
 floor. Manuscript sheets lay before him, and 
 rolls of uncorrected letter-press in Greek, Latin, 
 and Sanscrit. The room, handsomely furnished 
 as it was, smelt of the mighty ancients : a tomb 
 of their remains, which were to blossom again 
 with branches more thickly laden with fruit than 
 ever ; and the Doctor was the high priest of the 
 whole. Here and there a sixth-form exercise 
 of Sapphics or Alcaics, or a translation from 
 Shakespeare into Greek iambics, with the 
 Doctor's nervous corrections and erasures, alone 
 connected him with the little world below. 
 
 " And so — so — so youVe been fighting again, 
 I hear ; ay, ay. What is the meaning of this ? " 
 said Dr. Gresham, with a curious, absent hesi- 
 tation, as if he were looking for a Sanscrit root 
 in the middle of it all. " You've been fighting," 
 said he, with a grim smile. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " And with whom, with whom was it ? "
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 45 
 
 "With the cads, sir," said O'Brien, the 
 descendant from the kings of Ulster. 
 
 " With whom, sir ? " said the Doctor, not 
 unmindful of his dignity. 
 
 " Oh ! I beg your pardon, sir. With the 
 snobs — the town's boys, I mean, sir." 
 
 " And which was the aggressor, young gentle- 
 men ? » 
 
 A silence of some seconds. " I was, sir," 
 said Thomhill. 
 
 "And who is I, pray ? w The Doctor loved 
 to forget names as much as the members of a 
 certain august family are said to remember 
 them. 
 
 " Thomhill, sir." 
 
 " Thomhill, Thomhill. And whose house is 
 he in ? and in which form ? Have you got your 
 remove, boy ? " 
 
 " No, sir. I shall have it next half." 
 
 " Not if you don't do better than last time," 
 said the Doctor, who became suddenly alive to 
 the claims of Charlie to distinction. " Not if 
 you don't do better. Did you know my orders 
 about fighting with the town's boys ? Did you 
 know that I intended to flog the first boy that
 
 46 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 was caught, or to send him away ? You're very 
 likely to get your remove, some of you — some 
 of you/' And here the Doctor gave another 
 short laugh, which boded better for the delin- 
 quents. " And — come nearer, Thornhill ; nearer 
 still, boy. Why, you have got a black eye ! " 
 And here the venerable sage looked as if that 
 was a most unreasonable result of a three- 
 quarters of an hour's fight. 
 
 " If you please, sir, we found Muffins — I beg 
 your pardon, sir, I mean the baker's boy, quarrel- 
 ling with one of the little fellows, and v 
 
 "And you went to help him. Well — well, I 
 shall see all about it to-morrow; but don't go 
 out from the school-fields till you hear from 
 me again. Thornhill — Thornhill — ay ! I must 
 flog Thornhill; he's been sent down twice in 
 the last week, and now he's got a black eye in 
 a fight with a baker. Stay. Monitor, bring 
 Thornhill into the upper school to-morrow 
 morning at ten o'clock, and the names of the 
 rest who were with him. Take care, take care, 
 young gentlemen. Wilkinson and O'Brien, 
 you're old enough to know better; but I've 
 got my eye upon some of you. Go along, go
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 47 
 
 along;" and the Doctor was already deep in 
 his new work, an edition of Aristophanes. 
 
 The immense advantages of flogging would fill 
 a volume. What a horrible thing is that pro- 
 miscuous laceration of the back, arms, and 
 shoulders, by a cane ! always at the mercy of 
 momentary impulse. But there is a dignity in 
 flogging. It comes after a night's reflection, and 
 leaves an opening for extenuating circumstances 
 to appear. Besides, whilst there's life there's 
 hope, and no one knows what may happen to 
 divert the execution of a sentence, however just. 
 And yet Charlie Thornhill declared he wouldn't 
 be flogged. He didn't care whether he was a 
 fourth-form boy, or not ; he would not be flogged. 
 And when Charlie Thornhill said a thing, they 
 knew that he meant it. 
 
 The next morning was looked for with intense 
 anxiety by his schoolfellows, not so much on 
 their own account, as to see or hear the result 
 of Thornhill's determination. Such a thing as 
 a young gentleman's resistance to a flogging, who 
 had not yet attained the privileged form, was 
 unheard of. And yet Thornhill did not look as 
 if he ought to be flogged.
 
 48 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 Strange to say, on the following day, after 
 morning Chapel, the Doctor's own servant, Mr. 
 Bandy, appeared in Willis's house, with a desire 
 for Mr. Thornhill " to step this way." 
 
 Many were the conjectures as to what had 
 taken place, when, half an hour after, a fly was 
 at the door. Charlie Thornhill was on his way 
 to meet his brother, with undefined fears and a 
 heavy heart, but without his flogging. 
 
 It was not known till some days after that a 
 mysterious fate had robbed the boys of a kind 
 and generous father. Squire Thornhill had 
 been shot on his road back from Bidborough 
 races. But we must retrace our steps, to explain 
 the position of our hero, and the circumstances 
 which left him fatherless at so early an age.
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 49 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 "Celui qui remplissait alors cette place e'tait un gentilhomme !" 
 
 One of the most beautiful places in the mid- 
 land counties of England is Thornhills. At one 
 extremity of a park remarkable for its natural 
 variations of soil, its rank luxuriance of heather 
 and fern, its gnarled and twisted oaks, its masses 
 of wood and water, and on its outskirts for the 
 richness of its produce and the state of culti- 
 vation to which it has been brought, stands the 
 house, a noble specimen of the early Tudor 
 style. Its magnificent hall opens on every side 
 but one to rooms of grand and lofty proportions, 
 lighted, or rather obscured, by deeply mullioned 
 windows, not unfrequently enriched by the em- 
 blazonment of heraldry, and still retaining the 
 shields of the new nobility to whom it had been 
 granted at the close of the Wars of the Roses, 
 when the Lancastrian Henry rewarded some of
 
 50 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 his most active followers with the spoils of the 
 extinct Yorkists. On the walls still hang the 
 well-preserved memorials of the chase or war. 
 A fine hlack oak staircase leads to the upper 
 storeys of the house, the brightness and smooth- 
 ness of which must have put to the test the 
 hilarious guests of the first Mr. Thornhill, an 
 eminent banker and goldsmith of Charles II. 's 
 reign ; and which, to say truth, occasionally at 
 the present time, tested the stability of less- 
 practised topers, when, bougie in hand, they 
 essayed to gain their chambers after Geoffrey 
 ThornhnTs more refined but not less liberal 
 hospitality. Amidst the tattered banners and 
 the rusted spears and swords of more exciting 
 periods were scattered the more peaceful trophies 
 of mimic war : stags' heads, boars' tusks, foxes' 
 masks and brushes, hunting-whips of every age 
 since the days of the Merry Monarch, and fish- 
 ing apparatus from the time of Izaak Walton to 
 the most approved methods of modern inven- 
 tion, adorned the walls in rich profusion. Here 
 was a picture of old Tregonwell Frampton 
 and Diomed ; there was Colonel O'KelJy and 
 Eclipse; John Ward and his hounds occupied
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 51 
 
 a niche on one side of the finely-carved oaken 
 chimney-piece, Colonel Jolliffe and the Old 
 Surrey on the other; whilst between the two. 
 and above the fireplace, was a fine full-length 
 picture of the grandfather of the present pro- 
 prietor of the place, in hunting costume, who 
 had set the example of keeping the county 
 hounds without a subscription, an example which 
 had been duly followed by both his successors. 
 It was, indeed, pretty clear that the habits of 
 the knightly family which had held the property 
 till loyalty and claret beggared its descendant 
 in the Civil Wars, had been only exchanged for 
 amusements more befitting the age in which we 
 live. I can say nothing about the respectable 
 money-lender, who took the place for a bad debt, 
 and called the lands after his own name : he 
 probably had but little knowledge of country 
 pursuits, and was more at home in Lombard 
 Street than on his estate of Thornhills ; but 
 there can be no doubt that a taste had come 
 down through the days of hawking and harriers, 
 until the name of Thornhill of Thornhills in- 
 cluded the very quintessence of a country life. 
 In a mixed aristocracy, like that of England, 
 
 z 2 
 
 ■ SITY OF ILLINOIS
 
 52 CHARLIE THORNHILL J OR, 
 
 such a family as the Thornhills was certain to 
 hold its own. High connections, an unencum- 
 bered estate of about twelve thousand a year, 
 and a character for a certain amount of talent, 
 derived chiefly from diplomacy in minor courts, 
 and the representation of the county on high 
 Conservative principles, made them respected 
 by the highest rank and looked up to by men 
 of almost every position. It must, however, be 
 admitted that they shone rather amongst the 
 provincial aristocracy than in that heterogeneous 
 mass of beings called London society. The 
 father of Geoffrey Thornhill, though he had re- 
 fused a baronetcy and married a peer's daughter, 
 had lived almost entirely amongst his tenantry, 
 until the end of the London season invariably 
 filled his house with overworked politicians, 
 overfed loungers, sportsmen, and idlers of every 
 degree. Then Thornhills became the house of 
 the county. No duke rivalled the profusion of its 
 hospitality: and Lady Charlotte, in the newest 
 and largest of white kid gloves, amidst her china 
 monsters and antique plate, received men and 
 women of every shade of politics and every 
 colour of religion. Her charity was of the most
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 53 
 
 expansive ; and I am sorry to say that she busied 
 herself no more with the tittle-tattle of high life, 
 and the irregularities of the fashionable roues 
 who surrounded her throne, than about the infi- 
 delities of the matrons of imperial Rome. She 
 was a most charming person ; was still hand- 
 some ; but had retired from London life upon 
 the birth of her son Geoffrey; and had taken 
 thenceforth as much interest in her own village 
 of Silverstone and its half-dozen rheumatic inha- 
 bitants, as her husband had in county business 
 and the Middleshire fox-hounds. 
 
 But Lady Charlotte grew old and her husband 
 grew old : and as will happen in the nature of 
 things, the property, the china monsters, and the 
 hounds descended to Geoffrey Thornhill. Every- 
 body worshipped him, as in duty bound. The 
 men ate with him, drank with him, shot with 
 him, and hunted with him; and the women 
 pulled caps for him. He was the delight of all 
 hearts, as who should not have been, who was 
 the handsomest and one of the richest men in 
 the county ? He had his faults : a little hastiness 
 of temper, and a turn for dissipation ; but he was 
 full of generous impulses, and never could say
 
 54 chaelie thornhill; or, 
 
 "No" to himself or to other people. When 
 Emily Carisbrooke, the eldest daughter of Sir 
 George Carisbrooke, and one of the prettiest 
 girls in the country, married him, she was looked 
 upon by her acquaintance as the most fortunate 
 of women. " Such a handsome man ! " said 
 Mary Truman ; " And so amusing ! M said Caro- 
 line Ashley ; " I sat next to him at dinner once 
 at Lord Bray's, and he sent me into fits of 
 laughter about the Keatings 1 water party, when 
 Lady Singleton's wig fell off in the lock, and was 
 carried down the stream. It was fished out at 
 last, and she was obliged to put it on again ; but 
 she has had a cold in the head ever since." " I 
 am afraid he's fond of play, dear," said her 
 mother, who had made a violent but unsuccessful 
 effort herself in Caroline's behalf, and comforted 
 herself with the notion of his irregularities. And 
 it was true : his mother, Lady Charlotte, always 
 said of him — though mothers are apt to be 
 partial — he had but two faults : " he loves play, 
 and always manages to fall in love with the 
 wrong woman." Lady Charlotte's idea of the 
 wrong woman was somebody she did not like for 
 a daughter-in-law ; Mrs. Geoffrey Thornhill her-
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 55 
 
 self had other notions upon the subject, and not 
 of so cheerful a character. I knew Geoffrey 
 Thornhill somewhat intimately, certainly better 
 than his father or mother knew him, or than he 
 knew himself; and shall scarcely discharge my 
 duty to my reader unless I give an honest 
 description of the fine fellow, who had fallen a 
 victim to assassination. In person he was tall 
 and handsome : his features were especially good, 
 perhaps better than the expression of his face, 
 which announced sensuality, and weakness of 
 purpose : he was graceful, and well made, as 
 quite a young man ; indulgence gave a fulness to 
 his figure in after years which was only kept in 
 check by violent exercise on horseback and on 
 foot. He had a peculiarly pleasant smile, which 
 played about his mouth ; and as he passed a life 
 almost free from anxieties, and amidst the grati- 
 fication of almost every wish, it is scarcely to be 
 wondered at that it was ever present. He was 
 by far pleasanter in society than out of it ; not 
 an uncommon thing: and there are thousands 
 who acquire a reputation for temper in the world, 
 quite unmerited when judged by home life. He 
 was a selfish man; and rather thoughtless of
 
 56 chaelie thoenhill; oe, 
 
 little kindnesses which cost some sacrifice, but 
 lavish in all things that cost him none. Having 
 never felt the want of money, he was liberal and 
 openhanded, without being truly generous or 
 charitable ; for he made no inquisition into the 
 objects of his bounty, nor the results of his gifts. 
 To his wife he was never unkind; but he fre- 
 quently pained her by open admiration of other 
 women, and by attentions which had not escaped 
 the observation of the world in which they lived. 
 He was an excellent friend. As far as a mount, 
 a day's shooting, or a hundred pounds could be 
 of service to an acquaintance, Geoffrey Thornhill 
 was not wanting ; but he would have foregone no 
 pleasure for the sake of any one ; and regarded a 
 death in his circle only as so far painful as it 
 deprived him of an anticipated enjoyment. With- 
 out being a talented man, he had much quickness 
 and cleverness, and a happy facility of expression 
 which approached eloquence at a county meeting, 
 where he never spoke excepting on subjects with 
 which he fully identified himself. He was tho- 
 roughly impulsive; but having been generally 
 successful, he had never been repressed or re- 
 pulsed, so as to become morose. He had the
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 57 
 
 making of a good member of society ; but having 
 no settled principle, he was deficient in all that 
 would have made it available in the day of trial. 
 He was affectionate in disposition ; fond of his 
 boys, and proud of them ; but careless of their 
 real good. His greatest favourite was his only 
 brother, a London banker, and of tastes, habits, 
 and disposition the complete reverse of himself. 
 This attachment was mutual, and the feeling is 
 not very extraordinary. Each saw in the cha- 
 racter of the other some want of his own ; the 
 hardworking, thick-crusted man of business, who 
 had a mind intent upon nothing but mone} r , who 
 spent from 10 a.m. till 4 p.m. every day of his life 
 in a counting-house, receiving and paying, and 
 conning the aspect of continental politics, admired 
 the unembarrassed nonchalance and careless 
 generosity of the other; whilst Geoffrey could 
 not but admire in his brother Henry that per- 
 severance, steadiness, and strict principle in which 
 he felt himself to be deficient. Be that as it 
 may, the most amiable trait in the character of 
 either brother was fraternal love. 
 
 But little remains to be told of Geoffrey 
 Thornhill. He was an adept at all sports and
 
 58 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 athletic exercises. From his cradle he had been 
 brought up amongst horses and guns ; and edu- 
 cation completed what nature seemed to have 
 begun, by making him the most finished sports- 
 man of his day. His feats and skill live in the 
 recollection of his acquaintances, and are still 
 quoted as unrivalled even in our own times. He 
 could hunt his own hounds, if need be, after a 
 night of hazard or whist. He knew as much of 
 his covers and his fields as the keepers them- 
 selves, and was equally conversant with the 
 favourite haunts of the birds. He was as will- 
 ing to encounter danger against the poachers by 
 whom his neighbourhood was infested, as those 
 who were paid for the occupation. Constant 
 excitement seemed necessary to his very exist- 
 ence. His almost universal mode of travelling 
 was by relays of hacks, and he performed the 
 most astonishing distances in the shortest pos- 
 sible space of time. Need I say that such things 
 as these made him the most popular of men ? 
 and if his own sex of his own rank regarded 
 him with some envy, he was dear to the women 
 and the poor as the apple of their eye. What 
 rendered the whole so charming was the most
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 59 
 
 perfect absence of all affectation, and the un- 
 conscious ease with which he distanced all com- 
 petitors in the race. Where could he have found 
 an enemy ?
 
 60 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 AN ENGLISH GENTLEMAN^ CASTLE. 
 "Hsec res et jungit, junctos et servat amicos." 
 
 " How do you go to Bidborough, Thornhill ? " 
 said an habitue of Brookes's, as Geoffrey Thorn- 
 hill lounged into the bay window about 11 a.m. 
 on a lovely morning in May, with " The Times " 
 in one hand and a straight riding-whip in the 
 other, having left his hack at the door in charge 
 of a red-waistcoated man, well known at the 
 Corner. " I ride to Marston's to dinner to-day ; 
 it is only twenty- seven miles, and I have sent 
 on a hack half way ; he rides on with me to 
 the course to-morrow morning. What are they 
 doing about the gray ? " 
 
 " What, Benevenuto, for The Gentlemen's 
 Stakes ? Oh ! they back him at evens ; there are 
 only four to start ; and he is quite safe to win, 
 unless he dies in the night. Do you know any- 
 thing about him ? "
 
 I 
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 61 
 
 " Yes ; they had a trial yesterday, and he is 
 said to be seven pounds better than Maid of the 
 Mill ; so that there can be no mistake. I've just 
 backed him for another thousand. 
 
 " Who rides him ? " 
 
 " Kildonald. Between ourselves that's the 
 most awkward part of the business ; but Marston 
 thinks himself under some sort of obligation to 
 the man, and he makes a great point of having 
 the mount. As it was offered to him long ago, 
 I can hardly see how he can help himself now. 
 I don't like Kildonald." 
 
 " Perhaps you're prejudiced, and dislike his 
 countrymen in general." 
 
 " On the contrary, I have a particular fancy 
 for Irishmen ; that is, of the worst and highest 
 classes ; the former are not understood, and the 
 latter have not always fair play. Their faults 
 are almost invariably such as lean towards excel- 
 lences, or arise from impulse ; and they are 
 finished gentlemen." 
 
 " Kildonald scarcely comes up to that standard ; 
 and how the deuce he manages to live as he does I 
 have no idea. He has the most elastic conscience 
 about women and horseflesh I ever knew."
 
 62 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 "Don't let him hear you say so, Carteret," 
 said Geoffrey, laughing ; " he has had no affair on 
 his hands so long that he thinks of returning to 
 Ireland to look for some gentleman to oblige 
 him. You know that Michael Johnson only saved 
 his life by declining to fight until Kildonald had 
 paid him, as he couldn't wind up his accounts 
 satisfactorily without ; and Michael didn't think 
 it right to leave the world without doing so." 
 
 "You heard what he said about poor Dennis 
 Browne ? It seems that two men were disputing 
 on the Curragh as to his death, whether it took 
 place in England or India, with his regiment. 
 Having some slight acquaintance with Kildonald 
 they appealed to him. ' Gentlemen/ said he, 
 ' you could not have referred to a person more 
 capable of deciding your wager. It is drawn. 
 I shot him myself in Ireland after the Kildare 
 election in 18—/ " 
 
 " Cold-blooded brute ! " said Thornhill, as he 
 nodded an adieu to his friend and mounted his 
 hack to ride his first stage towards Bid- 
 borough. 
 
 Nothing perhaps is so uninteresting as local 
 description. A feature may be declaratory of
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 63 
 
 character ; an eye is so, a mouth and chin pecu- 
 liarly so ; and even a nose may be characteristic 
 of feeling or temper. But what is to be said for 
 a straight street or a crooked one ; irregularity of 
 building or the reverse ; a church with a tower 
 or a steeple ; and whether the mayor lives in a 
 red house or a white one ? Nothing whatever, 
 absolutely nothing ; and the honest novelist, who 
 is not making a book, but writing a story, is 
 completely nonplussed. Yet must I say a word 
 for Bidborough. It had a singular pre-eminence. 
 It was and is the very stupidest country town in 
 England. Dining eleven months and eight-and- 
 twenty days of every year it enjoyed a tran- 
 quillity perfectly marvellous. Yet it was not 
 without inhabitants. Of course it had a parson. 
 It was a fine large living, some 1,500Z. a-year, 
 and usually reserved for the second son of the 
 " great family," as the Earl of Bidborough was 
 called. I never see a very mouldy-looking place, 
 where there appears to be little or nothing to do, 
 without finding that the emolument for doing it 
 is more than sufficient. There was a lawyer ; 
 but I apprehend that the greater part of his 
 business consisted of the agency to the " great
 
 64 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 family," and a few others, who trusted him with 
 the collection of rents and the drawing of leases. 
 Like all other robberies, those can be most 
 effectively perpetrated in the dark. There was 
 also an apothecary ; he would have done well, 
 but for the adoption of hydropathy; which, we 
 presume by its tenuity, had penetrated to these 
 remote and mysterious regions. The place itself 
 consists of a long ill-paved street, ignorant of 
 trottoir, in the midst of a down county. It has 
 a mouldy smell and grass-grown appearance. It 
 is itself purely agricultural in its population, 
 though situated in the middle of one of our cloth 
 manufacturing districts. But for the conversa- 
 tion at Brookes's, the reader would be puzzled 
 to know what attraction could have taken Geof- 
 frey Thornhill to such a spot. 
 
 The fact is, that though Bidborough itself was 
 unknown, its race-course had an universal repu- 
 tation. It was more or less a private meeting ; the 
 tumult and turmoil of a great race -course were 
 wanting ; and a considerable number of the races 
 was devoted to gentlemen riders. This in itself, 
 independently of other circumstances, made it 
 more select, and, consequently, a more agreeable
 
 THE DUNCE OF TEE FAMILY. 65 
 
 rendezvous than usual. Professional service was 
 at a discount. 
 
 The present season was expected to be re- 
 markably good. The great house was full, and 
 the neighbouring gentry had determined upon 
 a revival of the former days of splendour. Of 
 late years it had been upon the wane ; but there 
 was a general feeling, a tacit understanding, 
 amongst racing men that Bidborough was to be 
 the fashion. 
 
 I speak with all due deference of fashion ; her 
 power is too great and too universal to be gain- 
 said. She makes a hero, or spoils a repu- 
 tation, in the same breath. She encourages a 
 Blondin, a Leotard, and a Spurgeon, or damns 
 a mountebank of similar pretensions, for no 
 better cause. One season she takes white soup, 
 another brown; this year strict morality in a 
 loose coat and crinoline ; next year laxity of 
 morals and rigidity of costume will be in vogue. 
 
 The gentlemen of England had determined 
 that Bidborough races should be more attractive 
 than ever ; and the great point of attraction was 
 to be " The Corinthian Stakes," a handicap race 
 for gentlemen riders alone. Of starters there 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 would be but four ; but the money which was on 
 the favourite, a fine three -year old, the property 
 of Sir Frederick Marston, called Benevenuto, 
 gave some idea of the opinion in which he was 
 held by the great patrons of the turf. 
 
 The ride from London to Sir Frederick 
 Marston's was sufficiently interesting. In a 
 legitimate three -volumed novel I think the 
 writer would have been justified in devoting a 
 page or two to the memory of Byron, as the 
 horseman passes within sight of Harrow, or in 
 culling the flowers of English history for the 
 benefit of his readers as he neared St. Albans. 
 I say, peace to the great Earl of Warwick and 
 the heroes who fell in the wars of York and 
 Lancaster. Besides, I must identify myself with 
 my dramatis persona, — and I feel convinced that 
 nothing was further from the thoughts of 
 Geoffrey Thornhill than the wars of the Koses. 
 At the latter town he mounted his second hack, 
 and was not long in reaching the seat of Sir 
 Frederick, where he was welcomed with as much 
 cordiality as is consistent with true good breeding. 
 Geoffrey was a favourite everywhere ; and Lady 
 Marston was no exception to so general a rule.
 
 THE DU>"CE OF THE FAMILY. 67 
 
 Sir Frederick and Lady Marstoii were still 
 ing: that is, comparatively with ThornhilL 
 He had been one of the young men whom 
 the latter had loved to have about him : a good 
 shot, a horseman, a hon vivant, and a congenial 
 spirit in many ways. Ten yeai a in point of age, 
 when a man first appears, make a vast difference, 
 and establish an influence which not unfrequently 
 trough life. Marston had more to 
 thank Thornhil. understood. 
 
 A long min i ation made 
 
 him the object of attack to :ll-born 
 
 sharper; and it D for him that he found 
 
 a home where he might indulge hi? I si - :o a 
 certain extent, wil ailing into the hands of 
 
 those who would have been merciless in the face 
 of such temptation. He wa~ i served far bet 
 things. At thirty he married a woman ev 
 way suited to him, whose charms of conversation 
 and manner made his home cheerful, and whose 
 beauty oi person accorded well with the he- ■ 
 talities dispensed by one richest country 
 
 gentlemen in England. He had a pack of fox- 
 hounds in a country .:.';.- second to Leicester- 
 shire and Northamptonshire ; a gallery of pictures
 
 68 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 on which care, knowledge, and money had been 
 lavished ; a deer forest in Scotland ; a villa at 
 Como ; and yet he was dissatisfied with his lot. 
 Fortune had denied him two things. He had 
 been married five years without a child, and he 
 had kept a string of horses for seven, but had 
 never won a great race. For the former dis- 
 appointment there was no accounting, and there 
 at present seemed to be no remedy : for the 
 latter no expense or trouble should be spared. 
 
 What were the awful mysteries of a former 
 and less-civilized age, which drove woman from 
 the table of her lord as soon as she had satisfied 
 the cravings of nature, whilst he and his com- 
 rades were left to indulge in a prolonged repast ? 
 Was it that the male became then more stupid, 
 or more savage, than usual ? or that some 
 terrible orgies remained to be enacted at which 
 the mistress had no more right to be present 
 than Alcibiades at the Eleusinian mysteries, or 
 Clodius at those of the Bona Dea ? Be that as 
 it may, the custom has obtained in this country, 
 and at the time I write of was remarkably 
 popular. Our ancients drank gloriously. Pitt, 
 Fox, and Sheridan have no rivals in these clege-
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 69 
 
 nerate days : and their eloquence was as strong 
 and as full flavoured as their claret. "Women 
 could but have silently looked on, and in horror : 
 and their conversation vras of politics and of war 
 — fit subjects for such merry meetings. They 
 had discarded the female Marlboroughs and 
 Mashams from their deliberations, and laid plans 
 for controlling other people when unable to 
 control themselves. 
 
 In France society was differently constituted. 
 "Women relinquished not the right to preside 
 over the after-dinner conversation of their 
 husbands, and the mistresses of kings and 
 councillors became mistresses of the world. 
 The Pompadours and Du Barrys had the best 
 of it, and their influence was all -powerful in the 
 petty intrigues which sprang well from thin and 
 unfrequent potations. A great man was your 
 two-bottle toper; a still greater was he who 
 carried off four quart measures of a well-cooked 
 vintage ; and great must have been the oratory 
 that flowed from those rubicund lips. It is a 
 treat now but seldom enjoyed to hear a speech 
 the effect of one truth -compelling bottle : the 
 rough and racy outpourings of anything beyond
 
 70 CHARLIE THORNHILL; OR, 
 
 it we look for in vain. There were giants in 
 those days. 
 
 The reader must not imagine that either 
 Marston or his guest attempted to rival the 
 performances of a bygone age. They were 
 sober and decorous gentlemen, as the world goes, 
 and in wine especially. Gastronomy is the 
 fashion of the day, but drunkenness is not. 
 Still with no less certainty did Lady Marston 
 and her guests rise at the usual time, and amidst 
 a rustling of silks and satins, and the profound 
 salutations of one devoted slave of the door, 
 retire to the drawing-room. Sir Frederick and 
 Thornhill drew their chairs closer together ; 
 the butler appeared with one fresh and cool 
 bottle of choice Lafitte, and they proceeded to 
 discuss questions in which, as the reader may 
 feel an interest, he shall be allowed to participate. 
 
 " And how are the boys, Thornhill ?" 
 
 " Well ; and at school. Tom is at Eton, and 
 Charlie is to join him. I hope it may be for 
 his good." 
 
 " Ah ! my friend Charlie must be getting a 
 big fellow now. I like that boy, Geoffrey 
 there's something very original about him."
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 71 
 
 " Originality has its drawbacks, Marston : and 
 if your young favourite was less original and 
 more fond of work it might be better for him. 
 However, Eton will do that for him, per- 
 haps." 
 
 " It must be singularly changed since my 
 day if it does," said Sir Frederick. " If I were 
 bent upon giving a naturally indolent boy full 
 opportunity for indulging his favourite weakness, 
 I should certainly select a public school for 
 him." 
 
 " Why so ? " 
 
 " Because, although there is plenty of dis- 
 cipline for the disposition, there is none for the 
 mind; and the distinction is very marked. A 
 cub or an ass may be licked into shape ; a 
 stupid fellow may be brightened ; an impudent 
 fellow may be taken down ; but there's no cure 
 for idleness in a public school : and it's almost 
 the only fault that could not be cured there. 
 How does Tom get on ? " 
 
 " Admirably. He's a great favourite, comes 
 home surrounded by chums, who all admire and 
 copy him, and has never missed his remove. 
 However, he's plenty of brains. Charlie's my
 
 72 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 bete noire, and seems proud of his nickname, The 
 Dunce of the Family/' 
 
 " I wish he were a poor man's son. I prognos- 
 ticate great things for Charlie," said Marston, 
 good-naturedly. " Tom can take care of him- 
 self; but younger sons are not always so well 
 taken care of. I suppose he must have a pro- 
 fession." 
 
 " It's early days to think of that. I believe 
 he'll have his uncle's property; for, between 
 ourselves, Fred, I've nothing to leave him. 
 Every shilling of Thornhills is entailed, and the 
 Irish property too; besides which the latter 
 is saddled with my wife's settlement, and is 
 scarcely able to bear the burden. 
 
 " Your life's not insured ? " 
 
 " Not for a halfpenny." 
 
 "What a thoughtless fellow you are, Thorn- 
 hill ! I ought to have been your Mentor, not 
 you mine." 
 
 "When I first knew you, you were as little 
 of a Telemachus as I of a Mentor : times have 
 improved with you. But you haven't told me 
 what to do with Charlie ; he's nearly fourteen, 
 so I must make up my mind soon."
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 73 
 
 " Send him to Henry Reynolds." 
 
 "What! the rector? My dear fellow, he 
 knows Charlie too well, and me too." 
 
 " You don't know him, if you imagine his 
 love for you or Charlie would ever interfere 
 with his duties." 
 
 " You think so, Marston ? You ought to 
 know ; hut I own it did not strike me." 
 
 "He's the truest-hearted gentleman in this 
 county : and no man doubts his learning. His 
 living is hut small, and his family large : so that 
 you may benefit him and yourself too. - " 
 
 "I must have another chat with you about 
 Reynolds. The boy is idle, fond of horses and 
 dogs, with a strong will, good manners and 
 appearance, and would make his way at Eton/' 
 
 " The worst thing that could happen to him. 
 He would never learn a lesson, or write a piece 
 of Latin, or do a copy of verses for himself. 
 As to his horses and dogs, he's a Thornhill, I 
 presume ; nothing more. Cramwell tells me 
 that the duke finds the present system very 
 defective in orthography and every useful infor- 
 mation, and determines on instituting an army 
 examination. This is only the thin end of the
 
 74 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 wedge ; that examination must soon become 
 competitive ; and the end will be open govern- 
 ment appointments, civil and military. Old 
 Cramwell is delighted at the prospect. At first 
 he shook his head, talked about tone and the 
 official interest, but soon gave way ; for my 
 Lord Cramwell discovered some consolation in 
 the very pretty pickings to be got for his party 
 by an increased staff of principalships, inspector- 
 ships, commissionerships, and a number of other 
 ships, which the old duke good-humouredly, 
 with an eye to his own profession, called ' ships 
 of the line/ " 
 
 " Then," said Thornhill, " they may get more 
 learning into the army, but they will lose caste. 
 If the modern system is to be forced upon us, 
 what is to become of Eton and Harrow and half 
 the good schools in England ? " 
 
 " They'll soften down, Thornhill, to meet the 
 times ; and a boy may write French without 
 being chicken-hearted, and understand arith- 
 metic without being a writing-master or national 
 schoolboy : because that is about the reality of 
 our present feeling on the subject. I learnt 
 nothing at Eton, and I don't suppose Charlie
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 7o 
 
 would learn much more. You can teach him 
 to be a gentleman, and that's about the use 
 of Harrow or Eton to two-thirds that go there. 
 It happens to be just the knowledge that your 
 boy doesn't want. And now let's go to the 
 drawing-room, as you will take no more. Emily 
 will be expecting us by this time. Thompson, 
 have a fire lighted in the smoking-room in half 
 an hour's time/ 5
 
 76 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 "A wife well-humour'd, dutiful, and chaste." 
 
