^L I B R_ARY OF THE UNIVERSITY Of ILLI NOIS 623 M624o& V.I UNIVERSITY LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN The person charging this material is responsible for its renewal or return to the library on or before the due date. The minimum fee for a lost item is $125.00, $300.00 for bound journals. Theft mutilation, and underlining of books are reasons for disciplinary action and may result in dismissal from the University. Please note: self-stick notes may result m torn pages and lift some inks. Renew via the Telephone Center at 217-333-8400, 846-262-1510 (toll-free) or circlib@uiuc.edu. Renew online by choosing the My Account option at: http://www.library.uiuc.edu/catalog/ OCT 4 200 Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2009 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign http://www.archive.org/details/oldenglishgentle01mill THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN, OR, THE FIELDS AND THE WOODS. BY JOHN MILLS, ESQ. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON : HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 1841. LONDON ! V. SHOBERL, JUN., 51, RUPERT STREET, HAYMAKKET, PRINTER TO H. R. H. PRINCE ALBERT. M 6 24*4 TO HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF BEAUEOKT. My Lord Duke, Your Grace's kind acceptance of the dedication of this work confers a lasting ob- ligation on its writer. The liberal patronage which your Grace has ever afforded to those British Field Sports to which so large a portion of these volumes is devoted, must prove to the world that it is not as mere sports you regard them. Your Grace doubtless feels that when the high aristocracy of England cease to look upon these main attractions of a Country Life as something IV DEDICATION. more than idle amusements, England will no longer be that land of the brave and free which her Agricultural supremacy has been chiefly instrumental in rendering her. That your Grace may long enjoy that health and happiness to which the Sports of the Field so largely contribute, is the earnest wish of Your Grace's Obliged and Obedient Servant, John Mills. Brandeston Hall, September, 1841. PREFACE. The writer of the following pages would be acting unfairly, no less to his readers than to himself, if he were to neglect saying a few words, as to his design and object in writing them. Though very far from being indifferent to the criticism which may await this first production of his almost untried pen, and still farther from hoping to escape those just cen- sures to which his want of practice may have rendered him liable, he would fain avoid the charge of having failed to accomplish what he has, in fact, not attempted. In writing these Scenes of " the Fields and the "Woods," his object has been, not to construct an elaborate plot, and make it subservient to the formal de- velopment of a series of characters ; not, in a VI PREFACE. word, to write a mere Fiction ; but only so to throw together and arrange some of the most attractive scenes of Country Life in England, and especially those connected with Field Sports, as to strengthen and disseminate that love for them which amounts to a passion in his own breast, and which, when it ceases to warm those of his fellow-countrymen, will take from them one of the proudest and hap- piest features of their character. There is nothing in continental life that may for a moment compare, either in solid worth, or in social and political value, with the * Old English Gentleman " of the past and (the writer of these pages must venture to insist) the present times of rural life in England : for there cannot be a greater mistake than to suppose that the class is extinct, or that it is even greatly reduced or deteriorated. It is not a few railroads or steam-boats, more or less, that can blot out that inherent feature in our national character, which has ever distin- guished us favourably from the rest of the PREFACE. Vll civilized world. Next to the love of country, the love of the country is that passion, or sym- pathy, or tendency — call it what we will — which leads to the highest and purest results, and the absence or abrogation of which opens a way to the lowest and the basest : and in no country does this love prevail to any thing like the extent and degree that it does in Eng- land; nor did it ever prevail there in more strength and purity than in our own day. It is partly to give vent to the overflowings of this feeling in himself, partly to communis cate it to others, that the writer of these pages has endeavoured to depict the scenes amid which alone it can be born; though happily it may be cherished and kept intact, even in the most artificial scenes of the most high-viced city. On the other hand, as it is chiefly for the meridian of the latter that he has written, the author of " The Old English Gentleman " has thought proper to adopt that form, and adapt himself to that taste, which seem to offer Till PREFACE. him the best chance of being extensively read : for an unread book — even a good one — is as valueless as an unfulfilled good intention. But though he has endeavoured to bind his desultory Scenes together by a thread of narrative which will give to them a con- tinuous and consecutive interest, no one can set less value than he himself does on the ma- terials of which that thread is composed, or the skill with which it is spun. In a word, if the reader be but satisfied with his scenes of " The Fields and the Woods," and his por- trait — drawn from the life, and con amove — of "The Old English Gentleman," with whose habitat they so essentially connect themselves, he cares but little what may be thought or said of his skill as a writer ; if it be but admitted that he has some claim to the character of a Sportsman, let who will dispute his preten- sions as a Novelist. THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. CHAPTER I. THE OLD WHIPPER-IN. " He was a shrewd philosopher, And had read every text and gloss over ; Whatever sceptic could inquire for, For every why he had a wherefore : He could reduce all things to acts, And knew their nature by abstracts." Hudibras. It was a cold, comfortless night in Decem- ber. The wind swept over the heath, whist- ling through the woods in sudden gusts, ac- companied by sleet and rain, as Tom Bolton, the old whipper-in, sat in his " snuggery," as he called his cottage, before a log fire, bla- zing cheerfully upon the hearth. The rain VOL. I. B 2 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. battered against the windows with a chilling sound, and the old man continued to heap fresh wood upon the fire, until the little room was warmed and illuminated to his heart's content. " There, that's as it should be," ex- claimed he, stretching out his legs, and filling the bowl of a short pipe. Tom Bolton's hair was thin, and the many winters that had passed since he was a " fea- ther weight" had frosted the few remaining locks. Threescore and seven years numbered his age ; but the health of youth glowed in his rubicund visage, and strength was still in his sinewy and well-moulded limbs. Time had not frozen his blood, or weakened his voice, if it had thinned his hair. Still to him the dashing leap and high-mettled horse were the same objects of fearless attraction and delight ; still his voice rung merrily through copse and cover, as he cheered his darling pack ; and, for many miles round Woodland Hall, Squire Scourfield's old whipper-in was frequently the subject of the fox-hunters' toast, and even of the ladies' admiration. THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 3 The old man puffed cloud after cloud, watch- ing with upturned face each succeeding vo- lume of smoke as it rolled along the ceiling. Occasionally, he glanced at a capacious china bowl, in which was a fawn-handled silver ladle. It was empty ; but near it was placed some lemons and a knife, and upon a half-con- sumed log hissed a small kettle of boiling water. An old clock, that had been tick- tacking for half a century and upwards, in a corner of the room, struck nine ; and after the carved representative of a bird had " cuckoo'd" for a minute before the dial, Tom rose from his easy position, and, pulling away a chequered curtain before the window, peered through the wet-streaked panes. The night was dark and gloomy; the water streamed from the roof and pattered on the ground ; the rain beat against the glass ; and, excepting an occasional whine of discontent from an old hound chained in the yard, no- thing else could be heard. " Where can Will be ? I don't hear him coming," said the old man, returning ro his B 2 4 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. chair. " Courting, as usual," continued he, knocking the ashes from his pipe, and exhibit- ing signs of increasing impatience. In a few minutes, footsteps quickly ap- proaching attracted his attention. The hound barked loudly, when a voice hallooed, " Down, Eangler, down, I say !" which instantly si- lenced him. " Here he comes," said the old man with a smile, which was immediately changed into an awkward frown. The latch of the door flew up, and into the room bounced a young man, dripping with wet from head to foot. He ap- peared about twenty-eight years of age, and was very athletic ; his features were so si- milar to those of the old man that no one could doubt the relationship existing between them. " Well, governor," said he, shaking the water from his hat, and throwing off a great coat from his broad shoulders, " here I am, you see." " And you might have been here before, I think," replied his father, " and not come THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 5 tailing in this fashion. Always be a leader, Will, not a tail-hound." " So I am, dad ; thanks to your whip," rejoined Will, seizing the lemons and cutting them in halves. " Ask Fanny whether she doesn't think me the first fellow in the county," added he, with a comical look at his father, and stopping in the act of paring a lemon. " William Bolton, my son," said the old man gravely, " women are women. Fanny Chatterton 's a woman. Many a man's been hung through a woman. I need say no more upon the subject. Mix the liquor." Will laughed heartily at this speech, and resumed his employment. In a short time the mingled ingredients steamed fragrantly from the bowl, and, as Will stirred them about, his father's olfactory nerves seemed excited. " That smells prime," said he, regarding the prepared beverage admiringly. " You're like Chanter, governor," replied Will. " What, upon the right scent, eh ?" added the old man. After a few " fancy stirs" by Will, as the 6 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. old man called them, he filled an old-fashioned horn, mounted with silver, and handed it to his father. " There, governor, taste that," said he. The old man took the proffered flagon, and, after surveying its contents, said, " Here's the squire's health — God bless him !" "Amen," rejoined Will, draining one of like appearance and dimensions. After the toast, Will dragged a chair op- posite to his father, and, settling himself in as pleasant an attitude as possible, said, " I hope I shall give satisfaction in my new calling, governor." " Of course you will, if you follow my di- rections," replied the old man, taking his pipe slowly from his lips, and placing it on the table. By this