 You see in all novels, or romances, or stories 
 of any kind, a certain amount of paper devoted 
 to "bosh." I mean staid and well-digested 
 reflections, or dissertations, on literature, politics, 
 ecclesiastical architecture, education, Puseyism, 
 morals, or love. Whenever I come across such 
 heavy reading in light literature I make a point 
 of skipping it. I have occasionally found a diffi- 
 culty in ascertaining exactly how much to skip 
 without losing the point of the story : and this 
 has delayed me. To prevent my reader from 
 suffering any such inconvenience, I intend to 
 devote the beginning of my chapters to any such 
 serious and unprofitable labour, when I find it 
 absolutely necessary either for the respectability 
 of my book, or for the amount of 'matter which 
 custom requires. There must be in books, as in
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 77 
 
 men, a certain ponderosity to give them cha- 
 racter; and an author may no more venture 
 in these days of universal paste and scissors, to 
 write a series of ups and downs, and ins and 
 outs, of heroes and heroines, without consi- 
 derable ethical deviations ; or to make two or 
 three persons talk in the simple and rational 
 manner in which most ladies and gentlemen do 
 talk, without some ambitious interpolations, 
 than he would venture to exhibit a stout gentle- 
 man in top boots on a bay cob, riding quietly 
 round the circle at Astley's, or a bricklayer 
 carrying his hod and mortar up a ladder at the 
 Alhambra, instead of the tights and spangles of 
 Blondin and Leotard, or the velvet habit and 
 bejewelled housings of Caroline and her charger. 
 Anybody, says Longinus the Younger, can write 
 a book if he describe men and women as they 
 are. Yes, and what a book it would be ! Thank 
 heaven, we none of us know each other as we 
 are. No man alive could describe us as we 
 are. He would avert his face from his own 
 picture and blush to find himself no better than 
 his worst creation. The fact is, men and women 
 are very much alike in this world : the wicked
 
 78 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 are seldom as bad as they are represented, and 
 the best have a leaven which has escaped obser- 
 vation in the lump. We are actuated by the 
 same sort of passions as our fellow-men. Cir- 
 cumstances change the direction of our actions 
 and their results : education and self-government 
 the intensity of our motives. Another thing we 
 are blind to is the consequences of our conduct ; 
 and the greatest malefactor may have the least 
 to answer for. That is a comfortable reflection 
 for the black sheep, and may teach the golden- 
 fleeced ones a little charity. 
 
 Both Marston and Thornhill were men of the 
 world, and they were neither of them stupid 
 men. According to generally-received opinion, 
 they were well-educated men. The former had 
 had the advantages, for which he seemed scarcely 
 grateful, of Eton and the Continent, the latter of 
 Eton and Oxford. Both had been to these men 
 a mere fashionable course of training, not sup- 
 posed to be practically useful, nor, indeed, as 
 having any definite result. Yet unconsciously 
 the character of both had been affected to a 
 certain extent by their early life. The absence 
 of the practical rendered either incapable of fully
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 79 
 
 comprehending the subject on which they were 
 engaged at the conclusion of the last chapter ; 
 but the effect of their education it was which 
 plunged them into a discussion with which 
 neither of them was fitted to cope. Marston was 
 disappointed with Eton, because it gave him few 
 advantages in the career he afterwards adopted. 
 He was not an inelegant scholar, though not a 
 deep one ; and Cambridge or Oxford might have 
 found him not deficient in university require- 
 ments, and given him a position independently 
 of his social rank. On the Continent he could 
 not be nobody ; a man of large fortune and rank 
 never is : but he was less than nobody in societ} r , 
 and he felt acutely how much he lost by the 
 exclusiveness of his knowledge. He had now 
 acquired a certain refinement and sympathy with 
 modern tastes, which increased his aversion to 
 what he considered a mistaken system; and he 
 saw very little good in public education beyond 
 its discipline, which affected neither himself nor 
 Thornhill. Geoffrey, on the other hand, was a 
 clever boy; had gone through the school with 
 credit to himself; did not know that he would 
 probably have been much what he was, wherever
 
 80 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 he had been, and attributed all the good in his 
 character to Eton, and all the bad to the world 
 and its temptations. He scarcely knew that one 
 duty of school would have been to teach hiin to 
 withstand them. 
 
 The hospitalities of Woodlands Abbey were 
 charming. The master, we have seen, could be 
 agreeable ; nay, more, he could be, and was with 
 his intimates, a very fascinating person : but 
 Lady Marston far outshone her husband in her 
 character of hostess. To say she was one of the 
 most beautiful women of her day was to say the 
 least in her praise. Her mind was cultivated to 
 an extent scarcely conceivable in days when 
 ornament takes the place of substantial merit. 
 Her manners had a charm which pertain only to 
 such as have embellished English sincerity with 
 the elegances of the best foreign society. She 
 was kind, but graceful ; even warm, but cour- 
 teous; a woman of the world in the midst of 
 home duties ; thoughtful and tender, but not the 
 less witty and conversational. She received 
 Geoffrey Thornhill kindly, inquired enthusiasti- 
 cally after his wife and his boys, of whom she 
 knew him to be prouder than of anything;
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 81 
 
 regretted the absence of other company, but con- 
 gratulated herself and Marston upon their acci- 
 dental presence in the country at this time, when 
 they could be of service to so old a friend. 
 " But we shall see you back after the races, and 
 then perhaps you will give us a day or two more, 
 as we do not leave till the end of the week." 
 She took her leave and her candle together, and 
 the men were left to their devices. 
 
 If there be anything in the proverb " In vino 
 Veritas," it is not badly capped by "Ex fumo 
 dare lucem." From behind a cigar we get the 
 silver lining of the cloud. We say our best 
 things, and keep the real conversation of the day 
 for that cheerful hour when ordinary mortals 
 have retired to rest. A smoking-room is an 
 essential in a gentleman's house ; and Marston's 
 was not behind others in its comforts. The bar- 
 barism that invites a man into the open air of 
 an evening, to the chill and fog of an English 
 climate in the month of May, to enjoy his post- 
 prandial tobacco, is deserving of severe reproba- 
 tion or silent contempt ; and both Sir Frederick 
 and his guest, though far behind the present 
 fumiferous age, were too conversant with ordi- 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 chaelie thornhill; or, 
 
 nary comforts to deny themselves the luxury of 
 arm-chairs and a fire, in a room embellished by 
 the coaches of Henderson, and favourite horses 
 and hounds by Ward, Fernelly, Davis, and all 
 the best sporting artists of the day. 
 
 It scarcely required these to remind our two 
 friends of the importance of to-morrow. It had 
 been the subject uppermost in their minds for 
 some part of the day ; and though Marston was 
 too well accustomed to winning or losing a race, 
 and Geoffrey Thornhill too careless of a few 
 hundreds, more or less, to let his present book 
 tinge his general tone with one shade of anxietj^, 
 still they had both quite enough at stake to be 
 glad to talk over the probable chances of success. 
 
 Thornhill puffed a few clouds of smoke before 
 him, and from behind them inquired after the 
 
 gray. 
 
 " All right," said Marston, " he never looked 
 better ; shall we have in Turner ? " 
 
 " No 1 never mind about Turner, Fred ; let us 
 know about the trial. Are you satisfied it was 
 all right yourself? for though I believe Turner 
 to be as honest as the day, those fellows have 
 temptations which we know nothing about."
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 83 
 
 " I took every precaution ; it is my opinion 
 that the horse can't lose — and that he will win 
 the Leger if he keeps his form. He is better 
 than he ever was before, certainly a stone better 
 than when he won at Northampton ." 
 
 " I'm glad to hear it. If Fd seen you yester- 
 day I should have backed him for the double 
 event. We'll go in good time to-morrow, and 
 see what Musgrave will do about The Leger. 
 Burke, that Irish fellow, was at Tattersall's, and 
 wanted to lay against him for The Corinthian ; 
 though I hear he's taken all he can get about 
 him for Doncaster some time ago. Are these 
 the cigars you imported for yourself the year 
 before last ? " 
 
 " No ! Pontet got them for Lord Peterborough, 
 and bought them back at his sale, with quantities 
 of all kinds of snuff. Deuce of a fellow for 
 snuff was old Peterborough ! He bought half 
 George IV.'s lot at the Carlton House sale, 
 because it put him in mind of the days of the 
 Regency."" 
 
 Here they both relapsed into silence : it was 
 quite clear that there was nothing very inter- 
 esting in the topic they had accidentally hit 
 
 o 2
 
 84 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 upon. It required no great effort to get back to 
 the old one, however: for after about a couple 
 of minutes, Geoffrey asked who was to ride 
 Marston's horse. 
 
 " The very best gentleman rider in England \" 
 said Sir Frederick, with enthusiasm, as if his 
 friend Thornhill must be satisfied now. " The 
 very best in England, bar none." 
 
 " You mean Kildonald ; I quite agree with 
 you. There is no one out like him : and as to 
 the young ones, they are no use with him what- 
 ever. He has the finest hands, and he combines 
 monstrous power with great elegance. He can 
 do anything with his horse ; in fact, he knows 
 too much." 
 
 " You don't like him, Geoffrey." 
 
 " I don't like his party. He's a pleasant, gen- 
 tlemanly fellow enough; but that fellow Burke 
 is in every robbery, and I think Kildonald is in 
 with him." 
 
 " They are compatriots ; but there can't be 
 much in common between such men as Burke 
 and Kildonald," said Marston, with what truth 
 the reader has some notion. But the baronet 
 was perhaps the least suspicious of men. When
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 85 
 
 on town he always kept at least one pocket open 
 for every man's hand to be in it ; and since his 
 residence abroad, and his marriage, he scarcely 
 believed in the existence of premeditated ras- 
 cality. At this moment came a knock at the 
 door, and a servant entered, slowly and noise- 
 lessly, as is the wont of gentlemen's servants. 
 "What horse is to go on to-morrow to Sitting- 
 dean for Mr. Thornhill, sir? Turner is gone 
 on with Benevenuto, and left no orders."" 
 
 " Send the roan mare and my black hack. 
 We shall start from here at ten, and tell George 
 to be ready at Sittingdean at half-past eleven. 
 What sort of a night is it ? " 
 
 " Rains fast, Sir Frederick." And the man 
 left the room. 
 
 " So much the better for the gray ; it can't be 
 too heavy for him ; every drop that falls will be 
 ounces in his favour : it's a certainty if he lives 
 till the morning." And the sanguine baronet 
 indulged in a prolonged yawn, which reminded 
 both that they might retire for the night. 
 
 " Good night, Marston ; breakfast at nine. 
 And you think it is a certainty ? " said Thornhill 
 for the last time.
 
 86 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 " As certain as a thing can be. Good night !" 
 And they both took their candles and their 
 separate ways to bed. 
 
 The evening was cold and very cheerless out- 
 side : inside, the bright fire, heavy curtains, and 
 tapestry, the comfortable invalid chair, and wax- 
 lights, left nothing to be desired but sleep. But 
 sleep would not come ; and when ThornhilTs 
 servant was dismissed, his master sat down 
 opposite the fire, and remained lost in thought. 
 Thornhill, though not a low-spirited man, nor a 
 superstitious one, was very different from what 
 the world gave him credit for being. It saw 
 only the bright side of his character. Solitude 
 could hardly be said to exhibit, but it brought 
 out, the darker shades. He was too sensible not 
 to know his faults, and too honest not to admit 
 them ; but he was too weak to resist them. This 
 produced a train of thought which usually made 
 him sadder without making him better. To- 
 night he was peculiarly low-spirited. Every 
 sound irritated him : even the shutting of the 
 doors at the end of his corridor made him wince. 
 Then he thought of his boys ; what he might 
 and would do for them. And a provision for
 
 THE DTENCE CF TEE FA.1EE.T. V T 
 
 i Lis c:Evfi- = ;.::;:; wi;L MarsttL. 
 - Lis ruiud. TLen Lr :L:v_L: ;: 
 Li? wife: Le tLzurLt of her as ErrJdv Caris- 
 :. ' r_;::: as Err. :Lv TL::rL:L: and Le 
 wondr: :Ler he had quite done his duty by 
 
 her; whether Le might n:: Lave saved Ler rraEy 
 a heartache. Thornhill was not a coward, nor a 
 
 jus: v:-;--- .; Lis r;s::iou. He never I linked a 
 quest: :. : tut it selderu resulted ::: r erruaE-ut 
 good. But there were few who had been s; 
 spoiled by fortune and by flattery, who would 
 
 ; L. :.■;-. .: :...: -. c:EsisteEt.
 
 88 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 TO THE COURSE. 
 
 " The rugged mountain's scanty cloak 
 "Was dwarfish shrubs of birch and oak. " 
 
 The rain was over, and by nine o'clock it was 
 as fine a May morning as ever shone upon the 
 earth. The sun was high in heaven, and the 
 still wet blades of grass and early hedgerow 
 leaves were glistening like diamonds. There was 
 a genial warmth about the day already, early as 
 it was, which made it rather the harbinger of the 
 coming summer than the expiring effort of a 
 departing spring. All nature rejoiced ; the birds 
 carolled blithely, as they sprang from bough to 
 bough, or flirted merrily in the tender shadows 
 of the opening leaves. The feeling was irre- 
 sistible ; and Thornhill had but little difficulty in 
 shaking off the blue devils of the night before 
 when he threw up his window and welcomed the 
 morning air. Lady Marston was already at the
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 80 
 
 breakfast-table, an English woman's happiest 
 moment, with one or two inmates of her house, 
 whom we have not before noticed, her brother 
 Lindsay, and a young Belgravian, scarcely of 
 presentable age. Marston himself, too, was on 
 the steps of his house, giving some orders about 
 the horses, and returned to the breakfast-room 
 just as Geoffrey Thornhill entered by an opposite 
 door. 
 
 Breakfast is a cheerful meal in a country gen- 
 tleman's house ; perhaps the most so of any. 
 Luncheon is a scramble, a sort of voluntary, at 
 which the sportsmen of a family never appear. 
 Dinner, to be good and agreeable, must be 
 attended with a certain amount of pomposity ; 
 and this climate is altogether too cold by seven 
 or eight o'clock p.m. for lightness and elegance, 
 unaccompanied by a genial warmth of magni- 
 ficence and state. An English gentleman is 
 without a rival in evening dress; but it is the 
 only time when an English woman may appear 
 to throw away a chance. She will always, in 
 point of beauty, distance foreign competition ; 
 but candlelight gives an opening to artificial 
 adornment, which brings a clever and unscru-
 
 90 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 pulous rival near her level. Nothing has a ghost 
 of a chance with a well-dressed English woman 
 at a breakfast-table. And its charm of propriety 
 and ease ; its combination of order and socia- 
 bility ; even its newspaper gossip and episto- 
 lary comments, place it at the head of domestic 
 enjoyments. It is to the day what youth is 
 to life : somewhat too short, but a season of 
 promise. Alas ! not always to be fulfilled. 
 
 Time is no laggard when a cheerful day's 
 sport is before such men as Sir Frederick Mars- 
 ton and Geoffrey Thornhill. In half an hour 
 they were ready for their proposed journey ; and 
 the roan mare and the black hack having been 
 gone some hours earlier, they prepared for an 
 exhilarating ride through a beautiful country to 
 Sittingdean, a village within a short distance 
 of the course, and where their second horses 
 awaited their arrival. 
 
 " Shall we say half an hour later for dinner, 
 Mr. Thornhill?" said Lady Marston. " Per- 
 haps eight o'clock will suit you and Frederick 
 better than our usual hour down here ? " insinu- 
 ating gracefully that she was in the habit of 
 making a sacrifice at the shrine of Fashion in
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 91 
 
 her country house capacity. " If you are home 
 a little earlier than you expect, you can play a 
 game at billiards before dinner. We always do 
 when anybody is here to play." 
 
 " Thank ye, Kate. Eight o'clock will do capi- 
 tally for us," said the baronet, kissing his hand 
 to his pretty wife and the young lady who accom- 
 panied her to the steps of the portico. " Adieu! 
 I wish you luck," was the rejoinder. And the 
 gentlemen were gone. 
 
 About the same time, but on the opposite side 
 of the country, might have been seen a party of a 
 very different kind verging towards the course. 
 Over a long strip of common land, decked here 
 and there with dells, and clumps of stunted box, 
 and straggling gorse, rumbled one of those half- 
 houses, half- waggons, drawn by a dull, badly-fed 
 cart-horse and a thriving donkey, the common 
 attendant on a gipsy encampment. It was 
 accompanied by some half-dozen swarthy-looking 
 Bohemians, two of whom were women, whose 
 scarlet neckerchiefs and fantastic head-dresses 
 proclaimed their profession. A short distance 
 behind these came three more, apparently be- 
 longing to the former. As far as temporary
 
 92 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 association it was so, but they had either no 
 permanent interest in the doings of the gang, or 
 their present conversation was meant for no ears 
 but their own. The group was a singular one. 
 It consisted of a man, whose sharp features, high 
 cheek-bones, and twinkling gray eyes had no 
 characteristic of gipsy life : his face was indi- 
 cative of low cunning ; and his dress consisted of 
 corduroy breeches, unbuttoned at the knee, and 
 a blue dress-coat with metal buttons and large 
 pockets protected by heavy lappels on the out- 
 side. His companions were a woman of about 
 forty years of age, bearing the remains of much 
 beauty, disfigured by intemperance of every kind, 
 and now haggard and worn by sickness and 
 premature decay ; and a youth of about twenty, 
 singularly athletic, finely made, and with a face 
 which, in the midst of all its grandeur, exhibited 
 a ferocity more like that of uncivilised life than 
 the ordinary daring of depraved nature. There 
 was a recklessness about him as of one smarting 
 under wrong, and inimical to his race, which 
 showed with wonderful contrast against the 
 cunning, lurcher-like look of his companion. 
 " And where are we now ? " said he, in an
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 93 
 
 impatient tone. " Near the course ? " And he 
 halted to survey the scene. 
 
 " That's Sittingdean to your left, and that's 
 the race-course to the right, where ye see the 
 tents in the hollow; this bridle-path is the way 
 to Stapleford over the common : but ye know the 
 way." And here Mike Daly (for so was he 
 called) turned with a malicious half-look towards 
 the woman. 
 
 " Ay, ay ! I know every stone and every tree 
 of the road : it's burnt into my very soul with a 
 scar that twenty years have never healed. "What 
 do you ask such a question for ? " and her face 
 turned almost livid as she placed her hand on 
 her side, and her eyes flashed with an unwonted 
 light. 
 
 " I've had my wrongs too," said Mike, " av it's 
 not in this counthry. Faix, a home's a home, if 
 it is but a pigsty e, and " 
 
 " Your wrongs, indeed !" said the woman, with 
 a look of withering contempt at the speaker. 
 " What do you call wrongs ? Have you seen 
 your home, as you call it, destro} r ed ; your only 
 parent dying with a curse on his lips for your 
 unborn child ; your hopes of happiness withered ;
 
 94 charlie thornhill; or, 
 
 your love trampled on ; your very supplications 
 for bread derided by one for whom you had sacri- 
 ficed everything in this world and in the world 
 to come ? M and such was the vehemence with 
 which the words were uttered, that Daly, accus- 
 tomed as he was to such outbreaks, dropped 
 behind, abashed at the insignificance of his own 
 misfortunes. 
 
 " Silence, mother ! " said the younger man ; 
 " think of this world, and leave the other to take 
 care of itself. What has it ever done for us, 
 that we should concern ourselves about it ? " 
 And with a daring fierceness he strode onward at 
 a pace that bid fair to distance his companions. 
 
 " Ah ! like father, like son," continued the 
 Irishman, in a sort of soliloquy. " He drove us 
 
 from our homes, to get the rint ; and now . 
 
 But wait a while, wait a while ; it's lawyer Burke 
 that'll see the poor man righted." And at this 
 moment a turn in the narrow path they had been 
 following brought them round the corner of a 
 small covert, whence the race -course came full 
 upon their view. 
 
 The younger man had outstripped the other 
 two, and was now mingling with the gipsies, who
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 95 
 
 regarded him with looks of distrust. He was 
 poorly clad, and nothing but his manner of 
 expressing himself, and a certain air of hauteur, 
 served to separate him from the lowest grade of 
 -ruffianism. He was no sooner joined by his 
 mother and Mike Daly than the three plunged at 
 once into the crowd, now beginning to collect 
 from every side. They had almost reached the 
 course, when, in crossing one of the rides, cut in 
 every direction through the heath, a horseman, 
 on a small active horse, brushed rudely past, 
 almost trampling upon the } T oung man in his 
 career. His left hand seized the bridle, and he 
 raised his stick with the other, about to inflict a 
 punishment, which might have been severe, from 
 the formidable nature of the weapon, when a 
 harsh cry from his mother arrested his arm, and 
 permitted the horseman to pursue his course 
 unmolested. 
 
 " George ! George ! for God's sake hold ; leave 
 him, leave him to — to — to Heaven. Yes, yes, 
 there is, there is a God. I was taught so once ; 
 and He only deserted me when I deserted myself. 
 His punishment will come soon enough ; " and 
 the broken sobs of the woman were for some
 
 96 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 moments too violent for suppression. The man 
 stood with one hand grasping his mother's arm, 
 whilst his head was turned in the direction of 
 his retreating foe. Every evil passion seemed 
 gleaming from his eye, and his face, eminently 
 handsome as it was, had the beauty of Moloch. 
 
 " Look at him ; look, George. Shall you 
 forget him ? " 
 
 " Do I ever forget an enemy ? " 
 
 " Is he an enemy ? " And she asked the 
 question with a vacant look of almost insanity. 
 
 " He would have trodden us under foot, like 
 
 the rest of his accursed race ; d him. Who 
 
 or what is he, that I am not as good ? " 
 
 " He is Arthur Kildonald : my enemy, but 
 your father." 
 
 A sullen scowl crossed his face ; and his 
 mother, rising at the same moment from a hil- 
 lock on which she had sunk, he took her by the 
 hand, and led her towards the railing which 
 separated the stand from the course. "My 
 father ! — Arthur Kildonald ! No ; I'll not forget 
 him. Let us be going."
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 97 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 THE RACE. 
 
 " Puncto mobilis horse 
 " Nunc prece, nunc pretio, nunc vi, nunc morte, snprerna, 
 Permutet dominos et cedat in altera jura." — Hoe., Ep. iu 
 
 The bell had already twice rung for saddling : 
 and the two races had been run rather to the 
 disappointment of the gentlemen and the success 
 of the professional bookmakers. In the first race 
 an outsider had won by the joekeyship, as was 
 asserted, of Kildonald ; in the second the favourite 
 had been defeated on the post by a beaten horse, 
 and the race pulled out of the fire. In the interval 
 between speculation on the coming event, The 
 Corinthian Handicap, the race of the day, the 
 conversation turned partly on the merits of the 
 horses, partly on that of the riders. So public a 
 character as a gentleman rider courts criticism, 
 and generally has his share of it. 
 
 " Captain Kildonald made a fine race of that,
 
 98 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 Sir Frederick/' said a neat-looking, well-whis- 
 kered individual, with a small betting-book in his 
 hand, and a toothpick in his mouth. " He never 
 took a liberty with his 'oss, and they all come 
 back to him at last. He's a nasty beggar to ride, 
 for he wants you to get all you can out of him, 
 and you mustn't get it out too fast." 
 
 " He rode the horse very well, very well indeed, 
 Smithson," replied the baronet: "few men can 
 ride better. There's many a jockey might give 
 him 5 lb. ; but he scarcely looks himself to-day, 
 somehow or other." 
 
 " He leads such a life." 
 
 " Does he. What is it— play ? " 
 
 " Bless you, yes ! " said the man, who was 
 called Smithson, who was a good sort of fellow, 
 and found living by his wits easier and pleasanter 
 than behind a counter, the natural sphere of his 
 operations ; " bless you, yes ! Play ! all night 
 and all day. He must have some pretty good 
 nerve left to live as he does." 
 
 " Do anything, Sir Frederick ? Want to back 
 your colt ? ■' said a yellow-looking, stout, heavy - 
 jowled man, in shiny black clothes, and a most 
 respectable look, who had been a stocking-weaver
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 99 
 
 in the midland counties, and was now the largest 
 better on the Turf. 
 
 "Nothing more, thank you, Pearson. I've 
 backed him for all I intend ; and I hope he'll win." 
 
 " Well, Dorrington, what have you done about 
 Benevenuto ?" 
 
 " Backed him like the devil," said Lord Dor- 
 rington to his inquirer. " It's a comfort to know 
 that he's meant. He does belong to a gentleman, 
 and he'll be well ridden." 
 
 " He's a very easy horse to ride," said the 
 young Marquis of Droughtmore, himself no mean 
 performer over a country, though a little too 
 heavy for the flat. "He has a great turn of speed, 
 and comes when he's called upon. Are you stay- 
 ing here, Dorrington ? " 
 
 " Yes, at Henry Corry's. It's about three miles 
 from here, across the heath. We have Seymour, 
 Putney, Wilbraham, and that spectral attache, 
 Royston's friend : I forget his name. He's asleep 
 now, I believe ; but he comes out with the bats 
 for his rubber, and seems to begin enjoying him- 
 self when everybody else is about going to bed." 
 
 ft What a handsome gipsy ! " said Wilbraham, 
 who just joined them, pointing to the figure of an 
 
 h2
 
 100 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 athletic -looking young fellow, with magnificent 
 eyes, who was apparently watching some knock- 
 'em-downs, hut kept the corner of his eye stealthily 
 upon somehody unseen by the party in question. 
 " He'd do to put into training to lick Mildmay's 
 pet for 200/. Come, Thornhill, you back the 
 Bohemian, and we'll put him into form in no 
 time. Why, he must be six feet two, if he's an 
 inch ; and what a pair of shoulders ! His face 
 reminds me of somebody. You're not handsome 
 enough, Dorrington, or I should say it was you." 
 At that very moment, mounted on the gray colt, 
 led by Turner, Sir Frederick Marston's trainer, 
 and looking the perfection of a gentleman jockey, 
 came Arthur Kildonald. He was a tall, singu- 
 larly good-looking man, but very spare. His 
 length of thigh gave him a great appearance of 
 power, as well as ease upon his horse ; and it 
 was plain to see that what strength he had was 
 above the saddle. He was beautifully dressed ; 
 and his colours, dark purple and buff, became 
 him admirably. It was impossible not to notice 
 him. At the best of times his face was not a good 
 face : it wanted honesty of expression, with all 
 its beauty. Now it was deadly pale, and wore a
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMDLY. 101 
 
 troubled look. Not far from the horse, amid the 
 crowd that walked by his side admiring his con- 
 dition, and entering a last bet upon the race, was 
 our old acquaintance Mr. Burke. To a very close 
 observer one significant glance passed between 
 the latter and Kildonald, before he was lost in the 
 crowd. At the same instant Lord Dorrington 
 turned suddenly from the gipsy to the rider. 
 The likeness was sufficiently manifest : there 
 was but the difference between the savage and 
 the civilised man, au reste the resemblance was 
 complete. 
 
 I have already said that the Bidborough Meet- 
 ing was select rather than large. It embraced 
 country gentlemen in the Stand, their carriages 
 and wives on the opposite side of the course. 
 The great earl was there, talking to Thornhill, 
 Sir Frederick Marston, and a few more of equal 
 rank. The labourers, Servants, and artisans of 
 the neighbourhood appeared in more than a just 
 proportion ; their smiles and many-coloured 
 ribbons were the pleasantest part of the scene. 
 The great betting men were there, including the 
 nobility and gentry of England, the real patrons, 
 of the Turf : the idlers who backed their fancy
 
 102 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 for a pony were there in great numbers. The 
 fine, independent, top-booted farmer and yeoman 
 appeared in great force ; and in smaller numbers 
 the 7iiimi, balatrones, et hoc genus omne. Half a 
 dozen drags, contained the votaries of Limmers 
 and of Long's; Brookes', White's, and the 
 Clarendon rejoiced in the Stand. The small 
 betting man was not to be found : there was no 
 place for the minor bookmaker, for the lawyer's 
 clerk, and the embryo City man. The importance 
 of the meeting was not sufficient to startle them 
 from their propriety. 
 
 I write of a day when the chief proprietors of 
 race-horses were to be found amongst the nobles 
 and gentlemen of England. Horse-racing had 
 not yet become a simple trade. It was presumed 
 that the object of a starter was to win. There 
 were rogues, as there have been before and since 
 the days of Dan Dawson ; there was a genius or 
 two emerging from the crowd, whose capabilities 
 for calculation and the king's English were 
 scarcely on a par. But racing was not yet the 
 business of a nation, and the pleasure of the few ; 
 what betting there was, was done con amove. It 
 was heavy and earnest, as of men backing a con-
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 103 
 
 viction rather than hedging a speculation. Nous 
 avons change tout cela. 
 
 The course was being rapidly cleared. Police- 
 men were active, and the huntsmen and whips of 
 the Bidborough Union Fox-hounds were forming 
 a serried rank of inquisitive yokels some distance 
 below the Stand. The ladies were closing their 
 glove books, and eagerly expecting the race of the 
 day. The last dog had already cleared the course 
 by at least five minutes. Three horses had gone 
 down besides Benevenuto : two were entirely out 
 of it, and the third had nothing but an outside 
 chance against Sir Frederick's horse. The preli- 
 minary canter confirmed preconceived notions, and 
 the race was a foregone conclusion. One chance 
 alone remained to the fielders : that Kildonald 
 should make use of his horse all the way, and 
 having alternately raced with each, should finally 
 come back to them. Kildonald was not a likely 
 man to play his adversaries' game, when he knew 
 so well the cards that were out. 
 
 They're off ! The multitude hold their breath : 
 a murmur : they come : the gray winning. " By 
 heavens ! what's Kildonald about ? he's at work 
 already ; Castleton wins. No, by Jove ! the gray
 
 104 CHARLIE THORNHILL ; OR, 
 
 does it now. Castleton, Marston : cl it, he's 
 
 stopped him ! " shrieks Lord Dorrington and 
 twenty more voices at the same moment, as the 
 mare, quietly ridden by Lord Castleton, is landed 
 a winner by a neck. " It's a cursed robbery ! " 
 " It's a swindle ! " " He could scarcely help 
 winning, as it was!" "An infernal piece of 
 rascality from beginning to end ! " And epithets 
 not complimentary, and curses both loud and 
 deep, were uttered against the rider of Bene- 
 venuto, as he rode to scale. It was all over ; and 
 the blank looks and empty pockets of the Grand 
 Stand told quite plainly enough that the robbery 
 was none of theirs. Kildonald, amidst the yells 
 of the populace, and half protected from personal 
 injury by the police, entered the Stand. His lips 
 were quivering with suppressed passion, and every 
 muscle of his pale face worked with rage. Turn- 
 ing sharply round, his eye lit upon Geoffrey 
 Thornhill, who was replying in no measured 
 terms to the condolences of the men by whom he 
 was surrounded. He glared like a tiger, and, 
 forcing his way towards him, demanded in tones 
 scarcely audible, but hissing from between his 
 teeth, whether he applied that epithet to him.
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 105 
 
 " I echo, sir, the sentiment of every man on 
 the course who ever saw a race in his life when 
 I repeat that it is an infernal robbery ;" and as he 
 spoke, ThornhilPs face, before rather expressive 
 of disappointment, coloured with an effort to 
 control his temper. 
 
 " Liar ! M rejoined the other, now utterly beside 
 himself; and as he spoke he raised his right 
 hand, in which he held the whip with which he 
 had been riding, and made a blow at his an- 
 tagonist. His arm was instantly seized, but not 
 before the whip had slightly grazed his cheek. 
 An insult so gross drove all power of restraint 
 from Geoffrey Thornhill, and with one blow he 
 knocked Kildonald into the arms of a bystander. 
 The quarrel was too unseemly to proceed ; the 
 friends of either party hurried them away ; and 
 whilst Geoffrey Thornhill rejoined his friends in 
 the Stand, Kildonald mounted his hack and 
 rode straight to the cottage of an acquaintance 
 with whom he was staying, about half an hour's 
 walk from the course. 
 
 " You were imprudent, Thornhill," said Mars- 
 ton, some two hours later, when every trace of 
 passion had left his friend Geoffrey, and nothing
 
 106 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 remained but a consideration of his position in 
 the quarrel. 
 
 " I was. But to be first robbed of a very large 
 stake in a most palpable manner, and then 
 struck by such a ruffian as that, is trying." 
 And Thornhill blushed again at the recollection 
 of the indignity. 
 
 " Admitted. But why have struck that unfor- 
 tunate blow ? He must leave the country ; and 
 your expressions no man can gainsay, though 
 some may blame." 
 
 " Good heavens ! Marston, how you do talk. Is 
 a man to lose several thousands by such rasca- 
 lity, and stand by and profess to respect it ? I 
 had no idea that Kildonald would have heard 
 me; but as it was a robbery, and I had said 
 so, it would not have been dignified to have 
 denied it." 
 
 "That was impossible : and now que faire" 
 At that moment a gentlemanly-looking man, well 
 known on the turf and in society as a Major 
 Doyle, a mutual acquaintance of Kildonald and 
 Thornhill, of irreproachable character, approached 
 and said, in a grave measured tone, " I beg your 
 pardon for the unpleasant intrusion, but my
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 107 
 
 instructions leave me no alternative. I am de- 
 sired by Mr. Kildonald to state that he remains 
 at my house, which is on the heath, and barely 
 two miles from here, until he can have the 
 necessary arrangements for a meeting with Mr. 
 Thornhill. The exigencies of the case preclude 
 all apology, and demand as much despatch as 
 possible." 
 
 " Accept my excuses, Major Doyle, for not at 
 once relieving you by appointing a friend to con- 
 fer with you. The circumstances are such as to 
 require consideration, and I will forward a note 
 or send a friend this evening to your house." 
 The major raised his hat with an elegance cha- 
 racteristic of an Irish gentleman, and Thornhill 
 replied by a bow as distant as courtesy permits. 
 
 "Marston, I should ask you to do me the 
 greatest favour that one man can do for another ; 
 but one friend older than yourself in length of 
 friendship, and older than either of us in years, 
 must be consulted." 
 
 " But you will not fight him ? » 
 
 " Undoubtedly." 
 
 " Why, he's a swindler — a common blackleg." 
 
 " We say so. But, remember, he has a little
 
 108 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 world of his own, which will not believe it. Un- 
 fortunately it is not capable of direct proof, and 
 we have only acted on our convictions. Yes ; I 
 must fight him." 
 
 " What, then, do you propose ? " 
 
 " Go home to Lady Marston ; keep your own 
 counsel and mine. I shall ride round by Corry's : 
 he is the best fellow alive in cases of this sort. 
 He has had hundreds of them on his hands. He 
 will give me some dinner, see Major Doyle this 
 very evening, and I shall be with you two or 
 three hours later than otherwise. Your hack 
 will not take long going from Sittingdean, which 
 I can reach from Henry Corry's, by the lower 
 side of the heath. Adieu, my dear Marston. 
 Let's send your groom for the horses, and 111 
 be off. The last race will be over by the time 
 they are at the back of the Stand."
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 109 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE CHALLENGE. 
 
 " Captain, I thee beseech to do me favours." 
 
 Shakespeare, Henry V. 
 
 When Geoffrey Thornhill had mounted his 
 hack, and desired Marston to tell them at Sit- 
 tingdean that he should be there by ten or half- 
 past, he turned with a loose rein over one of the 
 by-paths of the heath, which led amongst clumps 
 of firs and broken patches of sand and gorse to 
 the villas and country-houses scattered over the 
 face of the landscape. The sun was setting ; and 
 at another time Thornhill would have probably 
 given a passing thought to the beauty of the 
 scene, or to its adaptability for fox-hunting. He 
 might have admired his clean-shaped, active hack, 
 as he picked his way over the stony and sandy 
 road before him. At present his mind was en- 
 grossed with other matter. He had lost a sum 
 of money he could ill spare at the moment ; but
 
 110 CHARLIE THORNHILL; OR, 
 
 " Sufficient to the clay w was a favourite proverb 
 of ThornhuTs, as it is of many a man in pecu- 
 niary matters. No man understood the phi- 
 losophy of money better than he — at least, if 
 spending or losing it with a cheerful indifference 
 constitute philosophy. He was constitutionally 
 courageous too ; and though he was impulsive, 
 and apt to say things which he sometimes re- 
 gretted, he never shrank from their consequences. 
 His was the regret of a noble mind sorry for 
 having inflicted pain on others, rather than for 
 its effects upon himself. He was not a man to 
 abstain from injustice, or to shrink from acknow- 
 ledging it. 
 
 If a man is ever justified in egotism, it is when 
 he sees a probability or possibility of being 
 shot through the body within the next four- 
 and-twenty hours. Geoffrey Thornhill saw that 
 possibility very plainly before him ; and his con- 
 stitutional courage did not serve to shut out the 
 prospect. The consequence was a gloomy ride to 
 Corry's, in which he peopled the world with his 
 wife and his boys. He rang the bell, and asked 
 if Mr. Cony was at home. He was, and was 
 about to dine : but Mr. Thornhill's card should be
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. Ill 
 
 taken to him. In a minute the servant returned 
 with a request that he would sit down for five 
 minutes ; Mr. Corry was dressing. The five mi- 
 nutes elapsed before he had sufficiently admired 
 a Titian, a very fine copy (to Thornhill it made 
 very little difference), when Harry Corry appeared. 
 
 " Delighted to see you, Thornhill, delighted ; 
 we dine directly/' said he, ringing the bell. " Mr. 
 Thornhill will dine with us, Thompson ; and 
 desire Gregory to see to his horse. We've only 
 three or four men here whom you know. Like 
 to wash your hands ; come with me." 
 
 " I beg you a thousand pardons, my dear 
 Corry; but I must have five words with you at 
 once." , 
 
 " No, not a word ; nothing before dinner on 
 any consideration : we have just a soup, a fish, 
 and a haunch ; an early one from your old friend 
 Lascelles." With these words he hurried Geof- 
 frey Thornhill into a dressing-room, and left 
 him to make his ablutions. 
 
 Henry Corry was a man better known almost 
 than any one in London. He was a bachelor of 
 moderate fortune, good family, and heir to an 
 earldom. He was a man of exquisite taste ; his
 
 112 chaelie thornhill; or, 
 
 dinners and his pictures were few, but excellent. 
 He associated generally with men younger than 
 himself. His conversation amused, and his 
 highly-bred quiet restrained them. His reputa- 
 tion as a man of the world was at its height ; 
 and there was no one to whom men, in difficulty, 
 would apply with more certain prospect of a 
 solution. In all matters connected with fighting 
 or the women, he was an arbiter from whose 
 dictum there was no appeal. 
 
 The dinner was good, as well it might be, 
 from the care bestowed upon it ; the conversa- 
 tion as vapid as might have been expected from 
 a certain restraint arising from Thornhill's pre- 
 sence. Every one was anxious to put him at 
 his ease on the subject evidently uppermost in 
 his thoughts ; but the very desire to do so pro- 
 duced a constraint, unnatural to any of the party. 
 Corry himself, not having been at the races, was 
 sublimely ignorant of the whole transaction, and 
 set down the loss of spirit to the loss of monej^ ; 
 though he admitted to himself that it was 
 something new in the constitution of Geoffrey 
 Thornhill or Lord Dorrington. " They must 
 have been confoundedly hit," thought he.
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 113 
 
 " That's a good picture over the mantel- 
 piece," said Wilbraham, a traveller and would- 
 be connoisseur. 
 
 " I think it is ; it's the only Claude I have 
 here. That and the Titian, with a couple of 
 Watteaus in the small- drawing-room, with half 
 a dozen of less value, are all I have in this 
 place." 
 
 " What a charming repose ! " said Mr. Ham- 
 mond, the spectral attache before mentioned, who 
 seemed himself just to have awakened out of a 
 sound nap. " That small Spanish picture in my 
 room, I presume a Murillo, has one of the most 
 beautiful faces I ever saw." 
 
 " Talking of faces, what a splendid face was 
 that gipsy boy's whom we saw on the course to- 
 day, just before the race. Dorrington found out 
 a likeness, and a very remarkable one ;" and 
 here the speaker, quite a young man, blushed, 
 on remembering to whom the supposed resem- 
 blance related. 
 
 Thornhill hastened to relieve his embarrass- 
 ment. " Yes, I noticed the likeness myself, 
 talking to Lord Bidborough, as Kildonald rode 
 down. That's an admirable haunch of yours,
 
 114 CHARLIE THORNHILL; OR, 
 
 Henry Cony. You were not on the heath to- 
 day ? " 
 
 " No ! but I took a walk about a couple of 
 miles to the right of the course, and I rather 
 think I saw Putney's handsome gipsy ; he was 
 not far from Doyle's cottage at the time, and 
 seemed to be looking after something — the 
 poultry, I suppose. But, Geoffrey, I beg your 
 pardon, I know you told me you wanted to speak 
 to me ; and now that we can leave these men 
 with such a good substitute as that bottle of 
 Lafitte, I dare say they'll excuse us for five 
 minutes, before we make up our rubber." With 
 these words the host rose slowly, and Thornhill 
 and he left the room. 
 
 " And now, my dear fellow, how can I oblige 
 you ? I see there is something wrong." And 
 Thornhill related to him the occurences of the 
 day. 
 
 " This is unfortunate : three days hence you 
 may be able to treat him with contempt, if the 
 world looks upon it in the same light that you 
 do. To-day it is impossible ! * and he rang the 
 bell. " Order the brougham round directly." 
 
 " Yes, sir f and the man disappeared.
 
 THE DUKCE OF THE FAMILY. llfi 
 
 "Now, Geoffrey, go down to those men. 
 wait for me. I shall be gone half an hour." 
 
 No sooner were Corry and Thornhill S 
 the drawing-room, than the tongues were un- 
 loosed, and they began to speak plainly. u He 
 must fight, I suppose/' said Lord Dorrington, 
 who, however, helped himself to a bumper : 
 claret with as much nonchalance, as if fight: 
 was the ordinary occupation of the - 
 
 u I should rather say not." said Putney, who 
 had lately been gazetted to a troop in the — th 
 Hussars. "' One don "t fight with : . at 
 
 least it's optional ; and Kildonald is a robber to 
 all intents and purposes, as much as if he stole 
 my purse." And here the junior captain yaw:, 
 at his unwonted exertion. "Much more so if 
 the extent of the plunder is taken intc : tud der- 
 ation ; but Thornhill will fight: he has m sf 
 chivalrous notions on such points 
 
 '•'He's in good hands, at all events. TLe 
 claret, please, "Wilbrahara. When Kildonald is 
 shot, there'll be one scoundrel less in the world, 
 at all events, and we can very well spare him.'''' 
 Here the door opened, and Thornhill re-entered 
 the room.
 
 116 CHARLIE THORNHTLL J OR, 
 
 In the meantime the brougham had driven 
 rapidly towards another part of the heath, and 
 after an application to the bell, Henry Corry 
 descended at the door of Major Doyle's cottage. 
 
 " My compliments to Major Doyle, and I shall 
 be glad to speak to him on business of import- 
 ance f and Corry tendered his card — whilst 
 through the narrow passage of the house came 
 an occasional ominous rattle of dice ; and as the 
 adjoining door opened, something like " Eleven's 
 the nick," smote on his ear. "Ah ! " thought the 
 sobered man of the world, " now that there is no 
 one left to devour till to-morrow, they are prey- 
 ing upon each other. Good heavens ! to think 
 that a man like Thornhill must place himself 
 upon a level with these men, whose hand is 
 against every man, and whose reputation is not 
 worth half an hour's purchase. Major Doyle, 
 I presume," said he, seeing that a gentleman 
 had entered the room almost suddenly enough to 
 extinguish his cogitations. 
 
 "Major Doyle, at your service," replied that 
 individual. 
 
 "My business is pressing, Major Doj'le, and 
 unpleasant. With its purport you are already
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 117 
 
 acquainted, when I say I come from my friend, 
 Mr. Thornhill, of Thornhills." Here both gen- 
 tlemen stopped and looked at one another with 
 considerable uneasiness. 
 
 " I fear your mission can have but one result." 
 
 " I cannot affect to misunderstand the neces- 
 sity. It will be needless for us to enter into the 
 cause of this unhappy quarrel — but the sooner 
 the meeting can take place the better." 
 
 "It gives me pleasure to meet with such 
 promptness," said the major, whose Irish pro- 
 pensity was about to be indulged so unhesita- 
 tingly, and partly anxious about the loss of a 
 day's racing. 
 
 "And me pain!" rejoined the other, who saw 
 neither credit nor profit to his man in being first 
 swindled and then shot. 
 
 The two gentlemen, however, being so far 
 d'accord, laid their heads together, and were not 
 long in making such arrangements for the fol- 
 lowing morning, as to give the major plenty of 
 time for the transaction of his favourite business, 
 before the calls of his favourite diversion. 
 
 When Henry Corry returned to his house, he 
 at once sought Geoffrey Thornhill. He was
 
 118 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 playing a rubber, and finished it as unconcernedly 
 as be would have done, had his friend returned 
 with an invitation to dinner. Thornhiirs was a 
 strong, perhaps an uncommon mind; it never 
 utterly refused to see things in their true light, 
 but carefully postponed the prospect to the latest 
 moment. Perhaps I am wrong in saying that 
 it was a strong mind ; the action of it was in 
 this respect almost involuntary. It was not the 
 true courage, the philosophy of determinate in- 
 difference to a distant, though certain result ; 
 but rather an habitual carelessness of the future, 
 and an abandonment to the present. It was 
 some physiological deficiency or phrenological 
 defect — perhaps of judgment — which refused to 
 consider a case at all, until positively called on 
 for trial. It increased his popularity, gave him 
 a character for daring, and, to a man of his pe- 
 culiar habits and temper, saved him and caused 
 him much inconvenience in every way. It is 
 but due to him to add, that when he took the 
 trouble to realise a hard position, he acted with 
 a characteristic boldness, which was not the less 
 genuine because he recognised the reality and 
 extent of his danger.
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 119 
 
 " My dear Thornhill," said Corry, taking him 
 into an adjoining room when the rubber was 
 over, " knowing your determination to return to 
 Marston's to-night, instead of sleeping here, as 
 I wish you to do, I have succeeded in arranging 
 matters for to-morrow morning at eight o'clock. 
 At the ninth milestone on the Sittingdean road, 
 between this and Marston's, I will meet you to- 
 morrow morning at half-past seven; we can go 
 in my carriage, and you can send Marston's 
 back to the Royal Oak. To avoid exciting sus- 
 picion, Major Doyle will come at the back of 
 Sittingdean, by another road ; Kildonald sleeps 
 at Sittingdean to-night, and he will pick him up 
 on his way to-morrow. I know you too well, my 
 dear fellow, to impress upon you punctuality in 
 such a matter ; and you know me well enough 
 to tell me whether there's anything else in this 
 business in which I can be of service to you. 
 In case of accident, the place is the back of the 
 old ruin in Owlston Park, and the time eight 
 o'clock." 
 
 " Thank you, thank you, Corry, a thousand 
 times ; and now let me ring for my horse."
 
 120 CHARLIE THORNHILL J OR, 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 HOMEWARD. 
 
 " L'homme propose et Dieu dispose." 
 
 When Geoffrey Thornhill started on his road 
 to Sittingdean the moon was not yet up. The 
 first mile or two from the cottage he was leaving, 
 the road was tolerably good ; and the night not 
 being absolutely dark, he pushed on at a rapid 
 pace, not less in accordance with a sort of feverish 
 anxiety, than from a wish to reach his temporary 
 home as early as possible. The atmosphere, 
 however, was still and heavy ; and he was not 
 long before he felt the heat somewhat oppres- 
 sively. As the road advanced into the common 
 it became more full of holes and ruts ; and mind- 
 ful of the possibility of laming his horse at such 
 a distance from the village where he expected 
 his second hack, he pulled him into a walk, and 
 allowed him to pick his way at leisure. Having 
 once stopped the pace he was going, his mind
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 121 
 
 took the thoughtful tone which accorded more 
 with the rate of speed to which he was now 
 reduced. He lit a cigar, and at that moment 
 the moon rose over the tops of the low fir trees 
 which skirted the road irregularly on either side. 
 Thornhill knew the road pretty well, though he 
 could scarcely be said to be familiar with it. 
 He remembered that for about a mile the deep 
 sandy lane with heavy blocks of loose sandstone, 
 and a steep and dark bank on either side, over- 
 grown with gorse bushes and heather, with stunted 
 trees, terminated in a very sharp descent. From 
 this place on so light a night, the whole was 
 capital galloping ground into the road by Sitting- 
 dean, from which place an hour and a half's 
 sharp riding on a fresh horse would bring him 
 to his journey's end. He could the better then 
 afford a quarter of an hour's leisurely riding, 
 whilst he smoked his cigar : and conned his 
 position and his course of action for the morrow. 
 His thoughts could not well be cheerful : they 
 turned naturally towards his home ; for though a 
 thorough man of pleasure, he was warm-hearted 
 and impulsive. His love for his children was 
 genuine and deep, and his pride in his eldest boy,
 
 122 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 his accomplishments and his person, was unalloyed 
 by any selfish feeling. Had Thornhill been less 
 spoilt by the world, he would 'have better appre- 
 ciated the happiness of his home. He had mar- 
 ried a woman amiable, good, elegant, with country 
 tastes and habits, and an intense admiration for 
 her husband, but deficient in any strong attrac- 
 tion either of character or of manner. Exer- 
 cising but little influence in her house, over 
 either her husband or her children, Mrs. Thorn- 
 hill had sailed calmly down the stream, an admi- 
 rable example to her neighbours, a good village 
 Lady Bountiful, a favourite with everybody, 
 but with no power to divert from its current or 
 to check in its career a strong stream of careless 
 profusion, and selfish pleasure and indulgence, 
 which was the more dangerous as it was joined 
 to some estimable and many popular qualities. 
 "Ah! if my nephew Geoffrey had but married 
 Lady Marston, or a woman like that," said old 
 Lady Chesterton, the ruling providence of the 
 county and the great agent for matrimonial alli- 
 ances in the midland counties ; and the sugges- 
 tion was echoed by all Thornhill's well-wishers. 
 They probably knew nothing about it ; but it is
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 123 
 
 just possible that he might have been a better 
 man, and Emily Carisbrook a happier woman. 
 I presume Lady Marston was considered equal 
 to the emergency. 
 
 In this fit of blue devils, rather than in serious 
 meditation, Thornhill rode on. Having cleared 
 the worst part of the road, he had reached the 
 very steep descent between the scattered firs and 
 box which threw a gloom over this part of the 
 heath, and was just beginning the descent, when 
 we leave him to turn to others whose interest in 
 the story is greater. 
 
 One hour before he had started from Henry 
 Corry's villa, two persons appeared in the lower 
 part of the heath, having apparently walked 
 from the neighbourhood of Sittingdean. They 
 had not really done so. The reader has been 
 already made acquainted with them. They were 
 Mike Daly and George. They seemed, by the 
 road they were taking, to be making the best of 
 their way across the heath, towards the gipsy 
 encampments in the close neighbourhood of or 
 on the course itself, ready for the morrow. By 
 this route they would cross the road which 
 Geoffrey Thornhill must follow on his way to
 
 124 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 Sittingdean, as that was the only horse road, 
 the bridle cuts being invisible and quite useless 
 in the dark to any but foot passengers, and they 
 tolerably acquainted with them. 
 
 "Hist, George, aisy; I hear a step." 
 
 " No such thing/' said George in a hoarse 
 Whisper, which trembled with emotion ; " he can't 
 be here this two hours or more ; he was not 
 likely to start till eleven or later. What's the 
 hour?" 
 
 " By the night, about half-past nine or ten." 
 
 " Then halt here ; he must pass by this road ; 
 there's no wind, and we can hear every sound 
 that stirs. These tall dark firs would hide Satan 
 himself," and as he spoke he seated himself 
 under a tree within ten paces of the narrow defile 
 to which I have before alluded. Mike did the 
 same. 
 
 "What did Lawyer Burke do at the races, 
 Mike ? He ought to pay ye well for this job." 
 
 " It's the good name he has in Kerry, anyhow ; 
 sure he's the poor man's frind ; he won't see me 
 want." 
 
 "He's a scoundrel, Mike; a low, beggarly 
 scoundrel, that gets the oyster and throws you
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 125 
 
 the shells." Here George listened once more, 
 but nothing was to be heard, and he resumed 
 his listless attitude against the tree. 
 
 " How do ye know his time, Master George ? 
 Maybe he's gone, and Fll never have such a 
 chance again. I'll be able to leave the country 
 entirely." 
 
 " How do I know his time ? I've been to the 
 cottage, and where there are women you may 
 know anything." George was a bit of a philo- 
 sopher, and a close observer of human nature. 
 
 " Now I hear a horse," said he, as a slow even 
 step, occasionally striking a stone, and breaking 
 into a momentary jog, smote his ear. " It's close 
 at hand, Mike, steady ;" and they simultaneously 
 X'ose and approached the edge of the road, under 
 cover of the firs. 
 
 About an hour or rather more after Thornhill 
 had left Henry Corry's villa, the stable gates of 
 Major Doyle's unpretending tenement, which was 
 rented for the race-week by himself and a betting 
 man or two, opened ; and there issued from them 
 a smart clever-looking hack, carrying no other 
 than Arthur Kildonald. The moon was now up, 
 and the way lay clearer than in the earlier part
 
 126 CHARLIE THORNHILL ; OR, 
 
 of the evening. The gambler's face was pale, 
 and the passion which tore him found ready vent 
 in accelerated pace. His reflections were not 
 pleasant ; he held, it is true, in Burke's note of 
 hand for 3000Z. a means of escape from this 
 country ; but the deliberate robbery of which he 
 had been guilty in the morning would have ne- 
 cessitated that absence since its discovery, and 
 carried with it some very painful inconveniences. 
 He would fain have retired like a graceful actor, 
 regretted for the time, and with a hope of an 
 occasional return. All his hatred, too, for 
 Geoffrey Thornhill, his absurd and mistaken 
 prejudices against him as the purchaser of his 
 Irish property, and his fear of his bold and 
 resolute nature, lashed him into a fury, as he 
 trotted sharply over the uneven ground that 
 entered upon the road over the heath. One 
 other circumstance had not escaped his notice ; 
 amongst his own set he had lost caste. It's a 
 bad thing to be found out. He had committed a 
 robbery, but he had never committed a palpable 
 blunder before. Besides Major Doyle, perhaps 
 scarcely one of the party he had left would have 
 hesitated to do what he had done. They at-
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 127 
 
 tached no more discredit to the fact than, scarcely 
 indeed so much as, he did himself; but they 
 bore very hardly upon the discovery of it, and 
 regarded it as a serious blow to the party. 
 This was not a pleasant subject of contempla- 
 tion ; he was to be let down by his own set ; and 
 though Major Doyle's notions of honour forbade 
 him to desert his late guest, Kildonald felt the 
 terms on which he was to have the Major's 
 countenance in his meeting with Geoffrey Thorn- 
 hill. The duel itself was one in which no credit 
 could accrue to him. His opponent was too 
 popular a man to be shot at with impunity; 
 and now the quarrel, though unavoidable, was 
 of his own seeking. "Fool, fool!" said he to 
 himself, " why was not I deaf or dumb ? why 
 did my accursed ill luck throw me in the way 
 of that villain Burke ? and poor Norah and the 
 boy ; Good God ! if anything happens to-mor- 
 row, what's to become of them ? I must trust 
 Doyle." In this spirit he rapidly neared the 
 dark and broken descent whither we conducted 
 Geoffrey Thornhill, and on the side of which 
 we left standing Mike Daly and George in the 
 shade of the dark trees. Already was he at
 
 128 CHARLIE THORNHILL ; OR, 
 
 the top of the descent which the others had 
 reached some time before ; forgetful of the 
 badness of the road, which for a hundred yards 
 was almost perpendicular, he was already urging 
 his horse to continued speed, when, with a fear- 
 ful plunge and a violent snort which would have 
 unseated a worse horseman, thus unexpectedly, 
 the hack refused to proceed. 
 
 The whist party which we left at Henry 
 Corry's was not one to be disturbed by ordinary 
 circumstances. It consisted of pure men of the 
 world; not without natural feelings, certainly 
 not without refinement, but well exercised by 
 constant friction against society, which hardened 
 while it polished. Corry himself was depressed 
 more than might have been expected by an 
 episode of less rare occurrence than in the 
 present day. The four or five men who sur- 
 rounded the card-table divided their attention 
 more than usually between uncomfortable 
 anticipations and their cards ; but as the 
 stakes were high, it can hardly be said that 
 the former had so much of their attention as 
 the latter. 
 
 "Five pounds on the rubber, Corry," said
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 129 
 
 Wilbraham, who had been silent some time, in 
 deference to his host, but who felt compelled to 
 say something pleasant to break the silence. 
 " Certainly. Which do you wish to back ? " 
 " Dorrington, of course ; he always holds 
 cards." 
 
 " Be it so ; " and Henry Corry again relapsed 
 into silence. He was leaning against the mantel- 
 piece, with his back to a small fire, which had 
 been lighted during dinner. The room in which 
 they were playing was furnished in a most 
 elaborate manner. All that money, combined 
 with taste, could command, was to be met with 
 there. The ornaments were of the most refined 
 character. Sevres china of the most beautiful 
 description ; statuettes, from the choicest origi- 
 nals; marqueterie and ormolu, with handsome 
 mirrors proportioned to the moderate dimensions 
 of the room ; few pictures, as has been said, but 
 valuable, and handsomely bound works of the 
 best authors ; rich hangings, and luxurious chairs 
 of various shapes and kinds, combined comfort 
 with elegance, seldom to be met with in a country 
 villa so far removed from large cities. It might 
 have been the retreat of a modern Maecenas, or
 
 130 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 the consolation of a fallen minister, or bankrupt 
 merchant. 
 
 " How's the game, Seymour ? 
 
 *' Dorrington and I win the trick : we are four 
 to three, and a single up. At present your fiver 
 looks well." 
 
 " The room's hot," said Cony. " Would you 
 like a window opened for five or ten minutes ? 
 Putney, are you afraid of the draught?" 
 
 " Not I," said the captain. Corry opened a 
 window partially, which looked on to the lawn. 
 At the same moment a horse came down the road 
 from the heath at a fearful pace, and a ring at 
 the door-bell announced an unexpected guest. 
 Sharp, quick, and agitated tones of inquiry were 
 heard in the hall, and as the servant threw open 
 the door without the announcement of any name, 
 an unwelcome figure stood before the astonished 
 party. 
 
 It was Kildonald. Notwithstanding the pace 
 he had evidently ridden, his face was perfectly 
 ghastly; large drops of perspiration stood upon 
 his forehead, his hair was matted with damp, 
 and hung in dishevelled locks over his brows ; 
 terror seemed to have utterly taken away his
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAJHLY. 131 
 
 speech, for he reeled and staggered into a chair, 
 with scarcely ability to say, " Quick — quick, for 
 God's sake ! Thornhill " Here the whist- 
 players rose, and Henry Corry came forward 
 with a cold and resolute manner, saying, " To 
 what, sir, am I to attribute this honour ? Pray 
 explain." But he was cut short by Kildonald, 
 who repeated in more collected, but no less 
 earnest tones, " Thornhill is murdered ! Quick 
 — quick, gentlemen. Villains have been before- 
 hand : his blood be upon their heads, not mine. 
 He lies on the road by the glen, four or five 
 miles from here, before you come to the Sitting- 
 dean road. Pray send out at once. But it's too 
 late." The bell was rung. 
 
 " Gregory, saddle Lord Dorrington's mare and 
 my hack instantly; and tell Jervis to bring round 
 the brougham again. Mr. KildonakVs horse is 
 at the door." Here Henry Corry followed his 
 servant out of the room. " And let one of the 
 men on whom you can depend go down to the 
 nearest constable, and bring him up here, to 
 wait till oar return." 
 
 In ten minutes' time they were on the road, 
 the brougham following them, as best it could, 
 
 k 2
 
 132 CHARLIE THORNHILL J OR, 
 
 over the rugged road, to the scene of the terrible 
 catastrophe. 
 
 And there on the road, at the top of the 
 descent, beneath a dark mass of firs and box, 
 lay the lifeless body of Geoffrey Thornhill.
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 133 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 TIME FOR REFLECTION. 
 " Pompa mortis magis terret quam mors ipsa." 
 
 So terrible and unprovoked a fate creates alarm 
 under the most ordinary circumstances. The 
 excitement is not lessened when the victim is 
 wealth}', popular, and high-born. In the present 
 case there was something doubly terrible. The 
 next day he might have had on his own hands the 
 blood of a fellow- creature : though the amount 
 of guilt in the one case would have borne but 
 a small proportion, in the eyes of the world, to 
 that of the other. 
 
 It is our happiness to live in a day when the 
 true courage of a Christian gentleman may ex- 
 hibit itself in declining to risk his life, or to risk 
 taking the life of another. This relic of bar- 
 barous chivalry has passed away from before us. 
 Whether we are to thank increasing civilization 
 for the boon ; a more plentiful admixture of
 
 134 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 middle-class blood, with its prejudices in favour 
 of long life and respectability, amongst the more 
 chivalrous, but less considerate successors of 
 Norman aristocracy ; or the softening influences 
 of a woman's court — of a court that teaches the 
 distinction between the true and the false, the 
 glitter of base metal and the sterling ring of the 
 solid, by the happiest example, it is not for us 
 to say. We are satisfied with the fact : and if 
 there still remains an argument or two for the 
 admirers of the duel, in the difficulty of meteing 
 out a proper punishment for certain offences, we 
 can always reply that there is a higher chivalry, 
 and a more enduring courage which enables us to 
 bear. 
 
 The coroner's inquest returned a verdict in 
 accordance with the evidence — " Wilful murder 
 against some person or persons unknown." They 
 could make nothing of it. That Kildonald was 
 an object of much suspicion is not to be won- 
 dered at. The evidence at first was so strong 
 that the magistrates were much censured for not 
 having committed him to take his trial. After 
 continued remands, and very heavy bail, it was 
 found necessary to discharge him. Two or three
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 135 
 
 circumstances spoke strongly in bis favour — or 
 rather against the supposition of his having com- 
 mitted the murder. 
 
 First of all it was very clear that Arthur 
 Kildonald had left Major Doyle's house long 
 after the time that Geoffrey Thornhill had 
 quitted Henry Corry and his guests. Indeed, 
 it might have been presumed that Thornhill was 
 already near upon Sittingdean. There was 
 also a strong presumption that Kildonald went 
 out unarmed ; whilst it was clear that the murder 
 was committed with a pistol, though the weapon 
 remained undiscovered. The idea even that the 
 former had waited for him, and fell as the result 
 of an equal combat, was negatived by the fact 
 that a blow of a very violent character had been 
 given on the temple, though death was caused 
 by the bullet, which had penetrated the brain. 
 The two men had no means of ascertaining the 
 movements of each other, and were not likely 
 to have anticipated by a few hours the vengeance 
 which the morning would have accorded them. 
 The purse and watch of Thornhill had either 
 escaped the vigilance of the assassin, or were 
 purposely overlooked ; his betting book, and a
 
 136 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 small pocket-book which he usually carried, were 
 gone. In a word, an impenetrable mystery 
 veiled the event, which grew no lighter as time 
 rolled on. The gipsies were not forgotten ; and 
 a few desperate characters who frequented the 
 heath about race time were taken before the 
 Bidborough justices, but nothing could be made 
 of them ; and before the end of a month the 
 town and neighbourhood had resumed their 
 wonted stupidity and quiet. A murder a month 
 would have scarcely made it habitable. 
 
 It was not long before the recollection of 
 Thornhill and his many accomplishments was 
 confined to the police and his own immediate 
 friends and family. Lord Dorrington and his 
 set went their ways, some to their farms, none to 
 their merchandise. The covers were still at 
 Thornhills ; they still held pheasants and foxes > 
 and the new heir would probably take back the 
 hounds when he came of age : and the widow 
 in the meantime would issue the customary 
 invitations, and Thornhills would be the same, 
 the master only excepted. 
 
 " Terrible business, that death of poor Thorn- 
 hill," said Captain Boldthrow, on the steps of
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 137 
 
 Crockford's, a month or two after the catastrophe. 
 " It must have quite spoilt Corry's Bidborough 
 party. The widow's jointure is small, rather. 
 She has the manor-house and 1200Z. a*year." 
 
 " Charming woman ! " rejoined his companion, 
 Dicky Calthorp, of the Blues. " Twelve hundred 
 a-year is not to be got every day. By the way, 
 Dorrington, do you know that the lost betting- 
 book has come to light in rather a mysterious 
 manner ? It came directed to Marston, from 
 Dublin ; and it seems to have been given to the 
 guard of the Cork mail by a fellow in a labourer's 
 dress, as they changed horses at some place or 
 other. Fm afraid it will break up our shooting 
 party for next year. Does any one know any- 
 thing about that big brown horse of ThornhilFs, 
 that carried him so well in the Cottesmore 
 country last year ? " 
 
 " Nobody knows more about him than you do, 
 Calthorp. He left you all, as if you were 
 standing still. At least, so Castleton declares ; 
 and he was the only one within a quarter of 
 a mile of him." 
 
 " Well ! he'll be sold on Monday week with 
 the rest of them ; they're none of them to be
 
 138 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 kept. I met his brother, the banker, just this 
 minute in Pall Mall, and he told me all about it. 
 He and Marston are the trustees." 
 
 And by the time the horses were sold, and the 
 season came round again, " the best fellow in the 
 world " was as much forgotten, almost, as if he 
 had never existed. 
 
 But there were others whose memories were 
 not so short. Sir Frederick and Lady Marston 
 had not ceased to sorrow for their old friend, and 
 lavished their regrets in affection for his widow 
 and children. The shock to Mrs. Thornhill had 
 been great indeed. She hung over their early 
 days, and wondered whether she had done all 
 she might have done to make the home of 
 Geoffrey Thornhill what it ought to have been. 
 God bless her! she tried to discover a fault 
 where none existed, and to hide some provoca- 
 tions which had been too apparent until now. 
 And the boys often looked back to their last 
 parting, when their indulgent, good-humoured 
 father left them, Tom on the bridge at Eton, 
 
 and Charlie at the office of the S coach, 
 
 as he started him on his journey to Dr. Gresham : 
 they little thought for the last time. " Sublatum
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 139 
 
 ex oculis quserimus invicli." Amiable as he was, 
 he had never appeared so amiable as now. 
 