movement Will saw that he was about to receive a lecture. " As whip under me," continued his father, " all that you did was a copy of the original ; there was no doubt or fear of doing wrong, because you only, as I may say, echoed what you knew to be right. I ain't a proud man, THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 7 my son ; but I may as well say, for it's God's truth, that 'tis as unnatural for me to be out concerning all about hounds, as 'tis for you not to wink your left eye at every pretty girl you meet." " Ha, ha, ha !" roared Will. " William Bolton, my son," continued the old man, " I'm sorry to make the comparison ;" here he gravely shook his head ; " but I can't get up a better — a more true one never was. Fill up the horns." The last part of this sentence was replied to by Will's filling the respective horns. His father said upon taking his, " Follow my ad- vice, and you'll be as good a huntsman as — " "My father's a whipper-in," chimed in Will. " Precisely so, my son, and no flattery neither," said the old man, with a self-satisfied shake of the head. " A huntsman's situation," continued he, " is a very important one ; and now poor Striver can ride no more — poor fellow ! I'm afraid he drank gin and bitters before breakfast in his youth — you're to fill 8 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. up bis place. Kow, I don't mean to say that Striver couldn't hunt a pack in his younger days, as they should be hunted ; but not since you've been second whip — oh, no ! he shirked his leaps, and quailed to mount a young un ; his voice was more like an ill-tempered old woman's than a huntsman's ; his hearing was amiss, and altogether be wasn't the figure for my ideas. So you mustn't follow his ways of doing the business. Indeed, I don't think the squire would stand it long with you, because it was only in consideration of long service that he put up with old St river's bungling." " I've heard him grumble at it, a good deal o'times," added Will. " Ay, and you may rest assured that no muffing work would be looked over in any young man," replied his father. " But I don't expect any from you, my son. No, you'll not disgrace your bringing up, I know." Will's forehead and cheeks became flushed at this eulogium. " Now Striver's pensioned off upon the pro- perty, to snare fitchews and weazles for amuse- THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 9 ment, you've the first place in the squire's establishment. To-morrow," said the old man in an important voice, " you take possession of the kennel. Think of the position for a moment. A young man on the sunny side of thirty, huntsman to Squire Scourfield's pack of crack hounds ! Why, it's a better place than the Lord Chancellor's, "Will ; at any rate, a better one for you. Now, mark my words — it's the last time that I shall give ye my opinion as to your duties, because, as you enter upon them to-morrow, it wouldn't sound musical for the whipper-in to be instructing the huntsman in his work. It wouldn't be regular. Fill up your horn. Now listen. Activity—" "What hound was that, father?" asked Will, with a suppressed laugh. " Out with your nonsense," said the old man, pettishly ; " activity is the first indis- pensable for the huntsman to a pack of fox- hounds. Before he goes into the kennel, he should determine, according to his judgment, the number to be drafted for the country that B5 10 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. he is going to hunt, which will vary according to its description. Never be in a hurry, Will, at drafting; it's no easy matter to draft hounds properly. — Then, at the meet, be to your exact time, if possible ; but never before your time. In most other things, you had better be a little before than after ; but never at the meet ; it's against all rule. — As you go into cover, be silent, and, while your hounds are drawing, place the gentlemen so that the fox can't go off unseen. Some huntsmen don't like to ask a gentleman to stand sentinel ; but it's a necessary part of fox-hunting. — When you're coming out of cover, then give it them, Will. Make the hills ring with your hearty voice ; let every hound hear the ' hark, for'ard,' so that it will make his heart leap with joy : not in that tone as if a rabbit had made a break of it instead of a fox. — At all times, keep your hounds for'ard ; they will tire on a cold scent. When they are stopped by sheep, or any thing else, help them, for very often they'll hunt the old scent back again, if they can hunt no other. When they're at fault, THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 11 don't be in a hurry to make your cast. Let them have time to hit off the scent themselves ; but, if they can't do it, make your cast wide and for'ard, and be sure that it's a perfect one before you try another. — When you are run- ning a fox, the scent bad, and the fox a long way before, without having been pressed, if he should be making for strong earths that are open, or for large covers full of game, take off the hounds at the first fault they come to ; the fox will go many miles to your one, and, in all probability, will run you out of all scent. — Where the vermin are plenty, you must be careful not to run the heel ; for hounds can run, sometimes, the wrong way of the scent better than they can the right, where one is up the wind, and t'other down. Lift your tail- hounds, and get 'em to the rest ; but be cautious that you don't lift any for'ard before the others ; it's dangerous, and very clumsy work. — But the most difficult of all that you've got to do is to learn the difference between one scent and another, and to know with cer- tainty that of your hunted fox. This requires 12 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. a nous, and a judgment above the heads of most men. Few can comprehend the art, and it's one that can be learned only with practice ; but you'll hit it off, Will, by and by, I know." " Hope I shall, governor," said Will ; " but you must be getting dry with your long stretch ; come, wet your whistle." " Stop a minute ; I've nearly done, and then I'll top up with a glass," replied the old man. " When you're at fault, and the hounds can't make it out of themselves, let your first cast be quick ; the scent is then good, and they're not likely to go over it. As the scent gets worse, let the cast be slower and more cautiously made, and when the hounds are picking along a cold scent, don't cast them at all. There are other rules to think of besides these ; but what I've told you are the general ones, which, I hope, you'll follow as closely as your hounds will a fox, when they've the chance." "Certainly, governor; and I'm much obliged to you for them," said Will. " Not a man THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 13 living knows more about the bow-wows than you." The old man smiled at the compliment, and said, " It's a bitter cold night ; 'faith I think it a fair excuse for a little more warm com- fort. Come, spice up some ale, and clap it on the fire, Will." With ready hand, Will obeyed the order, by filling the bright kettle with " the blood of Sir John Barleycorn," and adding to it nut- meg, cloves, sugar, and a crust of brown bread. The concomitants soon hissed and steamed fragrantly upon the bright embers, which caused a second edition of twitching from the old man's organ of smell. " What, again !" exclaimed Will, " why you're as game as old Merry man was." " Ay, he was a tearer," said the old man with enthusiasm. " An out-an'-outer," continued Will. " I shan't put my eyes upon his like, that's my belief, without I see his spirit again," re- joined the old man seriously. " His what !" exclaimed Will, stopping with 14 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. surprise, in the act of pouring the prepared beverage into a flagon. " His spirit, I say," replied his father. " But, go on, my boy, that stuff smells un- common nice." In accordance with his wish, the savoury mixture was conveyed to the palate of the old man, and, after being pronounced "excellent," he took his tobacco-box from a capacious pocket in his scarlet coat, which he always wore, and commenced filling his pipe a second time. " Instead of smoking, governor, I wish you'd say what you meant by seeing Merry- man's spirit again," said "Will. " One would suppose that you had seen it already." " So I have, my boy," replied his father. " Have you, though!" exclaimed Will, a dis- believer in ghosts, hobgoblins, and all sorts of immaterial things, through which " the moon shines unchecked." " The fact is, my son," slowly said the old man, with a contemplative look at the white- washed ceiling, and a smack of his lips, which THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 15 is often a demonstration of self-importance, " I've my own particular notions as to spirits, and such like. Why shouldn't there be ghosts of dead monkeys, as well as dead mortals, I should like to know ! A man isn't a more wonderful beast than a monkey, and both are damned rascals generally, to say the best of them. Some people, particularly parsons, pre- tend to say that when a monkey ' turns his toes up to the roots of the daisies,' there's an end of him. Stuff o' nonsense ! There's no end to any thing. The old bricks and mortar are worked fresh into other buildings, after this fashion : monkeys become Christians, being next to human nature, and Christians, as tops of the tree, again become hay-seed, or cab- bage-plants — that is to say, their shells, or outsides so alter — their spirits may be dis- posed of differently ; but I think they accom- pany the carcase, or vegetable, as the case may be." " Why, governor, you're not a Christian," said Will. " The Archbishop of York couldn't prove 16 THE OLD ENGLISH- GENTLEMAN. that he was a better," rejoined the old man. " Deal as you would be dealt by, is' my reli- gion. Isn't that Christian ?" " Yes ; but that isn't enough to make a man a thorough-bred 'un," replied Will. " Quite enough, my son, William Bolton, quite enough ; for, if we act towards others as we wish them to act towards us, there'll be no screw loose, no wrong meant, you may de- pend; and that's all that can be expected from the best of Christians." " But this has nothing to do with the sub- ject we started with," said Will. " Not altogether, and yet it has something," replied his father. " You see, I believe every thing living has a spirit ; I think it very pro- bable that even a turnip has a soul ; at any rate, I know that a dog has, for I saw old Merryman's on the night of his death." "Tell me all about it," rejoined Will, his curiosity "excited ; "I never heard a full ac- count of that day's work which killed the old hound. It was a splitter, warn't it ?" " Do you want to hear the beginning of it ?" inquired the old man. THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 17 " Yes, and the end of it, too," replied Will. " Put some more wood on the fire, and close the shutters first ; the cold increases with the night," said Tom, drawing his chair closer to the fire. When Will had obeyed the order, he placed himself in a snug corner opposite to his father, who, with a preliminary clearing of his voice, thus commenced : — " It will be six years ago the ninth of next February, that we threw off at the Lynallet cover. The day was cloudy, and the ground covered with dew. The squire and all the gentlemen o' the hunt were out. I and Striver had drafted all the best hounds from the ken- nel ; for, you see, I was forced to do a great deal of his work for the last ten years. Not one was lame, young, or riotous. We drew up the wind towards a stopped earth, very quietly for a minute or two, when Merryman gave such a long bell-like note, that told sly Eeynard was afoot. ' Hark to Merryman/ hollowed I. ' Tally ho, tally ho,' shouted some one immediately afterwards. 