 But time, the great assuager of ills, wrought 
 its usual effect. The boys returned to school. 
 Tom plunged into every amusement, and, gifted 
 with great capacity, was equally a favourite with 
 the masters as with his schoolfellows. He ex- 
 hibited a disposition singularly akin to that of 
 his father. He was eminently handsome, and 
 already began to appreciate the advantages of 
 his social position. Notwithstanding the demo- 
 cratic tendency of its institutions, there is no 
 place where a boy so soon discovers the power 
 and influence* that wealth and high birth confer. 
 It was impossible, too, for a clever, intelligent 
 boy like Tom Thornhill not to see that his 
 father's death had made a sensible difference 
 in the estimation in which he was held. Most 
 persons are ready enough to worship the rising 
 sun : not the less so when unobscurecl by clouds. 
 As a youngster, every one was ready to give him 
 a construe, or to do his verses ; nobody fagged 
 him; as to cleaning other boots, he could have 
 found those who would almost have licked his 
 own. As he grew older, he became the fashion :
 
 140 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 the sincerest flattery is imitation. They copied 
 his dress, his manner, and his slang ; his juniors 
 admired him, his equals courted him, and his 
 seniors delighted to honour him. His name 
 was in every mouth. There was nothing too 
 good for him, nothing he could not do ; and if 
 a too confident parent ventured during the holi- 
 days to sound the praises of man, woman, or 
 child, the answer was, in variably, " You should 
 just see Tom Thornhill." Is it wonderful if 
 his mother regarded him with intense admira- 
 tion ? And we may be pretty sure that her 
 friends and neighbours were made to partici- 
 pate in her pleasure. Even old Lady Chester- 
 ton, with her sombre beard and impracticable 
 crutched stick, was obliged to admit that, if he 
 was half what he was represented, they should 
 never find a wife for him. 
 
 At his father's death it had been ascertained 
 that Charlie was just beyond the age at which 
 he could be received at Eton. It was wisely de- 
 termined that he should return to Dr. Gresham. 
 
 S was at that time, if not so recherche, to 
 
 the full as eminent as Eton. Its numbers, it 
 is true, were not more than half that of that
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 141 
 
 fashionable institution; but its scholarship and 
 its flogging were certainly equal, if not superior, 
 to anything of its day. Dr. Greshani himself 
 was a man of most brilliant talent, sound learn- 
 ing, and, rarer still, of varied accomplishments, 
 which great scholarship, for some reason or 
 other, was generally supposed to exclude. But 
 he was more than this. He was a most admi- 
 rable schoolmaster, combining a happy playful- 
 ness of disposition, with a power of influencing 
 young minds to an almost incredible extent. 
 Into these hands Mrs. Thornhill, by the advice 
 of her executors, confided her younger son. 
 
 The distinguishing feature in Charlie Thorn - 
 hill, as at present exhibited, was a lively distaste 
 to every species of learning. To say for what 
 he had or had not talent, was equally difficult. 
 He hated classics ; but this cannot be said to 
 have implied any love for mathematics: his 
 contempt for the models of antiquity was quite 
 unaccompanied by any regard for modern litera- 
 ture. The leading article of the " Times" and 
 the "Arabian Nights' Entertainments" alike 
 failed to excite any warmer feeling than sheer 
 indifference. His principal reading was culled
 
 142 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 from " Bell's Life," and the sporting periodical 
 literature of the day; but if he could indulge 
 in cricket, boating, a run with the beagles, or 
 even the more modest pleasures of a rat hunt, 
 out of school, he seldom denied himself those 
 enjoyments for the sake of any literature what- 
 ever. He usually managed to get off, however, 
 without getting on, and did sufficient, or allowed 
 others to do sufficient for him, to keep his place 
 in the school. With all this love of exercise 
 and sport, he might rather be said to be deter- 
 mined than energetic. He never entered even 
 on his amusements rashly, but with a cool- 
 ness and precision which gave them the dignity 
 of a principle. He was the most popular boy 
 in the school : not exactly in the same way as 
 his brother Tom, who took popularity by storm, 
 but by a sort of persevering good temper and 
 a just discrimination between right and wrong, 
 more frequently admired than imitated. They 
 were both sportsmen by nature and education: 
 Tom threw his heart into the business, Charlie 
 lent it the aid of his head too. He had great 
 powers of observation, quickness of apprehen- 
 sion, and much quiet humour. Had he had
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 143 
 
 enemies, his determination would have been 
 called obstinacy; and the distinguishing feature 
 of his mind was good common sense. He was 
 rather good looking than handsome, with what 
 is commonly known as a good face ; he had an 
 excellent figure, combining activity with strength : 
 and, notwithstanding his antipathy to school 
 work, was a little older than his years. And 
 yet so little was he understood, that at sixteen 
 he was regarded as " The Dunce of the Family ."
 
 144 CHAELIE THORNHILL; OR, 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 CHARLIE TAKES THE WATER LIKE A DOG. 
 
 " Quid juvat errores mersa jam puppe fateri." 
 
 An event of so great importance as the death 
 of a father is calculated to make a deep impres- 
 sion : when that death is sudden and mysterious 
 it is douhly so. The death of Geoffrey Thorn- 
 hill had its due weight with his boys in a dif- 
 ferent degree. Tom appeared to feel it most 
 acutely at first : but his was a nature prone 
 to receive impressions quickly, and to lose 
 them with equal rapidity. Charlie's grief was 
 more subdued, but more lasting. It had greater 
 real effect upon his character. Such events do 
 not change our nature, they mould and control 
 it. So it was with Charlie. He was in no respect 
 essentially changed from what he had been, but 
 was sobered, steadied, aged : in his case an un- 
 necessary process, as it seemed to us all. Many 
 persons ventured to hint that it would have been
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 145 
 
 well if Tom had benefited in the same way. Such 
 people are not accustomed to analysis, or they 
 would have seen, from the nature of things, that 
 the case was an impossible one. 
 
 It is not difficult to conceive circumstances, 
 independently of character, which produced these 
 feelings, and acted thus differently upon each of 
 the boys. The position of both was materially 
 altered. Tom had suddenly become a great man, 
 if not in years, at least in position. Men see 
 themselves as frequently with the eyes of the 
 world as with their own ; and after all, for all 
 practical purposes, the view in which the world 
 regards us is the just one. It generally forms a 
 pretty correct estimate of our value. The world 
 chose to regard Tom Thornhill of Thornhills as 
 a very lucky fellow, and measured him by the 
 length of his purse, his genealogical tree, and 
 the extent of his acres, as carefully as Hammond 
 would have measured him for his trousers, or 
 Poole for his coat. And it saved Tom a great deal 
 of trouble to take the same line and plummet for 
 self-adjustment. He saw that certain things 
 were expected of him, and he hoped not to 
 disappoint expectations. Why should he ? Let
 
 146 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 us acknowledge at once that when he did, it was 
 not on the right side. 
 
 As the son of Mr. Thornhill of Thornhills, 
 Charlie had been a boy of some consideration 
 among his fellows. He had a large house in 
 which to ring the bells, handsome stabling to 
 show his school-fellows, a keeper at his service, 
 as far as the rabbits were concerned, and a horse 
 that went by the name of Master Charles's mare. 
 In these distinguishing marks of Fortune's favour 
 the world shut its eyes to the real position of our 
 hero. That is, all but a few Belgravian mothers 
 of most astute capabilities, and whose scent is as 
 keen after an elder son, as that of the truest hun- 
 ter in the kennels of the Quorn or the Pytchley 
 after the hunted fox. Their instinct teaches 
 them the true prince. And now that his father 
 was dead the world was compassionately blind. 
 For Charlie still had the same house, servants, 
 horses, and dogs. He did not ask yet whence 
 they came : and, to do his world justice, it had 
 not as yet forced the inquiry upon him. However, 
 he was wise enough not to wait for its verdict, 
 but to put himself upon his own trial, and stood 
 self-convicted. Outlawry from the good things
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 147 
 
 to which he had been accustomed was a hard 
 sentence to pronounce, and judgment deferred 
 was pleasanter. So he accepted his position for 
 the present, but did not shut his eyes to the 
 future. A less indolent disposition it might have 
 made act : as it was, it only made Charlie think. 
 
 " What a quiet fellow you are, Thornhill!" said 
 Teddy Dacre, a delicate, handsome boy about 
 sixteen years of age, to Charlie, as they leaned 
 over the parapet of the school gardens, a large 
 open court abutting on the street in front of the 
 school chapel and library, a very fine old building 
 of the reign of Edward VI., the founder of the 
 school ; a place in which most of the boys lounged 
 about at odd times, and in which they were now 
 waiting for the twelve o' clock calling over, having 
 just come out of second school. " What a quiet 
 fellow you are, Thornhill; you never do anything 
 now." 
 
 " That's because you do it all for me, Teddy." 
 " Oh, I don't mean school work : I mean lick- 
 ing the snobs and poaching at Birdington. W T hat 
 lots of rabbits there are there ! Do you know 
 Swan and I were nearly caught by the keepers at 
 
 Grassfield, setting night lines." 
 
 l 2
 
 148 CHARLIE THORNHILL ; OR, 
 
 "Were you? What do you think Gresham 
 would have done if he'd caught you ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I don't know. He couldn't have flogged 
 us, you know, because he never does flog fifth- 
 form fellows." 
 
 "No. And that's one reason why I don't 
 poach at Grassfield and lick the snobs, Teddy. 
 You see, when he could flog us it didn't matter 
 much, because you took your chance ; now it's a 
 shame, because he wouldn't like to expel us for 
 it ; and so we put the old Doctor in rather a fix. 
 I think it's a shame." 
 
 " What a jolly form that fourth form was ! " 
 
 " So it was," said Charlie, with a sigh. " And 
 I almost wish I was back in it. But tell us about 
 the fishing." 
 
 " Well, Swan and I were coming back from the 
 big perch hole close by the side of the water, 
 when who should we meet " (Teddy was not so 
 good at his English, you see) "but that big 
 keeper with the black whiskers and the smooth 
 white terrier. He came straight up to us, of 
 course, and asked where we had been. So we 
 told him we'd been to the warren for a walk." 
 
 " That was a lie, Teddy."
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 149 
 
 " So he said. And then he took hold of Swan's 
 rod, and as his pockets were full of night lines 
 and hooks he was obliged to let it go. Then he 
 told us to go with him to the Hall ; and as we 
 walked along by the side of the brook, when we 
 came to the big hole we — we — we " 
 
 " Bolted, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Shoved him in, and then we bolted. We 
 knew he could swim, because he told us so once 
 before, when he found a hole in the bottom of 
 his corracle." 
 
 " You'll be found out ; for he's got Swan's rod, 
 hasn't he ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but that doesn't signify. It's got no 
 name on it." 
 
 " Teddy, 'pon my soul you're incorrigible. I 
 suppose your governor's a magistrate ? " 
 
 " Of course he is. What of that ? " 
 
 " Only, the next time he commits a vagrant, or 
 a poacher, or any of those fellows, you go and 
 listen to the case. Now I'm going to calling over, 
 and then, if you like, we'll go and bathe." 
 
 The walk to the bathing-place was beautiful. 
 It was about a mile from the school, along the 
 banks of the river, which were here broken into
 
 150 CHARLIE THORNHILL J OR, 
 
 ledges of sand and ironstone, and interspersed 
 with low bushes, gorse, and firs. The stream 
 flowed with a broad and powerful current ; now 
 shallow and rapid, as hurried thought is wont to 
 be ; now in a still and quiet corner eddying and 
 turning back again upon itself, as deep medita- 
 tion : bringing to the surface the lighter matter, 
 but sinking the weightier below. The greater 
 number of the fellows who intended bathing had 
 run on before in company with Nixon the bathing- 
 man, an amphibious, otter-like sort of person, 
 who was engaged to take care of the bathing- 
 places, and give what instruction and help might 
 be wanted in swimming. He was a cunning old 
 dog was Mr. Nixon, and under his ostensible pro- 
 fession of bathing-man he concealed that "of dealer 
 in contraband game, spirits, tobacco, and terriers. 
 He always had a few ferrets, and not unfrequently 
 a gamecock or two, belonging to the Pickles of 
 the first class. His wife was the cook, washer- 
 woman, and general store dealer to a certain 
 portion of the school, and dispensed the most 
 extravagant tea, sugar, twopenny loaves, pats of 
 butter, and gooseberry and rhubarb tarts, that can 
 well be conceived. Nixon had been a soldier ; and
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 151 
 
 the iniquitous old rascal added much discipline to 
 leaven his laxity of morals. Charlie Thornhill 
 and Edward Dacre set out with the idea of com- 
 ing up with this worthy and his companions. 
 Before long they had left the precincts of the 
 school behind them, and were following the beaten 
 track by the side of the eddying river. 
 
 " What sort of a fellow is your brother Tom, 
 Thornhill ? " said Dacre, stopping to strike a 
 light for a cigar. 
 
 " Are you going to smoke, Teddy ? " 
 
 "Yes. I always do. So do you, Thornhill, 
 sometimes, for Fve seen you. I do it for my 
 chest," added the boy, laughing as he spoke, and 
 pulling away at a very horrible and highly adul- 
 terated cabbage-leaf. " So they can't say much 
 if I am caught." 
 
 " Of course you do. And I smoke for corns, 
 Teddy. So they can't say much if I'm caught." 
 
 "Come, Charlie, that's a good'un," said he, 
 laughing again, and puffing away harder than 
 ever to keep it alight. 
 
 " No better than yours, Teddy. And you 
 may be quite sure, when we are caught, nobody 
 will believe a word of either story. Here's
 
 152 CHARLIE THORNHILL ; OR, 
 
 the sixth form bathing-place. What a jolly 
 spot ! " 
 
 " Let's lie down here, Thornhill. But you've 
 not told me yet about your brother Tom. I've a 
 cousin at Eton, and he says he's the best fellow 
 in the school." 
 
 " So he is," said Charlie, who always grew 
 enthusiastic on this topic at least. He had but 
 two at present : one was fox-hunting, and the 
 other his brother Tom. " So he is ; he's a 
 splendid fellow, Teddy. He's such a good-look- 
 ing fellow. And can't he ride ! My poor gover- 
 nor's horses were rather too big for him ; but he 
 kept two of them, and Sir Frederick Marston says 
 he's to have two more this winter. He's going 
 to Oxford next year. And he's such a good- 
 natured fellow, too. He gave me this watch last 
 holidays, and a new gun : it's as light as a feather, 
 and such a killer ! " 
 
 " Jocelyn says he's the cleverest fellow in the 
 school, only he never reads," said the other. 
 
 " Ah ! Tom can do without reading. You 
 should see him do his holiday task ; he always 
 does it all in the last three days. He'd astonish 
 old Gresham with his Greek iambics. Lord,
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 153 
 
 Low I do hate verses ! You haven't any brother ?" 
 This was said in a melancholy tone. Charlie had 
 not had time to realize the pleasures of that 
 deprivation. 
 
 " No ; but I've some sisters. They're stun- 
 ners, too, I can tell you." 
 
 " What do you call them ? " 
 
 " Why, the eldest is Alice : she's dark, with 
 such jolly hair," rejoined Dacre, who was almost 
 as enthusiastic about them as Charlie was about 
 his brother. "And the other's Edith: she's 
 fifteen. You should just see her ride after my 
 uncle Jocelyn's harriers. She jumped such a 
 place the last time we were out ! " 
 
 " Why, I didn't know you were a sportsman, 
 Teddy." 
 
 " Well, I don't care much about it. It's such 
 a bore. I like lying on the lawn and reading 
 novels best. I think I shall bathe, it's so 
 hot." 
 
 " Come on, then." 
 
 " Oh, I shall bathe here; the sixth-form fellows 
 don't come till the afternoon. It's such a nuisance 
 to have to walk any more." 
 
 " You'll get a licking if any fellow sees you."
 
 154 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 " Nobody will see me ; so here goes." And 
 he commenced preparations by taking off his coat 
 at once. 
 
 " That's just like you, Dacre." And think- 
 ing that a good thrashing might be useful to 
 all boys of sixteen, even himself, and a fortiori 
 to his friend, Charlie Thornhill ceased remon- 
 strance, and laid himself down on the bank to 
 smoke. 
 
 Where Charlie's mind had wandered did not 
 seem quite clear ; perhaps he was thinking of his 
 mother, or Tom, or his best friend, Lady Marston. 
 He might have wandered back to the days of the 
 squire, or he might have been wondering what 
 would become of himself when it came to be his 
 turn to scud through the world, as the clouds he 
 was looking at, now brightly and slowly, heavily 
 and loweringly, or fitfully and ever- changing, 
 when he was roused by a sudden cry for help. 
 Dacre could swim, and he looked rapidly round, 
 expecting some trick, when to his surprise he saw 
 nothing. He waited an instant, when the boy's 
 head rose to the surface, near an old oaken stump 
 in the bed of the river. The face was just above 
 the water, and as the limbs below struggled con-
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 155 
 
 vulsively, the face sank again with a look of such 
 agony and a stifled cry of such terror as left no 
 doubt as to the reality of the situation. Strip- 
 ping off his coat and waistcoat, he plunged in and 
 swam to the stump. Taking the precaution to 
 seize this with his left arm, he stretched out the 
 right hand in the direction of the body. For a 
 few seconds his efforts were unavailing to raise 
 the head, but at length, by the exertion of all his 
 strength, he succeeded in dragging it to the tree. 
 Here he held it firmly, and ascertained the cause 
 of the poor fellow's submersion by the weight of 
 the weeds which had attached themselves to his 
 legs and feet. He was just calculating upon his 
 capability to get the boy safely to the shore from 
 the tree on which he was lying, when fortunately 
 he heard the voices of Nixon and his companions. 
 "Quick! Quick!" shouted Charlie Thornhill. 
 " Quick, Nixon ! Help ! help ! " And as the 
 sounds reached him, they all came running round 
 the bank in time to see Charlie, almost exhausted 
 by the strength of the stream around the tree, 
 the weight of his own clothes, and the apparently 
 lifeless body of poor Teddy Dacre, which he still 
 with difficulty supported. A small round boat
 
 156 CHARLIE THORNHILL ; OR, 
 
 made of tarpaulin lay on the river's bank, close 
 at hand. In a moment Nixon was in it, and 
 steering with his one paddle down stream to the 
 tree ; but he was scarcely in it before it began to 
 fill, and Nixon, within three feet of the boys, 
 abandoned his corracle and took the water. Once 
 on the old stump, a favourite place from which 
 the sixth- form boys were accustomed to take 
 headers, he was able to relieve Charlie of part of 
 his burden, and in another minute they were safe 
 on shore, with Teddy Dacre between them. Hav- 
 ing got rid of the water, and restored animation 
 by the best means in their power, with the assist- 
 ance of a labourer who was fortunately at home, 
 they got Dacre to a cottage ; and after rest 
 and cordials they returned on their way to 
 school. 
 
 Of course Dacre and Charlie were absent at 
 dinner: and the cause of it was not long in 
 transpiring. 
 
 " Nearly gone, Teddy," said Thornhill, as they 
 walked along. 
 
 " Oh ! Charlie, Charlie, how can I ever — " 
 and here Teddy burst into tears. 
 
 " There, Teddy, old fellow, never mind that ;
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 157 
 
 you'd have done the same yourself : it's all over 
 now." 
 
 " Except the licking : perhaps they'll let me 
 off, as I was so very nearly drowned." 
 
 "I shouldn't, if I was a sixth-form fellow, 
 I can tell you : I'm all for justice : and though 
 I don't think you ought to have been drowned, 
 I am quite sure you ought to be thrashed." 
 
 The next day at twelve o'clock a lower-form 
 boy came into the school-gardens, and said, 
 " Thornhill, the fellows want you in the sixth- 
 form private room." 
 
 " Do they — who told you so ? " 
 
 " Scott told me to tell you." 
 
 " All right," and he went. 
 
 When he arrived there was no doubt about 
 the business on hand. Teddy Dacre, looking 
 very foolish, stood at the foot of a long table, 
 round which, in various attitudes, sitting or 
 standing, were several of the sixth form : " Thorn- 
 hill," said the head boy, " tell us all about this, 
 for the water has washed it all out of Dacre." 
 Thornhill related the circumstances as succinctly 
 as possible. 
 
 " Then he was bathing in our place ? "
 
 158 CHARLIE THORNHILL J OR, 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Desecrating our Nereus, the protector of our 
 streams and groves : no wonder the divinity- 
 seized him by the leg — I wonder he ever let 
 him go." 
 
 " He was very nearly drowned," said Charlie, 
 suggestive of a reprieve. 
 
 " Thanks to you that he wasn't quite : ' Fiat 
 justitia, ruat cesium/ he must be punished. "Who 
 is the prepositor for the day? Humphreys, 
 prepare the block. As to you, Thornhill, you're 
 a good fellow, and the school ought to be as 
 proud of you as if you were senior medallist, or 
 Ireland scholar. Is there anything that we can 
 do for you V* 
 
 " Yes, let off Dacre. The only use of punish- 
 ment is to deter himself and others from the 
 same thing ; and he didn't look as if he would 
 ever forget his sensations." 
 
 " You'll be an honour to the woolsack, if you 
 take to that line. We will let him off, as justice 
 has been avenged. Dacre, respect the rights of 
 your superiors, and write a copy of twenty verses 
 on * The Advantages of Obedience.' " 
 
 Dacre looked relieved and gratefully at Thorn-
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 159 
 
 hill. As they left the room there was a huzz of 
 applause, and the hum of many voices, amongst 
 which rose one distinctly, which said, " By Jove, 
 that fellow Thornhill's not such a fool as they 
 take him for."
 
 160 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 OUR HOLIDAY. 
 
 " And this beauteous morn 
 (The prim'st of all the year) presents me with 
 A brace of horses." — Two Noble Kinsmen, Act III., Scene 1. 
 
 Locke remarks that time is a " consideration 
 of duration, as set out by certain periods, and 
 marked by certain measures or epochs." We 
 have no inclination to call in question this defi- 
 nition. It is rather arbitrary in some cases. 
 The sportsman marks it probably by such days 
 as the 12th of August, the 1st of September, or 
 of November, or by such local associations as 
 the Highlands, Norfolk, Kirby Gate, and the 
 Derby. Servants, I apprehend, by the month; 
 a month's wages or a month's warning. Young 
 Rapid by his Christmas bills ; and schoolboys 
 by their holidays — hebdomadal, trimestrial, or 
 semestrial, as the case may be. No man is 
 so fortunate as to forget it altogether. We may
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 161 
 
 cut the acquaintance of the hoary veteran with 
 his scythe for days, months, 3^ears, if we always 
 pay ready money, or not at all : but he will not 
 be denied in toto. He makes our acquaintance 
 inevitably, and bows us out at last. Charlie 
 knew nothing about it, excepting on two great 
 occasions — summer and winter vacation. Then 
 he met his brother Tom, rode his own mare, or 
 Tom's horses : shot rabbits with the keeper : 
 went to town to see the pantomimes : enjoyed 
 juvenile county society at the county houses ; and 
 was considered presentable at an archery meeting 
 or a picnic ; when he dutifully laid the cloth, 
 unharnessed the horses, put down the cushions, 
 boiled the kettle, and made himself generally 
 useful, as boys should do. 
 
 As vacation after vacation came and went, 
 Charlie Thornhill increased in stature and popu- 
 larity, and confirmed the good opinion that had 
 been formed of him. His friendship with Dacre 
 continued uninterrupted from the date of the 
 circumstances detailed in the last chapter. The 
 one seemed never to forget the obligation he was 
 under; the other had forgotten everything con- 
 nected with it, save the impression of protection,
 
 102 CHARLIE THORNHILL ; OR, 
 
 which it appeared to have left upon his mind. 
 Having once saved his life, Charlie considered it 
 an incumbent duty to make it as beneficial to 
 him as possible. Teddy Dacre had left Charlie 
 standing still, in the scholastic race : socially the 
 positions were reversed. It was not his physical 
 strength which was greater, nor talent which was 
 less, than that of Dacre, but it was the force 
 of character and habit. They were just in the 
 same position as when Dacre used to tell Charlie 
 about his sisters, and when Charlie fished Dacre 
 out of the stream. 
 
 "A note for Mr. ThornuM," said John, the 
 doctor's own man, as he threw open the door 
 of the hall ; " where's Mr. Thornhill ? " 
 
 " Not here, John, but as you seem rather 
 groggy about the pins, I'll take it for you," 
 replied a very precocious-looking young gentle- 
 man as he scrutinised John's crooked legs. 
 
 John did not think an encounter of wits worth 
 his time, so retired, gravely placing the note 
 upon the table to take its chance. 
 
 " I say, Forester, where's Thornhill ? " 
 
 " How should I know ? " 
 
 " Well, you had better find out pretty quickly,
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 163 
 
 and take that note, or you may get a licking. 
 I think I know where it comes from : it's to ask 
 him out for holiday Sunday." 
 
 " How do you know that ? " said Forester. 
 
 " Because I know that old Thoroughgood 
 meant to ask Charlie Thornhill to the steeple- 
 chase on Saturday, and I saw his groom in the 
 school lane. He wants Thornhill to ride one of 
 the ponies : so just be off with the note at once, 
 young fellow, or you'll get a licking. If he's 
 not in Dawson's study, he's at old Mother 
 Shipley's ; she keeps his dog." And true enough 
 at old Mother Shipley's was Charlie, regaling 
 himself and Snap on a stewed beefsteak, and 
 anxiously inquiring after some rats, which might 
 have been intended for meat pies, to judge of the 
 tone in which the request was urged. They 
 were really to decide the merits of a rough- coated 
 terrier, and the smooth highly-bred bull which 
 Charlie was fondling and feeding alternately. 
 The note proved to be from old Squire Tho- 
 roughgood to ask Thornhill, with some half- 
 dozen of his school-fellows, to spend what was 
 called Holiday Sunday at the Cliff, a charming 
 spot about ten miles from the school, and an 
 
 If 2
 
 64 CHARLIE THORNHILL J OT?, 
 
 especial favourite with all the boys. There lived 
 Squire Thoroughgood — an honest, independent, 
 country gentleman of the old school. He had a 
 good estate, a good-looking family of five boys, 
 a clear conscience, and an admirable digestion. 
 He was a man of middle size, about sixty years 
 of age, white-haired and fresh-complexioned, well- 
 built, and active for his age, still an adept at all 
 sports, and encouraging their practice in every 
 man, woman, or child, whom he could convert to 
 his theory. He believed that nothing in the 
 world equalled fox-hunting — that in it was in- 
 herent every virtue ; above all others, truth and 
 courage. In fact, he scarcely believed in their 
 existence apart from it. So far did he carry his 
 principle, that when compelled to admit that the 
 bishop of the diocese was an honest man and a 
 gentleman, he always asserted that the bishop was 
 a sportsman by disposition and taste, and only 
 prevented by the peculiar circumstances of his 
 case from subscribing largely to the county 
 hounds. All his sons were taught to regard 
 hunting, shooting, and fishing as equivalent to 
 Sir William Curt s's three Bs in point of utility, 
 and far beyond them in every other respect.
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 165 
 
 There was always a stable full of horses and 
 ponies, down to the rough Exmoor of the youngest 
 boy, who was now, however, about fifteen, and 
 promoted to a clever, well-bred animal, fourteen 
 hands and a half high, with considerable preten- 
 sions as a hunter. Once every year, on a parti- 
 cular holiday Sunday, it was this gentleman's 
 practice to send to Dr. Gresham's for a detach- 
 ment of schoolboys, whose known propensities 
 had rendered them friends of young Thorough- 
 goods, or favourites of the squire : and the course 
 of proceeding was in accordance with the old 
 gentleman's notions of what was right. The 
 holiday Sunday extended from Friday night until 
 Monday morning at 10 a.m., at which time every 
 boy was expected to be again in school. Excuses 
 were unknown ; distance was no apology ; illness 
 alone constituted anything like a valid reason for 
 absence. Saturday was therefore the day par 
 excellence, and Mr. Thoroughgood took care that 
 it should be a pleasant one. 
 
 On the present occasion, as heretofore, the 
 grand climax was a boys' steeplechase. Con- 
 sidering that Mr. Thoroughgood was a country 
 gentleman, and neither a dealer nor a proprietor
 
 166 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 of a travelling circus, things looked pretty favour- 
 able for sport. There were three good hunting 
 galloways in the establishment, which, without 
 being in racing condition, were quite capable of 
 galloping two or three miles over a country, with 
 a proper weight on them; and two more had 
 been sent from a dealer's stable in the neigh- 
 bourhood, not quite so fit to go, but no bad 
 conveyances for a couple of schoolboys, whose 
 purses and stomachs would be none the lighter 
 if they did come in half a field behind the rest. 
 Besides, there was always the chance of a tumble; 
 and each, confident in his own skill, as long as 
 his pony was certain to jump, would have taken 
 any sort of odds that came within the bounds of 
 possibility. On Friday afternoon, accordingly, 
 Mr. Thoroughgood's phaeton, licensed on great 
 occasions to carry six little men, the groom, and 
 five schoolboys, conveyed a tolerably noisy party 
 from the school-gates to the Cliff, where the hos- 
 pitable squire, with a son or two on either side, 
 was waiting to welcome his juvenile guests. 
 
 " Now, boys, be off to your rooms : dinner, 
 sharp, in half an hour," and out came boys and 
 carpet bags with an equal celerity.
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 107 
 
 "Mind that bag," said Dacre, "there's a pot 
 of patent blacking for my black boots/' 
 
 "Now then, stupid," said Wilkinson to 
 another, " don't sit upon that — you'll crush my 
 tops :" whilst Charlie Thornhill, quite awake to 
 the emergency, collared his own property, and 
 was soon mounting towards his bedroom, leaving 
 his comrades to follow, which they soon did. 
 Every one had a cutting whip, and two out of the 
 five had to open their bags with a penknife, 
 having left their keys behind. 
 
 Dinner passed off as such dinners must. It 
 was evidently a bye-day. There was plenty to eat 
 and drink, and a bottle or two of champagne en- 
 livened the conversation of the youngsters ; but 
 it was manifest that the serious business of the 
 meeting was deferred, in every respect, till the 
 morrow. One thing Charlie heard, and which 
 somehow gave him a new interest in the pro- 
 ceedings : the Misses Dacre were staying in the 
 neighbourhood, and his curiosity would be gra- 
 tified, as they were to be of the squire's party 
 for the day. The surprise did not seem to affect 
 Teddy Dacre to an equal extent, who had some 
 misgivings on the score of his horsemanship,
 
 168 CHARLIE THORNHILL J OR, 
 
 and did not appreciate feminine badinage, of 
 which he was pretty certain to fall in for his 
 share. A very jovial game at whist, in which 
 each told his partner pretty plainly the state of 
 his hand before playing, and in which there was 
 none of the villainous retrospection of the game 
 so common amongst amateurs, but in the pre- 
 sent case quite beyond the limited powers of the 
 party, closed the evening ; and Wilkinson, retiring 
 early to look at his breeches, which had been 
 fabricated from a pair of white moleskin trousers 
 for the occasion, and Teddy Dacre to polish his 
 boots with the very best patent French varnish, 
 which could not be trusted to any hands but 
 his own, the party broke up and retired to rest. 
 
 Mornings always shine brightly upon school- 
 boys when there's no particular reason for the 
 contrary. To-day nobody could have seen a cloud. 
 It was early spring ; and March was for the 
 present enacting the lamb. Every 'one of the 
 five had been out of bed before daybreak to see 
 what sort of a day it was likely to be ; and each 
 had returned to bed fully persuaded that it was 
 sure to rain, until the light gray morning eased 
 their minds of that anxiety.
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 1G0 
 
 " Come in," said Thornhill, as a knock came 
 to the door. " What in the world do you want, 
 Teddy ?" and the misty outline of Master Ed- 
 ward Dacre, in a white shirt with black arms, 
 made its appearance in Thornhill's room. " It 
 can't be time to get up yet." 
 
 " Well, I don't think it is, quite/' said the 
 other, as he nervously twitched up a pair of 
 drawers, and sat down at the foot of the bed. 
 " Do you know these colours of mine are uncom- 
 monly cold ? I don't think shirt sleeves are 
 quite the thing for the middle of March." 
 
 "But you'll soon be warm enough if you 
 should happen not to get into the brook, which 
 George Thoroughgood says is quite full of 
 water : the governor's delighted, because he says 
 there's no danger of- broken backs. If you are 
 not hot enough, put a couple of Jerseys under- 
 neath. But why didn't you borrow some colours ? 
 you could easily have got them. I had some 
 sent to me from Turner, Sir Frederick Marston's 
 trainer, as soon as I got scent of the thing." 
 
 "How does it look, Charlie; not very bad, 
 does it ? " 
 
 " Bad ! not at all. You're quite a swell com-
 
 170 CHARLIE THORNHILL ; OR, 
 
 pared to Russell. He's sewed two scarlet sleeves 
 on to a black cloth waistcoat. It has a very 
 sporting look before, not quite up to the mark 
 behind." 
 
 " I wish to goodness I could get off riding, 
 Charlie/' Here Charlie sat bolt upright in bed in 
 thorough bewilderment. " My sister Edith does 
 chaff so, you can't think. I wonder whether 
 George Thoroughgood would let me off, and ride 
 forme?" 
 
 " Bless your innocent heart, my dear boy; 
 he can't ride the weight by two stone. Besides, 
 what would the Squire say? It isn't honest, 
 Teddy : 'pon my word it isn't." 
 
 " I don't see that." 
 
 " Why, you came here, and ate your dinner, 
 and brought your traps, and you've made your 
 shirt into a sort of Prussian sentry-box, and 
 you're going to breakfast; and of course all 
 that's the same thing as entering for it. It's 
 deceiving the Squire. You are such a shifty 
 bird, Teddy; and all because you're afraid of 
 a woman." And here the speaker curled him- 
 self up again, and gave a grunt indicative of 
 fatigue.
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 171 
 
 " Yes ; and so would you be afraid if you knew 
 her." 
 
 " I don't know about that," said Charlie, with 
 some few misgivings on the subject ; " but I know 
 this, she wouldn't put me off from such a jolly 
 lark as we're going to have to-day. Why, there 
 are two -and -thirty fences, lots of timber, a double 
 post and rails, and the brook, as I told you 
 before, quite full of water. Only just fancy ! " 
 And it was a lovely picture, certainly ; but Teddy 
 Dacre did not seem to take so cheerful a view 
 of it in his shirt and drawers, as Charlie Thorn- 
 hill from underneath the bed-clothes.
 
 172 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE STEEPLE-CHASE. 
 
 " Teach the youth tales of fight, and grace 
 His earliest feat of field or chase." 
 
 Lady of the Lake, c. vi. II. 
 
 " Here they conie at last," said old Thorough- 
 good, pretty nearly tired of waiting for his 
 breakfast, as the clock struck a quarter past nine, 
 one full quarter of an hour beyond his usual 
 time. The old gentleman might have been 
 justifiably vexed at the delay, and with any 
 other person would have been so ; but a school- 
 boy was to him what a tortoiseshell cat is to 
 Aunt Tabitha — it breaks nothing, it steals 
 nothing, it inconveniences no one, it can do no 
 wrong. 
 
 " I beg you a thousand pardons, sir," said our 
 hero, walking shyly into the breakfast room ; " I 
 really was so tired." And here we may remark 
 that the pleasure of lying in bed constitutes 
 one of the supreme blessings of a schoolboy's
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 173 
 
 holiday. He has no idea, while at school, of 
 any pleasures which necessitate the ordinary 
 rules of rising. Ten minutes may do, a quarter 
 of an hour may do, but half an hour is better to 
 break the delusion of the chapel bell. On the 
 morning in question it is but fair to lay no such 
 dereliction to their charge. They were all of them 
 up, all of them had performed their ablutions in 
 good time ; but the encasing themselves in their 
 new and heterogeneous costumes was a service 
 of considerable uncertainty, and involved, in most 
 cases, some ingenious contrivances. Large trou- 
 sers had to be drawn into tight breeches ; narrow 
 boots had to encircle wide-spreading pantaloons. 
 The long had to be made short and the short 
 long. There were as many button-hooks at one 
 time as there were buttons. The assistance of 
 the valet was selon les regies ; but, we can scarcely 
 recount the fact without blushing, that, from the 
 old housekeeper down to the very youngest, the 
 kitchen-maid, every one of them had a finger in 
 the pie. Refractory tops came up too high, and 
 spread themselves widely, " but not too well/' 
 about the calves that should have been, or per- 
 chance now are. Equally obstinate breeches
 
 174 CHARLIE THORNHILL | OR, 
 
 refused the meeting. Each seemed to have 
 stepped into another's shoes, whether they fitted 
 or not ; and the fitness of things depended, for 
 the first time, upon the length of an elder 
 brother. Before long, however, they had all 
 followed Charlie Thornhill, and were passed in 
 review before Squire Thoroughgood and his sons, 
 whose curiosity had been roused to see whether 
 the devices for steeple-chasing costume were 
 more or less ingenious than those of previous 
 years. They proved to be nearly upon a par 
 with those of their predecessors. Charlie, in- 
 deed, by the addition of an extra pair of woollen 
 stockings, made an appearance not unworthy of 
 his sporting reputation ; and the harlequin jacket 
 he had borrowed, with its black cap, though a 
 little tight across the shoulders, pre-eminently 
 qualified him for taking the lead. Wilkinson 
 came next in order and in weight, and, as far 
 as his purple and orange jacket was concerned, 
 presented a very tolerable figure ; but having 
 hired his tops of the postboy at " The Dragon of 
 Wantley," at a moment's notice, his legs had a 
 melodramatic appearance between Charles II. 
 and a French Jacobin. Dacre's shirt was
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 175 
 
 declared to be an admirable substitute for the 
 white and black family colours, which it was 
 intended to represent : and with his Wellington 
 boots, which had been varnished to a turn from 
 bottom to top, and coaxed to meet a rather 
 shrunken pair of leathers, the only ones in the 
 party, gave him a not unflattering resemblance to 
 a magpie. Billy Kussell, or " The Honourable 
 William," as he was called, made the most of a 
 rather limited wardrobe : he had the black cloth 
 waistcoat and scarlet sleeves already noticed, 
 and had deliberately thrust into a pair of top- 
 boots of antiquated form his white -cord trousers, 
 on to which a pretty housemaid, bribed by half 
 a crown and a kiss, had been employed for half 
 an hour in sewing mother-of-pearl buttons, to 
 give an appearance of reality, which was only 
 available at long distances. Whilst the light- 
 weight of the party, little Tommy Bosville, in 
 the most correct of breeches and boots, with his 
 black jacket and cap, was hailed by universal 
 acclamation as the swell. Very neat, indeed, 
 he looked; and if Tommy's pluck had only 
 equalled his elegance, there can be no mistake 
 as to who would have been the winner on that
 
 176 CHARLIE THORNHILL J OR, 
 
 day. He was the only one of the lot who felt 
 that he was quite the thing, and he commenced 
 breakfast with a corresponding appetite. Very 
 few men eat well who have a suspicion of their 
 toilet, especially on a hunting morning. Boys 
 are less susceptible of these desagr&nens. But 
 their attention was not a little diverted from the 
 hung beef, hot rolls, devilled kidneys, and split 
 fowl, by the singularity of their costume. 
 
 " Now, young gentlemen, time's up," said the 
 Squire, trotting into the billiard room, in woollen 
 cord breeches and top-boots, with his neat 
 broad-skirted black coat and white neckcloth, 
 looking the picture of an old-fashioned sports- 
 man. " Let us be off to the stable-yard : I 
 suppose you know your mounts. Thornhill is 
 to have the little bay horse Solomon; he's a 
 capital fencer, and able to carry a little more 
 weight. Then Wilkinson had better ride the 
 gray pony Kitty; that's a good mount." 
 
 " She ought to win, sir," said Captain Tho- 
 roughgood, who lounged into the yard with one 
 of his brothers, smoking a cigar. The captain 
 was a great man amongst the boys, as all ca- 
 valry officers were before the universal adoption
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 177 
 
 of a moustache and beard destroyed the most 
 attractive distinction of the service. " "Who's 
 going to ride Judy ? " 
 
 " I, sir," said Russell, as he looked with an 
 undaunted air at the labours of the pretty house- 
 maid, and wondered whether the yokels would 
 be taken in by the imitation. " I, sir. She'll 
 go into the water, won't she ? " 
 
 "Into it? Not she, if you ride her at it. 
 Who told you that ? " 
 
 " Thornhill said she didn't look as if she liked 
 water any more than I did." 
 
 " Oh ! never mind him, he's only been chaffing 
 you; he wants to win himself, and he thinks 
 that will funk you. You ride her straight ; she 
 can jump better than anything here, except 
 Solomon, and he's not so fast as the mare. But 
 come, get up ; here's Dacre on the chestnut pony, 
 shirt-sleeves and all," added he, as that worthy 
 emerged from a stable door ready mounted, fol- 
 lowed by the swell, leading a clever little roan 
 mare that had been sent up from the dealer's to 
 participate in the day's sport. 
 
 At the head of the cavalcade, and surrounded 
 by neighbouring farmers and tenants, with his
 
 178 CHARLIE THORNiriLL ; OR, 
 
 own sons and guests, rode the cheerful little 
 Squire. Happiness glowed in every feature, not 
 only at the pleasure he was giving to others, 
 but in anticipation of the fun he was preparing 
 for himself, for the giving a pleasure is no 
 diminution of one's own ; and he almost broke 
 out into a laugh. The gentlemen riders, each 
 on his own crack, followed in due order, and 
 the whole was closed by such an assemblage of 
 stablemen, helpers, and privileged labourers and 
 servants, under the conduct of Mr. Gates, the 
 stud-groom, as would have gladdened the eyes 
 of a border knight on the advent of a speculative 
 foray. Half an hour's gentle riding brought them 
 all to a farm of Mr. Thoroughgood's, where about 
 two miles and a half of a steeple-chase course 
 had been marked out by flags, so as to render the 
 line as unmistakable as could be. The honest 
 historian is bound to record the fact, that a cer- 
 tain compromise had been entered into with the 
 fences themselves, so as to put them all within 
 reasonable chance of negotiation, and in accord- 
 ance with the presumed inexperience of the 
 performers. 
 
 The Squire loved to see a tumble or two, and
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 179 
 
 thought falling gracefully one of the first accom- 
 plishments of a good horseman ; but he had no 
 idea of having the sunset of his life clouded, 
 or his pillow haunted by the ghost of a young 
 gentleman of sixteen or seventeen years of age, 
 with his trousers inserted into his Wellington 
 boots, and a bloodstained waistcoat with parti- 
 coloured sleeves of a size to match. So the 
 stiff timber was taken out, and the strongest 
 blackthorns were laid a little low; and though 
 the water was left wide enough for any juvenile 
 glutton, it was carefully selected with a sound 
 bottom, and not more than four feet in depth, so 
 that the ducking might be complete without the 
 necessity for the drags of the Humane Society. 
 Another hour was spent in looking over the 
 course and other preliminaries, including that 
 downright idleness which is always the conco- 
 mitant of immense official bustle, and eminently 
 indicative of amateur racing. By this time the 
 course and the starting-post presented a tolerably 
 lively scene, notwithstanding the privacy of the 
 proceedings ; and half a dozen county carriages, 
 with a few flys, a mail phaeton, and several 
 gentlemen on horseback, served to stimulate the 
 
 n2
 
 180 CHARLIE THORNHILL ; OR, 
 
 nerves of the competitors, if a clear conscience 
 and a schoolboy's stomach ever require such 
 stimulant at all. Having taken off their great 
 coats, and performed their preliminary canter, 
 without which no truly sporting effect can be 
 produced, even Teddy Dacre forgot the thin- 
 ness of his shirt-sleeves, and Master Bosville 
 the size of the brook so eloquently described by 
 Charlie Thornhill. We are obliged to admit 
 that enthusiasm carried that young gentleman 
 a little beyond strict bounds, for so truthful a 
 person, though we think he deceived himself 
 quite as much as other people. Bosville, indeed, 
 confident in the correctness of his get-up, and 
 Billy Russell, regardless of the deficiencies of 
 his own, took a nearer view of the bright eyes 
 that were to recompense their exertions later 
 in the day. But Charlie, naturally shy, and 
 tossed between curiosity to see one face and 
 an innate consciousness of absurdity mixed with 
 the proceedings, kept aloof from the crowd of 
 carriages till an awful knell, in the sound of a 
 bell for preparation, smote upon his ear. 
 
 "Now, gentlemen, take your places, if you 
 please," said the jolly Squire; " the captain's
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 181 
 
 gone to the winning-post with Gates; here are 
 three volunteers going as umpires, and there's 
 Joey Sanders, the keeper, down at the brook, 
 with a gaff to help out those that require his 
 assistance. Never mind your breeches, Russell; 
 they'll fit capitally before long, I know : they only 
 want damping. Now, are you ready ? When 
 I drop the flag, and say 'Go!' you must go : 
 and the devil take the hindmost : ' Occupet 
 extremum scabies.' You see I haven't forgotten 
 my Greek, j t ou ) r oung rascals. Go ! " And away 
 they went, Billy Russell on Judy, with a lead 
 a little stronger than he liked. 
 
 Whenever I find it desirable to write a run, 
 it shall not be two miles and a half, and the 
 performers shall not be schoolboys. I have a 
 fancy for rivalling Nimrod, or at least for ap- 
 proaching that standard of excellence. Neither 
 shall I draw upon imagination for incidents. 
 There is more of the marvellous in reality than 
 in much fiction : and why not in the hunting- 
 field as in the world ? Like passions are at 
 work ; like faults and like excellences have 
 their natural results. Even a big fence in get- 
 ting away is like adversity in early life, it
 
 1 82 CHARLIE THORNHILL J OR, 
 
 strengthens where it does not kill. What are 
 
 the successful efforts composed of? — patience, 
 courage, judgment. "What comes to early grief, 
 and puts us hors de combat at once, or leaves us 
 vainly struggling behind ? — unsubstantial confi- 
 dence, rashness, or equally unsubstantial fear. 
 What "carries us half through the run, and then 
 leaves us sticking, after a successful start, in 
 miserable failure ? — too much pace, the loose 
 reins of self-indulgence, wrong turns, and losing 
 sight of our object; or some beast of a rival, 
 with a little more running in him, jumps on the 
 top of us at the earliest opportunity, and extin- 
 guishes our hopes and our breath together. 
 
 But while I write thus, we lose time. Already 
 three or four fences have been safely negotiated 
 without a fall. The harlequin jacket is not very 
 forward, having been a little outpaced by the 
 resolute Judy, who by great good fortune had 
 the sturdy little Billy Russell on her back. 
 Beyond an irresistible jerk at the first fence, 
 which pulled him on to the shoulders, and made 
 his nose bleed, he was going pretty smoothly 
 still to the fore. Teddy Dacre, too, was after 
 him on the chesnut, and the swell — ignominious
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 183 
 
 position ! — brought up the rear. Wilkinson and 
 Charlie were close together, playing at real 
 jockeys remarkably well. Of course this ami- 
 cable state of affairs was not likely to last, and 
 a few fences further on, little Bosville spoilt the 
 elegance of his costume by tumbling over the 
 roan pony's head at a post and rail : whilst the 
 Honourable Eussell still led, sitting a little 
 nearer the horns than usual. At the next fence 
 Judy ducked her head, landing Billy on his 
 back in the ditch, whilst she jumped over him, 
 and resumed the running on her own account. 
 "Now then, Russell, you get out of the way, 
 blocking up the gaps," said Teddy Dacre, who 
 came next, and was really beginning to feel at 
 home. " You be hanged," said Master Russell, 
 who was now up and standing in the fence, read}" 
 for an argument, " there's lots of room for you, 
 only you're in a funk." The dispute was ended 
 by Charlie making a fresh hole. In the meantime 
 the ponies were caught straightway by the nu- 
 merous touts and hangers on, and restored to 
 their owners, who were soon up and after their 
 comrades. The cheerful little sallies which took 
 place during the ride, especially at the fences,
 
 184 CHARLIE THORNHILL ; OR, 
 
 where little casualties happened, were quite 
 refreshing, and robbed the rivalry of all sting. 
 " Go it, Magpie," said one ; " don't chirp too 
 soon," as Teddy Dacre cut a genteel summer- 
 sault over a blackthorn, " Now then, Boots — 
 well done ! " said another, as Wilkinson landed 
 side by side with Charlie in a muddy ditch, out 
 of which, however, they managed to scramble 
 without any inconvenience beyond the necessity 
 of remounting : and giving occasion to the other 
 three to make up for lost time, which they did 
 somewhat at the expense of their ponies. And 
 now comes the water. Two-thirds of the course 
 had been accomplished; and it was not till they 
 had turned to come home that this formidable 
 obstacle presented itself. Teddy Dacre was the 
 only one of the party that had any experience in 
 drowning, and he had no fancy for a repetition. 
 Charlie fully believed in a ducking, but never 
 despaired of anything. Rather negative feelings 
 actuated Wilkinson, and little Bosville shut his 
 eyes mentally and physically to the danger. As 
 to Billy Russell, he had not long become a 
 voluntary agent, and scarcely realised the situa- 
 tion, but he made no doubt about getting over,
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 185 
 
 if he could but sit on. They all charged it, 
 however, manfully : Charlie got over with a fall, 
 Solomon over-jumping himself: the grey refused, 
 and blundered in and out again upon a second 
 effort. Teddy Dacre turned on all his steam, 
 and, though pretty nearly off the shop board, 
 went on with the lead. Judy, a little blown by 
 previous exertions, landed Billy well into the 
 water, who, as he was crawling out, was pulled 
 back again a little unexpectedly by Tommy 
 Bosville. The swell, when he saw the water, 
 lost his nerve ; and the roan mare, shooting sud- 
 denly round in the wake of Kussell, alarmed at the 
 melancholy failure of that hero, sent her rider 
 flying over her shoulders right into the middle of 
 the stream. He was but small ; and not coming 
 immediately to the bottom, he thought self- 
 preservation, the first law of nature, should be 
 obeyed. He saw no tails to a coat, but he saw 
 a boot to a leg and seized it. Had it been but 
 Wilkinson, the boot would have come off: the 
 Honourable William's refused to give way, and 
 they both fell back comfortably into the brook 
 to find their own level. We need hardly say 
 that when they found themselves safe within
 
 1£6 CHARLIE TIIORNIIILL J OR, 
 
 their depth, they felt strongly inclined to quarrel 
 then and there : and had it not heen for the 
 momentary ahsence of llussell, who had dived 
 to the bottom in search of his whip, it would 
 probably have ended in a fight on the spot. 
 Luckily, the attention of both was called to the 
 business in hand by Joey Sanders, who threat- 
 ened to commence operations with his gaff, unless 
 the young gents came out of the water, instead 
 of standing there " a disturbin' of the fish." 
 His remonstrances, and the mighty weapon he 
 wielded, had the desired effect : but the length 
 of their controversy had put them out of the 
 race. Dacre continued to lead; and the Mag- 
 pie on the chestnut pony was becoming a strong 
 favourite with the multitude. He had the foot of 
 Solomon ; but being a little nearer to dealers' 
 condition, and not in such constant work as the 
 Thorough good stable, there was still the ghost of 
 a chance for Charlie. One more fence, and the 
 run in : and with a laudable zeal for the ladies, 
 who had transferred themselves to the winning 
 post by a short cut through a couple of gates 
 from the start, the Squire had taken care that 
 it should be a jump. Already Alice and Edith
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 187 
 
 Dacre looked upon their brother as the victor. 
 Already Teddy Dacre felt himself secure of the 
 prize. Already Wilkinson had declined, and 
 Charlie began to think further perseverance 
 useless, when the chestnut pony, which had 
 hitherto been going well, declined the last fence, 
 and Solomon, pricking his ears, and answering to 
 a somewhat emphatic kick from Charlie, cleared 
 the hurdles and furze-bushes, and landed the 
 " Dunce of the Family" a winner by some lengths. 
 The grey mare, Kitty, was a tolerable second ; and 
 after considerable persuasion the chestnut hung 
 his hind legs in such an ignominious manner 
 that Teddy was compelled to dismount before 
 he could be released. At an interval of a minute 
 or two the missing competitors, Eussell and 
 Bosville. trotted up the course, still discussing 
 in somewhat animated language by whose fault 
 it was that they were both of them wet through.
 
 188 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A DINNER AND ITS AGREMENS. 
 
 " separat hoc nos 
 
 a grege brutorum." — Juv. xv. 
 
 There is no idea in the range of social life so 
 beautiful as that of sisterhood. A single girl 
 may remind us in her severity, if she he severe, 
 of a Greek drama ; if she he gentle, of a weeping 
 willow. But two sisters are never too dignified 
 for every-day life, never too pliant. There is a 
 golden cord of mutual obligation which unites 
 them. They borrow and pay back one another's 
 beauties ; and the reflection of a sister's excel- 
 lences make those of each more attractive. That 
 is why old Lady Trumpcard never knows which 
 it is that young Scraptoft means to marry. How 
 should she ? He never knows himself. I do 
 not know that this peculiarity extends beyond 
 two. I rather think not. But unless two suitors 
 present themselves about the same time, and
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 189 
 
 each claims his victim at once, it is very likely to 
 be a long game at haphazard : and even then 
 they have been known to change by almost 
 mutual consent. 
 
 When Charlie Thornhill sat down to dinner at 
 old Mr. Thoroughgood's, he saw around him a 
 heterogeneous mass of excellent people ; fast 
 young women with palsied mothers, and slow 
 young women with dashing chaperones ; un- 
 polished countiy squires, boorish in appearance ; 
 empresses in manner, with red hands and large 
 feet — the former of which they were continually 
 polishing with their pocket-handkerchiefs, whilst 
 the latter reposed in uncomfortable inelegance 
 beneath their chairs. It was just as impossible 
 to overlook Dacre's sisters, in such an assembly, 
 as to have overlooked the moon amongst the 
 planets. They gave light where there would 
 have been nothing but eating and drinking. 
 Charlie Thornhill was a shy boy, naturally : he 
 felt himself rather the hero of the day, which 
 made him more shy : he was very susceptible, 
 too, which shy persons not unfrequently are : and 
 he was of that age when the other sex have a 
 vast superiority over ours. He found himself
 
 190 CHARLIE THORNIIILL J OR, 
 
 next to the one sister, and*nearly opposite to the 
 other. From some peculiar cause, assignable to 
 mesmerism or satanic influence, as I suppose 
 Mr. Close of Cheltenham would say, he was pre- 
 determinately attracted towards Edith Dacre. 
 Charlie's indolent mind did not inquire the 
 wherefore. "Blue-eyed and full of chaff " was 
 the limited description he had had of her. Alice 
 was " a stunner/' said the same animated racon- 
 teur of family portraiture ; yet when he looked at 
 the black-eyed girl beside him, he involuntarily 
 thought of his brother Tom : Tom, who at that 
 moment was calling mains over a bottle of claret 
 in Lord Carlingford's rooms in Peckwater. 
 
 It is just possible that the short description of 
 these girls, by their brother Teddy, does not 
 convey much notion of them to the reader. 
 Attend then, whilst I somewhat amplify it. But 
 not too much. Let facts attest their characters. 
 
 The soup being gone, Charlie Thornhill took 
 courage to turn round to his left-hand neighbour, 
 as less formidable than the turban and diamonds 
 on his right. The first thing that struck him 
 was the extraordinary smoothness and brilliancy 
 of the coal-black hair. It gave him a mysterious
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 191 
 
 notion of condition. Then he got to eyes of the 
 same colour, but softened in hue, as though some 
 violet mingled with the black. The other features 
 had no particular expression nor beauty, beyond 
 the mouth, which was somewhat large, but well- 
 formed and humorous, not laughing, but capable of 
 being made to laugh. The figure, which was not 
 at present apparent, was well-formed and large, 
 but carried off by a corresponding presence and 
 height. Charlie felt a little afraid, and much 
 attracted. He knew Alice Dacre to be but a 
 year beyond his own age : but she carried full 
 three summers more in a simple but perfectly 
 assured manner. Yet Alice was a little shy with 
 strangers : perhaps proud. Towards the pre- 
 server of her brother's life she felt no pride, and 
 towards schoolboys of seventeen but very little 
 shyness. The great force of her character was 
 in its truth, and even the " Dunce of the Family " 
 felt it at once. 
 
 Then he turned his eyes opposite, and through 
 the spring flowers of an epergne he saw his fate. 
 Laughing eyes, soft brown hair, a beautifully- 
 formed nose and mouth, every movement of 
 which was a smile, and displayed the even,
 
 192 CHARLIE THORNHILL ; dfej 
 
 dazzling little teeth within : a complexion almost 
 delicate; but a matchless grace of budding 
 womanhood which set disease at defiance. There 
 was no deficiency of character in the features or 
 form, soft and womanlike as they were. Alice 
 Dacre could be dreamt of as alone, or as giving 
 support where it was wanted; but first impres- 
 sions of Edith Dacre attached her irresistibly to 
 her sister, or detached her from her home only 
 to entwine her nature with a stronger and more 
 virile stem, that was her only weakness. Boy as 
 he was, he saw nothing to fear, but something to 
 love; and he thought the " chaff'" of which 
 Teddy had apprised him would be the most 
 palatable food on which he could fatten. 
 
 " Malo Venusinam, quam te, Cornelia, mater 
 Gracchorum." 
 
 A word on the Dacres themselves. Mr. Dacre 
 was a man of high family, great pretension, and 
 but moderate means; and had married a lady 
 whose object in life was to appear in the world as 
 a member of the beau monde, of whose usances 
 she was supposed to be perfectly cognisant. They 
 went to the proper places at the proper seasons,
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 193 
 
 were seen at the proper houses, and were unob- 
 trusive negatives in the world of fashion. He 
 was tall, handsome, well-mannered, and slightly 
 bald. She was stout, dignified, an excellent 
 talker, and richly but darkly dressed. They 
 were both a little above the average in point of 
 brains : but made friends, and preserved them, 
 by a judicious control of their intellects. They 
 had both objects in life. His was to obtain an 
 attacheship for his son; hers to obtain eligible 
 partis for her daughters. Alice was out. Edith 
 was still in the schoolroom, if the embroidery of 
 flowers, lessons in water-colours, and tea with 
 Miss Wilkinson, whenever there was company at 
 dinner, could be construed into that locality. 
 They were pronounced by everybody to be a 
 charming family: they were kind to the poor, 
 condescending to their inferiors, tolerably civil to 
 their equals, obeissant to their superiors, and 
 distantly recognisant of the curate of the parish 
 in which they lived. It would have been difficult 
 to reconcile the visit of the girls to Mr. Thorough- 
 good's neighbourhood and table with Mrs. Dacre's 
 doctrines, but for one fact. They were under the 
 charge of a lady whom it was not desirable to 
 
 VOL. i. o
 
 194 CHARLIE THORNHILL J OR, 
 
 offend. Lady Elizabeth Montagu Mastodon was 
 a great woman, in every sense of the word, and a 
 relative of Mr. Dacre. Montagu Mastodon was 
 member for the county, enormously wealthy, 
 and had no children. Lady Elizabeth was the 
 daughter of an Irish peer, whose estates had been 
 sold under the Act for 300,000Z., every shilling of 
 which was long since squandered. She was the 
 stoutest, the vulgarest, the cleverest, and the 
 kindest woman that ever walked, we might say 
 rolled, upon two legs : and if Mr. Montagu Mas- 
 todon, with his iron and coal, found the money, 
 she found the popularity for the county member. 
 She went everywhere, did everything, and knew 
 everybody; and hence the appearance of the 
 Misses Dacre at the hospitable board of our old 
 friend Thoroughgood. 
 
 " Lor' bless me, Mr. Thoroughgood," said the 
 old lady in her own right, who had become more 
 practical and more vulgar since her marriage, 
 " I wonder you don't kill yourselves with your 
 steeple -chasing. So that's the young gentleman 
 that won to-day ? It does you great credit, sir ; 
 whatever is done at all ought to be well done. 
 Thornhill, Thornhill — ah ! that's his name," said
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 195 
 
 she, putting up her glass, " is it ? His brother's 
 at Christ Church with my scapegrace of a ne- 
 phew, Carlingford. Do you know what the prize 
 poem is this year ? " 
 
 " I did hear, but I forget," said Charlie, 
 blushing up to the eyes — " something about the 
 niggers," added he, after a moment's pause. 
 
 " What ! the Africans, the slaves ? Surely 
 they don't call them niggers in a subject for the 
 Newdigate ? " 
 
 " I think it's the nigger : I know it's about 
 Africa, because my brother wrote to me about it." 
 
 " Bless my heart, so it is about Africa ; now 
 I recollect : it's the Niger : all about Africa, only 
 not quite in the way you mean, Mr. Thornhill. 
 Bless the boy ! what a capital joke." 
 
 " Mr. Thornhill," said Alice Dacre, " I am so 
 glad to have had an opportunity of thanking you 
 for your kindness to my brother. Papa and 
 mamma often talk about you. We can never 
 forget it ; and they would be so glad if you could 
 come to see us when the holidays begin. We 
 can try and make you comfortable, though I dare 
 say you love Thornhills : only we want to thank 
 you. Do come ! " 
 
 2
 
 190 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 Charlie began a speech. To his infinite relief, 
 Lady Elizabeth looked at the old maiden cousin 
 who had sat at the top of Mr. Thoroughgood's 
 table since the death of his wife, pushed back 
 her chair, and made preparations for rolling into 
 the drawing-room. Alice rose too; and as she 
 held out her hand, saying, " I think the carriage 
 must be ordered before you leave the dining- 
 room," Charlie almost thought he could have 
 tossed up which of the two it should be.
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 197 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 UNCLE HENRY. 
 " Lerne friih die Kunst Geld zu verdienen." 
 
 Time is the steadiest traveller of my acquaint- 
 ance. He stands still for nobody, and with 
 nobody ; and though he always accompanies us, 
 he still goes before, and follows on our heels. 
 Nothing daunts him, nothing turns him aside ; 
 and he alone takes for his companion the young, 
 the old, the fast, and the slow, and keeps up with 
 them all. In his presence we learn the inutility 
 of prodigality of efforts. He never hurries, 
 therefore he is always going. His condition is 
 unexceptionable, and he leaves us with a low bow 
 only on the confines of eternity. Men are too 
 apt to ride, walk, eat, drink, fight, and legislate 
 too fast : their efforts are too prodigious ; their 
 strength fails ; and the quicker they go the sooner 
 they are caught. Not so the prudent man, who 
 learns a lesson from his fellow-traveller, He
 
 198 CHARLIE THORNHILL ; OR, 
 
 despises the vanity of doing this, that, or the 
 other, for the sake of being talked about, for the 
 happiness of creating a nine days' wonder, and 
 making himself uncomfortable for the sake of 
 gratifying the admiration of the vulgar. The 
 same motive which makes one man venture his 
 neck over four feet and a half of stiff timber on a 
 beaten horse, makes another swallow two bottles 
 of claret after a sufficient dinner, or eat fifteen 
 eggs for breakfast. This man exhibits his vanity 
 in driving a steam-engine, in Haymarket revelries, 
 and in marriage with a woman of easy virtue. 
 That man in a fight of an hour and ten minutes 
 with a pugilistic butcher, in riding four-and- 
 twenty horses two hundred miles in eight hours 
 and a half, or in being picked out of a wager-boat 
 half dead after a triumphant struggle with a 
 professional bargee. I do not mean to put the 
 consequences of each upon a par ; but the motive 
 which induces this prodigality of exertion is 
 usually the same in all. The wise man eschews 
 excitement. He enjoys his pleasures as he eats 
 his dinner. He enters upon life as upon a jour- 
 ney, which may be long and troublesome, and 
 may require plenty of husbanding of strength for
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 199 
 
 a successful issue. He waits upon his competi- 
 tors in the race : he looks, like Time, a bit of a 
 laggard, as if he were being left behind. But 
 they begin to come back, and he perseveres with 
 his steady pace, and wins with some pounds in 
 hand. 
 
 ** "Wisely and slow : they stumble that run fast" 
 
 There's no mirror so honest as your contem- 
 porary's face. I look in the glass, and believe 
 myself to be my own junior by about a couple of 
 lustres. I look at my boots and breeches ; they 
 are essentially the same that I have worn these 
 twenty years. They look so, and I firmly believe 
 them. I walk as far and as fast through the 
 stubbles of my friends, I ride the same class of 
 
 horse, with no, let me be honest, not with 
 
 quite the same nerve ; but I am still far removed 
 from " a funker." I can even drink port wine in 
 a land where no port is, but a vile compound of 
 black grapes, logwood, and molasses, without a 
 bilious headache, or the want of an extra cup of 
 tea. All this assures me I am young. I look in 
 the glass, as I said before ; I see no grey hairs 
 on my head nor in my whiskers — thank Heaven !
 
 200 CHARLIE THORNHILL ; OE, 
 
 I do not wear a beard; nor do I remark the 
 slightest, not even the most respectable tendency 
 to corpulency. This is as it should be. I am 
 still young in my own estimation, and only list. 
 7lb. — a perfect godsend to an establishment the 
 proprietor of which is a 13st. man, and always 
 mounted just up to his weight. But when I go 
 out to dinner, I go in fear and trembling, lest 
 the truth should be brought home to me. 
 "Smith," says our host, "you remember Jones 
 of St. Dirtiface; you were the same year." I 
 look up, and I see a huge mass of hair, which 
 seems as if it had been gathered on the top of 
 Mont Blanc. Jones's eyes, once rather large and 
 prominent, have sunk, abashed at their former 
 iniquities, into their sockets, his neckcloth is 
 voluminous, his voice going down hill, and his 
 awful waistcoat displays dimensions which I 
 remember formerly as belonging only to sexage- 
 narians. And this man was at the University 
 with me ! Do I look anything like that ? Of 
 course not. But there are twenty ways of grow- 
 ing old, and it is quite clear that, to know one's 
 self, one should keep up an acquaintance with 
 one's contemporaries.
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 201 
 
 And all these monstrous buckram men in 
 armour have grown out of one poor truth — that 
 Time had not stood still with Charlie Thornhill. 
 