'Yoiks 18 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. for'ard, for'ard,' hollowed the squire, and out burst every hound close to his brush ; not one tailed. There was no occasion to bawl ' hold hard.' No one thinks of starting before the squire, and he's too good a sportsman to tear away before the proper time. But, when he gives the ' harkaway,' and any one hesi- tates to ride, or take a leap before him, the way in which he asks ' what he's waiting for,' is a caution not to show him so much respect for the future. He can't abide humbug in any shape. "In a handful of seconds on went as strong a fox as ever rattled across a country ; as fine a pack o' hounds as could be unkennelled in England ; as fine a true-hearted gentleman as ever owned a pack ; and two score and six of well-mounted straight riders as ever crossed saddles ; not to say any thing of old Striver, and — ." " My governor, the whipper-in," chimed in Will. ** Just so, my boy ; but don't interrupt me. For a quarter of an hour we ran in view over THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 19 a heath, as level as a bowling-green. The pace was so great, and no raspers to clear, that it was more like a race than a hunt. At the other side of the heath was a deep slope, at the bottom of which was a thick growth of furze. Down the fox dipped among the prickles ; but the hounds were so hot upon him, that they took him through in full cry, without a check. On the side he came out was a steep hill, which he climbed at his best speed ; but they gained upon him so at this work, that he was obliged to turn his sharp nose again to the slope. Now he managed to make a greater distance between the hounds and himself, by running in a slanting direc- tion towards the bottom of the hill. When he got there, he struck along the valley with his brush straight out, and, before the dogs reached the end of the slope, he was lost to view by this cunning run of his. For about twenty minutes we rattled on without any check, and the scent breast-high. Every hound was in full cry, making the hills ring again with his hearty tune. The ground was 20 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. rather heavy ; but no strong leaping fatigued our nags. Hoggerel Woods were now in sight, to which the varmint was making, and where there was some earths ; but the stop- pers had been the night before to close them up, so there was no danger of losing him, or our having any great trouble of getting him out of these thick covers. "I and Striver, poor fellow! — I'm sure he took gin an' bitters before breakfast in his younger days — I and Striver were riding neck- an'-neck, when the first stiff un was before our horses' heads. It was a rail, a deep water- course, and another rail on the opposite side — a regular fly of twenty feet. Striver and I exchanged looks as we neared it. I believe, and often have told him so, that he never would have switched that rasper if I'd not been at his side : — as it was, he went at it very nervously. Neither of the horses swerved a hair's breadth as they took their spring at it ; but, the ground being much lower on the other side, both of them staggered upon their legs as they cleared the splitting leap. THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 21 " The hounds dived into the cover about a hundred yards before we reached the edge of it, and, all the earths being stopped, they ran him clean through it, just as they did with the other one. Before we reached the end of the wood all were out ; and again the sneaking rascal was in view, doing his best to get away. "We gave him a good ' tally ho,' and he seemed to take the cheer like a hero, for he lifted his brush a little, as much as to say ' catch me who can.' We now were going over a grass country at a killing pace. Mile after mile we scoured, sometimes losing sight of the fox; but for the most part running him in view — so close did the hounds press him. " As near as I can guess, we crossed six- teen miles nearly in a straight line from Ly- nallet to Gosford Brook, without a breathing moment. Here we had a couple of minutes, from the crafty varmint having dipped himself in the water ; but, having made a wide cast, the hounds soon hit off the scent, and on we went again at the same rate. Still there was a good field up, although many had been 22 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. floored at the leap Striver and I took, and those had been thrown out as well as off, being unable, from the speed we went, to make up the lost distance. " The hounds now began to tail. I did all that was in my power to get them on, but it was no use ; the poor fellows wanted as much as I did to go ahead ; but the pace and dis- tance had taken their strength away — on they could not go. " 'Never mind them, Tom,' said the squire, galloping past me ; ' they must be left, and found afterwards. ' " I was on that tip-top mare, the Maid-o'- the-Mill ; and, leaving the hounds to drop off, as they did, one by one, at almost every stride, I took every thing as God sent it, with but five couple now running before us. After going over a heavy woodland country for thirty minutes with these, I turned my eyes round to see the state of the field. The squire, of course, held his place ; but there were but six besides him in sight. We now mounted Beach Tree Hill, and were swinging up it like THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 23 coursing greyhounds, when I heard the view- hollow from the other side. As I dipped over the top, there I saw a farmer hallooing the fox, tearing along at the bottom as strong as ever. We kept him in view for three miles across Eington park, but did not gain a yard upon him. A new six feet fence was being made round the park, and part of it was up at the end he was steering for. I thought that he'd double when he came to it ; but there was no turn in him. He charged it fresh as a three year old, and made for a straight course to Chalk-pit Eock. The dogs went at it pretty much together ; four jumped against the fence about half way up, and fell powerless to the ground. Three reached the top, scrambled upon it for a second or two, and over they came backwards to join the others, without breath or strength. Merry- man, Hopeful, and Straggler flew across, but were tie only three out of the whole pack able tc continue the chase. " St river was a short distance before me, and, to my great surprise, I saw him prepare 24 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. to have a go at the rasper. His horse was much too tired, and so was he, for such a leap ; but I will say there was no flinching in either of them. ' Over,' cried Striver, dashing his persuaders into his horse's flanks, and throw- ing out his whip-hand as they rose at it. By St. Crispin, I never saw such a fall in my whole life. The horse struck the edge of the fence with his fore-legs, just below his knees, and over they pitched on the opposite side, head foremost. I pulled up, and expected to see a few broken bones ; but there was Striver, wiping the perspiration from his fore- head as if nothing had happened, standing by the side of his fallen horse. " ' Are you hurt ?" said I. " ' No,' replied he, ' not much ; but the horse is done up. I can't go any farther.' " ' What's the matter ?' asked the squire, arriving at the spot. " ' Striver's horse and all the hounds but three are tired out,' replied I. " ' Then follow on, Tom. I'll not k,ve the leash whipped off,' said the squire. THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 25 " I turned the mare's head to where the fence ended, and, cutting across at her best speed, I was again close to the crack three, having the hunt all to ourselves ; not one rider being now up, except myself. For nearly an hour longer we kept the pace still the same ; but now I began to feel the mare stagger and reel under me, and I was certain that another mile would be all that she could do. I had not seen the fox since he jumped the park fence till now, when I saw him go into a thick osier bed, by the side of a stream, a quarter of a mile before the hounds. Merry- man pressed before Hopeful and Straggler into the osiers. Before I arrived there, the fox was through, with the old leader not fifty yards behind him ; but neither of the other two were in sight. " At every stretch the mare took now, I expected that she would fall from weakness. The spur was not answered, and, certain that she couldn't last five minutes longer upon her legs, I pulled up and dismounted. Upon going into the middle of the bed, I found vol. i. c 26 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. both the hounds lying the ground, with their tongues stretched out, and their eyes ready to start from their sockets. As I led the mare, and made the dogs crawl after me towards a cottage in sight, I could still hear the cry of old Merryman, which became fainter and fainter, until I lost it altogether in the dis- tance. " After attending to the poor, worn-out, and punished animals, I procured a convey- ance on wheels, and a lame pony, to take me to the nearest post-town, where I got a chaise and pair of fast tits to help me on the road home. Knowing our master would be very wishful to know what became of us, I was determined to get home that night, and go the next morning for the horse and hounds. I had to travel thirty-seven miles from the cottage to the hall, and it was very late in the evening before I reached home. Upon sending in word to the squire that I had re- turned, I was summoned into the dining- room, where I found him, as usual, comfort ably stretched in his old, easy chair, smoking THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 27 a cigar, and listening to Miss Kate's sing- ing. " ' Well, Tom, did you kill ?' inquired the squire, as soon as he saw me. " I then told him all that had happened. He was very much pleased with old Merry- man's continuing the hunt ; and, after hearing what I had to say, he told me all the hounds were picked up on the road home but a brace, and ordered me to start early in the morning, with some help, to get these and the others. " * Do you think the old hound would run much farther ?' said he. " 'Both the fox and hound were very strong, sir, when I left them,' replied I. 11 ' The noble old fellow ! Get to rest as soon as you can, and start by daybreak for him, with the dog-cart,' said the squire. " It was a clear, bright night when I turned into the bed which you now occupy over the kennel. Nothing could be heard but the deep breathing of the tired-out hounds, that were crouched in sleep, and the bubbling of the stream through the airing yard. How- c 2 28 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. ever, I soon became unconscious of these sounds, and fell as fast asleep as a dormouse in December. " I was dreaming of Merryman, spurs, and