 The London season had already begun. Tom 
 Thornhill had just taken his degree, and paid 
 ten thousand pounds to the great fcenerator of 
 the day, a most respectable firm at the West 
 End, and one which might have papered its 
 offices with post obits. He was in town, and in 
 great force, surrounded by bloodsuckers and 
 lickspittles, preserving, however, the valuable 
 reputation of being neither a fool nor a black- 
 guard for the present. He was saved, just yet, 
 from utter reprobation by the appearance in 
 public of his friend Lord Carlingford, one of the 
 richest noblemen in England, and who offered so 
 brilliant a bait, and so safe a one, that Tom 
 Thornhill was only to be regarded as a pis oiler. 
 Sir Frederick and Lady Marston were at their 
 own house, as usual, in Grosvenor Square, he for 
 his parliamentary duties, she for her amusement ; 
 and in their train came Charlie Thornhill, who 
 always found a ready welcome with his father's 
 oldest friends. 
 
 Lady Marston, a great reader, was in the
 
 202 CHARLIE THORNHILL ; OR, 
 
 library, Charlie was gone for a ride. Sir 
 Frederick came into the room, and seated him- 
 self not far from his wife, with the paper in his 
 hand. 
 
 "Have you seen the paper this morning, 
 Kate ? " 
 
 "No; not to-day. Who is to be the new 
 
 Bishop of ? I do hope we shall have 
 
 learning or character." 
 
 "If you mean, by learning, a critical know- 
 ledge of the Greek article, and capability for 
 editing a Greek play, I think we could do without 
 the first : and I do not think any of the reverend 
 bench can be said to fail in the latter." 
 
 " Humph ! " said Lady. Marston. " Caesar's 
 wife should be without suspicion; and that's 
 more than can be said for all your venerable 
 diocesans. As to the learning, classical know- 
 ledge is better than none ; and it was an evidence 
 of great capability, you must acknowledge, my 
 dear Frederick. I own I liked your Monks and 
 your Butlers, and I do not think you have 
 bettered them. But what was your news ? n 
 
 " That miserable blockhead Feltham has mar- 
 ried an outrageous woman with half a dozen
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 203 
 
 aliases, after settling more than half his income 
 upon her, and placing it at her own disposal; 
 and old General Feltham, his uncle, with the 
 rest of his family, has a commission of lunacy 
 sitting to inquire whether he is capable of taking 
 care of himself and the Feltham estates, to which 
 the old general and his family are the heirs 
 presumptive." 
 
 " But he is not mad any more than you are. 
 He is vicious and foolish, but perfectly respon- 
 sible for his actions, and consequently for the 
 use of his property." 
 
 "It's a very, bad case, however, Kate; and 
 though legally capable, he is morally incapable 
 of directing himself or his affairs. He'll be a 
 beggar before another five years is over his 
 head." 
 
 " Very probably, if the lawyers leave him 
 anything to spend. But the family ought to 
 have found that out before he disgraced him- 
 self and them by such a marriage. And if he 
 spends everything now, the general will have 
 the less to regret the loss of. Are you very 
 busy ? " 
 
 " No, Kate. What is it ? "
 
 204 CHARLIE thornhtll; or, 
 
 " Charlie Thornhill." 
 
 " Ah ! that troubles me, my wife. What's to 
 be done ? " 
 
 " Tell him the truth, the whole truth." 
 
 " The whole truth is not mine to tell. Besides, 
 it's not a certainty, and may come all right 
 again. The Irish property bought of Kildonald 
 is now represented by the four thousand pounds 
 which has been returned, the sale never hav- 
 ing been completed. And although I cannot 
 but suspect some rascality, the money certainly 
 did not go through his banker nor his man of 
 business." 
 
 " His banker was his brother, and he would 
 not perhaps wish him to know ; but I am satis- 
 fied the sale was completed." 
 
 " The matter was arranged by a Mr. Burke, a 
 lawyer in Cork, who acted for both parties. Poor 
 Geoffrey was not only so little a man of busi- 
 ness, but so culpably negligent in all matters 
 connected with money, excepting the paying of 
 his debts of honour, that neither I nor his 
 brother can make anything of it." 
 
 " And from what you tell me, I am to con- 
 clude that there is but little probability of Charlie
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 205 
 
 ever having more than this pittance until his 
 mother's death. However, he is not an absolute 
 pauper, and he must have a profession." Here 
 Lady Marston subsided into a fit of quiet 
 thoughtfulness ; it had a tinge of melancholy 
 in it, as thoughtfulness for other people ought 
 to have: destiny is a sad subject of contempla- 
 tion at the best of times. At last she raised 
 her head with a more cheerful look, and said, 
 " Can I go to Pall Mall in the carriage to-day, 
 Frederick ? " 
 
 " Certainly, my dear. Why should you ask ? " 
 
 " Because I wish to see Henry Thornhill ; and 
 as it is on Charlie's account, I want to know 
 whether you disapprove." 
 
 " By no means ; but I fear you can do but 
 little to mend matters." 
 
 " We shall see ; and if the worst comes to the 
 worst, Charlie must make a fortune. After all, 
 it is the more honourable course of the two." 
 
 It was a fine sunshiny afternoon when Lady 
 Marston turned into Piccadilly out of Berkeley 
 Square on her way to Pall Mall. Her equipage 
 was faultless, her bonnet was charming, and 
 she ought to have been the happiest woman in
 
 206 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 London. Indeed she was very nearly so, for 
 she had a well-balanced mind, which shook 
 off light sorrows like " dewdrops from the lion's 
 mane," as long as they only affected herself. She 
 was unfortunate in having a heart which the 
 highest cultivation in that respect, had always 
 kept alive to other people's requirements. When 
 this is the case in the world of fashion (and 
 there's quite as much feeling there as amongst 
 the virtuous middle classes) there is usually 
 plenty of exercise to keep the hand in. Her 
 present object was a visit to Henry Thornhill, 
 to see what could be done for the future advan- 
 tage of the unconscious Charlie. That amiable 
 youth at that very moment was making some 
 scientific examination of a rather high-priced 
 hunter, with a view to a first season on his 
 own account, and wondering how far judicious 
 summering would bring round a rather question- 
 able leg. St. James's Street was alive with 
 dandies. Old General Bosville bowed, after the 
 fashion of Carlton House, from the steps of his 
 club. What wonderful preservation ! thought 
 Lady Marston. Then she stopped for a moment 
 to speak to the Secretary for Foreign Affairs,
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 207 
 
 who thought they must go out if Sir John 
 Plumper pressed his motion. The lady was 
 not below politics nor above point- lace. A very 
 comprehensive mind was Lady Marstons. At 
 the bottom of the street she caught sight of 
 Carlingford and Tom Thornhill, with two or 
 three more of their set, staring at Mr. Dighton's 
 middle-aged dandies in Sams's window. She 
 looked into the future, and the sibyl sighed, for 
 she saw a long array of lost talent, misspent time 
 and a " sowing to the whirlwind;" and she thought 
 of Geoffrey Thornhill as she first knew him — 
 not so young as that, but very like it. Within 
 half a minute the barouche drew up at the dingy 
 banking-house of Hammerton and Thornhill. 
 
 Lady Marston's was a carriage. Not a broug- 
 ham, with an active coachman accustomed to 
 drive a pair of horses, and weighing only lOst. 
 6lb., and a cockaded flunkey in a demi-livery. 
 Hers was a carriage, with a fine round, dignified 
 coachman, well-powdered and silk-stockinged, 
 who had never been asked to drive east of 
 Temple Bar on the one side, or west of Ken- 
 sington Gore on the other, and her footman was 
 six feet two, and carried a stick with the air of
 
 20 B CHARLIE THORNHILL J OR, 
 
 a drum-major. The sensation created at the 
 Guards' Club was not slight, and the young gen- 
 tlemen at the Oxford and Cambridge were nearly 
 frantic with curiosity. In the meantime Henry 
 Thornhill had himself appeared to her sum- 
 mons, and leisurely handed the sweetest woman 
 in London into the very dingiest of back parlours. 
 
 Lady Marston had sufficient tact to know that 
 time was more valuable to the banker than to 
 her, and she was scarcely comfortably ensconced 
 in a leather-cased chair before she proceeded to 
 business. 
 
 "Have you seen your nephew lately, Mr. 
 Thornhill ? " 
 
 " Which, Lady Marston ? for I have two." 
 
 " Charlie, I mean," said the lady. 
 
 " Indeed I have not. I wish I saw more of 
 him." 
 
 " He's in very good company." 
 
 " If he's with you, Lady Marston," said the 
 banker, who never paid a compliment. A disap- 
 pointment in early life had shaken his faith in 
 woman. He saw the woman who was plighted 
 to him walk up the steps of St. George's Church 
 on the arm of her father, and return down them
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 209 
 
 in half an hour on the arm of a wealthy earl. He 
 knew she had been cruelly tortured, sorely driven, 
 but he never forgave her, though he would have 
 shed his heart's blood to save her from pain. 
 His sense of truth forbade him to excuse her 
 falsehood. His love taught him to suffer in 
 silence for her, but his sense of justice con- 
 demned the sacrifice. He saw her almost daily 
 in his solitary ride or walk from Pall Mall to 
 Bryanston Square, but her constancy and well- 
 known trials pleaded unsuccessfully for her sex. 
 
 " He is with us : Frederick is very fond of him, 
 and we are anxious to see what can be done for 
 him. This unexpected hitch about the Kildonald 
 property, which we imagined was his, makes his 
 case different from what it was a year ago. He 
 must have a profession."" 
 
 " He must, indeed." And the banker seemed 
 to think it was the best thing for him. He 
 crossed his foot upon his knee, and looked at 
 Lady Marston. 
 
 " Have you no advice to offer on the subject? 
 With your experience, I think you might assist 
 him. What say you to mercantile life ? " 
 
 " Has he any taste for it ? Does he care for 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 drudgery, toil, uncertainty, loss of caste, change 
 of companionship, and a thousand little trials, of 
 which he has no idea." The banker was getting 
 hard, as he thought what had sent him into the 
 back parlour of a bank instead of into country 
 fields and pleasant places. 
 
 " What he may have a taste for, I do not know ; 
 but I have thought of your own profession." 
 
 " Mine is a trade, Lady Marston ; more re- 
 spectable, it is true, than many professions." 
 
 " And more lucrative." 
 
 " That's as it may be. But let me be sincere 
 with you — as sincere as I can be on this point. 
 He may go into my business, but into my 
 house of business he never can come. There 
 are reasons, insuperable reasons ; and you know 
 well, that if I thought I could serve him so, he 
 might command me. But why not try some- 
 thing else — the army ? " 
 
 " An ensigncy in a marching regiment is all 
 to which he could aspire. But I think he should 
 be consulted himself; he is old enough, at least, 
 to have an inclination. What are his prospects ?" 
 
 This was scarcely intended for a question, for 
 Lady Marston, though truthful and earnest, was
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 211 
 
 refined in mind. The banker, however, under- 
 stood her cue, and, without apparent embarrass- 
 ment, answered — 
 
 " His mother's jointure, when she dies, and, 
 for the present, the money received from the 
 uncompleted purchase." 
 
 " And that is all ? The prospective advan- 
 tages are distant." 
 
 " They are. But he shall never want a home 
 while I live. And Charlie seems to have no lack 
 of friends, if all I hear of your own kindness and 
 Sir Frederick's be true. But he will never do 
 for business." 
 
 " You are wrong, Mr. Thornhill. He is igno- 
 rant, and idle, in the sense of learning ; but he 
 has high principles, common sense, and much 
 determination. I should have thought he would 
 have done admirably in your own " 
 
 " Trade, Lady Marston. Possibly : but I 
 think not. You have great influence with him ; 
 and the influence which is exercised by such as 
 you upon a young man of his age, is the strongest 
 and most valuable coadjutor he can have in any 
 career. Give him my kind love, and do all you can 
 to impress upon him the value of independence. 
 
 p2
 
 212 CHARLIE THORNHILL ; OR, 
 
 It will raise him in his own estimation as well 
 as others', for it will place him above them ; 
 and no man knows what four-and-twenty hours 
 may bring forth. Believe me, Lady Marston, 
 if he wants to enjoy a fortune really, he ought 
 to make one." 
 
 There was an end of the discussion. A few 
 minutes devoted, as usual, to the weather, the 
 chances of the present ministry, the educational 
 scheme, and Lord Shaftesbury and his bishops, 
 finished the conference; and with the same cour- 
 tesy, and a cheek a little flushed, Henry Thorn- 
 hill shook hands with Lady Marston, and heard 
 her last order given, " To Howell and James's," 
 with a sense of relief. 
 
 The banker was old for his years. Circum- 
 stances had made him so. English funds, and a 
 contemplation of French rentes, American repu- 
 diation, and foreign politics, make a young man 
 old, though I believe they keep a middle-aged 
 man in excellent preservation. Like medicine, 
 they should only be taken after a certain time, 
 and as a remedy against something worse. Henry 
 Thornhill had taken to them as an anodyne, and 
 found his account in them. The battle of life
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 213 
 
 is to the strong ; but if the strong be beaten 
 down, he must be raised by powerful stimulants. 
 No one ever knew why he was not in parliament. 
 He knew himself. The mephitic vapours of 
 political intrigue and dependence rendered the 
 air of St. Stephen's less palatable to the honest 
 banker than to most men. He liked the life he 
 led. He was unostentatious to a degree. One 
 or two horses, a plain chariot which he seldom 
 used, a good club dinner when alone, which was 
 seldom, and an autumnal excursion into Scotland 
 or Norfolk, to Homburg or Vienna, where he 
 looked at a life with considerable amusement, of 
 which, however, he was no participator. He had 
 loved a woman ; since then he had learned to 
 love work, and the dingy parlour at the back of 
 those spacious premises in Pall Mall. He could 
 give advice, even to Lady Marston, without of- 
 fence. The accidents of his life, and his position, 
 gave him an authority beyond his years. No one 
 knew what was locked up in him ; for he never 
 exposed for sale more than what he knew to be 
 marketable. His memories, his sadness, the 
 sturdy bachelor kept to himself; his experiences 
 and his advice only for the friends, like Lady
 
 214 CHARLIE THORNHILL ; OR, 
 
 Marston, or his nephews, to whom he thought 
 they were acceptable. He discovered a close 
 acquaintance with the world, when he spoke of 
 the influence exercised by a woman, like Lady 
 Marston, upon a young man. It has a charm, a 
 flattery in it, quite unequalled by any other 
 friendship ; it softens, it consoles, it ennobles, 
 and it cherishes the dying embers of a spirit of 
 chivalry, the characteristic of a bygone age. The 
 old cock so tough in the evening was tender 
 enough in the morning. " Faisant la cour aux 
 pooles."
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 215 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 GRILLED BONES. 
 
 * Alea, Scylla vorax, species certissima furti 
 Non contenta bonis animum, quoque perfida mergit.' 
 
 When Lady Marston reached home, she found 
 a note from her protege, excusing himself from 
 dining in Grosvenor Square, as he was wont to 
 do when engaged elsewhere. It rather discon- 
 certed her plan, as she was dining at home alone, 
 while Sir Frederick was at the House, expressly 
 for the purpose of talking to Charlie. It would 
 have been an excellent opportunity for a chat 
 about his prospects, and for urging the adoption 
 of a profession of some kind or other. His 
 uncle's reserve on the subject of his own inten- 
 tions created a vague alarm, which was confirmed 
 by her previous conversation with her husband. 
 As, however, it was pretty certain that that young 
 gentleman would make his appearance only to 
 dress, and the subject was not one to be discussed
 
 216 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 in a five minutes' conversation on a second- 
 floor landing-place, she wisely determined upon 
 postponing the business indefinitely. There could 
 be no doubt about an opportunity occurring with- 
 in a week or two at latest, notwithstanding the 
 multifarious engagements of a London season. 
 So she took her drive, and her dinner, and listened 
 to Grisi for an hour or two, chatted sociably with 
 half a dozen dandies, who amused her, and with 
 one clever man whom she amused, and returned 
 comfortably to bed at a reasonable hour. 
 
 Whilst she had been talking to the worthy 
 banker, Charlie had been spending his morning 
 less profitably. Exactly opposite Cambridge 
 House, he had been overtaken by his father's 
 old acquaintance, Lord Dorrington, who hailed 
 him with that good-humoured simplicity which is 
 so flattering from eight lustres to four. 
 
 " Where now, Charlie ? " said the jolly noble- 
 man, who, beyond a tight boot (physically) and a 
 twinge of ; 34 claret, knew no trouble, " going my 
 way ? " 
 
 Of course he was, or any other way that suited 
 him ; an idler or a more accommodating young 
 man than Charlie Thornhill was not, at that
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 217 
 
 time, to be met with ; he had not even a pleasure 
 in prospect to bore him. It was not long before 
 he had confided to Lord Dorrington his intention 
 of going to Scotland in the autumn, and from 
 there accompanying Tom to Melton, unless his 
 brother should take to the hounds in his own 
 country ; an improbable thing for the next three 
 or four years, as they were just now in the hands 
 of a young nobleman, who might be expected 
 to last that time at least, though not much be- 
 yond it. 
 
 " I must have two or three horses of my own, 
 for Tom's such a good fellow, that if I don't buy 
 one or two, he'll be increasing his number, and 
 there's no necessity for that." 
 
 " There's a horse of Putney's at TattersalPs 
 now, that would pay for summering, and that 
 would just suit you ; he's fast, and a capital 
 fencer, but wants a little riding, which I hear you 
 can do for him." 
 
 Charlie blushed ; but he knew Lord Dorring- 
 ton to be a good judge, and Captain Putney 
 (when I first introduced him, he was only a 
 cornet) to be a straight man over a country. So 
 he sauntered on to the corner of Park Lane,
 
 218 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 where he took courage to say that he would go to 
 TattersalFs and look at him. 
 
 Having made up his mind that the " Iron- 
 master " (so called from his late owner) would be 
 cheap enough at 120 guineas, he walked once 
 more along Piccadilly till he reached Bolton 
 Street. After hesitating a moment, he knocked 
 at a gloomy-looking door, whose portals opened at 
 the summons into a more gloomy -looking hall. 
 
 " Is Lord Carlingford at home ? " 
 
 " No, sir," said the man ; " but Mr. Thornhill 
 and Sir George Barrington are just come in, so 
 that I dare say his Lordship will not be long." 
 
 "Sir George Barrington," said Charlie, half 
 aloud, " then Til go up." 
 
 At the same time a groom of the chambers 
 appeared, and Charlie followed him along hollow- 
 sounding passages to a room on the ground floor. 
 Nothing could present a greater contrast to the 
 darkness of the passage he had quitted than the 
 light and comfort of the room into which he was 
 shown. It was a billiard-room of very large size, 
 made comfortable by the light from above, and by 
 all the appendages which modern taste requires. 
 There were books, pictures, arm-chairs, and sofas
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 219 
 
 of every description. Sir George was chalking 
 his cue, preparatory to a stroke, and Tom Thorn- 
 hill was lighting a cigar, at the moment that his 
 brother entered. Both stopped in their avoca- 
 tions for a minute, and welcomed our hero with 
 the greatest cordiality. Sir George was not a 
 favourite of Charlie's, and he viewed his present 
 occupation with considerable distrust. He knew 
 him to be a gambler ; alas ! he knew one very 
 near and dear to him to be one too. But he 
 knew him to be unprincipled, ungenerous, and 
 licentious ; living without means, save such as he 
 niched from his unsuspicious victims, and this 
 at the rate of some thousands a year. He was 
 admitted into, or rather tolerated in, society ; 
 but mothers shuddered when they heard of him 
 as the associate of their sons. He was an adept 
 at all games of skill, and report said, a still 
 greater adept at games of chance. But he was a 
 first-rate pistol-shot ; had already killed his man 
 in a not very creditable fray; and it was plea- 
 santer to say it of him, than to his face. As to 
 Tom Thornhill, he would as soon have believed 
 in his want of honour, as in his own. Charlie 
 took a different view of the case.
 
 220 CHARLIE THOItNHILL; OR, 
 
 The game proceeded ; one hundred up. Thorn- 
 hill had made a good break, and left off within 
 ten points of the game. " I can take three hun- 
 dred to one," said Sir George, who was about 
 five-and-twenty behind, with a bad break. "I'll 
 lay it," said Tom Thornhill. And certainly it 
 looked like a good bet. Here Sir George cursed 
 his luck, chalked his cue, and threw away his 
 cigar. He made a difficult following cannon, 
 which brought the balls together ; and imme- 
 diately after ran up the game to ninety all. His 
 own ball was over the middle pocket, the red ball 
 in baulk. Sir George's break of twentjr-five had 
 reduced the betting to evens, with Tom Thorn- 
 hill for choice. He made six by holeing his 
 own ball off his adversary in the middle pocket 
 three times, but unfortunately brought his adver- 
 sary back into baulk, thus leaving himself nothing 
 on the table. Sir George then made the game. 
 Tom looked disappointed ; not at the loss of the 
 money, but the game. He was easily persuaded 
 that luck was against him, and put on his coat 
 with a reassurance that he could have won. 
 Charlie had watched the game narrowly, and 
 knew better.
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 221 
 
 " All revoir," said Barrington, as he took his 
 leave; " I shall not wait for Carlingford." And 
 the brothers were alone. 
 
 " What do you do to-night, Charlie ? " 
 
 "Nothing particular. I was going back to 
 dine at the Marstons' ; they're alone to-night, 
 and I can please myself." 
 
 " Then come down to Eichmond, and dine with 
 me. Here comes Carlingford ; he or I will drive 
 you down. There will be only ourselves, De 
 Beauvoir, the Punter, and Barrington. 
 
 Lord Carlingford entered the room. He looked 
 like a gentleman, but strength of mind was not 
 his characteristic. 
 
 " What did you do with Barrington ? — How 
 do, Thornhill ? " added he, seeing Charlie. 
 
 " Lost, when I was a red hazard off the game." 
 
 Charlie hesitated a moment, and as suddenly 
 consented to make one of the dinner-party. 
 
 "Well, then, I'll call for you in Grosvenor 
 Square at half-past five." And Charlie took leave 
 for the present. 
 
 As he strolled slowly along Piccadilly towards 
 Bond Street, his thoughts employed on his brother 
 Tom, who was his beau icUal of every perfection
 
 222 CHARLIE THORNHILL J OR, 
 
 in man, he ran against one of those profound busy- 
 bodies, who love to astonish boys with their savoir 
 vivre, and acquaintance with the on dits of society. 
 Frank Tuftenham was five years Charlie's senior, 
 was a clerk in the Foreign Office, had a bowing 
 and scraping acquaintance with everybody, and 
 was intimate with nobody. He was a small, in- 
 trusive sort of man, and though a small brilliant 
 is worth a whole dust-heap, Charlie Thornhill was 
 a giant in every respect to the sallow-looking 
 official, as he called himself. 
 
 "Weren't you at school with Dacre, Thorn- 
 hill ? u 
 
 " What, Teddy Dacre ? Of course I was. I 
 should like to see Teddy again; I haven't. seen 
 him this year or more. Where is he ? " $* 
 
 " He's in Town. I thought you knew them 
 very well ; he always talks about you to every- 
 body. But what a pity it is that pretty sister of 
 his is going to be married to that fool De 
 Beauvoir." 
 
 Charlie felt rather uncomfortable ; and though 
 Tuftenham was perfectly unconscious, he could not 
 help thinking that he was looking at his rising 
 colour. The fact is, he was red hot to the roots of
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 223 
 
 the hair; and old Thoroughgood's dinner had in- 
 flicted a wound a great deal more lasting than the 
 headache he rose with on the following morning. 
 Still Charlie could not shake him off. His con- 
 versation had the power of a basilisk ; there was 
 no escape, though the poor fellow felt that it was 
 death to stop. This was a skinning he had hardly 
 bargained for ; for if ever a young gentleman of 
 twenty years of age had allowed concealment, 
 like a worm, and so forth, it was Charlie. Be- 
 tween ourselves, he was very much in love indeed, 
 for an absentee. Then his agreeable friend con- 
 tinued, " I do hope there's nothing in that report 
 that's going the round of the clubs about Sir 
 George Barrington and your brother ! " 
 
 "What the devil's that?" said Charlie, with 
 considerable energy. 
 
 " Oh ! I beg ten thousand pardons — I ought 
 never to have said a word : of course I concluded 
 that you had heard all about it." 
 
 " Not I ; let's have it." 
 
 " Well, they do say that Barrington has won 
 five thousand of him, and two of Carlingford. Of 
 course I only repeat what I have heard." 
 
 " I don't believe a word of it." But Charlie
 
 224 CHARLIE THORNHILL J OR, 
 
 painfully recalled the game at billiards of the 
 morning. " Do you know Barrington ? " 
 
 "Kob a church, I should think," was the 
 official's reply. " About the greatest swindler in 
 London. Adieu, Thornhill!" 
 
 Charlie ThornhiU's reflections were sombre, as 
 he sauntered up Bond Street towards Grosvenor 
 Square : he began to think there was something 
 of truth in the on dits of the day : and as he 
 determined that the De Beauvoir engagement 
 was well founded, he could not altogether disbe- 
 lieve the one about Tom and Sir George Bar- 
 rington. " He is a thief," said Charlie to him- 
 self ; " I was sure of it." 
 
 The drive down to Bichmond was cheerful 
 enough in itself. The charming spirits of Tom 
 Thornhill, the quick- stepping ponies — a new 
 purchase of Tom's — the clanking of the pole 
 chains, the sparkling river with its hundred boats, 
 and hearts as light as its waters, the budding- 
 verdure, and the fresh air, all combined to drive 
 away the gloomy spirits of Charlie. He could 
 not help remarking on the way down, however, 
 to his brother, that he didn't like Barring- 
 ton.
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 2*25 
 
 K I know that, Charlie." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "You're always so infernally polite to him, 
 when ice can scarcely get a civil word out of 
 you." 
 
 " I mean to be so : they don't speak highly of 
 him." 
 
 "Poor devil!— I suppose he's lots of enemies, 
 like everybody else who hasn't money enough to 
 buy a good opinion." 
 
 "He might have laid out some of his late 
 gains, then, advantageously; he ought to be 
 pretty flush." 
 
 " I suppose some fool or other has been exag- 
 gerating the case, Charlie. A few hundreds 
 aren't much for a fellow that's been plucked as 
 he has." Tom was getting a little warm in his 
 friend's cause, so Charlie reserved any communi- 
 cations he might have for another opportunity: 
 and a few more minutes brought them to the 
 Castle. 
 
 " Lord Carlingford come yet ? " 
 
 "No, sir, but his lordship's room is ready," 
 replied the obsequious waiter, with a flourish of 
 his napkin. " Dinner at seven, sir." 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 22 G CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 " Come, Charlie, let's go into the garden, and 
 look at the boats," and in another minute they 
 were lounging over the wall. The gardens were 
 gay with fashionable men and well-dressed 
 women, who strolled up and down, or sat on the 
 wall, or occupied the seats scattered about. It 
 was a pleasant scene enough ; that lovely river, 
 and the life that sparkled on and around it. It 
 makes young men forget, and old men remember: 
 it 's a glorious place to moralise. 
 
 There's old Brownwigg, I wonder what he's 
 regretting: his past life, probably, and that it 
 can't come over again, as he smokes his cheroot 
 under the shadow of those cool dining-rooms, 
 which only remind me of the infernal regions in 
 ice; and look at Henry Careless; it's true he is 
 meditating, with folded arms and leaden heart, 
 upon his eighteen thousand a year reduced in as 
 many years to as many hundreds : but it is only 
 that he might have it again to spend twice as 
 fast. It is strewed with regrets, that Castle 
 garden, but not with regrets of the right sort. 
 
 In the meantime the guests had arrived, and 
 Tom and his brother turned back to welcome 
 them.
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 227 
 
 Lord Carlingford was chewing a tooth pick, 
 from which he seemed to derive considerable 
 satisfaction, if not nourishment ; even that exer- 
 tion was almost too much for him after his drive. 
 De Beauvoir and Sir George Barrington had 
 come down together. The former presented an 
 object of much interest to Charlie since the 
 morning ; and he was compelled to admit, that if 
 he was a fool he was a very good-looking one : 
 his companion looked as blase and washed out as 
 any other naturally delicate gentleman who has 
 lived upon nothing but excitement up to the age 
 of thirty. The Punter was a roystering, jovial, 
 natural sort of person, of about five-and-twenty 
 — very large, veiy stout, very loud in every way : 
 his name was Cressingham, and he had obtained 
 his sobriquet of Punter from a supposed love for 
 that amusement, rather than from any real pre- 
 dilection for the game : he was not averse to 
 throwing a main when it came in his way, but, 
 with the exception of Charlie, was probably the 
 least fond of play of any of the party. I had 
 almost forgotten to mention two not unimportant 
 items in the list. On a large sofa, enveloped in 
 peach-coloured silk and muslin, with a corre- 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 CHARLIE THORNHILL ; OE, 
 
 sponding amount of point-lace and jewellery, sat 
 two pretty women : the elder of the two was 
 known by the name of " the Peeress." She was 
 just now pouting and affecting great disgust that 
 her particular favourite, Major Nuggett of the 
 Plungers, had not been invited. The other lady, 
 Mrs. De Beauvoir, was indulging in anticipations 
 of dinner, a very favourite pastime with her : she 
 was younger and fairer than her companion, and 
 declared her inability to talk at present. " Lor' 
 bless us, Sir George, don't bother so. Who 's to 
 do anything until weVe had something to eat?" 
 The Peeress, nee Mary Armstrong, had been 
 elevated to the peerage from widowhood, after an 
 alliance, offensive and defensive, with a wealthy 
 stockbroker called Simpson: Mrs. De Beauvoir 
 had been formerly bedchamber woman to the 
 Hen and Chickens at Birmingham, under the 
 name of Sally Jones, and took her first step 
 towards her present elevation through a cele- 
 brated tinman of her adopted town. I am natu- 
 rally loth to introduce these ladies to the notice 
 of my readers, but the novelist deals with society 
 as he finds it, and Truth is stronger than 
 Decorum.
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 229 
 
 If we except one little oath which slipped out 
 of the Peeress's mouth by accident, and two 
 glasses too much of champagne on the part of 
 the other lady, their conduct was unexception- 
 able : and so we may take our leave of them, 
 merely adding, that with some difficulty they 
 were persuaded to order their brougham at ten 
 o'clock, instead of continuing to gamble for half- 
 sovereigns with a couple of dinner knives at the 
 Castle. 
 
 I am compelled to state, with regret, that the 
 dinner was not up to the mark. The Punter was 
 the only person who felt really aggrieved : his 
 jolly nature always attached itself to the present, 
 and he was an excellent judge of what he 
 thought good. The rest were scarcely competent 
 to decide upon the delicacies of a French carte, 
 not so common then as now : and certainly 
 Barrington had come to Richmond with other 
 views than the mere accident of a dinner. The 
 champagne was guiltless of the province or banks 
 of the Marne, and the claret had to be twice 
 changed before it was pronounced drinkable. 
 
 The conversation at a Eichmond dinner is not 
 always worth preservation : the evening passed
 
 230 
 
 CHARLIE THORNHILL; OR, 
 
 cheerfully enough, if not very rationally: Charlie 
 never talked much ; he probably, like the parrot, 
 thought the more. He could not help looking at 
 Barrington with a shade of suspicion ; but before 
 dinner was over it gave place to a pleasanter 
 feeling, and he began to think that he might be 
 mistaken, and that Tuftenham was but a gossip 
 at the best of times. He was not au fait at all 
 the subjects discussed, for Charlie almost de- 
 spised the life he was obliged to lead some part 
 of the year, and felt more at home in the Warren 
 at Thornhills, and with his four-footed favourites, 
 than in the middle of St. James's Street, amongst 
 the fashionable acquaintance of his brother Tom. 
 To tell the truth, he had quite brains enough to 
 despise the empty-headed, and to feel his own 
 deficiencies amongst those who were worthy of 
 better things. The next Derby, and the last 
 fight, will not last for ever as topics of conversa- 
 tion. The Opera, and the Oxford and Cambridge 
 boat-race had their turn. Carlingford's shooting 
 and Tom's new hack did good service. By the 
 time they had arrived at the Chiswick fete, and 
 the gentlemen and the players, most of the 
 company was anxious for some more engaging
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 231 
 
 excitement ; and when Tom proposed a game at 
 hazard, which he was quite certain to do sooner 
 or later, no one but Charlie regretted it, and 
 certainly no one said him nay. 
 
 Why are we all gamblers — North and South, 
 East and West; the most civilized, the most 
 savage ? The Malay, who runs a-muck, after 
 everything in the world that he has, excepting 
 his clothing, which may be considered nil, is gone. 
 The Frenchman or the Englishman, who, in 
 running a-muck, loses his everything— reputation 
 and honour not unfrequently included. The 
 former literally becomes the prey of his acquaint- 
 ance, and goes forth like a wild beast to kill or to 
 be killed. The latter having stood to be shot at, 
 takes his turn in victimizing his friends. The 
 having been the loser of many thousands seems 
 to be an excuse or apology for every enormity. 
 Our friend did it, because he has been done. The 
 Russian lights a fire at his heart, which burns 
 as fiercely as the South American: and whilst 
 the latter washes out his losses in the blood 
 of his opponent, the former scatters his own 
 brains upon the steps of the Kursaal at Wies- 
 baden or Homburg. Tom, Tom, would that a
 
 232 chaelie thornhill; or, 
 
 warning might come in time ! thinks Charlie : 
 there is a flaw in his idol, but it is none the less 
 an idol for that. 
 
 So down they sit, and the rest look on. The 
 gladiators of old afforded a game which destroyed 
 the combatants, and the grave old Eomans looked 
 on and applauded : but then they were their slaves 
 or their enemies. The fine old Briton will watch 
 with interest a game which destroys his friends 
 or foes. They begin with hazard. " Seven ! " 
 said Tom ; " eleven ! " — the nick, and he wins. 
 He throws in a few mains, and wins a hundred, 
 taking the odds. His blood is warm by the 
 time he has thrown crabs, and is out. " Five ! " 
 says Lord Carlingford. " Seven to five ! " cries 
 Sir George Barrington ; and five it is. " Pass 
 the box, Carlingford. Charlie ? " " No, thank 
 you/' said Charlie. "I'll look on; I never 
 play :" and they respect the scruples of a younger 
 son. Besides, it is so much better, for " he's 
 not over sharp, you know, and would certainly 
 fall asleep in the middle of it. I think that 
 would be the time to shave his eyebrows.'" He's 
 not asleep now. Before long the luck began to 
 change, and, like a true gambler, Tom Thorn-
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 233 
 
 hill clung to ill-luck with considerable perse- 
 verance. 
 
 " More claret, waiter, and light those lamps 
 on the mantel-piece," said his lordship. "De 
 Beauvoir, what have you won ? " 
 
 "A couple of hundred only," said the fool, 
 the fiance, the blindfold goose at Christmas 
 amongst the Swabian girls. " Barrington is the 
 
 And so he was. And Tom continued to take 
 the odds, and to bet them, as Barrington called 
 " Five ! " and threw seven. " Eight mains ! 
 why, you'd break a bank." And Tom got more 
 and more excited, and displayed an eagerness 
 from which Charlie boded no good for that night. 
 ' f Let's have a bone and a glass of champagne ;" 
 and up came the gooseberry, this time Men 
 frappe, not before it was appreciated by one of 
 the party at least. Tom began to feel feverish ; 
 Lord Carlingford was limper than usual, and 
 not disposed to risk any more money on himself 
 or Tom Thornhill, whom he had been backing ; 
 De Beauvoir decided upon going ; and the Punter 
 was fast asleep on a sofa with six new ten-pound 
 notes in his pocket, which he had won and
 
 234 CHARLIE THORNHILL J OR, 
 
 pocketed in the most jovial manner, without any 
 regard to the pocket out of which it had come. 
 The grilled hones and champagne, however, so 
 far revived the party that Tom, who vowed he 
 he would have nothing more to do with the dice 
 five minutes hefore, now proposed a game at 
 ecarte as a compromise between his conscience 
 and his desire for play. 
 
 " Come, De Beauvoir, one game for a pony," 
 
 " Impossible, Tom, I must be off; there's my 
 horse catching cold underneath that confounded 
 portico all this time/' 
 
 " Til take a hand/' said Lord Carlingford. 
 
 "And I," said Cressingham. 
 
 Barrington said nothing, but took the cards 
 and a seat. His face was flushed with triumph ; 
 he looked confidant, as well he might ; to con- 
 tinue was only the gamester's principle of back- 
 ing his luck: ecarte with such men as Tom 
 Thornhill and Carlingford was Sir George's pro- 
 mised land in possession. 
 
 Again the play was fast and furious. Tom 
 began to hold cards. He got back some of 
 his money from Carlingford, and would have 
 recovered some of the ill-gotten gains of the
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 235 
 
 baronet, who, however, was always ready to lay 
 or take the odds, and by some combination of 
 talent brought off the majority of his ventures. 
 The king seemed obsequious for so great a per- 
 son. Time wore on, and Cressingham was again 
 upon the sofa, having lost a trifle, and the peer 
 had already sent for soda water and the bill. Still 
 Tom played on, cursing his fortune and doubling 
 his stakes, till the sum became serious. Charlie 
 in the mean time had not been asleep. He was 
 not given to admiring himself, but in the feverish 
 silence of the two players and the drowsy 
 stupidity of the non -combatants had taken refuge 
 in the mirror, which surmounted the mantel- 
 piece, and which was at the back of Sir George 
 Barrington's chair. His attention was divided 
 between his own well-parted hair and a china 
 shepherdess of the reign of George II., which 
 formed one of the ornaments of the chimney- 
 piece, when he saw, what he had never seen in 
 polite society before, the hand of Sir George 
 Barrington secrete a card in the tail pocket of 
 his dress coat, out of which peeped the corner of 
 his cambric pocket-handkerchief. Charlie's first 
 impulse was to proclaim the fact ; but Charlie
 
 236 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 was a thinker as well as a man of action, and 
 determined upon waiting. Again lie turned his 
 attention to the game. Tom won : the stakes 
 had heen lowered. Again Tom won : and again 
 the stakes were raised. Sir George looked at his 
 watch. 
 
 " Come, Thornhill, we must finish ; one more 
 game." 
 
 What's to become of the card ? thought 
 Charlie. 
 
 The game proceeded. 
 " Cards ? " 
 " If you please." 
 " How many ? " 
 " Toute la boutique." 
 
 " The king," said Tom, who had taken to 
 smoking, and emitted a volume of vapour. 
 Charlie had also lighted a cigar, and stood on 
 the right hand of Sir George, a short distance 
 from the table, apparently wishing that Tom 
 and he were in the phaeton again. Still the 
 game proceeded slowly. 
 
 " The trick," said Barrington : " two to your 
 one." 
 
 Again Tom scored.
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 237 
 
 "Even," said the Punter, with an ill-sup- 
 pressed yawn. 
 
 Two deals followed in Tom's favour, and again 
 he laid two to one. The next hand was held by 
 Tom ; and the baronet held the king, and made 
 the trick. 
 
 " Even again, by Jove ! your odds look badly, 
 Tom," said the Punter, as he rose, and proceeded 
 to uncork a soda-water bottle. 
 
 The time must be come, thought Charlie, who 
 sucked at his cigar as if nothing extraordinary 
 was about to happen, but edged a little further 
 round towards Sir George's right. 
 
 " You've laid me two hundred to one on the 
 game, as a finish," said he to Thornhill, who was 
 no longer so collected as in the earlier part qf the 
 game, and chafed a little at the unexpected turn 
 of the game. " You've laid me tw r o hundred to one ; 
 Til lay it you off even now, if you like, Thornhill : 
 it's four all." The hands lay on the table. 
 
 " Done ! " said Tom. 
 
 The baronet suddenly stood in need of his 
 handkerchief before turning the trump. Holding 
 then the pack in his left hand, he put his right 
 hand behind his back, and drew out a perfectly
 
 238 CHARLIE THORNHILL ; OR, 
 
 scented and elaborately marked French cambric, 
 as innocent of deceit, to all appearance, as the 
 wooden horse of the Greeks. His hand had 
 barely reached his hip, however, when with one 
 stride and the quickness of lightning his wrist 
 was seized as in a vice by the right hand of 
 Charlie and the back of his collar by the left 
 hand of the same apathetic individual. A violent 
 struggle ensued of a second's duration, in which 
 the lamp fell to the ground, calling Lord Car- 
 lingford's attention from his bill, and shooting 
 the bottle of soda-water all over the Punter's 
 shirt-front. 
 
 " Charlie, you're mad ! " said Tom. 
 
 " What the devil's the matter ? " said Cres- 
 singham, coming to the rescue. 
 
 " Bring the light here, or bring us to the light : 
 here's foul play here. It's no use, Sir George/' 
 said Charlie. "I've not watched you to-night 
 for nothing," as Barrington struggled fiercely 
 in the grasp of one of the most powerful fellows 
 in town. " It's no use : 111 have the card that's 
 in your hand, if I tear you limb from limb." 
 
 " Speak, Barrington. What in the world is 
 it ? " at last said Lord Carlingford.
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 239 
 
 "I've no card in my hand; the man's drunk 
 or mad." 
 
 "No, he's dropped it: his foot's upon it. 
 Pick it up, Tom." 
 
 The Punter saved him the trouble. " By 
 G , sir, it's the king of clubs ! " 
 
 The announcement restored four of the party 
 to their equanimity, the fifth stood pale, trem- 
 bling, and discomposed. Lord Carlingford was 
 quite himself again as he said, with the politest 
 of bows, " Perhaps, Sir George, you had better 
 order your carriage; mine will be round in a 
 minute or two." Barrington was gone. 
 
 The termination to the night's amusement 
 was abrupt enough, though none too soon. The 
 waiter announced Lord Carlingford's carriage 
 and Mr. Thornhill's phaeton in a few minutes, 
 during which not one of the party referred to the 
 transaction, excepting by an epithet not com- 
 plimentary to the absent guest, backed by a 
 very strong expletive. They had already left the 
 room, when Charlie returned for a glove that 
 was left behind. The light was still in the room, 
 and as he entered, between the door and the 
 table at which the struggle had taken place he
 
 240 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 trod upon something hard and sharp. As he 
 moved his foot he stooped to ascertain the cause, 
 and found a die. 
 
 "Waiter," said Charlie to that functionary, 
 " does this belong to you ? " 
 
 "No, sir; Fve just put two pair by that the 
 gentlemen have been using this evening." 
 
 " Look again." 
 
 " Yes, sir, they're all right : they belong to the 
 board, sir." 
 
 "Very good. You're quite certain . I 
 
 thought I heard something drop." And he put 
 the die carefully into his waistcoat pocket. 
 " Good night." 
 
 " Good night, sir," said the waiter. In three- 
 quarters of an hour he was in Grosvenor Square .
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 24 1 
 
 CHAPTEE XVIII. 
 
 TWO BREAKFASTS. 
 
 " Falsely luxurious, will not man awake, 
 And springing from the Dec! of sloth, enjoy 
 The cool, the fragrant, and the silent hour. " 
 
 Thomson — Seasons. 
 
 On the morning following the little dinner at 
 Pdchmond, which had ended not so pleasantly as 
 it had begun, Charlie Thornhill was not up so 
 early as usual. He was an early riser on ordi- 
 nary occasions, and had that happy peculiarity 
 of allowing nothing to interfere with his usual 
 habits. On the present occasion he was a little 
 late. He had an idea that the less said about 
 the previous evening's occupation to Lady Mars- 
 ton or Sir Frederick the better. She was apt to 
 ask inconvenient questions, and Charlie was a 
 bad dissembler ; so he kept out of the way. 
 
 Having delayed his shaving, which was, how- 
 ever, tres peu cle chose, as long as he could, and 
 having taken extraordinary care in the selection 
 
 VOL. I. r
 
 242 CHARLIE THORNHILL; OR, 
 
 of the articles of apparel for the morning, a thing 
 he was generally careless ahout, he reached the 
 breakfast-room some time after Lady Marston had 
 left it, and Sir Frederick was gone to his club. His 
 appetite was remarkably good, as sound, indeed, 
 as his sleep had been, a thing which only lasts to 
 about the age of thirty, and he rang with intense 
 satisfaction for more eggs, and another roll or 
 two: and — " Jobson, just bring in the ham if 
 there is any left ; the one we had at dinner the 
 day before yesterday." Charlie was a first-rate 
 judge of ham. 
 
 " Certainly, sir," said Jobson, as he placed a 
 fresh-boiled egg in front of the late comer, and 
 laid the " Times " on an approximate chair. At 
 the same time he poured out a cup of tea, and 
 presented it. Jobson was an excellent servant, 
 and as careful of his master's friends as of his 
 master himself. 
 
 Charlie had just broken the crown of his 
 second egg, and was wishing the cutlets were 
 made hot again, when a cabriolet stopped with a 
 jerk at the door, and a loud and prolonged knock 
 proclaimed a fashionable arrival thus early in 
 the day. The breakfast-room door was not quite
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 243 
 
 closed, and an impatient, imperious voice was 
 heard outside, " Is Mr. Thornhill at home ? " 
 
 " This is Sir Frederick Marston's, sir," said 
 the footman ; " Mr. Charles Thornhill is staying 
 here : he is at breakfast at present." 
 
 " Take that card to him and say I will wait." 
 
 " Will you walk into the library, sir ? " said 
 the servant, as he preceded the owner of the 
 quiet but well-appointed equipage which had 
 turned the corner when he knocked at the 
 door. 
 
 " A gentleman wishing to see you, sir," said 
 the servant, presenting the card on a waiter. 
 
 " Captain Charteris, 8th Hussars," read Char- 
 lie. "Ask if he is sure it is not my brother 
 whom he wishes to see ? " Charlie had heard of 
 Captain Charteris, but had no more idea of the 
 purport of his visit to him, than if he had been 
 announced as the Emperor of China. 
 
 " Captain Charteris believes he has made no 
 mistake, sir, and if you will allow him to wait 
 until you can see him, a few words of explanation 
 is all he wishes." 
 
 " Is that Captain Charteris's message ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 R 2
 
 244 CHARLIE thornhtll; or, 
 
 " Then 'ask him to walk in here, if he will 
 excuse ceremony." 
 
 Captain Charteris did walk in, without cere- 
 mony. He was a good-looking hut dissipated 
 man, some years Charlie's senior, dressed to 
 perfection, and hearing evident marks of good 
 hirth and the hahits of good societ}^. Charlie 
 apologized for the lateness of his breakfast, a 
 very unnecessary piece of politeness, as it was far 
 in advance of the Captain's usual hour for that 
 meal, and he yawned accordingly. He had been 
 obliged to call thus early in consequence of the 
 peculiar nature of his business. Charlie was 
 more in the dark than ever. 
 
 " Excuse me, Captain Charteris ; are you sure 
 that it is not intended for my brother ? if so, he 
 is in Grosvenor Place, I believe." Charlie was 
 not anxious to hear what might be intended for 
 Tom's private edification. 
 
 " I think I am under no mistake. May I ask 
 if you were not at a dinner yesterday at Kich- 
 mond? Sir George Barrington was one of the 
 party." A light dawned upon Thornhill ; yet he 
 never could be such a fool, thought he, as to 
 send the man here.
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 245 
 
 " I was there, with ray brother, Lord Carling- 
 ford, and some other gentlemen. Sir George 
 Barrington was one of the party." 
 
 " Then, Mr. Thornhill, if I say that I come 
 from him, you can be under no misapprehension 
 as to the nature of my visit." 
 
 " Indeed, Captain Charteris, I am sorry to ask 
 you to explain yourself, for I can hardly believe 
 that Sir George can have asked you to call upon 
 me for an apology or an explanation." 
 
 " I thank you very much for saving me an 
 unpleasant task ; it is the very purport of my 
 visit this morning; but I am charged with no 
 request for an apology, but for the name of 
 a friend who may arrange a more satisfactory 
 meeting at once. Personal violence admits of no 
 explanation/' 
 
 "You are Sir George Barrington's friend ? " 
 
 " I am" 
 
 " You know him well ? " 
 
 " I think I do." 
 
 " Excuse my saying, Captain Charteris, that 
 you do not, or you would not be here this 
 morning. I don't know much about these mat- 
 ters, though I suppose one always fights with
 
 246 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 gentlemen. I certainly don't intend to fight Sir 
 George Barrington." 
 
 "Stay, Mr. Thornhill, I think I said Sir 
 George was a personal friend of mine. I can 
 allow no such insinuations against " 
 
 " I insinuate nothing ; I state a hare fact : and 
 though I give no explanation to Sir George, I 
 admit one is due to you ; " and here Charlie 
 helped himself to an additional lump of sugar, 
 and rang the hell. 
 
 Captain Charteris's hrow grew dark, and he 
 pushed up the fingers of his right-hand glove, as 
 if he itched for a hair-trigger: he awaited in 
 silence further communication. In the mean 
 time the hutler answered the hell. 
 
 " Send up to my dressing-room for a small 
 paper parcel that the groom Drought back from 
 Bond Street an hour ago. I detected Sir George 
 Barrington in a gross act of cheating at cards 
 last night, when playing with my brother — a 
 card secreted in his pocket, and proving to be a 
 ' king' at a rather interesting point of the game." 
 
 " That," said Captain Charteris, rising from 
 his seat, " has been already satisfactorily ex- 
 plained to me."
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 247 
 
 " I regret to say that it has to be satisfactorily 
 explained to others, as well, before any gentleman 
 can consent to meet hira." At this moment a 
 servant entered with the small packet, and gave 
 it to Thornhill. " Do me the favour to unfold 
 that paper, I have already seen its contents." 
 The Captain deliberately undid the packet, and 
 somewhat to his surprise discovered, under many 
 folds, a loaded die broken in two, in a most 
 artistic manner. " In the scuffle that took place 
 that die dropped from Sir George's pocket. I 
 was so unfortunate as to find it," — here a loud 
 knock announced another visitor — "I sent it 
 this morning to be broken by Lady. Marston's 
 jeweller." 
 
 " Lord Carlingford," said the servant, throwing 
 open the door, and that gentleman stepped lan- 
 guidly into the room. " Ah, Charteris ! I heard 
 you were here, or coming here, and I have fol- 
 lowed you. Thornhill can't fight him ; the 
 thing 's impossible." Here the peer threw him- 
 self into an arm-chair, and smiled grimly. "I 
 suppose you know all about it ? " 
 
 " I know it all now," said the Captain, " and 
 have to apologise nryself ; curse his impudence :
 
 248 CHARLIE THORNHILL ; OR, 
 
 to make nie a catspaw in such an affair as this : 
 a cursed " 
 
 " Swindler, you would say. You're right : now 
 drive me back to St. James's Street, that's a good 
 fellow, and " 
 
 " Wait a minute, Lord Carlingford, you don't 
 know all" — and here Charlie supplied the re- 
 quisite information about the dice. " Now, 
 Captain Charteris, I must ask a favour of you. 
 Keep this to yourself : if Sir George Barrington 
 is out of England in four-and-twenty hours, I, for 
 one, will say nothing of this part of the business, 
 and I think I can ask the same of Lord Carling- 
 ford, and the men who were with us last night. 
 But if I ever hear of his playing with any man in 
 this country again, it shall follow him into every 
 club-house in London. There's no necessity for 
 further scandal : we are all well out of it. Some 
 of us lost our ready money: he won't be bold 
 enough to present his paper when he knows the 
 termination of this interview." Here Charlie 
 finished his cup of tea ; it was the longest con- 
 secutive speech he had ever made. He was a 
 man of action rather than of words. 
 
 As when a peacock, rejoicing in the sunshine,
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMELY. 2-19 
 
 spreads his tail to the beams, and struts im- 
 periously before the spectator, so had Captain 
 Charteris disported himself in behalf of his 
 friend ; but as when some dark and unsuspected 
 cloud dims the lustre of his pride, the same bird 
 drops his feathers, and drags them on the ground, 
 so did the gallant Captain retire from the scene 
 of his discomfiture ; not, however, without a 
 friendly greeting to our hero did he leave the 
 room, followed by Lord Carlingford; whilst 
 Charlie rang the bell, and intimated his wants 
 in the monosyllabic words " the door." 
 
 In the course of the day Sir George Barrington 
 received an intimation in such plain terms that 
 he would neither be paid nor shot at, that he 
 took the advice of his friends and left England 
 never to return. In the course of a few days it 
 was all over the west end of London, as the 
 " greatest secret possible/' " not to be mentioned 
 on any account," with every malversation, exag- 
 geration, and addition that many-tongued Kumour 
 delights in, and without which the world would 
 be very stale, flat, and unprofitable in the eyes of 
 its devotees. 
 
 Some little time after this, when the season
 
 250 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 was on the wane, and people were beginning to 
 make those pleasant little arrangements for the 
 autumn which is to be regarded as a rest from 
 the fatigues of a London summer, Mr. Dacre 
 stood looking on to the dusty leaves and parched 
 flowers of Bryanstone Square, where he had 
 taken a good-sized but moderately expensive 
 house for three months. He was waiting some- 
 what impatiently for his breakfast, as might be 
 seen by the manner in which he measured the 
 difference between his watch and the plain unor- 
 namented clock that clicked on the mantelpiece. 
 In a few minutes, however, Mrs. Dacre made her 
 appearance, and rang the bell for the breakfast. 
 At the same time as the urn came Edith, and 
 the three sat down, though two vacant napkins 
 remained unoccupied. 
 
 " Now, my dear, let me have some tea as soon 
 as possible, for I am going to be busy this 
 morning; I have to see that bay horse, which 
 Edward wants for the winter, if he's not too 
 much money." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, we are so much later here 
 than at Gilsland; and now that the girls are 
 going out it makes a difference to us all ; but I
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 251 
 
 thought you were going to see Lord Tiver- 
 ton ? " 
 
 " So I am, after the committee at the House, 
 about the attacheship." 
 
 " Lady Tiverton was very gracious last night, 
 and I think if she can do anything for Edward 
 she will." 
 
 " She can do nothing in this matter. She 
 manages everybody and everything excepting the 
 foreign policy of the country; and is a most 
 excellent and insincere person, as you know, 
 Isabel, as well as I ; but where's Alice ? " 
 
 <l Up stairs, papa, dear; she'll be down directly: 
 she's a little tired with her ball," said Edith 
 smiling with that happy glow which is the inde- 
 scribable result of good health, good humour, and 
 the most becoming morning toilette possible. 
 " Here she comes, and Teddy too." 
 
 Our old friend Teddy Dacre had become a 
 great swell : he had lately passed an examination, 
 in which it was ascertained that he could spell 
 the words " despatch, " "Mediterranean/' and 
 a very useful sentence, in which a "pedlar," and 
 a " meddler/' played a conspicuous part with 
 a " medlar : " and " ecstasy," and " extacy,"
 
 252 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 were placed before liiui to test the effects of 
 fifteen years of Latin and Greek derivations, 
 sappliics, alcaics, elegiacs, and Greek iambics. 
 Having passed this ordeal satisfactorily, with 
 the one exception of spelling " achievement " 
 " hatchment," he held up his head amongst 
 the butterflies, late grubs, who lounged at Lim- 
 mer's, the Clarendon, and Long's; who played 
 at Pratt's, and betted at Tattersall's ; who 
 rode on high-stepping hacks in the Park, and 
 on neat ponies at Newmarket ; who threw away 
 time and money at Poole's, Carlin's, Ander- 
 son's, and Howell and James's ; who passed 
 their days in smoking and idleness, and their 
 nights in the doorways of dowagers, and in 
 the smiles of beauty; or in the effervescence 
 of champagne suppers, and a wit as sparkling 
 as it was delusive. Every one wondered how 
 Teddy Dacre managed it — how the earthen 
 pot swam among the brazen vessels. Gilsland 
 was nursing, for Dacre was an only son; and 
 though not large, certain ; and Lady Elizabeth 
 Montagu Mastodon was his godmamma. What 
 a comfort is such a christening to truly pious 
 parents ! And now the fling was nearly over.
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 253 
 
 Lord Tiverton was about to make an attache 
 to Berne, in Switzerland. 
 
 Alice walked steadily, almost gravely to her 
 father, and kissed his forehead ; and then to 
 her mother, to whom she paid the same com- 
 pliment on the cheek, saying at the same time : 
 "I beg your pardon for being late. I see 
 breakfast is half over, but I was tired with the 
 ball." 
 
 " How you can ever be tired, Alice, dear," 
 said her sister, " I can't think. You have all 
 the best partners, wherever you go, all night 
 long." 
 
 "Perhaps that's the reason, Edith," said Mr. 
 Dacre. 
 
 " I'm sure I could dance for ever if I could 
 get such men as Alice has.'' 
 
 " Who do you mean, dear ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I don't know, if you don't," said the 
 charming girl, and eyes, and mouth, and light- 
 brown hair, and every limb laughed, to the 
 tips of her rosy fingers. 
 
 "Who did you dance with, come, tell us, 
 Alice ? " said mamma, who, perhaps, had some 
 better reason for asking, than mere curiosity.
 
 254= CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 Alice put up her head, and smiled only with 
 her eyes. She blushed very slightly. 'Well, 
 then, mamma, I danced with Lord Clare- 
 mont." 
 
 "That was kind of him, particularly with 
 so many old women who wanted partners/' 
 Mrs. Dacre had no mercy on mediaeval Terpsi- 
 choreans. 
 
 " Lord Claremont likes me ; and he knows 
 I prefer middle-aged men." 
 
 " We know you always say so, Alice," said 
 her sister. " Tell us some of the young ones ; 
 surely they were not all on the shady side of 
 forty?" 
 
 " Mr. Sullivan, Captain Charteris, Lord Car- 
 lingford." 
 
 " Carlingford ! " said Teddy, " what did he talk 
 about ? I like Carlingford." 
 
 " So do I ; but his conversation was not in- 
 teresting enough to carry much away; it was 
 very like your own : then there was Charlie 
 Thornhill." 
 
 " He's a misogynist," said Teddy Dacre. 
 
 " My goodness, Teddy ! '■' said Edith, " what a 
 dreadful name : oh, I know what you mean ; one
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 255 
 
 of those horrid animals before the Flood, that 
 Professor Owen talks about." 
 
 " There were not so many before the Flood as 
 since ; a misogynist, Edith, is a woman-hater," 
 said Mr. Dacre. 
 
 " Then Fin sure Charlie Thornhill is not 
 that," said Alice, with the slightest possible 
 look at her sister, who didn't bear the scrutiny 
 well. 
 
 " Go on with the list, Alice." 
 
 " You keep on interrupting one so : then came 
 George Verulam, who waltzes beautifully ; the 
 man they call the Punter, I don't know his 
 name : Baron Nathan Goldstick, Barclay Smythe, 
 and three or four more : I really can't go through 
 the whole of them." 
 
 "Wasn't Mr. Thornhill one? I saw him 
 dancing with you, Alice." 
 
 "Yes, he was;" and after a moment's hesi- 
 tation, she added, "I like Mr. Thornhill, he's 
 so cheerful, and so very natural." 
 
 " Is that uncommon, Alice ? " 
 
 " Extremely so, sir," said she, turning her 
 handsome eyes on her father : " the men give us 
 but little credit for brains, or are sadly deficient
 
 256 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 themselves : now you know why I like middle- 
 aged men, papa. Do you know Mr. Thorn - 
 hill ? " 
 
 " Yes he's coming this winter for a week to 
 Gilsland from Melton, or wherever his horses 
 are. He wishes to see our side of the country. 
 Where are you going, Edward, to-day ? " 
 
 " To Greenwich, sir, to dinner. The teams 
 are going out, and I am going with Wilson 
 Graves." 
 
 " What a pity ! It's Chiswick fete, and Alice 
 and I are going with Lady Elizabeth," said 
 Edith, " there will be nobody there." What an 
 elastic sort of word is " nobody ; " it com- 
 prehends upon occasion four-fifths of the people 
 in England. 
 
 " I don't think Wilson Graves is a very good 
 companion for you, Edward. I'm told he plays, 
 and very high. I could forgive almost anything 
 but gambling." 
 
 " I don't see how I can get off now," said 
 Teddy, who was unable to defend his friend ; 
 " I promised to go down. If you do not wish 
 it, I'll not do so again, but there will be no 
 play to-night — certainly not at Greenwich."
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 257 
 
 ei He was said, some years back, to have been 
 the cause of poor Ludlow's death." 
 
 " I never heard the report or the story." 
 "Perhaps not. Fred Ludlow lost a large 
 fortune gambling. He had determined upon 
 leaving England. His passage was taken for 
 one of the colonies. The remains of his once 
 good property was in his banker's hands ; 
 ^£5000 ready for a start in mercantile life. 
 Wilson Graves met him two days before sailing ; 
 rallied him on his determined reformation ; ate 
 with him, drank with him, took him to Crock- 
 ford's ; at five o'clock on a summer's morning 
 he walked down the steps of that pandemonium, 
 having given his last cheque to the croupier, 
 with one sovereign in his pocket. A beggar is 
 said to have held out his hat to him (Wilson 
 Graves tells the story), * Here's a sovereign, 
 my man ; I hope it may be of use to you, it's 
 none to me." He was found one hour after- 
 wards by his servant in his arm-chair, having 
 destroyed himself with prussic acid. Few men 
 could have known that, and have played after it. 
 I would rather follow you to your grave, my 
 boy, than out of a gambling-house." It was
 
 258 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 a fancy of Mr. D acre's. He had odd notions 
 of right and wrong for a man of fashion. 
 
 Alice listened to her father, on whom she 
 doted. There was an unnatural brightness again 
 in her eyes, but her cheek looked a little sadder 
 and lost its colour. Was she thinking of 
 Teddy's future ? It is possible. 
 
 Mr. Dacre looked at the bay horse for his 
 son, and did not think him short enough in the 
 leg for a heavy country ; he was also a little 
 hot. He had a satisfactory interview with Lord 
 Tiverton, who had not forgotten his promise. 
 He feared Berne was not so pleasant as St. 
 Petersburgh, but it was not so cold, and not so 
 expensive. He had heard a charming account 
 of the Misses Dacre from Lady Tiverton, who 
 was enchanted with them, and would leave cards 
 for them on the first opportunity. Mr. Dacre 
 had forgotten the gambling and was a happy 
 man.
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 259 
 
 CHAPTEE XIX. 
 
 AN EARLY STAGE OF THE UNIVERSAL MALADY. 
 
 "But you are no such man : you are rather point-device in 
 your accoutrements ; as loving yourself, than securing the love 
 of any other.'' — As You Like It, Act III., sc. 2. 
 
 Lady Elizabeth arrived in Bryanston 
 Square about 4'30 p.m. to take the girls to 
 Chiswick. We have before said she was good, 
 kind, clever, and vulgar. She never willingly 
 hurt feelings, but she was not quick of per- 
 ception; and sometimes blundered upon a soft 
 corn. She generally took her foot away, if the 
 patient halloed loud enough, and in doing so 
 gave it a second rub. 
 
 " Lor bless me, Edith, what a mountain of 
 muslin you look like ! Do you know that my 
 husband is in the carriage ? You'll never get 
 into it in that state." 
 
 " Don't be alarmed, my dear Lady Elizabeth ; 
 I'm naturally small you know ; so that I should 
 
 s 2
 
 260 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 really be lost among you all, if I hadn't some- 
 thing on." 
 
 "Something, my dear; of course have some- 
 thing. Look at me now : to be sure I'm stout 
 enough ; but your head is preposterously small 
 for your body. Where's Alice ? " 
 
 " Here," said that young lady as she opened 
 the door. 
 
 " Now don't you think Edith's petticoats too 
 large, dear : unbecomingly so ? " said the old 
 lady in a rather imperious tone of voice. 
 
 " No, I don't, Lady Elizabeth ; I think she's 
 charming, positively charming. You see if Mr. 
 Mastodon doesn't think so too ; I see he's in 
 the carriage." 
 
 And she certainly did look lovely. So bright, 
 so cheerful, so full of life and happiness. So 
 the Lady Elizabeth got rolled into the carriage 
 by her stout footman, and Alice and Edith 
 followed, and off they went to Chiswick. 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha ! " roared the old lady, when her 
 husband emerged from the mass of muslin and 
 lace which threatened to overwhelm him, "ha, 
 ha, ha ! they always do take one another's side ; 
 it's no use talking to them. I never expect
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. £61 
 
 girls to see their own faults, but you never 
 see one-another's. Any news from the House, 
 Montague ? " 
 
 " None whatever ; the writ's out for Sitting- 
 dean ; we want a good practical man or two on 
 our side if we could get them ; the young ones 
 are all too full of Greek and Latin, and models 
 of antiquity. What interest is there at Sitting- 
 dean ? " 
 
 " Sir Frederick Marston owns a great part 
 of the property round there ; and I think Thorn - 
 hill has something to do with it. I should be 
 glad to see him in Parliament ; it would give 
 him something to do and to think about. He's 
 a fine fellow, I hear, being spoilt by the world." 
 
 " He's a desperate gambler, though a man of 
 considerable talent, and the most popular man 
 in his county. Poor Mrs. Thornhill is seldom 
 in town, and a bachelor's house is not the safest 
 place for a man of his temperament. Do you 
 know him ? " said the ironmaster to Edith and 
 Alice Dacre. 
 
 " We often meet him : his brother saved 
 Edward's life at school : n and Edith told the 
 story : Alice was not very talkative.
 
 262 chaelie thohnhill; or, 
 
 On nearing Turnliam Green the carriages came 
 thickly, and they were soon in a line of well- 
 dressed people, like themselves. They already 
 recognised some acquaintances. " There go the 
 Capels ; those are the new horses." 
 
 " Where's your brother, Alice ? " said Lady 
 Elizabeth. 
 