leather-breeches, Fences and falls, jumps, rails, and ditches, when I awoke with every dog howling at his utmost stretch. I jumped up, blessing the cause of the noisy brutes' row, and was soon among them, whip in hand ; but there was no quarrel or fight, and I could see nothing amiss. All were huddled together like a flock of frightened sheep, and they kept crying just as if the cord was being put upon 'em. To tell the truth, I felt somewhat queer at this, and my voice didn't seem so firm as usual, when I hollowed out for them to be quiet. In a short time I managed to get peace, and then I tried to find out the reason of all this rumpus. I looked here and there to no pur- pose, and began to think that a hound had broke out in his dream, which set the others on ; when, turning to the airing-ground, I saw, as plain as I now see you, old Merryman THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 29 standing in the pale light of the moon, with his hushy tail fanning to and fro, and his sleek ears thrown back upon his neck, as was his custom when pleased. Not thinking of the impossibility of his return, I called the old fellow to me, delighted and surprised at seeing him ; but there he remained, waving his tail and looking at me. I walked two or three steps towards him, when he glided away into the mist, gradually fading from my sight, till he disappeared altogether, just as the first light of morning broke. " If not frightened at this sight, I felt very uncomfortable, to say the least of it, and I returned to my room to. dress and prepare for my journey with a heavy heart. As soon as the apparition, or whatever it was, left, the dogs recovered from their fright, and began stretching their legs as usual about the yard. With a pair of our best horses, I started in the dog-cart to search for the old leader, and the other two hounds. After inquiring along the road, I found the brace at a farm-house, about eighteen miles from home, foot-sore and 30 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. famished. I boxed them up in the cart, and proceeded, with fresh horses, to the cottage where I had left the mare and the other brace of hounds. I put Jack Tiggle, that I had taken with me, upon the mare, directing him to walk her gently home, and went on to in- quire for Merry man. " After much inquiry, a man ploughing told me that he saw a hound in full cry cross the road about where I was, on his way from his work the night before. This was the first piece of intelligence I had received concerning the old hound. As I proceeded, and was turning down a lane in the direction that he took, ac- cording to the ploughman's statement, I saw a shepherd unfolding his flock. I inquired of him if he had heard or seen the hound. "'Yes,' replied he, 'just inside of that brushwood I saw a dead hound and fox this morning at sunrise, lying close to each other ; and there I left them.' " I jumped from the cart, and ran as fast as I could to the spot. Six feet in the thicket laid poor old Merryman and the fox, dead and THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 31 stiff. Both had run their lives out at the same time. The gay old hound's teeth had not touched the fox ; he had not been mouthed, but died, as the hound did, with the race alone. " A white frost had crisped the skins of the two matchless fellows, and the rays of the morning sun glittered upon their frozen coats as I looked at them with a quivering lip and tearful eyes. For six years he had been the favourite. I was with him the first time that he sung his song at a cub, and from that mo- ment when his cry rung he never was at fault. Poor old fellow ! There he was, stretched upon the ground, dead ; never could his note again make our hearts leap, as it used when he gave his signal for Reynard to unkennel." A pause ensued for some minutes after the whipper-in had concluded the account of old Merryman's last hunt. At length Will said : " There's nothing to be sorry for in a hound like him ending his days in the way he did." " No, my boy, no. I agree with you in that," replied his father. It was past twelve, and the old man was S 2 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. beginning to show signs of somnolency, when the hint was taken by Will, who rose from his position before the fire and lighted his stable lamp. After peeping into the ale jug, which, to his surprise, had been emptied at intervals by his father, he buttoned up his warm coat, and, shaking the old man's hand, he wished him a " good night," and took his leave. The door had but just been closed when he returned, and, with a look of assumed seri- ousness, said : — " What do you say, father, as to the ghost of Merryman that appeared to you ?" " What do I say !" repeated the old man. " Why, that it was his spirit come to warn me of his death, to be sure." " Did you never see it again ?" inquired his son. " Never, my boy, never," was the reply. "What do you think became of it?" said Will. "Why, as to that, I can't say exactly. But I shouldn't wonder, when I reflect," said THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 33 the old man, pressing a finger upon his brow, " that the spirit of old Merryman may be in his son, the puppy Trimbush." C5 34. THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. CHAPTER II. THE SQUIRE AND HIS FAMILY. " My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, So flew'd, so sanded ; and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew ; Crook-knee'd, and dew-lapp'd, like Thessalian bulls ; Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells, Each under each. A cry more tuneable Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn." Shakespeare. Scourfield Hall never looked more beau- tiful than at sunrise on the fourteenth of Fe- bruary, in the year of our Lord 18 — . The grey mist rose slowly from the green turf, and hung upon the river in dense folds, as if reluctant to part with its more genial element. The old dark Elizabethan building was just tinged with the faint streaks of the rising sun, and the ivy-clad porch sparkled in the light, as the dew- wet leaves were shaken in the pas- sing breeze. The rooks wheeled from the THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 35 lofty elms which shaded the building, and " cawed " their matin orisons with praise- worthy observance. A robin perched upon a blackthorn warbled his wild strain; and a woodpigeon, roused by the sound from his sluggish repose in a cedar-tree, as old as the hills in the distance, whir-r-d from his chosen roost, and sped to his morning meal. A large Newfoundland dog walked leisurely from the entrance, as a maid servant swung open the massive iron-studded hall-door, and, stretching his shaggy limbs upon the lawn, trotted lei- surely off, to flirt with a lady pointer through the rails of her kennel. The Manor House, as the hall was more generally called, was built in the year 1580, by Sir John Scourfield, who was knighted by the virgin queen, for what service to the crown history doth not record. But two auburn ringlets, quartered in the armorial bearings of the family, gave rise to some county scandal, of the worthy knight having fabricated a cunning wig for his royal mistress in her fading days, which deceived the Earl of Leicester so 36 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. completely, that he begged two ringlets from it for a locket. This so gratified her gracious majesty, that she dubbed her barber with the honour of knighthood, and granted him the privilege of wearing two ringlets rampant upon his shield." From generation to generation, the Manor House and splendid estate had passed in a di- rect line to the heir, without quibble or dis- pute. No mortgage existed to render the possession of the broad lands but a nominal enjoyment of them ; no fine old oaks came crashing to the ground to pay " debts of ho- nour," but stood, as they had done for centu- ries, towering to the clouds, and stretching forth their time-mossed limbs over the earth that nurtured them, like grateful children protecting their mother. The building stood upon elevated ground, which, gradually sloping, terminated at the edge of a narrow but rapid stream, about three hundred yards from the hall. A thick grove upon the opposite side formed a capa- cious rookery, where those cunning ornitho- THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 37 logical priests reared their progenies undis- turbed by powder or bow. Two hundred acres of even turf, dotted with trees of varied foliage, comprised the surrounding park, in which a few aged horses and colts were luxuriating. Upon its borders a dense cover stood, full of thick underbrush. This was the pet one of surly John Bumstead, the gamekeeper, and was held more sacred in his estimation than the village church. The old house, without being magnificent from ornamental architecture, was remarkable for its venerable and solid appearance. Of the Gothic order, its thick walls were braced with huge beams, and its two wings were flanked with turrets. In the centre of the building was a large stone porch, over which the arms were rudely carved. A massive oak door, studded with iron nails, swung at the end of it, which led to the entrance hall. This was so capacious, that the squire used to say he had once, in his young wild days, driven his tandem in, and turned it round without touching the walls. 38 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. It was about six o'clock, when a window was thrown open, and a head emerged. A smile spread gradually over the features as the pleasant scene was regarded, and a voice ex- claimed, as two hands were brought suddenly together with a loud crack : — " Here's a delicious St. Valentine's morn- ing !" " The squire's up, by Jennies !" said a large fat red-faced boy, immediately under the win- dow, stopping in the act of digging up a flower- root. " Jack Tiggle,' what are you doing there ? At some mischief, I'm sure," said the voice from the window. "If you please, sir, I — I — I ain't, sir," replied Jack somewhat confused. "You young stoat ! stop where you are," was the reply. But the order was unheeded. Away ran the boy as fast as he could go, when the head was withdrawn. In a few moments the squire issued from the porch, with a long-thonged whip in his hand. THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 39 When he perceived the fugitive flying through the shrubbery, he smacked the whip loudly, and with a good-tempered laugh said, " That boy's always at some mischief or other." The squire's costume was one that may still occasionally be seen worn by " fine old English gentlemen," — who, in their way, are great exquisites. His hat, or his " thatch," as he was wont to call it, was rather low in the crown, with a brim of ex- tensive dimensions. A few yards of snow- white cambric were curled round his neck with scrupulous care. His long waisted coat, with its broad skirt and bright gilt buttons, had as much care bestowed upon its " cut" as any one of Beau Brummel's. A light buff waistcoat, rounded at the hips, descended far upon a pair, of spotless buckskin anti-con- tinuations, and a pair of highly-polished top- boots completed the attire. The white hair, which peeped in relief under the broadbrim, indicated that the squire might have seen the summers and winters of more than half a century ; but his dark blue, clear 40 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. eyes, even white teeth, and unwrinkled coun* tenance, occasioned an observer to question the accuracy of time's index. A tall, muscular man, having the appear- ance of prodigious strength, was crossing the park at some distance off, followed by a couple of terriers. He was hailed by the squire, who beckoned him to approach. " "Where are you going, Peter ?" said the squire. " To look at Striver's traps, sir," replied Peter, touching his hat respectfully. " Why, that's Jack's work," rejoined his master. " I know that, sir — it's his work," added Peter, with a self-injured look ; " but when, I should like to know, was he diskivered at work ! Facts is stubborn things ! and as sure as my name is Peter Bumstead, that boy'll be—" The report of a gun cut short the sentence. The terriers pricked their ears at the sound, and stood with their master looking in the direction whence it came. THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 41 " Where did that come from ?" asked the squire. " It's all right, I think, sir, but we'll go and see," replied Peter, striding off with his dogs. With hands crossed behind his back, the squire walked slowly towards his extensive stables, placed in a large courtyard nearly a quarter of a mile from the house. As he was proceeding, the clatter of a horse's hoofs at- tracted his attention. A boy, mounted on a small, rough, Shetland pony, came galloping towards him. A leathern bag was slung across his shoulders, which he took off and delivered to the squire. " It's almost full this morning, sir," said the boy with a knowing grin, " and I've got a heap for the servant gals besides." The squire opened the letter-bag, and, as he saw its contents, exclaimed, " How the young rogues will enjoy this ! Five for Kate, and three for Agnes." As he was shuffling the letters together, a maid-servant came tripping towards him. A 42 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. little cap was stuck upon one side of her head, the ribands, of course, left untied to stream in the wind. " My young mistress wishes to know, sir," said she, dropping a courtesy, and waiting for a little breath, " if there's any letters for her or Miss Agnes." "Take them along, Mary, take them along," replied the squire, giving her the parcel. Off ran Mary with the welcome epistles, breathing of " loves and doves." She bounded up the winding stone staircase, three steps at a jump, and bounced unceremoniously into Miss Kate Scourfield's dressing-room. Before a large cheval glass stood her young mistress, arranging the luxuriant ringlets which swept in careless order over her ivory shoulders. The squire's only child, the heiress of Scourfield Hall, was a beauty of no com- mon description. Her high and expanded forehead denoted the lofty thoughts reigning there ; while the finely-pencilled brow, look- ing like the faint touch of a limner's brush, showed the quality of her birth. Her dark, THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 43 hazel eyes were so shrouded with long, silken lashes, that, unless sparkling with laughter or flashing with excitement, they appeared half closed and sleepy. Her figure was tall, and although scarcely seventeen (oh ! that blessed age of girlish womanhood !) her form was round and full. Every action appeared so unstudied and yet so elegant, that Nature must have given her the priceless charm, " grace at her heart." " Here they are, miss," said Mary, offering the letters. " Let me see if Wilmot has been — yes, here it is. Call Agnes, Mary," said Kate, tearing open the letter. In less than a minute she was joined by her cousin Agnes, an orphan of the squire's only brother, who, after expending his patri- mony, died abroad. He left two children to the care of the squire, one of whom, being a high-spirited, thoughtless boy, went to India in the king's service, much against the wish of his uncle ; while the other, under the fos- tering protection of the squire, who loved her 44 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. as his own, grew up the very image of her cousin Agnes, as we have just described her. " Look here, Agnes," said Kate, laughing merrily, " here are three for you, and five for me. Wilmott has sent me one, and I think Titley has sent you the whole three, for they seem to be all in the same hand-writing." " The absurdity ! I begin to hate the stu- pid namby pamby," replied Agnes, tossing the opened letters from her. " Now, don't be so dreadfully severe upon poor Titley," rejoined Kate. " He really would faint and require your fan, if he heard you talk thus." " I'd fan him with a horsewhip with plea- sure," said her cousin. " But have you had something wry sweet from Mr. Ashley, or Wilmott, as you familiarly call him when absent." " Oh ! the essence of honied words. Lis- ten," replied Kate, preparing to read the contents of a billet-doux. " Come away, come away, you young gos- THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 45 sips there," hallooed a voice from under the window of the apartment. " I want my breakfast. Kate — Agnes — come, I say." Mary threw open the casement, and out popped the heads of the two young ladies. Upon the lawn stood the squire, caressing the Newfoundland dog. " We're coming, dear father," said Kate. " How are you this morning, uncle dear ?" inquired Agnes. " Quite well, my love, quite well. But come and make the tea. We throw off at ten, and it's past eight now," replied the squire. Without stopping to peruse the letter, the young ladies completed their respective toilettes, and hastened to the breakfast par- lour. This room was the only one in the house that the squire had decorated in his own style. Cross-bows, fowling-pieces, fishing- rods, whips, and nets, were suspended upon pegs in motley groups round the apartment. Portraits of favourite horses and dogs were crowded upon the walls. Foxes' heads, 46 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. mounted as silver goblets, and a few racing cups, won by some successful horse, were placed upon a sideboard. Altogether, it was a complete sportsman's repository. The squire was carving a huge sirloin of beef, by the side of which stood a foaming jug of ale, as the girls entered. He was clasped round the neck by both at the same time, and submitted to a process of long and vigorous salutation, with much apparent satis- faction. "Ye young lags," exclaimed the squire, " what were those letters about, eh ?" The two girls laughed, but returned no answer. " I know," continued the squire ; " some of Ashley's and his ladylike friends' nonsense. They'll be here directly." " Would you like to hear some of the non- sense, father ? or can you place sufficient con- fidence in my proverbial discretion ?" said Kate, archly. " Don't bother me with the stuff," replied THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 47 her father. "I wonder that a fellow like Wilmott should deal in such trifles : a fine chap like him. As to Mr. Titley — that young milliner — " The further progress of the squire's speech was stopped short by Agnes jumping up and placing her hand over his lips. " Not another word, if you please, uncle," said she. " I am Mr. Titley's champion." "I am de-loight-ed to hear such a honey- dew declaration," said the object of the re- mark, Powis Titley, suddenly appearing close to her elbow. " Bless me ! Mr. Titley, how you fright- ened me !" exclaimed Agnes, reddening with vexation at his untoward presence. " Why, how the deuce did you come with- out our hearing you ?" said the squire. "My dear Mr. Scourfield, my legs per- formed the agreeable office from the entrance ; my horse from Wilmott's house. But the truth is, you were all so mirthful," continued Titley, " that the noise of my boots, which are particularly thin, was not observed. I thank 48 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. Heaven and my boot-maker that this was the case, as I was thus enabled to hear — " "A young lady make a Tom Noddy of herself," interrupted the squire, looking at Agnes as if anticipating a retort practical. But she kept her eyes bent upon the floor, and seemed, by the slightly-contracted brow and quickly beating foot, to be somewhat irritated. " Now, don't Tom Noddyize your niece, my dear sir, for being so decidedly candid, and excessively agreeable," replied Titley, with a smirk of satisfaction. This speech, spoken in a drawling, con- ceited tone, occasioned an ill-suppressed laugh from Kate, who, seeing that her cousin was angry at Titley's hearing her playful remark, endeavoured to conceal the delight generally experienced at his expence. But Agnes heard the slight expression from her cousin's lips, and, raising her eyes from the ground, and meeting those of Kate's, sparkling with glee, the two girls simultaneously broke into a laugh, which disconcerted Titley's self-ap- THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 49 proved manner. He seemed to entertain a fear that he was subjected to that awful or- deal for a man's vanity, being laughed at, and winced at the mirth as it continued to increase for some seconds. At length silence was restored, and the squire said, " Where's Ashley ?" " He's at the door examining a horse brought for your approval, I believe," replied Titley. " Oh ! that horse has come, has he ? Well, I'll go and see him now, for we've not too much time to lose," said the squire, glancing at an old-fashioned time-piece over the fire- place. " Will you give your opinion, Titley ?" added he. " No, I thank you. My opinion about a horse is dubious in value. I'll stay where I am until you are ready," replied Titley. The squire proceeded to the porch, where a fine-looking horse stood, held by one of those slang-tongued eccentric-dressing bipeds, who are known as "dealers," The animal was being VOL. I. D 50 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. carefully examined by the squire's intimate friend and chief companion, Wilmott Ashley, whose estate joined the Scourfield property. Wilmott was a great favourite with the squire, who regarded him with an affection approaching to that a father entertains to- wards a son. With a generous, frank, and high-minded disposition, he possessed a tall, elegant, and athletic frame, just moulded into the strength of manhood. His features were beautifully chiselled, perhaps too much so for a man ; but their expression was at once so dignified and so benevolent, that the delicacy of them was not observed while looking on the clear blue flashing eye, and the proud, but smiling lip. Long, thick, chestnut curls hung negligently over a lofty forehead, and alto- gether the most careless observer of manly beauty could not but admire the appearance of Wilmott Ashley. " Well, my boy ! what do you think of him?" said the squire to Wilmott, as he dropped a fore-foot after inspecting it. " What does he think of him ?" repeated THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 51 the horse-dealer, a small, long-waisted, bandy- legged individual, dressed in a cutaway green coat, corduroy knees, and antiquated top-boots, with broad pieces of white tape passed across his knees, to keep them in place. "What does he think of him, Squire Scourfield ! why what every gen'lm'n must think that knows any thing about a 'oss. There ain't his match, .his equal, or his sooperior," said he, with the prevailing modesty of his craft. " What can he do ?" said Wilmott, after exchanging salutations with the squire, and whispering to him that the horse promised well. " Do /" repeated the dealer, with emphasis, and putting his turned-up hat on one side, " why, to be short and sweet, gen'l'men, he can do this — he can walk a little, trot a few, and, as ior jumping — d — n my eyes — " " Have you any objection to my riding him to-day ?" said Wilmott. " None, whatsomdever, sir. He's as sound as a roach, fine as a lark, and dewoid of flaw or blemish. A regular pip of the right fruit," D 2 LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 52 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. replied the horse-dealer, giving the object of his admiration a loud smack upon the neck. " Take him to the stables, then, and have him saddled," said the squire, " for here come the hounds, I see." The horse was led away by his owner, and the squire told Wilrnott to go into the break- fast-room, where he would find the girls and his friend, while he went to change his blue for the scarlet coat. Under four large oaks growing close toge- ther in the centre of the park, the appointed place for " the meet," were several mounted horsemen in the gay dress of the chase. Others were walking their horses leisurely towards the spot from various directions. A few horses were being led by servants, and some peasants were hurrying thither with their best haste. In a few minutes, the hounds, led by Wil- liam, and followed by his father, passed close to the window of the breakfast-parlour. In an instant the sash was thrown up, and Wil- liam, and the young ladies' especial favourite, his father, doffed their caps respectfully, as their young mistresses made their appearance. THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 53 "How beautiful your hounds look, Mr. Bolton," said Kate to the old whipper-in, knowing the most ready way to please him. " Thank ye kindly, miss," replied Tom, " they're all in tidy condition." " What is the name of the leader, now ?" asked Agnes. A glow spread over Tom's features, as if his heart was shining through them. He tightened his curb-rein, drew his heels towards his horse's flanks, and performed a very showy curvet, as he bawled, " Trimbush ! I say, Trimbush !" A large hound came bounding along from the pack, which continued to proceed with the huntsman, and leaped to the pummel of the saddle. His ears were long and pendu- lous, his chest deep, back broad, neck thin, his shoulders well thrown back, and a long bushy tail he carried like a soldier's plume. His colour was snowy white, patched with black in different parts of his body. " This is him, ma'am ; the youngest but a leash in the whole of 'em," said Tom, pul- ling one of the hound's long ears affectionately 54 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. as he rested his round feet upon his doe-skins. " He's a son of poor old Merryman," con- tinued he, " and so much like the father in all respects, that I've no doubt in my own mind but — " Mr. Bolton smiled, lugged the favourite's ear rather too violently, which caused him to squeal, and hesitated to conclude the sentence. " But, what ?" asked Kate. " You'd only laugh at me, ladies ; so I'd rather not," replied Tom, touching the peak of his velvet cap, bending slightly forward in his stirrups, and cantering off with Trimbush. " I wonder what he meant !" said Kate. " Oh ! one of his queer notions, I suppose," replied Wilmott. " He's a strange old fellow, but one of the best in the world." " Do you join the hunt to-day ?" inquired Agnes of Titley, who was caught in the act of examining his teeth in a pocket looking- glass. Mr. Titley blushed, and stammered : — " For the first time in my life I'm going to be a proselyte to the fair goddess Diana. That THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 55 is, I am about to see what is termed by Wil- mott the throw off; but I've no idea of leap- ing. Oh ! dear no ! The thing appears dan- gerous." " Then you have no intention of following," said Agnes. " None in the least, I assure you. With your permission I shall return, and try a duet with you," replied he. " As you please," rejoined Agnes. " Now, then," said the squire, entering the room, booted, spurred, capped, and bound in a scarlet coat, which, from its purple skirts, appeared to have seen some active service — " All's ready. Come, Wilmott, Titley, let 's be off." The gentlemen mounted their ardent horses, and proceeded towards the gathered crowd under the oak-trees in the park. 56 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. CHAPTER III. THE FOX CHASE. " Such a noise arose As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest, As loud, and to as many tunes." Powis Titley had been a schoolfellow of Wilmott Ashley at Eton. From boyhood a friendship had commenced, which lasted with unabated firmness to the period of his intro- duction to my readers. Although affected, and possessing a decided appearance of effemi- nacy, Titley had indubitable courage, a sen- sitive nature, and an excellent disposition. His assumed manner often occasioned Ashley to lecture him upon the absurdity of it ; but, finding no improvement, he quitted the task of admonishing, and overlooked his foibles in the knowledge of his sterling merits. THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 57 After keeping their terms together at Ox- ford, Wilmott, who had been left an orphan from infancy, took possession of his paternal property, Woodland Eookery, a substantial, square building, with five hundred acres of land, joining the squire's estate. Titley, after purchasing a commission in the army, and being put upon half-pay, went a tour upon the continent, and returned, by the urgent solicitation of his friend, to join him " at the old house at home." He had been three weeks only at Woodland Eookery, when he was persuaded by Wilmott to abandon his usual morning diversion of striking a guitar, to mount his elegant, slight-limbed galloway, and join the Scourfield hunt ; but by special agreement only to see the " throw off;" not to follow the noisy pack. With the squire, Titley was any thing but a favourite. He was regarded by him merely in the light of a contemptible creature, un- worthy of the form he bore, and a disgrace to his sex, from his apparent want of all manly energy. It was a constant subject of wonder d5 58 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. with the squire, how his paragon of a friend, Ashley, could be on terms of intimacy with " such a Miss Nancy," as he was wont to call Titley. But with the ladies, Titley held a more favoured position. He could sing a beautiful song, relate amusing anecdotes, write gallant verses, draw tolerably well; and his good humour displayed upon all occasions, even when the joke was against him, made him a desirable companion for them. With Agnes, he was imperceptibly approaching to an espe- cial favourite, and it was with pleasure she listened to "Wilmott's frequently reiterated statement that " Titley was as noble a fellow as ever lived, as in time they would discover." This, however, had little weight with the squire. " Hark in, hark in," shouted "William, as the hounds arrived at a promising, thick-set cover, at the bottom of a slope, on the verge of the park. " Dear me !" exclaimed Titley, " what very hensum enimels, to be sure !" THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 59 " Now then, sir, foxes have listeners, re- collect," said the old whipper-in in a repro- ving voice. " Have they really !" said Titley. " I had no idea of that fact in natural history ; but still—" " I wish you would be still, sir," replied Tom, angrily. " How the devil can a war- mint break, with your clapper going like a sheep's tinckler !" Mr. Bolton was regarded with a look of profound astonishment, through the raised eyeglass suspended round the neck of Powis Titley. The gaze commenced at Tom's bright spurs, and was gradually lifted to the tops of his boots ; then to his doe-skin inexpressibles ; slowly proceeding, it reached the skirts of his coat, then to a silver button, upon which a fox's head, brush, and pads, were mounted. One by one was examined minutely, until a gold pin, in the shape of a stag at bay, was visible in the neatly-tied, snowy neckerchief. Up the look was carried until it reached the centre of the peak of the black velvet cap 60 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. which shaded the brows of Tom Bolton ; when Powis Titley mentally inquired, " What did I accomplish to excite this horrid Goth ?" The query was scarcely concluded, when a full, deep tone rang through the wood. " Hark to Trimbush, hark to Trimbush !" shouted Tom. " Yoik's to him. Musical, Benedict, Claronet." In an instant the cries of the other hounds joined the leader's, making wood, hill, and dale, ring again with their hearty chorus. The riders had now to tighten the reins upon their excited horses. High into the air some bounded with delight ; others ca- pered, kicked, pawed the earth, champed their bits, and neighed with anxiety for the start. A few experienced old hunters, among which was the squire's, stood motionless with pricked ears, as if carved from granite. The horse that Wilmott was on reared so perpendicularly upon his haunches at the first cry, that he almost fell backwards with his rider. Deep into his flanks the rowels were sent, and a heavily-loaded whip came with THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 61 such correcting force between his sleek, quill- tipped ears, that no secondary symptoms of revolt were exhibited. " I really think I should have been off if placed in so uncomfortable a posture," said Titley, arriving in a short canter to the side of his friend. Ashley smiled, and observed, " Well, and what if you had ?" " One would have looked so very awk- ward, you know, spreading upon the ground, all legs and wings," replied Titley. " By the bye, what am I to do should I perceive this fox, Wilmott ?" inquired he. " Hush ! don't speak so loud ; you'll have old Bolton at your heels. Say not a word — I'll tell you all about that to-morrow," replied Wilmott, moving his horse gently away. But Titley was determined not to remain without the information he required. Seeing the squire a few yards off, behind the trunk of a large elm, he approached him, and asked, in a suppressed tone, " How he should recog- nize the enimel, and what he should do in case he saw him run away ?" 62 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. " Never seen, a fox, eh ?" said the squire. " A stuffed one in a glass-case only," re- plied Title y ; " and I was given to understand that the specimen was imperfect, from the circumstance of a mouse having nibbled part of its tail off." " Humph !" grumbled the squire. " Well, by his brush you'll know him." " Brush !" repeated Titley, " pray, my dear squire, what is a brush ?" " What you call a tail, long and bushy, and not unlike your well-trimmed whiskers in colour," replied the squire. " Indeed ! " rejoined Titley, musingly. " What shall I say or do if I see him ?" in- quired he. " If in cover, not a word — remain quiet. If running away, as you term it, halloo, ' Tally- ho !' as loud as you can," replied the squire, leaving Titley to ponder upon his instructions. Every hound now pressed hard to sly rey- nard, who evinced much reluctance to have a run. He dodged his relentless pursuers here and there, until it was certain that he THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 63 must either break away or be chopped — killed upon his own hearth, without a struggle for his life. At length the earnest wishes of the surrounding sportsmen were gratified, al- though the sounds occasioned some astonish- ment. " Tilly-hoo ! tilly-hoo ! Tilly-ho-oo-oo !" came in a clear, thin voice, from some novice, with the view holloa. " For'ard ! for'ard !" shouted William, as he swept towards the spot from whence the welcome sounds proceeded, with a few of the crack-hounds. " Hark for'ard ! hark for'ard !" hallooed Tom. " For'ard, Trimbush ! for'ard !" said he to his favourite, who shewed extraordinary symptoms of disobeying the order. When the old whipper-in arrived at the place where the halloo came from, he was surprised at seeing Titley, with his glass to his eye, chanting Tilly-hoo ! in a most per- severing style. An assertion that " A post sometimes points out the right road," escaped the lips of Tom Bolton, as he perceived the source of intelligence. 64 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. " He'll go for Blackwood," said one. " Ten to one, he goes for Eington pits," shouted another. " The wind's wrong," replied a third. " He's for Wordsley covers." " Now for a rattling burst, and no checks," said Wilmott, flushed with excitement. " Put him to it, my boy," said the squire, arranging himself comfortably in the saddle for the start. The willing hounds galloped to and fro, snuffing the ground with distended nostrils ; but no joyful cry escaped them. William stood in his stirrups, and, stooping forward, cap in hand, cheered the astonished hounds to pick up the scent. " Trimbush ! Trimbush !" said Tom, in a reproachful tone. The hound stood still from his task, and, looking at the old whipper- in with ears thrown back, wagged his bushy tail. " No fox has been here, I'll swear," ejacu- lated Tom. " I beg you will not impeach my veracity," said Titley. THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 65 " Ugh !" replied Tom, signifying his con- tempt. " Where did he break from ?" inquired Ashley. " From under that fir-tree, opposite to you, the creature jumped out," replied Titley. " Point out the exact spot," said the squire. " Why, bless my destiny ! there the thing is now !" replied Titley. "Where? where? where ?" everybody cried. "There," replied he, pointing to the top- most branch of a lofty elm close at hand. The bewildered sportsmen looked in the direction. With his bushy tail curled over his back sat a squirrel, peering at the scene below with evident satisfaction that he was above all danger. " There it is," said Titley ; " I knew him by his tail." Roars of laughter pealed from the majority at this discovery. Wilmott could scarcely keep himself in the saddle, and was literally convulsed with mirth at his friend, who soon found that he had made the woful blunder 66 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. of taking a squirrel for a fox. The squire looked at Titley with inexpressible contempt. His eyes appeared ready to start from their sockets. His lips were separated, and his visage, always tolerably flushed, was a bright scarlet from inward laughter. But there were a few who considered the mistake any thing but a subject for mirth. Among the leading male contents was the old whipper-in. He gazed with lowering brow, which continued to blacken, first at the squir- rel, then at Titley. From his features, which bore an expression of superlative coolness, the angry look again rested upon the squirrel. For a few seconds Tom Bolton thus continued his minute examination : at length he ex- claimed, " May I be d — d ! (God forgive me !) if there's a fool in this world to match you /" " Duck him in a horse-pond," was an audi- ble suggestion from his son. " I wonder how his mamma came to trust him out alone," grinned a round, fat-faced yeoman mounted upon a sorrel. " Send for his nurse," said an enraged indi- THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 67 vidual, spurring his own horse, in the heat of his imagination, fancying that he was en- joying a few kicks at poor Titley. " Lay on a poodle, and run him to a lady's lap," was another suggestion. "With the utmost pleasure," replied Titley. " There's not a place in the wide world that I would sooner fly to. But, gentlemen — " u No, no, no ; we won't hear ye !" inter- rupted somebody, which, as a matter of course, occasioned the opposition cry of " Hear him ! hear him !" " No, no, no." " Yes, yes, yes ; hear him, hear him ! Off, off — hear him ! "No! order!" The squire beckoned at last for silence. In a short time the shouts ceased, the uproar- ious peals of laughter were hushed, and,, as the reporters say of " the house," order was restored. After two or three ineffectual efforts to speak, the squire said, "Now, Titley, what have you to say ?" 68 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. Titley extracted from his pocket a white cambric handkerchief, and, after wiping his lips, thus commenced. " Gentlemen, I candidly admit having caused much confusion, by mistaking that little eni- mel perched up there for a fox — but — " Another edition of laughter interrupted further progress for some minutes. " Go on, Titley," said Wilmott. " Before apologising for the effects of the error, which lam most ready to do," continued he, "I will state how I was led into it. Being ignorant — " " As a jackass," chimed in Tom. " Being unfortunately ignorant," repeated Titley, without noticing the flattering addi- tion, " of the appearance of a fox, I inquired how he was to be identified. I was informed, by his long, bushy tail." " As if a fox had a tail !" observed the old whipper-in, with a sneer of the most profound indignation. " By that observation, I suppose, the eni- mel does not possess a tail. Obviously, then, THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 69 I am not in fault. I inquired of Squire Scourfield, and he said — " " What did I say ?" asked the squire, quickly. " My dear sir, you must admit having re- plied that I should know him by his brush, which, upon further inquiry, appeared synony- mous with tail." " Puppies and monkeys have tails," sug- gested Mr. Bolton, as a personal reference. " I'm aware of that fact," replied Titley ; " and I now learn that it is an error in sporting phraseology to apply the word ' tail' to a fox. But, gentlemen, when I tell you that the squire's information described the fox's tail, or, more properly speaking, his brush, as being- long and bushy, and resembling my whiskers in colour — I say, gentlemen, I am certain you will be ready to admit, upon reference to the little enimel's bushy tail, that the error arose simply from the unfortunate resemblance exist- ing in colour between the pigmy creature's ter- minus, which, by the way, is a truly prominent feature, and the whiskers which I have the pleasure of submitting to your inspection." 70 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. " Bravo ! hear, hear," were now very ge- neral cries. " For the unintentional wrong committed, I beg to offer you my regret : at the same time, I must entreat you to bear in mind the whole of the circumstances connected with the af- fair ; and, in the full assurance that my case rests in the hands of liberal-minded, intelli- gent, free-born Britons, I anticipate that lenity which is ever tempered with their decisions — * mercy, seasoned with justice.' " Vociferous hurrahs followed Titley's sue cessful oration. Some declared that " he could speak better than the parson," and all forgave him the direful offence ; even the old whipper-in bore no shade of animosity ; " for," as he truly observed, " the best of us are liable to err. Many a rascal has passed for an honest man. Why shouldn't a squirrel be taken for a fox !" During the whole of this brief scene, of which the astonished hounds could evidently make neither head nor tail, William Bolton remained a quiet but somewhat uneasy spec- THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 71 tat or. At length, when the confusion sub- sided, he cried, " Try back, Trimbush ! try back, Commodore, Chastity, Wanton !" and away went the hounds to hit off the scent again, if sly reynard had not taken advantage of the incident to escape from his pursuers by one of his numerous stratagems. In less than a minute, a hearty cry pealed through the thick cover again. " Hark to Eeveller!" shouted the huntsman. " Hark to Eeveller ! for'ard ! for'ard !" " Tally-ho ! tally-ho ! tally-ho !" rung from the lips of the old whipper-in, as he espied the fox break away from a corner of the cover ; and every hound answered the halloo by bursting from the wood. The old whipper-in lifted his cap from his head, and, squaring his bridle arm, made the view halloo heard by many a distant ear. " Hold hard ! Let them get at it," said the squire to the eager sportsmen. Again the ardent horses fretted, pulled, and seemed ready to jump from their glossy skins. In a few moments the squire gave his usual signal. " Harkaway ! harkaway !" cried he. 72 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. The reins were slackened, the riders bent forward in their saddles, and away went the merry crowd : one for life, the many for sport. " Be quiet," observed Titley to his gal- loway, as it capered and tried to follow. " Be quiet, I repeat." But the party addressed appeared in no mood to obey the mandate. " Good heavens ! I shall be off to a moral certainty," said Mr. Powis Titley, as his horse continued to caper, kick, and pull, but with in- creased vigour, " I certainly shall. How excessively disagreeable !" The lively little horse had caught some of the enthusiasm of the sport. He bent his arched neck to his chest, as the reins were pulled to restrain his impetuous desire to join in the fun, and the white foam flew from his champed bit, as, bending his haunches, he reared high into the air. Titley clutched the pummel with one hand, the mane with the other ; and the delighted animal, finding himself free from the cramping rein, flew with the speed of light after the gallant pack. Without a THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 73 hat, which rolled in an opposite direction, and his long hair streaming in the wind, the hap- less exquisite commenced his unwilling race. On went the galloway, and made, in a direct line, towards a stone wall of at least six feet in height. " Good heavens !" mentally exclaimed Titley, as he viewed the impediment, " good heavens ! he surely doesn't mean to leap !" With outstretched neck and pricked ears, the pony neared the wall. Within a few yards of the important spot, the despairing Titley closed his eyes : the next minute he found himself under water ! When the horse was close to the wall, he judiciously altered his mind with regard to the intended jump, and, bringing himself in a moment upon his hocks, Titley was sent clear over his head and the wall, into a duck-pond on the opposite side, " Quack, quack, quack," screamed the af- frighted poultry, hurrying to shore. The water bubbled, foamed, and hissed, as Titley rose to the surface. vol I. E 74 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. " How prodigiously disagreeable !" gurgled from his lips, as he scrambled from the pool and safely landed, excepting only the damage done to his temporary appearance. Dripping from head to foot, with black mud spread over his features, and kneaded into his profuse ringlets, he looked piteously for an explan- ation of the cause of his predicament. In the perspective he caught a glimpse of a few scarlet coats, and a horse without an occu- pant of the saddle, " Ah ! I perfectly comprehend it," said he. " No one saw me ; that's very agreeable." In a few moments more not a horseman was in sight ; not a sound to be heard ; all had gone far away ; and, with the comfortable consolation that no one had witnessed the ludicrous mishap, Mr. Powis Titley turned upon his heel, and wended his dripping way towards Woodland Bookery, THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 75 CHAPTEK IV. THE VILLAGE LAWYER, Honesty's a fool, And loses that it works for. One of the most desirable residences, if not the best, in every village, is invariably in the possession of the doctor or the attorney. Such was the case in the village of Estead, conti- guous to Scourfield Hall, Lounging in an easy chair sat Francis Fid* dylee, gentleman, an attorney in the courts of common law, and a solicitor in the high court of chancery. A piece of red tape was in the act of being twisted round his fingers for want of more profitable employment, and a deep shade of vexation clouded his low, contracted brow, No one, with the least spark of generosity E2 76 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. in his composition, can point the finger of scorn to a man's origin. However humble it may be, a man's birth, per se, cannot degrade him, for he possesses no influence over it ; and that which is beyond our controul we should not be held accountable for. In stating, there- fore, that Francis Fiddylee's father was master of the county workhouse, and that the at- torney drew his first breath under the inhos- pitable roof aforesaid, it is alleged merely as a simple fact, not as a reproach. Ambition to exalt his son to the legal title of a " gentleman " led Mr. Fiddylee, senior, to article his offspring to a neighbouring law- yer. After sitting upon a very high, hard stool the major part of five years, Fiddylee junior was duly admitted to the right of issuing writs, penning threatening letters, making heavy bills of costs, pocketing fees, and all other agreeable offices pertaining to the pro- fession of attorney-at-law. Soon after this flattering position was at- tained, Francis Fiddylee was left fatherless. With the proceeds of the personal estate, two THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 77 hundred and fifty pounds, the fledged attorney quitted the paternal roof, and cogitated deeply where he should squat — as an American would say. Various towns and villages were gravely thought of, till at length the quiet, pretty village of Estead was decided upon as the theatre of his " deeds." A year had rolled away since the attorney arrived, hut clients came " few and far be- tween." Five leases, two letters, and one action, were all that had occupied him. The latter was brought by himself for trespass caused by a diminutive pig squeezing under his garden gate, and rooting up three straw- berry plants. Being plaintiff and attorney in the suit, although the damages amounted but to one shilling, yet, with the costs, it proved a profitable speculation. A large table covered with black leather stood in the apartment, upon the door of which was painted in white letters, " Office," and a thick brief, endorsed " Fiddylee v. Jones," with an inkstand, two pens, and four dummies — or, in more comprehensive language, 78 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. draft declarations of imaginary actions, which may frequently be seen upon the desks of practitioners in want of practice — adorned its surface. " Ah !" exclaimed the attorney, rising from his easy posture, and throwing the piece of tape violently upon the table, " ah ! a tres- pass now and then would make a fellow com- fortable." He seized the weighty brief, and, regarding it with a complacent look, said, " I wonder whether it would have been possible to have added a few more folios ! " Turning over its full pages, he added, " Not another, I believe." Then a smile of self-approbation spread it- self over his thin, weazel-looking face, his small eyes twinkled with delight, and a sort of chuckling laugh rattled in his throat. At this moment loud, heavy footsteps, stumping along the passage leading to the office, attracted the attorney's attention, and a shadow of hope that a client had arrived gleamed in Piddylee's features, as a broad fist thumped against the door. THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 79 " Come in," shouted the attorney. " Sartinly, sir," replied Jack Tiggle, throw- ing open the door, and bouncing unceremoni- ously into the room. " There's a reader from the squire — although it's Miss Kate's writing, I see," he observed, looking at the address of a note which he held in his hand ; " and you are to send back word by me," said he, offer- ing the epistle to Mr. Fiddylee. " An invitation to dinner," said the at- torney, perusing the note. " Sit down, boy, and I'll write a reply." " No you won't, sir ; or, if you do, I shan't take it," replied Jack. Mr. Fiddylee stared. 11 As Peter Bumpstead says," continued Jack, " facts is stubborn things. Orders is orders. I ivas told to bring word ; but I wasn't told to bring a note." It being very immaterial to the attorney in what way his answer was conveyed, so long as it was perfectly understood that he ac- cepted the invitation, he rejoined, " Well, then, make my best compliments to the squire, 80 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. and say I shall have much pleasure in dining with him to-day." " And no whopper about that," observed Jack, with a sly wink. Mr. Fiddylee tried to look dignified, but it was quite lost upon Jack, who, with a care- less gait, strolled to the door, and, fumbling the latch, surveyed the walls of the office. Three dingy volumes, and a large map of the county, were the only ornaments upon them. A piece of cold-looking oilcloth, worn only near the chair where Mr. Fiddylee sat, scantily covered the floor. Half a dozen formal chairs and the table completed the furniture in the spiritless, chilling room. " Law's a bad trade, ain't it, sir ? " asked Jack, as he slowly opened the door. Mr. Fiddylee " did not think it his busi- ness to inquire." " I've heard it is," continued Jack, un- mindful of the remark. " When people go to law," continued he, " they go up pumpkin, and come down squash" With this sage observation Jack Tiggle left the office, and slammed the door. THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 81 The attorney placed his hands in his pockets, and, gingling a small quantity of silver toge- ther, seemed to enjoy Jack's assertion, as to a suitor's unenviable condition in the matter of "pumpkin" and "squash." He was indul- ging in a delicious reverie upon this subject, slightly mingled with a palatable gratification at the squire's expense in the perspective, when again his ear caught the sound of ap- proaching footsteps along the passage. With- out the ceremony of knocking, the door swung open upon its hinges, and in walked a tall stout man, having the appearance of a farmer. His legs were cased in leather buckskins, and a pair of hob-nailed boots adorned his feet, which latter were of such weighty materials, that Mr. Fiddylee, as the individual approached him with two or three awkward bows, invo- luntarily drew back under his chair a foot which nourished a tender corn. " I'm come, zur," said he, smoothing down a quantity of red hair over his forehead, "for a little measure of lar." " Sit down, my dear sir," said the attorney, offering a chair. E 5 82 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. " Thank'e, zur, I wull," replied he, occu- pying a seat. ' ' What is the nature of your business?" inquired the lawyer. "Why, zur, I'm a freeholder of a small farm about tu mile from hence. It jines Squire Scourfield's property. Well ! it's agin my consent to have any hunters come across it, because why ! they break down the fences, and play Belzebub. So when the hounds come across, it's the squire's orders for no one to foller 'em, but to go a little to the right, or to the left. This has been abided by 'till yes- terday mornin', when a gen'l'm'n staying at young Squire Ashley's came smashing over the farm just like a Bedlamite. Not caring a fig for my new wall, he rode at it, when the horse, poor creetur ! knowing better, stopped on the right side ; but over flew the rider into my duck- pond, all among my ducks, geese, and goslins." '.' Shameful outrage!" observed the attorney. " ISTow, zur, I wants to know whether that's agin the lar ?" said the farmer. THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 83 " Against the law," repeated the attorney, stretching out his legs, and smacking his lips ; " I think you said against the law." " That's what I said, zur," replied the farmer. " A more decided trespass, a more conclu- sive case for legal redress, a more unequivocal outrage, a more successful attempt to wound a man's tender feelings, I never heard of. There's no precedent of the kind on record. We'll teach him to incommode geese and gos- lins," said the attorney, bringing his hand furiously upon the table. " Beggin' yer pardon, zur, that's the very thing I want to larn him not to do," replied the farmer. " Yes, yes," rejoined Mr. Fiddylee, " you misunderstood me. What's your name ?" " Humphrey Larkins, zur," rejoined the farmer. "And the name of the trespasser?" said the attorney. 11 I've brought him on paper, zur," replied his client, handing him a scrap on which " Poois Teetlye " was scrawled. 84 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. "Larkins against Teetlye," said the at- torney, as he wrote them down. " The case shall meet with that particular and personal attention from me, sir, which its importance fully entitles it to." " Thank'e, zur," replied the farmer, rising to leave. " I shall require another consultation to- morrow," said the attorney; "please to call here at ten." " Sartinly, zur," rejoined the client, leaving the office with the lightness of a full-grown elephant. Mr. Fiddylee was happiness personified. His hopes were realized; his ardent wishes were fulfilled. " Ye gods and goddesses !" exclaimed the attorney, " a few of these trespasses will render a fellow very comfortable." This windfall, or horsefall, of fate, was a little too much for Mr. Fiddylee's nerves. The slice of good luck was more than he could swallow with becoming coolness of manner. He paced up and down the room with hur- THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 85 ried step, and one of the formal-looking chairs being in his way, he gave it an extravagant kick, which cracked its back, as it fell against the table. Seizing a large ledger which con- tained very few items, and drawing it from the interior of his desk, tears glistened unshed, but swimming in his eyes, as he wrote in one of its voluminous pages, " Larkins, v. Teetlye. Very long consultation with pit., instructions to sue, &c, &c,