 " The drags are gone to Greenwich, and 
 Edward is on one of them." 
 
 "I'm sorry for it. I hoped we should have 
 seen him. Surely you're mistaken, Alice; the 
 drags are not gone. Here is one of them, and 
 Mr. Thornhill driving," said Lady Elizabeth, 
 as one of the best coaches of the day passed 
 slowly by the side of the carriage, pulling up 
 for a stoppage, however, immediately beyond. 
 
 "Talk of the devil," said Mr. Mastodon. "I 
 wish he would start for Sittingdean, or we shall 
 have some Radical or Chartist going down to 
 talk nonsense to those unhappy electors about 
 the rights of the people and universal suffrage. 
 He is a gentleman, and one of the best fellows 
 in England, if report speaks truly." 
 
 Alice began to think the old ironmaster 
 wonderfully agreeable; more so than usual.
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 263 
 
 She hardly knew why. Edith was not quite 
 sure whether his eulogy was intended for the 
 enemy of mankind, whom he had so lately 
 apostrophised, as he had mentioned no name 
 since. In clouds of dust, amidst the prancing 
 and neighings of gaily caparisoned steeds, and 
 in a whole volume of crinoline, kid gloves, 
 parasols, bowings, scrapings, flirtations, heart- 
 lessness, and suffocation, Lady Elizabeth, her 
 husband, and Edith and Alice Dacre, alighted 
 from the carriage, and were passed into those 
 gardens which, as a fashionable resort, three 
 times a season, are amongst the things that have 
 been. Did any one ever see the flowers or 
 the fruit at a Chiswick fete ? Certainly not. 
 That is, nobody who is anybody. Now I like 
 women, girls especially, who love flowers; and 
 although prize camellias and highly-commended 
 ericas were not altogether the vanity of Lady 
 Elizabeth, she had quite good-nature enough 
 to ask whether they would like to go to the tent. 
 " Oh, by all means, let us see the flowers 
 first," said Edith Dacre, "we can look at the 
 people afterwards." So they turned towards the 
 tent. Seeing the flowers, however, was not by
 
 264 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 any means an easy matter; for as every other 
 person in the grounds had come to be seen or 
 to see somebody else, the stoppages were con- 
 tinual, and the stream set the other way. 
 
 " Here comes Smith Euthven," said Lady 
 Elizabeth, as a good-natured looking man with 
 grey eyes, light hair, and a very degage -looking 
 pair of whiskers came towards them, raising his 
 hat as he did so, and getting comfortably wedged 
 in between the Speaker of the House of Com- 
 mons on one side and Bullock the banker's 
 wife on the other. "Can I be of any assist- 
 ance to you ? " said he good-humouredly ; " you 
 look as if you wanted to get to the flowers." 
 
 " These young ladies do, Mr. Ruthven ; so if 
 you and my husband will go with them, I'll stop 
 
 and talk to oh ! here's Mrs. Thornhill ; why, 
 
 it's an age since we've seen you." 
 
 " I have been so little in town this season," 
 said the mother of Tom Thornhill, who was a 
 fair, pretty woman, exceedingly well preserved, 
 with the most charming manner, and dressed 
 a merveille. " My son, Lady Elizabeth Montagu 
 Mastodon," and Tom was presented in due form. 
 
 " I knew your father, sir," said the old lady,
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 265 
 
 11 and I remember dining with your brother, who 
 charmed me by his literary knowledge upon that 
 occasion. I hope he's well.''' 
 
 " Thank you ; I believe he is ; he's gone to 
 Greenwich to dinner. I wanted him to come 
 here with my mother, but he w T as engaged." 
 
 "More pleasantly," said Mrs. Thomhill; "I 
 and my friend Miss Stanhope were not suffi- 
 ciently attractive to Charlie." 
 
 " You do him injustice, my dear mother," said 
 Tom ; " he's gone to take care of an old school- 
 fellow who, he thinks, stands in need of his 
 help : a friend of yours, Lady Elizabeth, Edward 
 Dacre." 
 
 "Fm glad to hear it, for if ever I saw a 
 Telemachus who stood in need of a Mentor, it 
 is that young gentleman," said her ladyship, 
 fanning herself vigorously, 
 
 " Who is this lovely girl coming this way with 
 Smith Paithven/' said Mrs. Thomhill, putting 
 up a glass and appealing to Lady Elizabeth 
 again. 
 
 11 That, my dear madam, is Miss Edith Dacre, 
 and that's her sister behind with my husband; 
 they seem to have had a roughish passage
 
 266 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 through the crowd. Have you any one stand- 
 ing for Sittingdean, Mr. Thornhill ? " 
 
 " I've not heard of any one ; of course there 
 are always reports. Have you any one you want 
 to recommend, Lady Elizabeth ? " 
 
 " Nobody fitter than yourself, unless it's your 
 brother, Mr. Thornhill ; he looks practical, as 
 if he thought more than he talked. He has 
 had more education than instruction, I imagine, 
 from what I know of him. But here's Smith 
 Ruthven ; he's looking for a seat/' 
 
 " Then he'll look a long time in this crowd," 
 said Mr. Mastodon, coming in for the fag 
 end of the conversation. " I hope you have en- 
 joyed the flowers, Miss Dacre." Smith Ruthven 
 bowed and retreated. v 
 
 " What I saw of them. It's not the way to 
 enjoy them ; and I cannot quite understand the 
 pleasure attaching to their production. Who's 
 that, Mr. Thornhill ? There, the unhappy, tearful 
 face looking this way." 
 
 "That's Mrs. Smith Ruthven, the author's 
 wife, the man who has just left you. Charming 
 writer he is too ; so fresh and vigorous." 
 
 " And he always leaves an impression of
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 267 
 
 goodness; he writes so feelingly, so honestly, 
 so beautifully, so gracefully of women," added 
 Alice. 
 
 " Does he ? " said Tom Thornhill. " I hardly 
 
 " and here he broke down, when Lady 
 
 Elizabeth came to the rescue. 
 
 " Then it's a pity he doesn't stay at home and 
 practise a little of those virtues. He treats his 
 wife shamefully." 
 
 " We don't know how his wife treats him, my 
 dear," said Mr. Mastodon ; " there are generally 
 faults on both sides." 
 
 " She hasn't character enough to have any 
 faults, excepting those that he has made for 
 her. She was childish and affectionate, she has 
 become sullen or indifferent. Like a child, she 
 could have lived through anything but neglect." 
 So spake the Lady Elizabeth. How right she 
 was ! Anything but neglect. Women are made 
 to be our companions, our helpmates ; and we 
 pay a greater respect to their feelings when we 
 contradict them, and quarrel with them, than 
 when we turn our backs upon their show of 
 resentment, and exhibit our superiority by care- 
 lessness and neglect. It was quite true ; Smith
 
 268 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 Ruthven was a successful writer ; his graceful 
 morality was in everybody's mouth ; he was the 
 spoilt pet of a certain society, where sentimen- 
 tality stood for reputation; at home, he was 
 selfish, and indifferent; never seen in public 
 with his wife ; and his infidelities were the theme 
 of universal admiration or excuse. 
 
 The gardens were beginning to thin, and gen- 
 tlemen were busy in looking for carriages. Tom 
 Thornhill went in search of Lady Elizabeth's. 
 That gentleman's acquaintance was very exten- 
 sive ; for, having a taste for almost everything, 
 he was courted by all whose interest or pleasure 
 could be served by knowing him. His progress 
 to the garden gate was frequently interrupted. 
 Lady Hatherleigh must have him at her private 
 theatricals, and was most anxious to put him 
 forcibly down into the vacant seat at once by the 
 side of Emma Hatherleigh, a very pretty girl 
 without a shilling. He had to explain that his 
 mother and Miss Stanhope were under his care 
 in the drag. Captain Blackcock and Fitzroy 
 Livingstone wanted him to fix a day for shooting 
 the pigeon match with Akroyd of the Royals. 
 Sir David Bruce wished for his opinion of' a
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 269 
 
 new Clumber, and little Mrs. Janet Mucklestane 
 caught him just as he imagined himself free of 
 the lot, and insisted upon a promise that he 
 would go down to-morrow morning to look at a 
 charger for her nephew, who wanted, like eveiw- 
 body else, a fourpenny loaf for twopence. At 
 length he found Lady Elizabeth's servants, and 
 then he went in search of his own, who had got 
 the drag into a good place for starting. Having 
 seen the Mastodon party into their carriage, and 
 got seats for his mother and Miss Stanhope, a 
 very excellent but eccentric maiden cousin, who 
 lived as a companion with Mrs. Thornhill, he 
 then had to catch the men who were going back 
 with him ; and having accomplished this feat with 
 some delay and difficulty, he at length got on to 
 the box, and went on his way back to London. 
 
 Alice and Edith Dacre were delighted with 
 their day's amusement. They were still young 
 enough, and fresh enough, to feel real pleasure at 
 so simple an enjoyment ; so they both recounted 
 at dinner the impressions that had been made 
 upon them by their new acquaintances, and de- 
 clared Lady Elizabeth to be the most charming 
 person alive.
 
 270 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 From that day the intimacy between the 
 Thornhills and the Dacres appeared to increase. 
 There was something so genial and so unaffected 
 in Tom Thornhill's manner, so accomplished and 
 so thoroughly gentlemanlike in all he did and 
 said, that he became an equal favourite with Mr. 
 and Mrs. Dacre. Charlie was less confident, less 
 assured in manner than his brother, especially 
 with ladies. He was not so fond of them, and 
 they resented his neglect by calling him a bear. 
 A few knew him better, and encouraged him; 
 and the more they knew him the more they liked 
 him and trusted him. He did nearly the same 
 things as his brother; but he arrived at those 
 results by a different process — Tom from im- 
 pulse ; Charlie with a certain consistency, as 
 from principle. Their affection for each other 
 never varied ; and their intimacy with the Dacres 
 was an additional bond of union. 
 
 As Tom Thornhill is not the hero of this 
 story, it will not do to give him too prominent a 
 part; he must at least share his pre-eminence 
 with Charlie. As far as he is concerned at pre- 
 sent we have before us one of the most extrava- 
 gant young ones that had been out for some
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 271 
 
 time. He not only lighted the candle at both 
 ends, but cut it in two in the middle to get more 
 light out of it still. He had a good fortune, 
 notwithstanding poor Geoffrey Thornhill's extra- 
 vagance ; for a long minority had helped to 
 remedy some evils. A few thousands a 3 T ear are 
 something when a man is satisfied with indulging 
 in hunting at Melton, or buying pictures, or 
 keeping race -horses, or killing two thousand 
 pheasants a season ; but they are nothing when 
 he wants to do each of these things, and adds to 
 it a drag, a London season, and an attachment 
 to gambling in every shape or kind whatever. 
 The last item is a sufficiency. Thornhill was 
 not a gamester, but a gambler. Success excited 
 him, loss perfectly maddened him ; and they 
 who knew him best prognosticated a short life, 
 and anything but a rneny one. United with 
 these faults was a chivalrous generosity, a warm 
 and affectionate heart, great readiness, and some 
 elegant learning, and a simplicity of manner and 
 natural good humour which enchanted everyone. 
 His mother doated upon the very ground he 
 walked on. His county held even the name in 
 veneration ; for two generations of Thornhills
 
 272 CHARLIE THORNHILL J OR, 
 
 had established its merits as country gentlemen, 
 the staunchest preservers of foxes in England: 
 and his brother, who was freer from weaknesses 
 than most people, regarded his very vices with a 
 more tolerant eye than he regarded most people's 
 virtues. Unfortunately, he had a difficulty in 
 saying "no" to himself, a still greater one in 
 saying it to others, which made him err from 
 good-nature against his better judgment. He 
 was very handsome and tall in person, and had 
 the appearance of a finished gentleman, without 
 coxcombry. Is it wonderful that a few weeks of 
 more than ordinary attention, on his part, made 
 a deep impression on Alice, which subsequent 
 events only served to confirm ? 
 
 The season was drawing towards its close. 
 The ministers were, of necessity, still in town. 
 But the West End began to look thinner, and 
 Goodwood was approaching. The shrubs and 
 trees in the squares and parks looked drier and 
 dustier than ever. Lancaster and Purday had 
 their hands full. Already a keeper or two had 
 been met, hurrying along Pall Mall towards 
 the railway terminus, leading sundry setters, 
 pointers, and retrievers. The whitebait had
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 273 
 
 grown larger, perceptibly, and nothing remained 
 but a dejeuner or two at Twickenham or else- 
 where, to which every one was invited, always 
 the herald of departing joys. But one question 
 was ever put to the afternoon lounger, " Where 
 are you going ? " and the answer, instead of 
 being to Mrs. Furbelow's, or the Marchioness 
 of Micklegelt, was invariably, " To Homburg," 
 or "Scotland," " the Tyrol," or "the Italian 
 Lakes;" morning calls, excepting as a P.P.C., 
 were at an end; and whole strings of horses 
 were leaving the jobmasters' yards daily. Every- 
 thing looked like going : the difficulty was to 
 say where. The eligibles had a difficulty in 
 choosing; the detrimentals were not so much 
 puzzled. St. George's, Hanover Square, was 
 open for a particular service daily ; not unfre- 
 quently by special licence, at 4 p.m. ; and two or 
 three bishops were seriously affected by the 
 severe demands upon their time. The band was 
 nearly over in Kensington Gardens ; and the 
 metropolitan Elysium of nursery-maids and 
 Life Guardsmen was almost again at their 
 service. The theatres and the opera had 
 long commenced benefit nights, and the last
 
 274 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 turn-out of the teams had already been 
 fixed. 
 
 Wilson Graves was an unmitigated scamp, but 
 a better whip than the generality of his com- 
 peers. He neither started his coach by his 
 leaders, nor screwed them when he had set 
 them going. He had never been known to carry 
 away his bars by a little accident against the 
 gate-post at Goodwood, nor to commit any of 
 those solecisms which too frequently occur in 
 modern days. It is not wonderful, then, that 
 one night late in July he should have returned 
 Charlie safe to Grosvenor Place, after the last of 
 a series of dinners, varying from the Trafalgar, 
 round the suburbs of London, to the Black Dog 
 at Bedfont. " Good night, Charlie," said half a 
 dozen voices, as he jumped down, " see you 
 to-morrow ? " " Probably," said he ; " good 
 night ; that near-side leader would make a 
 hunter." He stood at the door, watching the 
 retreating team, as it went up towards the cor- 
 ner, and smoking the last inch of a very good 
 cigar, which he eventually threw into the gutter. 
 He then knocked at the door of a small but 
 very pretty house, whose balcony, adorned with
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 275 
 
 flowers, brought the sweets of the country into 
 London, and spoke of woman's care. 
 
 " Is rny mother gone up stairs yet, Gregson ? " 
 said Charlie to the servant. 
 
 " No, sir ; Mrs. Thornhill is not come home 
 yet. She is gone to the Opera." 
 
 "Alone?" 
 
 " No, sir ; Miss Stanhope went with her. She 
 will be home soon, sir ; Mrs. Thornhill is always 
 early on Saturday night. It's only half-past ten 
 yet, sir." 
 
 " Then bring me a light ; I'll stroll up and 
 down here till the carriage comes." 
 
 Charlie lit his cigar, and commenced his walk. 
 But a man cannot walk, and smoke up and down 
 a space of a couple of hundred yards without 
 thinking: so he began to think. His medi- 
 tations were not satisfactory. He asked himself, 
 who he was ? Mr. Thornhill's brother. What 
 he was ? An idler, in a false position. "What 
 had he ? Great expectations, which might be 
 disappointed ; and many liabilities, which honest 
 men discharge. What could he do ? Literally 
 nothing ; yes — stop : ride well over a country, 
 shoot partridges and rabbits to perfection, pkea- 
 
 t 2
 
 276 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 sants in cover not so well; drive — certainly; 
 play cricket and tennis, billiards moderately; 
 and — well, it must be admitted, fight a little 
 better than common. What did he know ? One 
 language — his own, very imperfectly, but enough 
 to make himself understood; very little Latin, 
 very little French, less Greek; multiplication, 
 but was doubtful about long division and vul- 
 gar fractions; the situation of a few places in 
 England, and the capitals of France, Austria, 
 Turkey, and Eussia; the habits of some birds 
 and animals, especially the dog and the fox : no 
 history beyond the first seven kings of Rome 
 and William Eufus ; an ordinary quadrille, but 
 not the complications of the dance called the 
 Lancers. How did he live ? On his mother, 
 his brother, and his friends, who are numerous 
 enough for anything. Had he any good in him ? 
 Yes; and this question he answered hesitatingly; 
 his love for Edith Dacre. It stood, for the 
 present, in the place of higher motives, as it fre- 
 quently does, not as their substitute, but as their 
 precursor ; and when he had arrived at this point, 
 and his calculations were becoming less metho- 
 dical, his mother's carriage drew up at the door.
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 277 
 
 " Oh, Charlie ! are you come home ? I am so 
 glad to see you," said Mrs. Thornhill, as she 
 stepped out of the carriage, followed by Mary 
 Stanhope, a young lady of fifty, commonly known 
 as Aunt Mary by the brothers, but really a first 
 cousin of their mother. 
 
 " Come in here, Charlie, I want to talk to 
 you ; oh ! never mind your cigar ; Aunt Mary's 
 used to it, and nobody will find it out in the 
 morning." 
 
 " Was the opera good, Aunt Mary ? " said 
 Charlie, who continued to smoke. 
 
 " Very ; Grisi sang as well as I ever heard 
 her, and they have a charming bass — what's the 
 man's name ? — a German," replied Miss Stan- 
 hope, who, though an eccentricity of the first 
 water, had a highly cultivated taste, and was 
 fully competent to give an opinion on most 
 things. 
 
 " Staudigl ? " suggested Charlie. 
 
 "Yes; I never heard him before. What should 
 such a dunce as you know about Staudigl ? " 
 said Aunt Mary. 
 
 " Cressingham heard him at the Grand Du- 
 chess's at Mannheim, some time ago, and said he
 
 278 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 had the finest voice he ever heard. My friends 
 cultivate the arts for me — it saves trouble." 
 
 " Where's Tom to-night ? " said Mrs. Thorn- 
 hill ; " is he coming home ? " 
 
 " He's dining at the Mastodons : he said he 
 should go back to the Albany to sleep to-night, 
 as he had to leave town on Monday." 
 
 " Do you see much of Tom, now, Charlie ? " 
 said the widow of Geoffrey Thornhill, with a 
 sigh, as she thought of a time gone by. 
 
 " More than ever ; every day." 
 
 " Where ; at the Dacres ? " 
 
 " Yes ; not unfrequently : I generally ride with 
 him at five ; I am exercising his black hack for 
 him ; besides, we often dine together at the 
 club." 
 
 " That Miss Dacre was at the Opera," said the 
 widow, not to be shaken off. " What a pretty 
 girl she is : but there's no money." 
 
 " I should think they'll marry without that ; 
 Miss Dacre is very handsome." 
 
 " I don't think it is Miss Dacre that I mean : 
 she's handsome, with a great deal of intellect in 
 her face, and a finer girl altogether ; I mean the 
 other one."
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 279 
 
 " That's Edith," said Charlie ; " some people 
 think her the prettier of the two." 
 
 " So she is : and Tom seems to think so 
 among them, from what I heard to-night." 
 
 "T fancy not, mother." Here Charlie emitted 
 such a volume of smoke that Mrs. Thornhill 
 began to cough. 
 
 " I beg your pardon ; I'm sure the smoke is 
 too much for you." Here Charlie was making 
 for the door, protesting that he would finish his 
 cigar outside. 
 
 " You'd both be better in bed, if you're only 
 going to beat about the bush in that way," said 
 Aunt Mary. 
 
 "Well, then, Charlie, tell me, is there any- 
 thing between that pretty Edith Dacre and your 
 brother, likely to lead to an engagement? Every- 
 body talks about it, and Fm told he's always at 
 the house." 
 
 " Nothing whatever, my dear mother; so make 
 your mind easy on that score." 
 
 " Easy ! Ah, Charlie, if you knew nry anxieties, 
 you wouldn't be surprised at my wishing to see 
 Tom married. And as to Edith Dacre, I could 
 love her like a child of my own."
 
 280 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 Heaven knows that Mrs. Thornhill could not 
 have made use of a stronger expression. The 
 mother of the Gracchi was not prouder of her 
 sons, and scarcely loved them as well. 
 
 Mary Stanhope was tired of the conversation, 
 and Charlie was not anxious to prolong it; 
 he had quite love enough of his own on his 
 shoulders, without interesting himself about 
 other people.
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 281 
 
 CHAPTEK XX. 
 
 IN QUEST OF A DOG. 
 
 11 One that I brought up of a puppy : one that I saved from 
 drowning, when three or four of his blind brothers and sisters 
 went to it." — Tivo Gentlemen of Verona, Act IV., sc. 3. 
 
 On the Monday after this conversation, about 
 eleven o'clock a.m., might be seen to enter Stan- 
 hope Gate a fine broad-shouldered young man, 
 sitting on a magnificent black hack, with that 
 charming neglige which bespeaks the most per- 
 fect command of the animal. His shoulders 
 were well back and squared, his elbows close to 
 his side, his reins held at a tolerable length one 
 in each hand, of both curb and snaffle, giving 
 sufficient play to the horse's mouth without any 
 loss of control. The feet were well home in the 
 stirrups, and the legs, easily bent at the knee, 
 fell in a straight line from that to the instep, 
 showing strength and power, as well as grace 
 in every movement. His body from the hips
 
 282 CHARLIE THORNHILL ; OR, 
 
 swayed easily with the motions of the horse, 
 which, proud of his burden, turned from side to 
 side, occasionally breaking from his stately walk, 
 and exhibiting a valuable capability of bending 
 his knee which would have been appreciated by 
 every lover of a good mover. Yery few men 
 looked better on horseback than Charlie Thorn- 
 hill ; and though not strictly a handsome man, 
 and certainly not to be compared with his 
 brother, it was impossible to have passed him 
 without admiration, expressed or felt. 
 
 He was little aware as he rode along, absorbed 
 in the momentary hilarity which such conscious- 
 ness of command invariably inspires, how many 
 persons were interesting themselves for him. 
 Sir Frederick and Lady Marston had already 
 that very morning canvassed his chances of a 
 commission in the cavalry, for which he was not 
 too old, or a clerkship in the Treasury, for which 
 he was not supposed to be eminently qualified. 
 The days of examination had begun ; and though 
 not arrived at the pitch of absurdity to which 
 they have since reached, they would certainly 
 have found out Charlie's weak points. The 
 Dacres had taken a great fancy to him, and he
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 283 
 
 had renewed his old friendship with Teddy, the 
 boy whose life he had saved : it was not to 
 be forgotten. At the same time, as a mother, 
 Mrs. Dacre could not be blamed for wondering 
 whether she had taken quite a prudent step in 
 extending her autumn invitation to a younger 
 son of great but doubtful expectations. She had 
 no such misgivings about Tom ; though I doubt 
 whether she liked him the better of the two. 
 His uncle, Henry Thornhill, had many a heart- 
 ache over the prospects of the boy (for he was 
 still very like one in many respects), yet he 
 ought to have been able to assure them with 
 tolerable certainty — at least, so said the world; 
 and it never lies. And Lord Carlingford won- 
 dered much whether Charlie would be able to 
 ride 12st. 7lb. in the Aristocratic, for which he 
 had entered a very good and resolute horse, 
 which could race as well as fence, if one could 
 but steer him straight. There were not many 
 gentlemen capable of the performance. 
 
 His broad shoulders were espied in the dis- 
 tance by an early lounger like himself; so can- 
 tering after him, as he passed through the Park 
 gate by the Duke's, De Beauvoir joined him.
 
 284 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 "Confound him," thought Charlie, "here's 
 Edith Dacre's handsome admirer;" he had 
 scarcely seen him to indulge in much conversa- 
 tion since the Richmond affair. 
 
 De Beauvoir, for his part, did not dream of 
 a rival, having much too good an opinion of 
 himself: so he touched our hero on the arm, and 
 asked where he was going. 
 
 " To Tattersall's," said Charlie. 
 
 " So am I, to look at a cover hack for next 
 season," said De Beauvoir. 
 
 " And I to sell ; I shall ask Tattersall for 
 stalls for the two I bought not long ago — I 
 believe they're very good, and can carry a stone 
 or two over my weight. I shall scarcely have 
 time to hunt next season." 
 
 " That's not bad," said the dandy, descending 
 from his horse and leaving him in the hands 
 of a red-coated retainer at the Corner. " 'Gad, 
 Thornhill, that's very nearly my own case : what 
 with putting on one's breeches, and — augh! one's 
 boots, and — and — galloping to cover, and jogging 
 home again, 'pon my honour it does take up a 
 deal of time." 
 
 Lord Carlingford joined them, as Charlie
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 285 
 
 Thornhill left his horse in the hands of a man 
 whose face he did not remember to have seen 
 there before. He was a shrewd-looking knave, 
 in a worn-out hunting coat, and miserably clad 
 in' other respects ; but he saluted Charlie with 
 that ready assurance so indicative of the Emerald 
 Isle, that the " noble captain " found himself 
 with one foot on the pavement, and the fellow 
 holding his horse with one hand, and dusting 
 his boots with an old rag with the other, before 
 he knew where he was. At that moment Lord 
 Carlingford called him by name ; the manner 
 so assured a minute before suddenly changed. 
 The obsequious hands trembled, the cunning 
 eyes opened and fixed, and the face became 
 pale and irresolute even to the lips. 
 
 "Mind the horse, you fool/'' said Charlie, 
 " what's the matter ? you'll let him go ; here 
 send somebody else, Jack ; this fellow's afraid 
 of him, I do believe." Saying which he turned 
 with De Beauvoir and Lord Carlingford down 
 the yard. 
 
 Half an hour sufficed to finish the business 
 on which he went. He looked over a horse or 
 two for Lord Carlingford, and gave a candid
 
 286 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 opinion of the capabilities of De Beauvoir's 
 choice of a hack, which did not please that 
 gentleman. He soon arranged for the sale of 
 his own two horses for the following Monday, 
 and was returning to upper air, when he was 
 accosted by one of Mr. Tattersall's men. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir, but I think you 
 lost a very valuable bull-terrier, as you set great 
 store by, some time ago ? " 
 
 " I did ; a very valuable one, and did not offer 
 a reward, as I have already paid a good deal of 
 money in that way, only to lose her again. 
 However, I should like to have her again, and 
 this time I think I can take care of her J' 
 
 " I don't know about that, sir ; there's a gent 
 here as as got the promise of a pointer dog 
 for the season after next, and I know of two 
 to have him before that time if things is on 
 
 the square." 
 
 " You seem to be up in the dog business, 
 Tom," said Charlie. 
 
 " Well, we see a good many curious characters 
 about here ; there was one here last week as 
 none on us knowM, was askin' as if we know'd 
 anythink about your dawg : I see the man
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 287 
 
 about this morning. They're a ruin lot, they 
 are, but I think the dog might be got at, sir." 
 
 " Was the man an Irishman ? " 
 
 "Well! he didn't talk altogether like one/' 
 said Tom, whose ear was pretty well accustomed 
 to the brogue : " but he'd got a man along 
 with him as was a regular Irisher, I should 
 say." 
 
 " Come to the top of the yard with me without 
 saying anything;" and up the yard they went. 
 Having looked stealthily down Grosvenor Place 
 first, he then looked towards Piccadilly, and true 
 enough the man leading the black hack proved 
 to be the identical person in question, and in 
 deep confabulation with him was what Tom 
 was pleased to call " the other cove." Dis- 
 missing the helper, Charlie put his hand into 
 his waistcoat pocket, and having rewarded his 
 temporary servant, was about to put his foot 
 into the stirrup, determined upon making further 
 inquiry, when he was accosted by the tall, dark, 
 black-whiskered confederate. After beating a 
 little about the bush, the man freely admitted 
 that he knew where the bull-terrier was. He 
 also stated that it would cost money to get it
 
 288 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 back : the least lie could say would be three 
 pounds. 
 
 " Could he guarantee it for that ; and how ? " 
 
 " Yes, he thought he could ; but the how was 
 the difficulty. Would the gentleman meet him 
 that evening, and go with him to identify the 
 dog, and pay down the money if it was all 
 right ? " 
 
 Charlie Thornhill hesitated. " Could not the 
 dog be brought to him ? " 
 
 "No, no; his pal had been done too often 
 in that way. Would he meet him that evening 
 at nine o' clock ?" 
 
 " Where ? " 
 
 " Did the gentleman know the sign of the 
 ' Lively Fleas/ in Shoreditch ? " 
 
 "Not he; he didn't know Shoreditch itself. 
 However, there was nc difficulty about that." 
 So the black-whiskered individual, who seemed 
 to affect something of the open and generous, 
 and was not altogether so bad as the general 
 run of these ruffians, gave a very lucid, expla- 
 nation of where the " Lively Fleas " was to be 
 found : he only stipulated that the gentleman 
 was to be alone, and trust to him. He would
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 289 
 
 take Lira where lie could see his dog, and, as 
 he believed, have him back on posting the 
 money. With this Charlie was obliged to be 
 content, and rode off, wondering what sort of 
 place Shoreditch was at 9 o'clock p.m. 
 
 Having lunched with his mother and made 
 a few calls, not forgetting the Dacres, who were 
 about to leave town, and the Marstons, to whom 
 he imparted his intention of giving up Melton 
 for this winter, and going only for the first 
 week's shooting to Gilsland instead of to Thorn- 
 hills, he dined at the Club, and prepared for 
 his evening's excursion. The arrangement of 
 his toilet was no easy matter. No hat, coat, 
 or general vagabondism could be found sufficient 
 to disguise his appearance, and in utter despair 
 he gave up the attempt. His servant was sum- 
 moned, and instructed tto seek a particular cab- 
 man from the top of St. James's Street. Fortu- 
 nately he was to be found. 
 
 " Do you know an inn or public called the 
 'Lively Fleas/ in Shoreditch?" 
 
 At first the cabman seemed inclined to deny 
 "the soft impeachment." He shook his head, 
 rolled it from side to side, and leered at Charlie 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 290 CHARLIE thornhill; or, 
 
 * 
 
 with a very suspicious grin. At last he said, 
 " Well, sir, I can't justly say as I don't/' 
 
 " Which means that you do. Now, drive me 
 there : and make it as soon after nine as you 
 can." 
 
 At first the cab went reluctantly. It was 
 loth to quit the fashionable quarter of the town ; 
 but as the streets became thinner and thinner, 
 and the conviction forced itself upon cabby that 
 his fare was in earnest, he quickened his pace. 
 The City, Fleet Street, Ludgate Hill, Cheapside, 
 all looked gloomy, and were beginning to be 
 deserted. Shoreditch was emptied of all but 
 miserable women and a few labouring men. 
 Before reaching the " Lively Fleas " Charlie 
 thought it desirable to hold converse with his 
 old acquaintance the cabman. He was a gay, 
 lively fellow, summer and winter in jack-boots, 
 and always with a flower in his button-hole. 
 
 "lam going after a dog," said Charlie. " I 
 don't know the company, and am inclined to 
 think it's not over respectable. I must go alone 
 with the man who meets me. You know my 
 errand. Wait for me as near the public-house as 
 you can. If I don't return in a reasonable time
 
 THE DUNCE OF THE FAMILY. 291 
 
 you'll know what to do. Are there any police 
 about here ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir, there are police, if they're werry 
 much wanted — for a missing body or so, you 
 know ; and I think I knows where to hit upon 
 a bobby, if needs be. But they ain't noways 
 so handy as in Belgrave Square and your parts, 
 sir ; I suppose the coves about here is so werry 
 respectable there ain't no call for 'em. But 
 I'm glad you told me, cos I'm blowed if there 
 ain't some rum kens lower down. Here, sir, 
 you take this," said the charioteer, giving him 
 a railway whistle; "they don't like the sound 
 o' that : and this here, too," added he, presenting 
 Charlie with a short life-preserver ; " they don't 
 like the feel o' that. There's the ' Lively Fleas,' 
 sir, as far as ever you can see. So if you like 
 to get out and walk, 111 follow at a distance, 
 and wait till I sees you agen, or don't hear 
 nothin' of yer." 
 
 After this very intelligible arrangement Charlie 
 proceeded on foot, and at about one hundred 
 yards from the "Lively Fleas" he was joined 
 by his hirsute companion. " Follow me," said 
 the man, as he turned short to the right, nearly
 
 292 chaelie thornhill; or, 
 
 falling over a child in the kennel, whom he 
 cursed, and proceeded at a brisk pace .through 
 alleys redolent of gin, tobacco smoke, and pesti- 
 lential fever. Charlie followed, mentally compar- 
 ing his own chance with the stranger in a struggle 
 for life and death, and almost thinking that 
 he had run his head into the noose for inadequate 
 remuneration. But he was a cool, determined 
 fellow, and marked well every house and turning 
 as they passed them. At length they reached 
 a low Elizabethan house, built of wood, with 
 overhanging windows. Here the guide stopped, 
 and pushing open a low door, they found them- 
 selves in a passage as dark as Erebus. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRTARS.