JNIVERSITY OF 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
A SPORTING QUIXOTE. 
 
A SPORTING QUIXOTE 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES 
 
 OF THE 
 
 HON BLE - AUGUSTUS FITZMUDDLE, 
 
 AFTERWARDS EARL OF MUDDLETON. 
 
 BY 
 
 S. LAING, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " MODERN SCIENCE AND MODERN THOUGHT. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: CHAPMAN AND HALL, 
 
 LIMITED. 
 
 1886, 
 
LOAN STACK 
 
 CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS 
 CRYSTAL PALACE PRESS. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 NOVEL READERS, BEWARE! 
 
 THOSE who read novels for ingenious plots, 
 stirring incidents, and sensational characters, are 
 warned that nothing of the sort is to be found 
 on these premises; and that, on the contrary, 
 spring-guns are set which may explode un 
 expectedly, and compel them either to throw 
 down the volume in disgust, or go through 
 the exceedingly disagreeable process which 
 is known as thinking. 
 
 Indeed it may be doubted whether this little 
 book deserves the name of a novel at all. Is 
 " Don Quixote " a novel ? or " Sartor Resartus " ? 
 For those are the models which, more or less 
 
 204 
 
vi PREFACE. 
 
 consciously, and at a humble distance, the author 
 has endeavoured to follow, rather than the 
 traditional type of the three-volume novel. 
 
 The book originated with some sketches of 
 sporting misadventures made to amuse grand 
 children. The next process was to write short 
 descriptions to illustrate the sketches. Then the 
 idea gradually arose of making the hero a sort 
 of modern Don Quixote, and trying to develop 
 the theme that goodness is better than smartness ; 
 and show how a shy, sensitive, awkward youth, 
 spoiled by a silly education, was gradually 
 transformed from a muff into a man, and from 
 a man into a model of a simple-minded, 
 kind-hearted, generous, and honourable specimen 
 of an English gentleman. 
 
 And then other ideas came crowding in of 
 trying on this canvas to paint life-like pictures 
 of a number of scenes, experiences, and reflec 
 tions, which, in the course of a long and busy 
 life, had photographed themselves vividly on 
 the author s brain and memory. 
 
 Thus the book came to be that olla podrida of 
 
PREFACE. vii 
 
 miscellaneous ingredients which the reader will 
 find it. Whether they make a dainty dish fit 
 to set before a king, or a coarse mess, which it 
 requires the " dura messorum ilia/ the rigid 
 digestive organs of hungry reapers, to assimilate, 
 is for the reader and not the author to say. No 
 man is a judge in his own case, and least of all 
 is an author in regard to his own production. 
 
 All I can say is this, that if I have failed to 
 make judicious readers laugh, and in laughing 
 love, and in laughing and loving think, the 
 work is a failure, and the author will be the 
 first to recommend that it be swept as "rubbish 
 to the void" and forgotten. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 $art I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 MRS. HUNTER S LITTLE GAME FITZMUDDLE S 
 
 PARENTAGE AND EDUCATION I 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 IN OBAN SOUND OFF THE BUTT OF MULL . . 36 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE TWELFTH OF AUGUST GROUSE AND BLACK 
 
 GAME .60 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE SWEET HIGHLAND GIRL 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 PACK 
 
 TROUT AND SALMON FISHING 87 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 DEER-STALKING THE SHEPHERD S COTTAGE . . Il6 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE GILLIES BALL , ". . . . . . 139 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 FITZMUDDLE IN THE SHIRES FOX-HUNTING . .164 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE STEEPLE-CHASE ..... . 207 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 FITZMUDDLE S SMASH . 221 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 COURTSHIP 
 
 239 
 
CONTENTS. xi 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 HOW GOLCONDAS WENT UP 30 1 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE WEDDING 3! I 
 
A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 fart I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MRS. HUNTER S LITTLE GAME FITZMUDDLE S 
 PARENTAGE AND EDUCATION. 
 
 "THE Fitzmuddles are all fools, 1 so they say in 
 Sillyshire, and they ought to know a fool in 
 Sillyshire when they see one, for if report speaks 
 true there are plenty of them in that county." 
 
 " But, Julia, they are a good family, and 
 they are fortunate fools. When the old Earl of 
 Muddleton died he had more than half ruined 
 himself on the turf; but the present Earl had 
 not succeeded to the title for twelve months when 
 coal and iron were found on the estate, and pits 
 sunk, and Muddleton became quite a large manu- 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 facturing town, and now the rent-roll is put at 
 not less than ,30,000 a year. And the second 
 brother, John the one in the Guards, you know 
 is well provided for by that rich old uncle who 
 was governor of so many colonies ; and now poor 
 dear Lady Augusta is dead, and Augustus has 
 come in for her whole property, which I have 
 reason to know brings in ;6,ooo a year, all well 
 invested." 
 
 Thus said Mrs. Hunter to her daughter Julia, 
 as they were sitting over their cup of afternoon 
 tea in the little drawing-room of their little house 
 in Mayfair. 
 
 She was a well-got-up, fashionable-looking 
 widow approaching fifty years of age, of con 
 siderable pretensions but slender means, and her 
 only daughter, Miss Julia Hunter, was a fac 
 simile of her mother, with the advantage of being 
 some twenty-five years younger. With this 
 advantage she was still a fine, showy girl, and 
 might even, when carefully made up and seen 
 by candle-light, pass for a beauty. But five 
 London seasons will tell their tale, and the bloom 
 
MRS. HUNTER S LITTLE GAME. 3 
 
 of a youthful cheek is sorely tried by crowded 
 assemblies, late balls, and glaring gas ; while the 
 delicate curves of a mobile mouth are apt to 
 get set, and drawn down at the corners, by the 
 anxieties and heartaches incidental to disap 
 pointed hopes, and the feeling that your stock is 
 going steadily down in the matrimonial market. 
 Hence Miss Julia s radiant smiles haunted you 
 with a suspicion that they were just the least 
 bit artificial ; and to whisper a secret known only 
 to her and her maid, there were other more 
 material matters than smiles, in which Art may 
 have been called in to assist Nature. 
 
 But to return to our dialogue. The fair Julia 
 said with a sigh : " But, mamma, he is not a 
 common fool, he is an exceptional fool." 
 
 " Don t talk nonsense, Julia/ said her mother 
 somewhat sharply. " If a man who is an Honour 
 able and has ,6,000 a year has not a right to 
 be a fool, I don t know who has ; and I tell you 
 what, Julia, the real fool is the girl who, if she 
 has a chance of catching him, lets him slip 
 through her fingers." 
 
 B 2 
 
A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 "But, mamma," pleaded Julia, "it is really 
 not my fault. I have tried my very best, but 
 he is so queer, and shy, and awkward, that if 
 I make up to him he gets frightened ; and if I 
 don t, he slips off to some corner, and I see no 
 more of him ; and you must not suppose that 
 there are not other mothers in the world, and 
 other girls too, who keep a sharp look-out to 
 catch him if they could but see a chance. And 
 he goes to so few parties I seldom meet him, 
 and in short I feel that I have really no chance 
 in London, and unless Providence locked us 
 up together in some country house I really don t 
 see what hope there is for me." 
 
 "Julia," said Mrs. Hunter, "more impossible 
 things have happened. Now listen to me. Our 
 maid Clara has been keeping company with 
 his footman, and she has found out that his 
 master is going off to Scotland, to some out- 
 of-the-way place in the Highlands in the island 
 of Mull ; and he is going alone, for he does 
 not want to have any one with him to laugh at 
 him in his first essay at shooting grouse. Now 
 
MRS. HUNTER S LITTLE GAME. 5 
 
 you and I both want a change of air, and what 
 more natural than that we should take a tour in 
 the Highlands ; and, if so, why should we not 
 happen to meet him on the pier at Oban, and 
 go in the same steamer to Tobermory, or what 
 ever is the horrid name of the place the Mull 
 steamer calls at? And as we were so intimate 
 with his poor aunt, and he has known us so 
 long, he cannot in common politeness avoid 
 asking us to pay him a visit at his lodge, and 
 perhaps stop a week with him ; and then, Julia, 
 I shall have brought you to the post and dropped 
 the flag, and it is for you to make the running." 
 
 "You are a wonderful woman, mother dear," 
 said Julia, and she warmed up on the idea so 
 much that she suggested whether they might 
 not waylay him at Euston, and get into the 
 same carriage. But " No," said her sager 
 mother, "we should frighten him so that he 
 would get out at Rugby, or get into one of 
 those horrid smoking carriages, which seem to 
 have been invented for the express purpose of 
 preventing girls from getting acquainted with 
 
A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 eligibles in railway trains. And, Julia, there is 
 one consideration which is quite conclusive 
 girls who are in their fifth London season don t 
 look their best in the gray morning light, after 
 travelling all night on the railway ; and you 
 can t afford to throw any chances away. So we 
 will just go down the day before and meet him 
 at Oban." 
 
 Julia could not but see the wisdom of this 
 and assent to it ; so, when they had ascertained 
 the exact day Fitzmuddle was to start, they 
 packed up their belongings, and started the day 
 before by the Scotch mail for Oban. 
 
 While they are travelling northwards by the 
 train we will take the opportunity of describing 
 the Honourable Augustus Fitzmuddle a little 
 more in detail. 
 
 He was, as may be gathered from Mrs. Hunter s 
 remarks, the third and youngest son of the late 
 Earl of Muddleton. 
 
 Now, the late Earl had a sister, the Honour 
 able Lady Augusta Fitzmuddle, whose career in a 
 former generation had been not altogether unlike 
 
MRS. HUNTER S LITTLE GAME. 7 
 
 that of Miss Julia Hunter. She had struggled, 
 and fought, and flirted through a great many 
 London seasons, and all without result, for those 
 were the days when the Earl was impecunious, 
 and the daughters of the noble house were slen 
 derly provided for. And Lady Augusta was not 
 a beauty, very far from it. She had a foolish 
 face, with gooseberry eyes, and a clumsy figure, 
 which, as years advanced, threatened to develop 
 into formidable dimensions. But at length the 
 right man came in the shape, not of a fairy 
 prince, but of a pursy little stockbroker, Muggins 
 by name, whom she met one winter when she 
 went with old Lady Muddleton to Brighton. 
 Now Muggins was not only pursy in person, but 
 pursy in the sense of having a heavy purse, for 
 he had made a deal of money on the Stock 
 Exchange ; and when he went down to Brighton, 
 and drove his open phaeton along the King s 
 Road, with a pair of high-stepping horses in the 
 most resplendent harness, and with a servant 
 behind in the most gorgeous of liveries, and with 
 his hat on one side, and his well-oiled, glossy 
 
A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 curls, and his eyeglass, and multitudinous rings 
 and lockets, and massive gold chain, Mr. 
 Manasseh Muggins, let me tell you, looked, in 
 spite of his crooked nose and yellow complexion, 
 what in the vernacular of the present day is 
 called " no end of a swell." Now, Mr. Muggins, 
 as he grew rich, felt stirrings of ambition in him, 
 and his great ambition was to ally himself to 
 the British aristocracy. So he met Lady Augusta 
 one evening at a party, and, although he did 
 not exactly fall in love at first sight, his fancy 
 conjured up to him as he lay awake that 
 night, not the charms of his innamorata, but 
 the vision of a paragraph in the Morning 
 Post, announcing how Mr. Muggins and Lady 
 Augusta Muggins had arrived from their 
 residence in Portland Place at the Bedford Hotel, 
 Brighton, and he thought it read well; and 
 next morning he saw it again in his mind s 
 eye and thought it read better; and as he sat 
 in his gorgeous dressing-gown and smoked his 
 cigar after breakfast, he dreamed dreams and 
 saw visions. He saw the name of Muggins as 
 
MRS. HUNTER S LITTLE GAME. 9 
 
 presented at a levee by the Right Honourable 
 the Earl of Muddleton, and Lady Augusta 
 Muggins at a Drawing-room on her marriage to 
 Manasseh Muggins, Esq., and other infinite 
 glories. So being a prompt, energetic man of 
 business, he set to work at once to lay siege to 
 the heart of the fair Augusta. 
 
 The noble lady and her noble relatives at 
 first had scruples as to mixing the blue blood 
 of all the Fitzmuddles with the more terrestrial 
 fluid which gave warmth and expression to the 
 Semitic features of the plebeian Muggins. But 
 the lady reflected that in the words of the Scotch 
 
 song, 
 
 I m noo mair than twenty, my time is but sma , 
 
 and that although her blood might be blue, the 
 tip of her nose was beginning to assume just a 
 soupqon of that primary colour which in the 
 rainbow or spectrum is farthest removed from 
 blue. 
 
 And the noble Earl, her brother, happened 
 to be just then in one of his worst fits of 
 impecuniosity, for had not an outsider defeated 
 
io A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 by a head his horse who was such a red-hot 
 favourite for the Derby ? So as Muggins was 
 excessively liberal in the matter of settlements 
 and money, he pocketed his pride and received 
 him as a man and a brother. 
 
 Thus the Muggins suit prospered, and the 
 visions which his eye "in a fine frenzy rolling," 
 had conjured up in the night watches, were 
 converted into positive palpable realities, and 
 remain recorded for future generations in the 
 columns of the Morning Post. 
 
 Years rolled by and Mariasseh grew richer 
 and richer, but also, alas ! fatter and fatter, and 
 his head seemed to subside quite between his 
 shoulders ; and thus having dined one evening 
 at a City feast, not wisely but too well, he had 
 an apoplectic fit and was gathered to his fathers, 
 and, let us hope, taken to the bosom of father 
 Abraham, and not left out in the cold, or rather 
 in the hot, on the wrong side of that great gulf. 
 I am sure he did not deserve to be, for with all 
 his little vanities and foibles, he was at bottom 
 a worthy, kind-hearted man, and made a good 
 
MRS. HUNTER S LITTLE GAME. n 
 
 husband to Lady Augusta ; and one good deed 
 at least is to be recorded to his credit, for having 
 no children, he left all his fortune to his widow, 
 and thus indirectly supplied the ways and means 
 which enabled our hero to take his shooting place 
 in Mull, and thus caused this true and veracious 
 history to be written. 
 
 The transfer of this .150,000 worth of good 
 solid securities into the name of Augustus 
 Fitzmuddle, came about as follows : 
 
 Lady Augusta found herself lonely after 
 her husband s death, and though she lavished 
 stores of affection on a Persian cat, and a pug, 
 Topsy, who had the merit of being about the 
 ugliest pug in creation, she also had a heart, 
 though it might be a flabby one, somewhere in 
 the recesses of her ample bosom, and she longed 
 for human love and sympathy. Then she be 
 thought herself that there was a little Augustus, 
 who was her godson and had been named after 
 her, and she saw the face of a pretty, delicate 
 little boy, with long, fair, curly hair, who had 
 come shyly up to her, and called her "dear 
 
12 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 aunt," when she was last at Muddleton though 
 the " dear," I am afraid, was somewhat associated 
 with a present she had brought him of a splendid 
 box of chocolate bonbons. And she thought 
 that to have such a pet as this always with her, 
 might be better, if that were possible, than even 
 the company of her dear delightful Topsy and 
 that charming cat. 
 
 So she entered into negotiations with the 
 Earl, and it was duly stipulated between the 
 high contracting parties that little Augustus 
 should go and live with her, and be her adopted 
 son, and inherit her fortune. 
 
 Thus little Augustus came into the hands 
 of well, not quite the fattest but assuredly 
 about the most foolish woman in England, for 
 as she waxed old she developed quite a 
 phenomenal amount of the proverbial Fitzmuddle 
 foolishness. Her one idea of his education was 
 to treat him exactly as she treated her favourite 
 pug, and as Topsy was never taken out without 
 a ribbon round his neck and a footman to lead 
 him, so Augustus was never allowed to venture 
 
MRS. HUNTER S LITTLE GAME. 13 
 
 out of the house without a nurse at his heels, 
 and arrayed in the most gorgeous attire. For 
 Lady Augusta had been bitten by the mania 
 for aestheticism, and had a great idea of making 
 her boy look picturesque, as if he had stepped 
 out of a Vandyke canvas. So she arrayed him 
 in the most sumptuous velvets, and slashed 
 satin sleeves, and bows of ribbons stuck on his 
 hat and shoulders, and a prodigious rose-coloured 
 sash round his poor little waist, so that every 
 one turned to look at him, and the nursemaids 
 in the park stopped their perambulators and 
 said, "What a sweet pretty child, and how be 
 comingly he is dressed ! " while the rough little 
 boys put out their tongues and said, " Oh, my 
 eye, Bill, just look at that little guy." 
 
 As he grew bigger the same system prevailed, 
 for she grew fonder of the boy every day, and 
 her greater fondness translated itself into the 
 form of greater foolishness. 
 
 She could not bear the thought of her little 
 darling going to a public school among a lot 
 of rough boys, to get cuffed and knocked about, 
 
I 4 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 and perhaps, if he went to Eton or Harrow, 
 made to fetch and carry, and toast his master s 
 bread or slice of bacon. And as an excuse 
 to herself for keeping him at home she developed 
 an idea that the boy s health was delicate ; an 
 idea which I am sorry to say that celebrated 
 London physician, Dr. Manyfee, did not combat 
 with all the decision that might have been 
 required by a strict regard for medical science, 
 for, you see, Lady Augusta s fees for profes 
 sional visits to herself and her boy did not 
 certainly average less than two guineas a week, 
 and there are fifty-two weeks in the year, and 
 one hundred guineas a year for prescribing harm 
 less pills to an old lady, and shaking his head 
 and looking wise when her nephew s health was 
 mentioned, was not to be despised even by the 
 greatest of fashionable M.D. s. 
 
 So poor Augustus was kept at home, and 
 had private tutors, most decorous, gentleman 
 like, feeble-minded men, who had been to the 
 University and just struggled through into 
 honours ; and a smooth, subservient French 
 
MRS. HUNTER S LITTLE GAME. 15 
 
 tutor, full of grins and shrugs and grimaces, 
 who gave out that he was an exiled nobleman ; 
 and a spectacled German but he was soon 
 dismissed, for he took his duties too much in 
 earnest, and Augustus had a headache one day, 
 attributable to his efforts to find the key-note 
 at the end, to a sentence which began in the 
 middle of one page and ran overleaf into the 
 middle of the next one; and drawing-masters 
 who had failed to get their productions into the 
 Academy ; and music-masters who were not quite 
 good enough to get a place in an orchestra. 
 
 Now as far as positive instruction goes, I do 
 not know that he was much the worse for it, 
 and he probably learned more about things in 
 general, than an average Eton boy who had 
 been spending six years of his life in grinding 
 out Latin hexameters and learning just as much 
 Greek as it took him six months to forget. 
 
 But he missed, poor boy, learning a great 
 deal that is more valuable than Latin hexameters, 
 and which ordinary boys learn at public schools 
 the art of living with one s fellows, and giving 
 
1 6 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 and taking in the rough discipline of scholastic 
 life, which is of such inestimable advantage for 
 future manhood. 
 
 Least of all can a boy, who is naturally of 
 a shy and reserved temperament, afford to dis 
 pense with this discipline. Shyness is a quality 
 which grows upon one by leading a solitary life. 
 It is a very curious quality. Some are born with 
 a naturally genial and expansive nature which 
 overflows of itself in talk, and delights in the 
 society of others. Others, and they the majority, 
 are made of the common average clay of human 
 nature, and are neither particularly expansive 
 nor particularly sensitive, but very much what 
 circumstances and surroundings mould them into. 
 But there are a few, and they often of the 
 finer and more delicate clays, who are born 
 with a sort of instinctive shyness which it is 
 extremely difficult to shake off. I have known 
 a man who had gone through many experiences 
 and who was genial, intelligent, and brave as 
 a lion, and yet to his dying day, if he saw 
 an acquaintance in the street, felt an instinct 
 
MRS. HUNTER S LITTLE GAME. 17 
 
 prompting him to turn round a corner and pass 
 unseen. 
 
 And with boys naturally shy, and in whom 
 shyness has been increased by living much alone, 
 this feeling is apt to assume a morbid acuteness 
 which is quite unintelligible to commonplace 
 natures. I once knew a boy who, having gone 
 for his holidays on a visit to an uncle, received 
 a letter from his father, bidding him ask his 
 uncle to order for him a suit of clothes and an 
 extra pair of trousers. The poor boy was shy 
 and nervous, and got so confused that when he 
 delivered the message he made it " a pair of 
 clothes and a suit of trousers." His uncle 
 laughed, and asked him if he had got two 
 bodies and only one leg, and the boy felt more 
 miserable at having committed such a stupid 
 blunder than most boys would have done if they 
 had been detected in telling a lie or robbing an 
 orchard. And yet that boy lived to be a man 
 who, like Tennyson s Ulysses, might say : 
 
 " Much have I seen and known, 
 Cities of men and climates, councils, governments," 
 VOL. I. C 
 
iS A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 and if not exactly "honoured of them all," he 
 might fairly claim to have held his own with most 
 of them. 
 
 For a certain fund of shyness, or, if you like 
 to call it, sensitiveness and natural modesty, is 
 a far better foundation to build upon than the 
 fluency and over-confidence which, in nine cases 
 out of ten, spring from coarseness of fibre and want 
 of imagination to realise what others may be 
 thinking of you. 
 
 This is specially seen in the House of Commons, 
 where no one ever rises to distinction who has the 
 fatal gift of fluency. Real orators always speak 
 with a great amount of effort, amounting in many 
 cases to hesitation and embarrassment. Lord 
 Beaconsfield never was a fluent speaker, and his 
 polished, stinging sarcasms, and sharp, incisive 
 epigrams, owed a great deal of their effect to the 
 hesitating speech, from which they came suddenly 
 twanging forth like arrows from the bow of an 
 Apollo. 
 
 John Bright, the greatest natural orator of 
 modern times, is by no means a fluent speaker 
 
MRS. HUNTER S LITTLE GAME. 19 
 
 until he is fairly roused, and has warmed up upon 
 his subject. 
 
 Gladstone may be considered an exception. 
 It is not really so, for his marvellous power as an 
 orator is mainly owing to the intense white heat 
 of conviction into which he has the gift of working 
 himself up in the arena of parliamentary conflict, 
 or on a platform addressing an excited multitude. 
 Watch him in a great speech, and you will see 
 whether he speaks easily or not. You will see the 
 working of the brain within reflected in the working 
 of the brow, and in every vehement gesture and im 
 passioned accent. Take this fervour away, and set 
 him down calmly in his study to write a book or 
 an article, and you will see the demigod subside 
 into a very ordinary mortal, who writes long in 
 volved sentences, and buries his leading ideas and 
 central facts under such a mass of side issues and 
 irrelevant topics, that all sense of proportion is lost, 
 and the picture becomes a blurred and nebulous 
 haze. So true is it that the principle of the 
 " Conservation of Energy " applies to the spiritual 
 
 as well as to the material world, and that whether 
 
 c 2 
 
A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 it be a speech, a poem, a novel, or a picture, the 
 effect produced will be that of the amount of 
 experience and observation, and above all of 
 feeling 1 , emotion, and effort, that has been put 
 into it. 
 
 To return from these somewhat high-soaring 
 speculations to the case of our young Augustus, 
 it will not be surprising if the effect of such 
 an education as his aunt gave him on a natu 
 rally shy and sensitive disposition was to ex 
 aggerate these qualities into a sort of ;/-th 
 power, or superlative degree, of shyness and 
 sensitiveness. As he grew older he shrank more 
 and more from intercourse with strangers, and 
 shut himself up more and more in a world of 
 his own, consisting mainly of day-dreams. 
 
 Among these day-dreams a subject which 
 you would hardly have expected occupied a 
 considerable space that of sport. 
 
 It came about as follows : 
 
 Lady Augusta s eminently respectable estab 
 lishment had at its head an eminently respectable 
 butler, John Tompkins by name. In fact, re- 
 
MRS. HUNTER S LITTLE GAME. 21 
 
 spectable is not the word for it : he was so 
 superlatively respectable, so exceptionally grave 
 and decorous in demeanour, that "Reverend" 
 would have been the fitter appellation. In a 
 shovel-hat and apron he would have made a 
 very passable bishop; and this much is certain, 
 that, if invested with archidiaconal functions, 
 he would have made almost as good an arch 
 deacon as that dear Dr. Grantly, whom we 
 have never ceased to love since that little Grace 
 Crawley twisted the shrewd old man of the 
 world round her little finger, and Mrs. Grantly 
 told him, when his head was laid on the con 
 jugal pillow, that "she knew how it would be, 
 he was so soft-hearted." 
 
 Such was Tompkins to the outward eye ; but, 
 alas ! in this world it is not always safe to judge 
 by appearances. The real man remains safely 
 ensconced behind his outer lineaments, and 
 rarely exhibits a glimpse of his true self to a 
 casual observer. I have taken many a lady 
 down to dinner, and tried to pump up con 
 versation about the opera and the weather, and 
 
22 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 thought her hopelessly commonplace, and she 
 has doubtless returned the compliment, and 
 thought me the same, while perhaps all the 
 time she was struggling with suppressed emotion, 
 or bursting with information, or keenly desirous 
 of imparting or receiving knowledge upon high 
 questions of morality or religion. But I was 
 shy, and she was reserved, and we parted 
 without having the least glimmering of a sus 
 picion of what, in either case, might lie hid 
 beneath the frigid surface of dinner-party con 
 ventionality. 
 
 Thus, in our archidiaconal butler s case, what 
 really lay hid was a soul devoted to sport a 
 soul which might have been a sort of compound 
 of Assheton Smith and Admiral Rous rolled into 
 one. Unbounded was his admiration of the 
 doings of Dick Christian and the many heroes 
 whose fame is recorded in the description of 
 brilliant runs across Leicestershire in the old 
 Sporting Magazine; and specially deep his 
 erudition in pedigrees, and races, and all matters 
 of turf lore. His great delight was on Sunday 
 
MRS. HUNTER S LITTLE GAME. 23 
 
 afternoons, after having gone to church in the 
 morning with an enormous prayer-book, as 
 "beseemed his respectability of place and de 
 meanour, to ensconce himself in his pantry 
 with the Field and Bell s Life, and read ; and 
 -as he read, meditate profoundly on the state of 
 the odds and the chances of favourites. And 
 then he would go down to the Upper Servants 5 
 Club, and deliver oracular sentences, or, it may 
 be, shake his head and look wise wiser even 
 than Lord Burleigh and hint that " he knowed 
 what he knowed," and that for all that the 
 baron s horse was such a red-hot favourite, he 
 should not wonder if there were a screw loose 
 somewhere. 
 
 His tips and selections of winners of great 
 stakes were something wonderful, though some 
 -did whisper behind his back that they were 
 always a day behind the fair, and only assumed 
 precise and definite shape after, the telegraph 
 wires had flashed the news to sporting clubs, 
 when oracular utterances and wise shakes of the 
 head were exchanged for, " I told you so ; I 
 
24 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 always knowed it was sure to come off." How 
 ever, these were probably detractors envious of 
 his fame, or, if they spoke the truth, it only 
 speaks for Tompkins superior wisdom, who, with 
 out reading Mark Twain, had independently 
 worked out for himself the sage aphorism of 
 " never prophesying unless you know/ 
 
 Now, the sage Tompkins and young Master 
 Augustus were great cronies, for the boy was 
 always pleasant and affable with the servants, 
 and was a favourite with them. So Tompkins 
 used occasionally to smuggle him into his pantry, 
 and let him read the Field and Bell s Life, and 
 indoctrinate him with sporting lore. And the 
 boy got so keen about it that he used to save 
 up his pocket-money and invest in old sporting 
 magazines, and read with intense interest of the 
 glorious doings of former days, and think the 
 height of human ambition would be to have 
 been recorded by Nimrod as one of the " hard 
 riders of England." 
 
 Often did he stand in imagination at the last 
 fence when the Squire and Captain Ross were 
 
MRS. HUNTER S LITTLE GAME. 25 
 
 fighting out that grand steeplechase, across four 
 miles of hunting country in Leicestershire, so 
 different from the steeplechases of these de 
 generate days, when second-class racehorses are 
 running to win or lose the odds for professional 
 bookmakers, over made-up fences ; and loudly 
 did he swell the cry of " Now Clinker, now 
 dasher," as the colours, first of one, then of the 
 other, flashed in the van. 
 
 And many a Derby did he see run in his 
 mind s eye, as when [Cadland and The Colonel 
 ran their memorable dead heat, and, when about 
 to mount for the decider, Bill Scott stood anxious 
 and nervous beside his mount, while Jem Robinson 
 stood sucking an orange, as cool as a cucumber ; 
 and how Jem just slipped his opponent by half- 
 a-length in coming round Tottenham Corner, 
 and retained the advantage to the end, just 
 landing Cadland the winner. 
 
 Or he saw the mighty Flying Dutchman, 
 mightiest of modern steeds, floundering in the 
 dirt, and all but beaten by a despised outsider 
 whom he could have distanced on sound ground ; 
 
26 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 from which the sage Tompkins impressed on 
 him the inference, "Always to lay agin the 
 favourite if the ground was deep." 
 
 Or he saw the four white legs of Teddington 
 flashing in front all the way down the hill from 
 the Corner, and his jockey turning half-round 
 opposite to the Stand, to see what had become of 
 the field, who were toiling hopelessly after him. 
 
 These and many another vision of rattling 
 runs and glorious finishes, and marvellous exploits 
 with rod and gun, rose before young Fitzmuddle s 
 mind, as he sat listening to Tompkins lore, or 
 poring over sporting magazines, in the butler s 
 pantry in the house in Grosvenor Street ; for 
 solitary boys, and for the matter of that solitary 
 men, will "dream dreams and see visions/ and 
 build castles in the air, and live in a sort of 
 fairy-land of their own creation. And the less 
 they talk the more they think, while with ordi 
 nary mortals the process is reversed, and talking 
 is to a great extent a substitute for thinking. 
 
 However, Fitzmuddle s sporting aspirations 
 were destined to remain in this cloud region of 
 
MRS. HUNTER S LITTLE GAME. 27 
 
 airy visions, until he reached the mature age of 
 twenty-five, when Lady Augusta, who had been 
 for some years ailing, caught an attack of 
 bronchitis during a spell of cold east wind in 
 May, which carried her off, and she was gathered 
 to her fathers, poor, kind-hearted, foolish old 
 soul, and buried in due state in Muddleton 
 Churchyard in the tomb of all the Fitzmuddles. 
 
 When the funeral was over and the will was 
 read, Augustus found himself the sole heir, with 
 the exception of a few legacies to old ser 
 vants and a provision for the last surviving pug 
 and Persian cat, and thus came into a free and 
 unencumbered income, which was rather over 
 than under ;6,ooo a year. 
 
 He immediately determined to go in for sport, 
 and took counsel accordingly with Tompkins. 
 That worthy had been so well provided for by 
 the will, as also Maria, the cook, that they 
 determined to give up service and unite their 
 fortunes, combining business with pleasure by 
 investing in a small house at Newmarket, and 
 letting lodgings during the races. 
 
28 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 Before leaving, however, Tompkins placed his 
 vast store of experience at the service of his 
 young master, and they studied together the 
 advertising columns of the Field. The first 
 question was where to go for the next hunting 
 season. 
 
 " Belton, of course," said Tompkins ; " it s the 
 head-quarters, and the only place fit for a gentle 
 man of fortune to hunt from." 
 
 Perhaps this advice was not quite in accord 
 ance with Tompkins usual wisdom, for Belton 
 is not exactly the place for a novice to go to who 
 has all his hunting experiences to learn. But 
 Fitzmuddle had ridden over so many wide brooks 
 and tremendous oxers in fancy, that this objec 
 tion did not strike him ; and the difference 
 between theory and practice is one which can 
 only be appreciated by actual experiment. Ac 
 cordingly, seeing an advertisement of a snug 
 bachelor s box, with ample stabling, within a mile 
 of Belton, he wrote and took it. 
 
 The question of forming a stud remained, and 
 here Fitzmuddle showed a considerable amount 
 
MRS. HUNTER S LITTLE GAME. 29 
 
 of native sagacity, for he took what, under the 
 circumstances, was probably the best course he 
 could have adopted. His eye caught an adver 
 tisement from Lord Hardman, the celebrated 
 M.F.H., who was giving up hunting owing to 
 ill-health, strongly recommending his stud groom, 
 who had been with him for twelve years, under 
 stood the care of hunters thoroughly, and was 
 a steady, honest, and respectable man. 
 
 Fitzmuddle answered this advertisement, which 
 in due course brought to Grosvenor Street Mr. 
 Martingale, a man of about forty, whose appear 
 ance corresponded very well with Lord Hardman s 
 description. Without being slangy or ultra-horsey, 
 there was about him that indescribable something 
 which bespeaks familiarity with horses. He was 
 civil, nicely spoken, and had a clear eye, and an 
 open and honest clean-shaven face. 
 
 Fitzmuddle liked his looks, and without fencing 
 or circumlocution, told him exactly how he stood. 
 That he knew nothing about horses himself, and 
 must be, for a pretty long time to come, at the 
 mercy of his stud groom. If Martingale cheated 
 
30 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 him, he should be sure to find him out in the 
 long run; but if he was honest and straight 
 forward, and acted for his master s interests, he 
 would find him a liberal master, and would have 
 a good situation for life, if he chose to keep it. 
 And he concluded by throwing himself on Mar 
 tingale s honour, and saying he thought he had 
 an honest face, and he preferred trusting him, 
 as between man and man, to attempting to inter 
 fere with him in matters he did not understand ; 
 and, therefore, he would give him a limit, and 
 leave him to buy a stud of four hunters and a 
 hack to begin with, and take them down to Belton, 
 and get them into good hunting condition for the 
 opening meet on the 1st November. 
 
 Some may think that in acting thus Fitz- 
 muddle showed softness ; but I say, on the con 
 trary, he showed great worldly wisdom ; for in 
 a long experience of life I have always found 
 that nothing gives you such a hold over a man 
 as assuming that he is a gentleman. Very few 
 men like to break away from this assumption, and 
 do mean, dishonourable things, which show that 
 
MRS. HUNTER S LITTLE GAME. 31 
 
 they are not gentlemen, but swindlers ; while, if 
 you show that you distrust them, and set your 
 wits against theirs, they will accept the challenge 
 without scruple ; and if, as is probable, if the matter 
 relates to business or horse-flesh, they are sharper 
 than you, they will probably get the best of the 
 encounter. 
 
 Be this as it may, the experiment answered: 
 perfectly in the present case, for although I could 
 not swear that Martingale may not have taken 
 an occasional tip in the purchase of a horse, or 
 commission from a large horse-dealer, just to 
 keep up the rights and dignity of his position, 
 yet on the whole he was an honest and faithful 
 servant, and got together a very fair stud, as we 
 shall see hereafter, at fair prices, and had them 
 all in capital condition at Reynard Lodge at 
 the beginning of the season. 
 
 And the appeal to his honour, and the way 
 in which Fitzmuddle trusted him, gave him really 
 a sincere liking for his new master, and he spared 
 no pains in turning him out properly, and giving 
 him instruction in the art of riding to hounds. 
 
32 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 The hunting question thus satisfactorily settled, 
 Fitzmuddle and Tompkins bent their mighty 
 minds to that of selecting shooting quarters in 
 Scotland. After reading innumerable advertise 
 ments and agents lists, they settled on the 
 following : 
 
 " Splendid Highland sporting to be let for 
 the season, in the romantic island of Mull. 
 
 " The lodge, which is elegantly furnished, and 
 contains two sitting-rooms, six bedrooms, and 
 all suitable offices, is beautifully situated on the 
 shore of one of the finest sea-lochs in the West 
 Highlands. The shootings extend over 20,000 
 acres, abounding with grouse, black game, wild 
 duck and snipe, and deer are constantly on the 
 ground, as it adjoins the celebrated forest of Ben 
 More. There is a splendid salmon river, and a 
 loch noted for the abundance and fineness of its 
 trout. A kennel of first-rate setters will be left. 
 Bag limited to 800 brace of grouse, 100 brace 
 of black game, and 10 stags." 
 
 The advertisement was not more mendacious 
 than such things generally are. There really 
 
MRS. HUNTER S LITTLE GAME. 33 
 
 was a lodge, and a river, and a loch, and although 
 the limit was scarcely necessary, seeing that the 
 grouse would probably limit themselves to about 
 200 or 250 brace to two fair guns ; and the 
 chance of a stag to four or five chances in the 
 season, if you happened to be on good terms 
 with the shepherd, and he sent you word over 
 night if a stag happened to cross the march; and 
 the salmon river, though fairly good after a 
 spate, presented in ordinary weather about as 
 good a chance as if you threw your fly on the 
 pavement of Regent Street ; still, on the whole, 
 I doubt if Fitzmuddle could have done much 
 better than by taking Foulis Lodge, with its 
 splendid shootings and fishings, for his first 
 season s essay in the way of Highland sport. 
 
 Thus it came to pass that on the evening 
 after Mrs. Hunter and the fair Julia had gone 
 to Oban, Fitzmuddle found himself ensconced, 
 with all his traps and a battery of newly pur 
 chased guns, in a corner seat of a smoking 
 carriage in the Scotch mail, and next day duly 
 delivered on board the steamer for Mull. 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
34 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 Great was the mutual surprise when on going 
 aft, the first faces he encountered were those of 
 Mrs. Hunter and her daughter. 
 
 "Good gracious, Mr. Fitzmuddle," said the 
 widow, "who would have thought of meeting 
 you here ? What a pleasant surprise ! What has 
 brought you here ? Are you going to stay in 
 these parts?" 
 
 "Oh," said Fitzmuddle, "I have taken a 
 shooting place in Mull and am going down to 
 it. And you, Mrs. Hunter, to what am I in 
 debted for the pleasure of meeting you and 
 Miss Hunter on board the Mull steamer ? " 
 
 "Why, you see, Mr. Fitzmuddle/ replied 
 the lady, " my daughter and I both wanted a 
 change of air after the dissipations of a London 
 season, and as one of our remote progenitors 
 on the female side was said to have come from 
 a place called Tobermory in these regions, 
 we thought we would just run down and see 
 what it was like, and, if it suited, take a lodging 
 there for a couple of weeks or so." 
 
 Fitzmuddle was of course astonished and 
 
MRS. HUNTER S LITTLE GAME. 35 
 
 delighted, or what was the same thing, pro 
 fessed to be so ; and in common civility could 
 not help hoping that they would run over to 
 his lodge for a day or two, and accept such 
 hospitality as he could offer, if they did not 
 mind putting up with rough Highland fare. 
 
 You may be sure the invitation was accepted, 
 and that Julia said "it would be so awfully nice 
 and so extremely delightful/ 
 
 D 2 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 IN OBAN SOUND OFF THE BUTT OF MULL. 
 
 ACCORDINGLY Fitzmuddle was fixed for a visit 
 from the two ladies, not without some inward 
 trepidation ; but he put a bold face on it, and 
 named an early day, partly to get it over 
 quickly, and partly so as not to interfere with 
 his shooting, which would not begin for a few days, 
 as he had run down before the I2th of August 
 to see the place and its surroundings, and prac 
 tise a few shots at sea-birds, to get his hand 
 in before attempting grouse. 
 
 So he got carpet-seats up from the cabin 
 for the ladies, and they sat together amicably 
 on the upper deck, admiring the scenery. I 
 have seen a good many fine bits of scenery in 
 my time, but I do not think I have ever come 
 
IN OBAN SOUND. 37 
 
 across anything to beat the sail across the Sound 
 of Oban on a fine afternoon such as this was, 
 when you come out of the harbour of Oban, 
 and see the wide expanse of sea, looking like 
 a great, calm lake, walled in behind you by 
 Ben Cruachan, and the whole range of Argyle- 
 shire mountains stretching northwards by Loch 
 Etive and Appin, up to Glencoe ; and in 
 front of you the great purple masses of the 
 Morvern Hills on the one hand, and the equally 
 bold masses of Ben More and the mountains of 
 Mull on the other ; with green Lismore on the 
 right, and a hundred little islands of trap rock 
 just showing their fantastic shapes above the 
 water. No wonder that, as they watched the 
 ripple from the steamer s wake spreading over 
 the calm surface, distorting the reflections in the 
 azure mirror, and sending a thousand lights 
 dancing and glimmering, they felt quite senti 
 mental, and Julia, who had carefully provided 
 herself with a copy of Scott s " Lord of the Isles," 
 quoted from it, and contrasted their situation 
 with that of Bruce s storm-tossed bark, tacking 
 
38 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 to and fro the livelong day against a screaming 
 north-wester between Ardtornish and the main 
 land, and when the shades of evening closed in, 
 and the gusts tore ever more furiously down 
 the narrow Sound, compelled to put in, and land 
 in the very lion s mouth at the castle of the 
 Lord of Lome. 
 
 But before they reached the old Castle of 
 Ardtornish, they had an experience of the sudden 
 changes of the weather on these land-locked seas 
 girt in by lofty mountains, for a great black cloud 
 rose behind them from the south-east, and blotted 
 out Ben Cruachan and his Argyleshire brother 
 giants, and rolling rapidly on, obscured the whole 
 eastern sky, leaving nothing but a faint, sickly 
 gleam of the bright day out to the west, which 
 set off by contrast the dark, leaden-coloured gloom 
 that settled down over the hills of Morvern and of 
 Mull. Every moment this became darker and 
 darker, until the whole sky seemed to be covered 
 with an inky pall, through which the blue-black 
 mountains were seen dimly in a lurid light, while 
 a still blacker wall of cloud came rolling up behind, 
 
IN OBAN SOUND. 39 
 
 fringed below by a line of white, where the sea 
 hissed and writhed as the blast and torrent of 
 rain advanced swiftly and steadily along it, like 
 a remorseless foe in pursuit of the solitary steamer. 
 Then, just as the blast struck her, and the raging 
 rain came pouring down, there was a flash of 
 lightning so bright that it dazzled the eye for a 
 second, and seemed to go through and through 
 your whole body ; and then, in another second, a 
 peal of thunder, so loud that it seemed as if the 
 whole heavens had been split open by the flash, 
 and were tumbling in headlong ruin upon the 
 devoted steamer. And then for half-an-hour, 
 more flashes, and more thunder, and more rushing 
 torrents of rain, until, as they approached Tober- 
 mory, the storm rolled westwards, and the thunder 
 died away in distant mutterings, as if the spirits 
 of Ossian s heroes were retreating, grumbling 
 and dissatisfied, to the recesses of their native 
 mountains. 
 
 At the first flash, Julia uttered a scream, for 
 once real and not affected, and retreated with her 
 mother to the protection of the cabin. But 
 
40 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 Fitzmuddle stood it out under the shelter of the 
 funnel, and although the rain streamed from his 
 waterproof, and well-nigh battered his hat into a 
 shapeless mass, he thoroughly enjoyed it, for it 
 roused all the latent poetry which most men have 
 in their nature, though for the most part they are 
 unconscious of it, and if accused of being poetical, 
 would deny the soft imputation. 
 
 At length the storm ceased, and they landed 
 at Tobermory, where Fitzmuddle, who had tele 
 graphed in advance, had a trap waiting to drive 
 him twelve miles on to his lodge. So he took 
 leave of Mrs. and Miss Hunter, repeating the 
 invitation to them to drive over the next day but 
 one, if they had nothing better to do, and spend 
 a day or two with him. 
 
 On the second day the ladies drove over from 
 Tobermory and duly appeared at the lodge, where 
 Fitzmuddle was waiting to receive them. They 
 were of course enchanted with everything, and 
 pronounced the place "too awfully charming/ 
 As it was a fine evening Fitzmuddle proposed 
 a stroll down to the side of the loch, to pass 
 
JN OBAN SOUND. 41 
 
 the time before dinner, and on arriving there 
 they found a fishing-boat just landing at the 
 small stone pier. It was manned by two hairy 
 giants in oil-skins, and had on board a wonder 
 ful haul of halibut, big cod, skate, and haddocks. 
 
 Julia conceived a bright idea, and whispered 
 to her mother : " Do let us make a party to go 
 fishing to-morrow, and if you should chance to 
 have a headache when the time comes, I will 
 do my best to entertain Mr. Fitzmuddle." Mrs. 
 Hunter immediately developed a great interest 
 in the result of the deep-sea fishing, and inquired 
 where they had caught so many fine fish, and 
 whether there would be a chance of their catching 
 any if they hired the boat and went out the 
 first fine day. 
 
 She was assured that they had only to go 
 about three miles outside the Butt of Mull and set 
 a long line, and they would be sure to catch a lot 
 of large fish, while they could pull up any number 
 of small cod and haddocks with hand lines. 
 
 Fitzmuddle thought it would be good fun, and 
 at any rate better than being shut up all day on 
 
42 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 dry land with two ladies to entertain, so a bargain 
 was struck, and Rorie and Hamish were to have 
 the boat ready with lines and bait, and be at the 
 pier at ten o clock next morning, if th? day was 
 fine. 
 
 The morning came and it was very fine, but 
 unfortunately Mrs. Hunter had got such a head 
 ache, that it was quite impossible for her to leave 
 the house. Fitzmuddle proposed to put off the 
 expedition till she was better, but she would not 
 hear of it, and declared it would make her miser 
 able to be so abominably selfish as to have the 
 excursion put off on her account, and that if Mr. 
 Fitzmuddle would promise to take great care of 
 her darling Julia, and bring her safe back, she 
 would entrust her to his care. Fitzmuddle was 
 rather staggered by the proposal, but he reflected 
 that the young lady could hardly proceed to any 
 very desperate extremities in the presence of 
 Rorie and Hamish, and she could certainly not 
 run away with him with nothing but the wide 
 Atlantic around them ; and Miss Julia was looking 
 her very best, with such a bright rosy complexion, 
 
IN OB AN SOUND. 43 
 
 so he resigned himself to his fate and walked 
 down to the pier with her, and gallantly handed 
 her into the boat, and arranged her cushions and 
 wrappers. 
 
 It was one of those lovely early autumn 
 days which are sometimes met with in the West 
 Highlands. The air was deliciously clear, the 
 sky of a tender blue, with a few white clouds 
 floating lazily in it, as " still as brooding doves/ 
 and melting away towards the horizon into a 
 film of the softest purplish-gray haze. The sea 
 was like a silver mirror, reflecting the hills in 
 the still loch, and out towards the broad Atlantic 
 it was flecked here and there with patches of a 
 deeper azure, where the shadow of some light 
 cloud rested on it. It was such a sea and sky 
 as Brett delights to paint, only of a softer and 
 tenderer tone of colour than that of his brilliant 
 Cornish Crags and Channel Islands. 
 
 While they were in the loch and sheltered 
 by the bold promontory of the Butt of Mull, it 
 was simply delightful, and Miss Julia nestled 
 up close to Fitzmuddle with a thousand little 
 
44 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 silly nothings, hoping that he would take care 
 of her, and bait her hook for her, and not let 
 some horrid, monstrous cod pull her overboard. 
 And Fitzmuddle thought what a beautiful colour 
 she had got in her cheeks, and how much the 
 Highland air had improved her already, and, 
 in short, things were going on just as Mrs. 
 Hunter s maternal heart could have desired, 
 when, alas ! alas ! a sad change came over the 
 scene. 
 
 Two, they say, are company, but three are 
 none. And so it proved in the present instance, 
 for when they rounded the point and came out 
 into the wide Atlantic, an intruder appeared in 
 the person of a "great Atlantic swell." A very 
 great swell indeed a slow, solemn, majestic 
 swell, whose birthplace had been in a cyclone 
 on the borders of the Gulf Stream, and who had 
 travelled in state across the ocean, to visit the 
 shores of the old world. 
 
 He was not a rough or rudely-mannered 
 swell ; far from it, for the sea was glassy smooth, 
 and the great undulations rose and fell very 
 
JN OBAN SOUND. 45 
 
 much as if you had been on the downs behind 
 Brighton, and the three smooth, grassy ridges 
 you could see between you and the horizon had 
 begun to heave and swell and roll slowly in. 
 About half-a-mile off was a barque bound for 
 Glasgow from Riga, with her topsails clewed 
 up and flapping in the dead calm. Every time 
 she sank into the trough between the swells, 
 she seemed to go down and down until the 
 tops of her royals disappeared, and it seemed 
 a fearfully long time before the slender poles 
 reappeared, and she rose slowly until her hull 
 seemed suspended in the air on the top of an 
 enormous wave. 
 
 But Fitzmuddle and his fair friend were in 
 no mood to appreciate the sight, for a heavy 
 ground swell, in a flat calm, under a hot sun, 
 is trying even to a seasoned stomach. And Miss 
 Julia s little affected giggles had long since 
 ceased, and she lay prostrate in the boat, with 
 her head over the side. And as for poor Fitz 
 muddle, though he was as far as possible from 
 being a Don Juan, Byron s lines might have 
 
46 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 been well applied to him, for instead of asking 
 
 Julia 
 
 To hear him still beseeching, 
 
 He grew quite inarticulate with 
 
 well, a word with which we will not offend the 
 delicate ears of our readers, but confine ourselves 
 to suggesting that it makes a capital rhyme to 
 " beseeching." 
 
 Now there is a curious phenomenon in natural 
 philosophy, that whereas the prismatic gradation 
 of colour from red to yellow, and from yellow 
 to blue, produces a most pleasing effect as seen 
 in the rainbow, it is by no means so attractive 
 when exhibited on the face of a sea-sick young 
 lady ; and Fitzmuddle, when in an interval of 
 his paroxysms he turned his head, thought she 
 did not look quite so well as when he handed 
 her on board the boat in the morning. 
 
 But worse remained behind. The boatmen, 
 excited by the promise of a sovereign, turned 
 the boat round and rowed lustily for the shore. 
 But the tide had turned against them, and they 
 made slow progress, and as often happens in 
 
IN OB AN SOUND. 47 
 
 these parts, the day suddenly clouded over, and 
 a soft, fine drizzle began to fall, which soon 
 changed into a soaking rain, and as it fell, it 
 fell on Miss Julia s face, who had lost her hat, 
 and was too woebegone to have energy left to 
 put up an umbrella ; and what was left of the 
 roses in her cheeks when she put forth in the 
 morning so full of hopes and spirits, with 
 
 Youth at the helm, and pleasure at the prow, 
 
 began to disappear, and trickle down in red 
 rivulets over her yellow cheeks, and one drop 
 of pearly, or rather pearl-powdery white, hung 
 pendant from the tip of her blue nose. 
 
 Now, young ladies who peruse these pages, 
 let me solemnly warn you : there is only one 
 sin a woman can commit more heinous than 
 that of painting, and that is, painting and being 
 found out. You may break all the command 
 ments of the Decalogue, and still find some 
 Satanic hero who will love you with all the 
 volcanic ardour inspired by murder and sudden 
 death, and by a breach of the seventh com- 
 
48 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 mandment at least, in Ouida s novels, for in 
 actual life such peccadilloes are apt to lead to 
 more prosaic terminations in the Criminal and 
 Divorce Courts. You may break any amount of 
 aesthetic laws ; put angles where there ought to 
 be curves, protuberances where Nature has given 
 them to nothing except dromedaries and Hot 
 tentot Venuses ; frizzle your hair till it loses all 
 trace of what Huxley considers the most charac 
 teristic mark of the white Caucasian race, the 
 Leotrochi, with smooth, wavy locks, and makes 
 your naturally glossy, rippling hair a very 
 tolerable imitation of that of a Feejee islander, 
 or one of those Soumalie boys who dive for 
 rupees from the deck of a P. and O. steamer 
 at Aden. The male sex are very obtuse, and 
 any monstrosity which has been worn for a 
 fortnight by all girls alike, and therefore by a 
 fair average percentage of pretty ones, gets con 
 nected by the association of ideas with pretty 
 faces, and becomes first tolerable, and finally 
 acceptable. 
 
 But there is one thing that men can t stand, 
 
IN OB AN SOUND. 49 
 
 and that is paint. Why should it be so ? 
 Perhaps because it is an obvious imposition. No 
 one is taken in by the dromedary humps, and 
 thinks they have any real existence ; or by the 
 frizzly hair, and thinks you have really negro 
 blood in your veins; or that the wasp-like 
 waists are due to anything but severe and 
 systematic tightening of stay-laces. But if a 
 man sees a rosy cheek and coral lips, he can t 
 help having a sort of natural feeling that it 
 would be nice to kiss them, and a shudder of 
 physical disgust comes over him if he thinks 
 that the result of such a proceeding, were he 
 adventurous enough to attempt it, would be felt 
 in his mouth for an hour afterwards in a taste 
 compounded of red-lead and pomatum. 
 
 Therefore, oh ! fair readers, take warning by 
 Julia s fate and don t paint, or if you do don t 
 get found out. 
 
 For it really sealed the fate of this unhappy 
 young lady. When at last they got home, she 
 rushed past her astonished mother, ran up to 
 
 her room and looked in the glass. The glass 
 VOL. i. E 
 
50 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 told the tale only too clearly. " It s all up," 
 she said, and burst into a flood of tears. Mrs. 
 Hunter tried to console her, and to suggest 
 hope where there was no hope. But she argued 
 faintly, for it was against her own conviction, 
 and she soon gave in, and agreed with her 
 daughter that it was useless to waste more 
 time and money in the pursuit of this particular 
 Honourable and his ,6,000 a year. So the 
 carriage was ordered from Tobermory. Dear 
 Julia was too much upset to come down to 
 breakfast next morning, her mother too affec 
 tionate and solicitous not to sit with her daughter 
 upstairs, and at two o clock they drove away 
 with a shower of thanks and compliments, and 
 regrets that unavoidable circumstances had cur 
 tailed their extremely pleasant visit. 
 
 Having thus got rid of Mrs. and Miss Hunter, 
 Fitzmuddle congratulated himself on having es 
 caped, even at the cost of a bout of sea-sickness, 
 from the fascinations of female society. But he 
 had one more experience still to go through ; 
 for taking a stroll up the glen after dinner to 
 
IN OB AN SOUND. 51 
 
 enjoy his cigar in the cool evening air, he en 
 countered a portentous apparition in the shape 
 of Miss Brownsmith, an elderly and exceedingly 
 strong-minded lady, who was staying at the 
 Free Kirk Manse on a tour of geological ex 
 ploration. At present her researches were re 
 specting the Glacial period ; and if the subject 
 was frigid, no less frigid was her demeanour. 
 She was tall and gaunt, wore spectacles on her 
 prominent nose, and carried in one hand a 
 volume of Geikie s " Great Ice Age/ while in 
 the other she wielded a formidable implement, 
 which served the double purpose of an umbrella 
 and a geological hammer. One trait only dis 
 played condescension for the weakness of human; 
 and even of feminine human nature. That was 
 her dress, for her gown was drawn up behind 
 into a prodigious boss, or hummocky protuberance, 
 displaying in front a wide expanse of the very 
 brightest blue-and-yellow striped petticoat, below 
 which might be seen a pair of worsted stockings 
 and stout Balmoral boots. 
 
 Perceiving Fitzmuddle, and being intent on 
 
 E 2 
 
52 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 the search for Glacial phenomena, she thus ad 
 dressed him : 
 
 " Pray, sir, can you tell me if there are any 
 signs of moraine in this glen ? " 
 
 Geology had, unfortunately, not been one of 
 the subjects included in the range of Fitzmuddle s 
 studies, so he replied : 
 
 " More rain, madam ? I fear we shall. They 
 tell me it is never two days together without 
 more rain in Mull." 
 
 " Sir," she replied scornfully, " my remark 
 had reference to glacial and not to pluvial 
 action ; but I presume you were absorbed in con 
 templation of this very interesting development 
 of a Gneiss formation." 
 
 Fitzmuddle, though unversed in the language 
 of geology, knew enough theoretically, of course, 
 from perusal of yellow-backed novels of the 
 language of gallantry, to be considerably taken 
 aback by what appeared to him to be such 
 an outspoken reference to her own personal 
 attractions on the part of a respectable middle- 
 aged female. Nevertheless, he speedily re- 
 
IN OB AN SOUND. 53 
 
 covered himself, and with prompt politeness 
 replied : 
 
 " Nice formation ; exactly ; just so ; very nice 
 indeed ; and if I may be allowed the remark, 
 admirably set off by a most picturesque costume." 
 
 "Sir," said the lady, "your remarks are worthy 
 of your odious and contemptible sex. It is hard 
 to say whether they savour most of ignorance or 
 of impertinence." 
 
 And with that she tossed her head on high 
 and stalked majestically up the glen, leaving 
 Fitzmuddle in a state of intense bewilderment 
 to know how he had offended her. For Miss 
 Brownsmith, be it known, was not only great 
 in geology, but great upon woman s rights, and 
 her figure was a familiar one in drawing-room 
 gatherings and upon platforms where strong- 
 minded ladies congregate to declaim upon the 
 emancipation of Woman from the tyranny of 
 that odious monster, Man. 
 
 Oh ! my shrieking sisters, it is a sin to laugh 
 at you, for you are earnest in what you believe 
 to be a sacred cause, and there really are many 
 
54 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 things in social arrangements and legislation 
 which bear hardly on the weaker sex. 
 
 If centuries of landlord legislation have made 
 the law of England too favourable for the 
 owners, and too unfavourable for the occupiers 
 of land, still longer centuries of the supremacy 
 of male brute force, and latterly of male legislators 
 and judges, have doubtless left their traces in 
 our common law and statute-book, and there are 
 many things in which the weaker half of creation 
 do not get, I will not say protection, but even 
 fair play. It is impossible to read many of the 
 trials in the Divorce Court, or for the right to 
 property or custody of children, without wishing 
 that what is "sauce for goose were sauce for 
 gander," and it makes one s blood boil with 
 indignation to read of some great hulking brute, 
 who has half battered his wife to death, getting 
 off with a less punishment than if he had shot a 
 rabbit, instead of receiving the six dozen, soundly 
 laid on with a cat-o -nine-tails, which he so richly 
 deserves. 
 
 Still, I may be allowed to doubt whether 
 
IN OBAN SOUND. 55 
 
 platform oratory is the best way to obtain 
 redress, even for these admitted evils ; and as 
 regards the position of woman generally, I may 
 observe that it has enormously improved with 
 the progress of civilisation, even although it had 
 not the aid of Miss Brownsmith s imposing 
 presence and tremendous oratory. 
 
 Just think what was the position of woman 
 in those Palaeolithic ages, when glaciers were 
 scattering the boulders which now resounded 
 to the stroke of Miss Brownsmith s hammer. 
 
 Captain Fitzroy, in the " Voyage of the Beagle! 
 gives a most vivid account of what the life of 
 women is like among the Fuegian savages. He 
 describes how he saw a brutal savage, in a fit 
 of passion with his wife because she had dropped 
 a basket of sea-eggs, for which she had been 
 diving, snatch her baby from her breast, and 
 dash it on the rocks ; and how the poor creature 
 had to swallow down the tears which, mixed 
 with melting snow, were pouring down her face, 
 and go out again and dive in the ice-cold sea 
 for more sea-urchins. 
 
A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 Contrast this with the picture of a smart 
 American girl entering a tram-car and claiming 
 the best seat as a matter of right ; while that 
 respectable elderly citizen who sat there jotting 
 up the note of his dealings in Wall Street, and 
 calculating how many hundred dollars he had 
 made or lost by his day s operations, has to 
 squeeze into a corner and make room for her. 
 
 Whether the male half of creation gain or 
 lose by the spread of democratic institutions 
 and the progress of civilisation, may possibly 
 admit of argument, but there can be none that 
 the female half are clear gainers, and that there is 
 a sort of regularly crescendo scale in their condition 
 from slavery to freedom, from Turkey to America. 
 Moreover, there is another consideration which 
 has to be weighed before deciding on giving 
 women equal political rights. How much of 
 the tyranny from which they suffer is a question 
 of legislation and how much of fashion ? I should 
 say that at the very least nine-tenths of female 
 suffering is due to strictly preventible causes, and 
 would disappear if the sex had but the strength 
 
IN OBAN SOUND. 57 
 
 of mind to assert itself against the decrees of 
 that little " Vehmgericht " of Parisian shop 
 keepers and man-milliners who make and un 
 make fashions with such startling rapidity. 
 
 Why should that fair girl hobble about on 
 poor cramped toes and deform her pretty little 
 feet with corns and bunions, because some un 
 known authority has decided that she must 
 wear high-heeled boots ? Or why should that 
 other girl strain at her stay-laces, at the risk 
 of sending all the blood to her face, or for 
 want of lung-space to oxygenate it properly, 
 depositing adipose matter in regions where, to 
 say the least, it is not becoming, all because 
 some Parisian milliner wants orders, and bribes 
 some great lady to set the fashion ? 
 
 Three years ago ladies went about so tightly 
 encased in close-fitting habiliments, that you 
 could not help fearing that if one single lace 
 or hook gave way, the whole structure would 
 collapse and burst like the shell of a chrysalis, 
 revealing the form within 
 
 In beauty unadorned, adorned the most. 
 
58 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 Now, the tightness is confined to the central 
 region, and all below swells and expands into 
 voluminous excrescences. For this, no Acts of 
 Parliament are responsible. How can we trust 
 you to reform the laws, while you show such 
 abject imbecility in the reform of dress? What 
 says Carlyle : " Do the duty that lies nearest to 
 you, and already your next duty will have be 
 come plainer." So say we in this matter of 
 woman s rights. Show a little more sense and 
 taste in wearing what is useful and becoming, 
 and not following every varying caprice of 
 fickle fashion, and you will have emancipated 
 yourselves from nine-tenths of your practical 
 discomforts and disabilities, and advanced your 
 claim for equality of legal and political rights 
 more than by a thousand harangues from a 
 thousand Miss Brownsmiths. 
 
 However, if such speculations ever entered 
 Fitzmuddle s mind, which I am inclined to doubt, 
 they vanished with the vanishing form of the 
 lady as she stalked majestically up the glen, 
 "nursing her wrath to keep it warm," and 
 
IN OB AN SOUND. 59 
 
 revolving in her mind how she could turn the 
 episode into a telling period in her next speech 
 at the Woman s Rights Society. 
 
 But Fitzmuddle finished his cigar and walked 
 down to the lodge to go to bed and dream of 
 shooting grouse, for the morrow was the I2th 
 of August. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE TWELFTH OF AUGUST GROUSE AND BLACK 
 GAME. 
 
 HAIL, sacred bird, peculiar product and glory 
 of the British Islands ! Whether miraculously 
 created from the soil in fullest plumage, or slowly 
 transformed from aboriginal ptarmigan, who fed 
 on lichens growing on the storm-swept rocks 
 rising above the icy sea of the British Archipelago 
 in remotest Glacial periods; in either case, here 
 at any rate is an illustration of the doctrine of 
 final causes, and of one unceasing purpose running 
 through the changes of creation. 
 
 For if there were no grouse, how would sessions 
 of the British Parliament ever come to an end ? 
 If a blessed time ever arrives, when " the wicked 
 cease from troubling and the weary are at rest," 
 
THE TWELFTH OF AUGUST. 61 
 
 when the drone of interminable harangues and the 
 groans of much-enduring senators no longer re 
 sound in the halls of Westminster ; when a Warton 
 ceases to block, and a Biggar to count out ; when 
 Gladstone s eloquence comes to an end, and ill- 
 mannered young Tories no longer interrupt by 
 jeers ; to thee are we indebted, O bird of the 
 bright eye and ruddy plumage ! But for thee, 
 why should not the House be still sitting ? and 
 why should not that Irish Member who talked 
 it out that Wednesday afternoon, to his own 
 cheek be still talking? There is no apparent 
 reason "in the heaven above, the earth beneath, 
 or the waters under the earth," why he should 
 ever stop, and why that tepid flow of exceedingly 
 diluted milk-and-water oratory should not flow 
 on, "In omne volubilis sevum," until he had 
 exhausted the many millions of possible com 
 binations of amazing adjectives and incoherent 
 interjections in the English language. 
 
 But the 1 2th of August is at hand, and it 
 brings deliverance, thanks to thee, O saviour of 
 suffering statesmen and friend of distracted 
 
62 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 humanity ! thou prophet of the great truth, that 
 if there is a time for speech there is a time also 
 for silence, and that, in presence of the immensi 
 ties and eternities, the latter may often be of 
 gold while the former is of silver ! 
 
 On this particular I2th of August, how 
 ever, Fitzmuddle s mind was not exercised by 
 these high speculations as he breasted the 
 hillside and came out upon the open moor, 
 eager for the fray, and full of youthful excite 
 ment. For in his case the nature which had 
 been so long repressed by his surroundings 
 during his aunt s lifetime, was now bursting 
 forth into early bloom, and though he was a 
 man of twenty-five in years, he was in many 
 respects a boy of fifteen in feelings. He had 
 all the boy s keen delight in the mere idea of 
 firing off a real gun at real game, and should 
 he perchance knock over an old cock grouse at 
 thirty yards, his transports would be greater 
 than if, in after life, he had slaughtered a 
 whole hecatomb of pheasants. 
 
 Oh, golden days of youth, will you never 
 
THE TWELFTH OF AUGUST. 63 
 
 return ? Shall I never again tread the elastic 
 heather with an elastic step, and breast the 
 mountain side like a mountain deer, and never 
 again feel intense delight if I hit a difficult 
 shot, and intense disgust if I miss an easy one ? 
 No, to each age are its appointed duties and 
 pleasures, and I must now take my sport 
 soberly, and slacken my step when I come to 
 a steep brae, and go out late and return early, 
 and not grudge the half-hour for lunch, and 
 even spin it out for another ten minutes while 
 I smoke a cigarette. And by-and-by I shall 
 have to sit in my arm-chair and do my shooting 
 by proxy by sons, or as years roll on by 
 grandsons, though I shall always retain a 
 green spot in my memory for the blooming 
 heather, and the sagacious setter, and the whir 
 of the rising covey, and the gallant cock grouse 
 with his crow of defiance as he skims away 
 over the brae ; and having loved these things 
 dearly, I will say with the poet : 
 
 Tis better to have loved and lost, 
 Than never to have loved at all. 
 
64 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 But in the case of Fitzmuddle s earlier ex 
 periences I am afraid that these lines ought to 
 be paraphrased : 
 
 Tis better to have shot and missed, 
 Than never to have shot at all. 
 
 Hold ! No, I am wrong ; for his very first shot 
 that morning was a most palpable hit, though 
 the mark was not precisely what he aimed at. 
 
 It happened thus : 
 
 Sandy McShot, the head keeper, was one of 
 those short, squat, broad-built, fiery Celts, who 
 look for all the world like one of their own shaggy 
 red Highland bulls. He had a big head, a great, 
 coarse-lipped mouth, a wide nose with upturned 
 nostrils, little blinking bloodshot eyes, and a pro 
 fusion of carroty red shaggy hair and whiskers. 
 But he took a great pride in his personal appear 
 ance, and nothing would ever induce him to 
 exchange the picturesque garb of the Gael for 
 the plebeian trouser or the prosaic knickerbocker. 
 Picturesque, however, as is the garb of the High 
 lander as he stands in effigy over a tobacconist s 
 
THE TWELFTH OF AUGUST. 65 
 
 shop, or struts as proud as a swelling turkey-cock 
 
 like those 
 
 Grants o Tullochgorum 
 Wi their pipers playing before them, 
 
 yet it has its compensating disadvantages. 
 
 The kilt is not exactly the most pleasant 
 costume in which to tread the dusty heather on 
 a sultry day, when every footstep raises a swarm 
 of midges ; nor is it that in which a friend could 
 be impartially advised to go on an expedition to 
 destroy a wasps nest. Still less is it conducive 
 to comfort, if the hairy leg and brawny knee find 
 themselves suddenly assailed by something sharper 
 than the stings of wasps, in the form of a shower 
 of small shot. 
 
 This Sandy McShot experienced to his sorrow, 
 for when they had gone a couple of hundred yards 
 across the moor the setter s tail feathered and he 
 began to crawl cautiously, and soon came to a 
 dead stand ; seeing which Fitzmuddle hastened up 
 with his gun at full cock, outstepping the slower 
 movements of McShot, when suddenly a fine old 
 cock grouse rose from the heather almost under 
 VOL. i. F 
 
66 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 his feet, and flew across the line on which McShot 
 was advancing. 
 
 Fitzmuddle s heart gave a mighty bump 
 against his breast ; whether he shut his eyes 
 or not I am not quite sure, but he certainly 
 pulled the trigger and blazed away in the 
 direction of the grouse and McShot. 
 
 The report of the gun was followed by an 
 explosive "Cot tamn," which went off like the 
 bursting of a bomb, followed by a series of 
 minor explosions and splutterings, which at 
 the rate of half-a-crown per oath, would have 
 run up a long bill against McShot in any 
 police-court where penalties were enforced for 
 profane swearing. 
 
 When the smoke cleared away, that worthy 
 was discovered binding a red pocket-handkerchief 
 tightly about the wounded limb. Fitzmuddle 
 in vain made a thousand apologies, and proffered 
 a liberal application of sovereign remedies. The 
 wrath of McShot was not to be appeased, and 
 when he was helped on to the pony, he rode 
 off home in towering indignation, muttering to 
 
THE TWELFTH OF AUGUST. 67 
 
 himself and vowing that nothing should ever 
 induce him to go out again with a "shentleman 
 who couldna tell a Hielandman s bare leg from 
 a cock grouse." 
 
 This vow he kept, and to tell the truth, 
 Fitzmuddle was not sorry for it, for McShot 
 was at best but a sulky fellow, and after this 
 misadventure Fitzmuddle was quite afraid to 
 look him in the face, and greatly preferred to 
 be accompanied by Donald Cameron, the head 
 gillie. 
 
 Cameron was the very opposite of McShot 
 both in character and in appearance. He was 
 a fine, tall, strapping young fellow of four-and- 
 twenty, with a frank, honest face, fresh com 
 plexion, fair curly hair, and clear blue eyes 
 somewhat deeply set under a massive brow. 
 
 He looked the very picture of one of those 
 young Norse giants who may have rowed an oar 
 in Olaf Tryggvesson s famous war galley, the Long 
 Serpent, or taken a part in the sword-play when 
 the chance arrow pierced the heart of good King 
 Hakon in the moment of victory on the shore 
 
 F 2 
 
68 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 of Strand. Indeed, it is probable that he had 
 Norse blood in his veins, for his mother was a 
 Macleod, and the Macleods, as all know, are 
 descended from the sea rover, Torquil, whose 
 descendants, as Walter Scott tells us in the " Lord 
 of the Isles," swore 
 
 By Odin wild, their grandsire s oath. 
 
 So in future McShot sulked like Achilles in his 
 tent, and Cameron attended Fitzmuddle in all his 
 expeditions. 
 
 The two soon got to be excellent friends, for 
 Fitzmuddle had nothing stiff or stuck-up in his 
 nature, and from the first took that surest road 
 to a Scotchman s heart of shaking hands when 
 they met, which is considered as a sort of symbolic 
 recognition of the essential equality of man and 
 man, apart from the mere accidental differences 
 of money and social rank. And when Fitzmuddle 
 offered him a share of his flask, and a cigar 
 from his own case, he quite won Donald s heart ; 
 and the more so, when he told him, simply and 
 frankly, the story of his youth, and how he knew 
 
THE TWELFTH OF AUGUST. 
 
 that he was a muff, and almost threw himself 
 upon Donald s compassion, not to laugh at him, 
 and to teach him how to shoot and fish, and do 
 things that other men did. 
 
 Accordingly, Donald was assiduous in giving 
 him all the assistance and advice that his ex 
 perience suggested, and, having an apt and docile 
 pupil, he really taught him in a surprisingly short 
 time to hit his first grouse, and after two or 
 three weeks practice he could shoot well enough 
 to hit, perhaps, one easy shot out of three, and 
 one difficult shot out of twenty. 
 
 Before he reached this degree of proficiency, 
 however, he met with another misadventure. The 
 2Oth of August having arrived, he determined 
 to have a try for a blackcock, encouraged thereto 
 by Donald s assurance that there was no easier 
 shot in the world than young black game, and 
 that he knew of a covey or two just outside the 
 birch wood. Accordingly he sallied forth, armed 
 with a new choke-bore, which the gunmaker had 
 warranted to be unrivalled for penetration and 
 close shooting up to sixty yards, and despatched 
 
70 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 a boy with the shooting pony, game hampers, 
 and luncheon, to meet him at one o clock at 
 the lower end of the wood. Fitzmuddle and 
 Donald breasted the hill, and though the day 
 was hot, and the hill steep, they never slackened 
 their pace till they had climbed up through the 
 trees and long heather, and got out on the fringe 
 of the wood, where a few scattered birches, gnarled 
 and twisted by a thousand storms, stood like 
 outposts, to guard the main body of the wood 
 against the assaults of the furious westerly 
 gales. 
 
 Here they uncoupled the dogs, and the steady 
 old setter soon came to a point ; and as Donald 
 predicted, the young black game sat like stones, 
 and had to be kicked up one after another from 
 the ferns and heather, so that Fitzmuddle got 
 five or six shots of the easiest possible descrip 
 tion. One he actually bagged, and would have 
 bagged another had not the choke-bore redeemed 
 its reputation by blowing it into a hundred pieces ; 
 for, indeed, the bird was not ten yards off when 
 Fitzmuddle pulled the deadly trigger. However, 
 
THE TWELFTH OF AUGUST. 71 
 
 he felt supremely happy looking at the young 
 cock he had shot, and admiring the black feathers 
 just beginning to streak the gray plumage and 
 distinguish it from the soberer hen. How is it, 
 I wonder, that in the bird creation the laws 
 which regulate the human species are so singu 
 larly reversed, and it is the male who struts about 
 in ruffs, and plumes, and peacock eyes, and other 
 gorgeous attire, while the female appears generally 
 to have embraced the Quaker persuasion, and 
 eschewed the worldly vanities of dress ? Can it 
 be that in some distant age the advocates of 
 woman s rights had so completely carried the 
 day in the inferior order of creation, as to have 
 secured the undisputed right of selection in matters 
 matrimonial, and obliged the poor male to deck 
 himself in brightest plumage, and attitudinise, 
 and put on all sorts of airs and graces to secure 
 favour ? Or is it that the bird calendar has 
 .somehow got confused, and they make every 
 year a leap year ? Be this as it may, the bright 
 ness of plumage and general gorgeousness of 
 appearance are attended both in the human 
 
A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 genus and that of birds with this disadvantage, 
 that the more attractive specimens are the most 
 sought after by the wiles of the fowler. 
 
 Thus in Fitzmuddle s case, though as luncheon- 
 time approached he had succeeded in bagging 
 two-and-a-half brace of young birds and gray- 
 hens, his ambition, growing with what it fed 
 on, felt unsatisfied unless he could succeed in 
 bringing down one of those grand old black 
 cocks, with the big bodies and glossy blue- 
 black plumage. So true is it that the capacities 
 of the human soul are quite infinite, and if, as 
 Carlyle says, you were to give a cobbler the 
 universe to himself with oceans of porter to 
 drink, he would forthwith begin to grumble for 
 more universes and more oceans. 
 
 However, the old blackcock is a wary bird, 
 and though they saw several they all managed 
 to keep at such a safe distance from the redoubt 
 able choke-bore, that it must be presumed they 
 took in the Field and had read the gunmaker s 
 advertisement. So when one o clock came they 
 gave up the pursuit, and scrambled down through 
 
THE TWELFTH OF AUGUST. 73 
 
 the wood, stumbling over boulders hidden by 
 the long fern and heather, towards the place 
 where they "had trysted the boy and pony to 
 meet them for luncheon. But just before they 
 reached it, it chanced that in crossing a little 
 opening among the birches, Fitzmuddle almost 
 trod on a fine old blackcock who had been 
 taking a midday nap in a cluster of fern. 
 Out bounced the bird, and so astonished Fitz 
 muddle that he never shot until the blackcock 
 had got some thirty yards off among the thick 
 trees. Then he pulled the trigger, and im 
 mediately there arose a loud yell, mingled with 
 indignant snortings, and a noise as of a horse 
 plunging and multitudinous crockery breaking. 
 They rushed on to see what might be the 
 matter, and there stood the boy, or rather 
 danced first on one leg, then on the other, 
 rubbing vehemently those regions which had 
 unluckily been in the direct line of Fitz- 
 muddle s barrel when he pulled trigger at 
 the blackcock. 
 
 Justice to the eminent gunmaker compels me 
 
74 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 to admit that, as regards penetration, the choke- 
 bore showed itself equal to its reputation, for, 
 although the distance was well on to fifty yards, 
 and the boy s corduroy breeks were of the 
 thickest, the shot stung him up so smartly, that 
 nothing short of a sovereign remedy brought 
 the yells to a termination. But as for close 
 carrying, I am afraid there must have been some 
 slight exaggeration, for how did it happen that 
 two such objects as the hinder regions of both 
 boy and pony had been simultaneously invaded 
 by the same enemy ? Fitzmuddle therefore acted 
 wisely in suspending his judgment, for although 
 two of the principal parties to the inquiry, the 
 boy and the pony, emphatically pronounced the 
 experiment quite sufficient, and the result alto 
 gether unsatisfactory, did not their conclusions 
 savour too much of personal considerations to 
 be accepted as final ? Better, therefore, would 
 it be to adjourn the inquiry, and postpone any 
 further investigation till after luncheon. 
 
 For this meal they had not long to wait, 
 as it had been already laid out. The pony had 
 
THE TWELFTH OF AUGUST. 75 
 
 resented the unfair attack on his rear by a series 
 of such vehement plunges and kicks, that he 
 loosened the hampers, and sent their contents 
 flying in all directions. The cold grouse once 
 more took wing, and skimmed along the tops of 
 its native heather. The ham and bread of the 
 sober sandwiches, indissolubly united for better 
 or worse by wedding tie, parted company as 
 if they had obtained a decree of dissolution a 
 mnculo matrimonii in the Divorce Court, and 
 started off each on a separate tour on its own 
 account. The aristocratic champagne forgot the 
 decorous behaviour due to its distinguished 
 lineage, and, after turning a series of somer 
 saults in the air, like the clown in Hengler s 
 Circus, popped off as if it had been a bottle 
 of plebeian ginger-pop on Hampstead Heath 
 or the sands of Margate. Fragments of plates 
 strewed the grass, reminding one of the fate 
 of many a speculator on the turf or Stock 
 Exchange, who, after a brief run of luck and 
 sudden elevation, finds himself hopelessly broke. 
 Fitzmuddle gazed ruefully on the scene of 
 
76 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 destruction, but with Donald s aid they gathered 
 together the fragments, and if they made but 
 a slender meal, an extra cigar and nip of whisky 
 squared the account, and they retraced their 
 steps to the lodge, talking little, but I make 
 no doubt, thinking the more, and as old Homer 
 says of his Greek heroes, revolving the events of 
 the day "backwards and forwards in the swift 
 mind." 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE SWEET HIGHLAND GIRL. 
 
 A FEW days afterwards, Fitzmuddle thought he 
 would try his hand at the snipe, which were 
 said to be abundant in a bog called Squash- 
 na-dub, which lay across the hill about three 
 miles off, on the path to the upper shepherd s 
 cottage. It was a black, miry sort of place, 
 full of peat hags, with a labyrinth of tortuous 
 passages winding among them, and at intervals 
 expanses of what is known as quaking bog, 
 only to be traversed by stepping carefully 
 from one tuft of the red wiry grass to another, 
 while here and there a spring came out, and 
 spread around it a treacherous dome of emerald 
 green, in which either man or horse treading 
 on it would be surely engulphed. 
 
78 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 Fitzmuddle went by himself, partly because, 
 like most young men who have led a solitary 
 life, he liked to be occasionally alone, and partly 
 that having a misgiving that his shooting at 
 such a small mark as a snipe might not be of 
 the first order of excellence, he did not wish 
 to have even the faithful Donald to count his 
 misses. So he gave Donald a holiday, and 
 having received from him much excellent advice 
 as to avoiding the treacherous places, and taking 
 care to shoot before the snipe had begun its 
 zigzag flight, he shouldered his gun and marched 
 off across the hill. 
 
 When he reached the bog he found the snipe 
 plentiful, and blazed away with no great result. 
 At last he managed to knock one over, and 
 this so excited him that he went farther and 
 farther into the bog, regardless of the clouds 
 which began to close in, and of the mist which 
 came creeping lower and lower down the mountain 
 side. All at once he found himself enveloped in 
 one of those Scotch mists, which they say were 
 invented for the express purpose of wetting an 
 
THE SWEET HIGHLAND GIRL. 79 
 
 Englishman to the skin. And worse than the 
 wetting, the mist so obscured the view, that 
 when he tried to retrace his steps and regain 
 firm land, he soon found that he had hopelessly 
 lost his way. A moss on which you cannot 
 walk in a straight line, and take your bearings 
 by the drift of the wet mist on your cheek, but 
 have to turn and twist at every moment to 
 circumnavigate some peat hag, or avoid pools, is 
 a trying position in a fog even for an experienced 
 mountaineer, and I have known more than one 
 who thought himself a proficient, walk round 
 and round under such circumstances, and find 
 himself at the end of an hour at the exact 
 spot from which he started. No wonder, then, 
 that Fitzmuddle floundered about and got hope 
 lessly bewildered. At last he saw something 
 which looked through the driving mist like a 
 firm bank, and he struggled towards it. But 
 he forgot Donald s warning as to the green 
 places, and rushing across one, found it giving 
 way under him, and his feet being sucked down 
 into apparently unfathomable abysses of watery 
 
8o A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 moss. When he ceased sinking he was already 
 considerably above his knees, and it soon became 
 apparent that every effort to extricate himself 
 only plunged him in deeper difficulties. So at 
 last he ceased to struggle, and shouted lustily 
 for help. Fortunately he had not long to wait 
 for help, as it appeared soon in the shape of a 
 "sweet Highland girl." She was not exactly 
 Wordsworth s "Sweet Highland Girl," for it 
 could hardly be said of her with truth that 
 
 A very shower 
 Of beauty is thine earthly dower. 
 
 And still less that she was 
 
 A dancing shape, an image gay, 
 To haunt, to startle, and waylay. 
 
 No. Maggie Macdonald, the shepherd s daughter, 
 was a broad, substantial, solid, comely, good- 
 natured Highland lassie, who, if she weighed a 
 pound, weighed a good ten stone, and whose 
 waist would have cut up into at least four 
 waists of fashionable beauties. She had black 
 hair, fine dark eyes, ruddy cheeks, and a wide, 
 
THE SWEET HIGHLAND GIRL. 81 
 
 good-humoured mouth ; and on the whole, 
 though some fastidious critics might have 
 objected that the degrees of latitude of her 
 equatorial region were somewhat excessive, she 
 was pleasant to the eye, and presented an 
 attractive picture of good health, good nature, 
 and good sense. That she possessed also a most 
 solid understanding was apparent both when she 
 kilted her petticoats up to the knee to wade 
 through the mire to Fitzmuddle s rescue, and 
 by the prompt and effectual measures which she 
 took to effect that purpose. 
 
 Having waded to the firm bank of peat 
 which was almost within reach of Fitzmuddle, 
 "Tak the cartridges out o the gun/ she said, 
 "and gie me haud o the end o it." 
 
 This injunction being obeyed, the superiority of 
 solid over showy qualities soon became apparent, 
 for if Wordsworth s Highland girl, the fair vision 
 of Inversnaid, had been at one end of the gun, 
 and Fitzmuddle at the other, all the vision s 
 shower of beauty would have been of little avail 
 
 to extricate our hero from his perilous position. 
 VOL. i. G 
 
82 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 But when it came to a real tug of war, Maggie s 
 ten stone and solid understanding carried the 
 day, and first one leg, then the other, came 
 slowly out of the green bog with a pop like that 
 of a gigantic soda-water bottle going off, and 
 Fitzmuddle was half hauled and half scrambled 
 to the bank of safety. 
 
 His gratitude to his fair benefactress was 
 boundless, and was still further increased when 
 she took him to a cottage by the side of the bog, 
 and made the good wife, who was an acquaintance 
 of hers, stir up the fire and put fresh peats on, and 
 make him a cup of hot tea while his clothes were 
 drying ; after which charitable duties Maggie bade 
 him good-bye and proceeded on her walk to her 
 aunt s cottage near the foot of the glen, where she 
 had some errands to do before returning to her 
 father s in the evening. 
 
 But Fitzmuddle s debt of gratitude to this 
 " sweet Highland girl " was not by any means 
 exhausted, for once more before the day closed 
 she saved him from a position of imminent peril. 
 
 After having rested and thoroughly dried him- 
 
THE SWEET HIGHLAND GIRL. 83 
 
 self, he looked out of the door of the cottage, and 
 found that with a sudden change, the mist had 
 cleared off, and the sun come out bright and hot ; so 
 he started for the lodge, this time keeping on the 
 firm ground, and intending to walk slowly across 
 the moor on the chance of getting a shot at 
 a curlew or a plover. Now whether the heat 
 overcame him, or he felt tired after his wetting 
 and struggles in the bog, I do not know, but 
 when half-way across the moor, he sat down to 
 rest in the shade of a huge boulder, almost the 
 -size of a small cottage, which had been dropped 
 there by some retreating glacier or stranded 
 iceberg in the far distant Glacial period. Here 
 he smoked a contemplative cigar, gave one or 
 two portentous yawns, and finally dropped off 
 fast asleep. 
 
 How long he slept is uncertain, but he was 
 awakened by a sound which to his confused 
 senses seemed like the roaring of waves on a 
 rock-bound shore, or the hoarse clamour of 
 "bar one" from excited bookmakers. When he 
 rubbed his eyes, however, and saw distinctly, a 
 
 G 2 
 
84 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 much more formidable apparition met them : 
 that of a herd of wild Highland cattle, headed 
 by a most unmistakably ferocious bull, who, 
 drawn by curiosity, had closed in on him, and 
 stood within twenty yards tossing their heads, 
 waving their tails, pawing the ground, and giving 
 vent to a series of angry bellowings. 
 
 If Fitzmuddle had been staking his whole 
 fortune on a bear sale of Turks or Egyptians, 
 he could not have felt more alarmed at the 
 operations of the bulls. The leading bull es 
 pecially, a shaggy black devil with wicked red 
 eyes, was evidently bent on hoisting Fitzmuddle 
 stock up to the highest possible premium. 
 
 What was to be done ? He jumped on his 
 feet, and his first movement was the signal for 
 a general charge of the infuriated animals. 
 
 If there had been no Glacial period, what 
 would have become of Fitzmuddle? Nay, what 
 would have become of all of us ? for it is the 
 ice plough which, in the temperate regions of 
 the northern hemisphere, has done all the 
 rough work of subsoil ploughing, which alone 
 
THE SWEET HIGHLAND GIRL. 85 
 
 has rendered them habitable for agricultural, and 
 therefore for civilised man. No less potent engine 
 could have smashed up the solid rocks into 
 loams and gravels, and spread a mantle of 
 corn-producing soil over the bare bones of the 
 earth. 
 
 But in this particular instance it was the 
 boulder dropped on the solitary heath, which 
 proved to Fitzmuddle a rock of ages and ark of 
 salvation. For with a nimble alacrity inspired 
 by the close proximity of tossing horns and 
 bellowing mouths, he scrambled up it, and for 
 the moment was in safety. For the moment 
 only, for like Bazaine in Metz, he was closely 
 beleaguered in his impregnable fortress, and no 
 means of escape was left unless some friendly force 
 should attack the enemy in the rear and raise 
 the siege. 
 
 Such an ally appeared unexpectedly in the 
 "sweet Highland girl," who, returning from her 
 aunt s cottage after she had done her errands, 
 passed that way and witnessed our hero s perilous 
 predicament. Cattle were no terror to her, for 
 
86 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 she had often when a little lassie herded them, 
 and driven them off the corn, and made herself 
 a terror to them by stones skilfully hurled. And 
 the feeling was reciprocal, for these half-wild 
 creatures, who would have charged a red line of 
 soldiers without hesitation, felt as much alarm 
 at the sight of a girl with a stick in one hand and 
 a stone in the other, as a mob of London roughs 
 might do at the sudden apparition of a blue-coated 
 policeman. Accordingly, when Maggie shouted 
 and threw a stone which hit the leading bull 
 right between the eyes, the besieging army broke 
 up and fled in as much consternation as did the 
 army of the Grand Vizier, when Sobieski, the 
 fiery king of battles, charged their lines before 
 Vienna with his gallant handful of Polish 
 lancers. 
 
 Thus twice in the same day did Fitzmuddle 
 owe his deliverance from deadly danger to the 
 "sweet Highland girl," the fair and substantial 
 daughter of the shepherd s cottage, Maggie 
 Macdonald. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 TROUT AND SALMON FISHING. 
 
 As the river continued too low for any chance 
 of catching a salmon, Fitzmuddle determined to 
 try his hand at the trout, and accompanied by 
 the faithful Donald, walked one fine morning 
 across the hill to the Loch of Foulis. 
 
 " Why do they call it Loch of Fools ? " asked 
 Fitzmuddle. "Is it because those who go there 
 never catch anything, and are fools for their 
 pains?" 
 
 "It s na fools," said Donald, "but Foulis; 
 and I m thinking it just got the name from 
 the number of fouls, there s an awfu lot of 
 wild-fouls on it in winter, dukes and sic like 
 fools." 
 
 Whatever may be the correct etymology, a 
 
88 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 very beautiful loch was this of Foulis when 
 you came on it as Fitzmuddle did, on a fine 
 autumn morning. At the upper end great, 
 rugged mountains rose in bare-ribbed rock from 
 the dark, still waters ; lower down, little pro 
 montories jutted out with rocks and boulders 
 covered with fern and rich purple-blooming 
 heather; and between them, little secluded bays, 
 some of them with shores of bright shingle or 
 yellow sand, on which the most brilliantly 
 spotted and golden-coloured trout were wont to 
 lie. Towards the lower end, where the river 
 ran out, the lake was shallower, and a multitude 
 of little islands, some mere stranded boulders, 
 others large enough to support a growth of 
 luxuriant heather and small birches and rowans, 
 diversified its surface. The rocks were mostly 
 of granite, and the crystals sparkled like 
 diamonds in the sun ; while here and there a 
 grassy tongue of emerald green protruded itself 
 into the lake. 
 
 When they first got to the creek where the 
 boat was moored, it was quite calm, and the 
 
TROUT AND SALMON FISHING. 89 
 
 surface of the lake was dimpled over with the 
 rings of rising trout ; but after waiting for half- 
 an-hour, a cloud came over, dropping a slight 
 shower, and sending a gentle breeze, so they 
 hastily put up the rod, selected the flies, and 
 pushed off from the shore. 
 
 It was a perfect day for fly-fishing, and 
 novice as Fitzmuddle was, he succeeded in 
 raising a trout at almost every cast, and now 
 and then actually hooking and securing a small 
 one. But his line splashed the water too much 
 and frightened the big fish away, or if one did 
 touch his fly under water, he was too slow in 
 striking, and it got away. After losing two 
 or three in this way, Donald said to him : 
 
 "Just shorten your line, sir, and let the 
 wind tak the flie and drop it gently down, and 
 the moment you find the line check the least 
 bit, strike sharp and ding it into him." 
 
 Following this advice, Fitzmuddle to his 
 intense delight hooked two fish well on to one 
 pound each, and after an exciting five minutes 
 play, Donald got them safely into the landing- 
 
90 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 net. But on the third attempt he came to sad 
 grief, for throwing his line out just as they 
 rounded the point of one of the little rocky 
 islands, a sudden puff of wind blew it back into 
 his face, and feeling the line check, he re 
 membered Donald s advice and struck on the 
 instant. 
 
 The result was that, in parliamentary phrase, 
 "the Noes had it." 
 
 The nose had it. In this little phrase how 
 many questions of deep moment are involved ! 
 Why does the first commoner of England, the 
 Speaker of the House of Commons, invariably 
 assume a habit of squinting when he mounts 
 into the chair of dignity, in flowing robe and 
 full-bottomed wig, as he certainly does, for he 
 is constantly turning the Eyes (Ayes) to the 
 right and the Nose (Noes) to the left? But 
 this is a question of parliamentary procedure 
 which, like many others, must always remain 
 inscrutable. Why does that august assembly, 
 potent to make and unmake Ministries, and 
 sway the policy of an empire on which the sun 
 
TROUT AND SALMON FISHING. 91 
 
 never sets, sit in hopeless imbecility or impotent 
 indignation, while some pretentious bore wastes 
 hour after hour with interminable talk, or inter 
 poses motions for adjournment, or grievances 
 of some Irish whisky-seller or English vendor 
 of patent medicines, when the whole House 
 is impatient for a statement by a responsible 
 Minister affecting the honour of the nation, or 
 the security of its defences ? Is the time of 
 Parliament, the most precious of its possessions, 
 the one thing over which it can exercise no 
 effective control, or is it the vested property of 
 some half-dozen gentlemen who wish to please 
 their constituents, and advertise their names 
 by seeing themselves in print next day in the 
 newspapers? Or why should the great mother 
 of Parliaments shrink from enforcing that decency 
 and decorum of manners which are observed 
 in every little mock parliament presided over 
 by a " Worthy Grand " or " Knight Commander 
 of the Order of Good Templars " ? 
 
 These, however, are inscrutable mysteries ; 
 let us turn rather to considerations in which it 
 
92 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 is possible to discern some glimmering of light. 
 By pondering deeply we may perhaps discover 
 some analogy between the softly melting or 
 brightly gleaming eyes and the assent they 
 signify, and also between dissent and that super 
 cilious feature which is curled up with disdain 
 and contradiction. No lover ever addressed his 
 mistress with 
 
 Drink to me only with thy nose, 
 And I will pledge with mine, 
 
 or failed to recognise his "ain lassie" by the 
 "kind blink that s in her ee." 
 
 Assuming, therefore, such a natural connection, 
 shall we ask what mighty issues in the world s 
 history have depended on these fundamental 
 features ? Was it the Bourbon nose which caused 
 the French Revolution, and sent Charles Dix 
 to end his days at Holyrood ? Had the nose 
 been less obstructively negative, and the eyes 
 prompter in assent, would the descendants of 
 Hugh Capet be still reigning over France, and 
 residing in the unburnt Tuileries ? It has been 
 said that if Cleopatra s nose had been an inch 
 
TROUT AND SALMON FISHING. 93 
 
 shorter the course of Roman history would have 
 been different. Does this hold good also of the 
 lengthy feature which gives expression to the 
 refined and handsome, but vacillating and un 
 truthful face of Charles I. in the great equestrian 
 portrait by Vandyke ? With firmer lips, truer 
 eyes, and a more aquiline or doggish frontal 
 appendage, would the Stuart dynasty be now 
 constitutional monarchs of a parliamentary 
 England ? 
 
 Again, what would be the condition of modern 
 science and thought if those heavy-browed and 
 doubtless heavy-nosed Inquisitors had succeeded 
 in locking up Galileo s discoveries as well as 
 his person in a dungeon of the Vatican? 
 
 It makes the brain reel to endeavour to trace 
 the ever-widening circles of changes that may 
 result in this strangely-complicated and strangely- 
 connected universe, from causes apparently the 
 most trivial. Not an act is done, not a word 
 spoken, which, in the " boundless realm of un 
 ending change," may not turn out to be the 
 touch of the finger which pulled the trigger, 
 
94 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 which exploded the dynamite, and shattered 
 creeds, societies, and emperors into a thousand 
 fragments. 
 
 To return, however, from these high-soaring 
 speculations to the point from which we started 
 the hook in Fitzmuddle s nose its extraction 
 presented a problem of considerable difficulty. 
 For when the barb has once become embedded 
 in the flesh, it is no easy matter to pull it out 
 the way it went in, as Launcelot experienced 
 when Lavaine had to tug so hard to draw out 
 the lance which had pierced his side at the 
 tournament. But that was a lance, and probably 
 not barbed, so that Lavaine, by putting out all 
 his strength, succeeded. Fitzmuddle s hook, how 
 ever, being barbed, it baffled all Donald s skill 
 to extract it, and they had to send for the doctor, 
 who forced the barb through the right way, nipped 
 it off with a pair of pincers, and then drew the 
 hook back without difficulty ; so that beyond a 
 slight swelling and disfigurement for a couple 
 of days, Fitzmuddle was none the worse for the 
 adventure. 
 
TROUT AND SALMON FISHING. 95 
 
 At length the storm came, and for two days 
 and nights it raged. The wind sweeping in 
 furious gusts round the shoulder of Ben More, 
 tore up the water of the gloomy loch into angry 
 waves, and scattered it in showers of spray. 
 Then came a lull, and the strong rain fell as if 
 the heavens were one great shower-bath of which 
 the demon of the gale had pulled the string. 
 The windows of the lodge rattled, the roof leaked, 
 and the stout Highland girl who acted as house 
 maid had hard work with mops and pails to 
 arrest the little rivers that ran down the passages, 
 and threatened to form a lake in the best sitting- 
 room. 
 
 But all the mops and pails in the world would 
 have been powerless to dry up the spongy peat 
 mosses and swollen tarns, which sent down so 
 many raging burns into the roaring river, whose 
 full torrent swept down in a wide stream of inky 
 black water flecked with foam, over shallows 
 where three days ago a child could have crossed. 
 
 At length on the third day the gale broke. 
 The sullen pall of leaden-coloured clouds opened 
 
96 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 up, and patches of blue sky appeared, across 
 which fragments of clouds, torn from the ragged- 
 edged walls which still obscured the horizon, 
 chased one another in rapid flight and dis 
 appeared to leeward. Their flight became slower, 
 the patches of blue sky widened, and towards 
 evening the sun came out in its glory just before 
 sunset, lighting up the whole western sky with 
 vivid tints of crimson and of gold. 
 
 The loch, a few hours ago dark as the mouth 
 of hell, now glowed like the pavement of heaven, 
 and the gray ghastly hills stood out in richest 
 purple against the delicate tints of the evening 
 sky. As night approached the mountain wall 
 became more weird in its mysterious beauty, and 
 the sky and sea, with a last flush of crimson 
 glory, assumed the sober livery of night. With 
 nightfall the wind quite died away, the stars 
 came out twinkling in the transparent air, and 
 rising suddenly into sight over the clear outline 
 of the dark hills. The calm loch reflected the 
 brighter constellations as in a mirror, and every 
 thing was as still and solemn as sleep or death, 
 
TROUT AND SALMON FISHING. 97 
 
 after the passionate excitement and turmoil of a 
 day of struggle. 
 
 With early morn Donald was afoot to watch 
 the river and report progress. At eight o clock 
 he opened Fitzmuddle s door, inserted his head 
 and said : " Wauken up, sir, and get your break 
 fast. I m thinking she ll fush the day." 
 
 Fitzmuddle, roused from the embraces of 
 Morpheus, and still only half-awake, just caught 
 the last words, and had an unpleasant suspicion 
 that they referred to fresh proceedings on the 
 part of a certain young lady, and that he, the 
 Honourable Augustus, was the fish intended to 
 be caught. 
 
 "Dear me," he said, "you don t say so! I 
 thought the lady had enough of fishing to last 
 her for her life the other day off the Butt of 
 Mull." 
 
 Donald could not restrain a hearty laugh. 
 " It s no o the leddy I m speaking, sir ; it s o 
 the river. Get up and ye ll catch a bonny 
 salmon." 
 
 " Oh, the river, is it ? " said Fitzmuddle, greatly 
 
 VOL. i. H 
 
A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 relieved. " But tell me, Donald, why do you 
 call the river she ?" 
 
 " It s just the way we have in the Hielands," 
 said Donald, "it sounds mair kindly like; it 
 gars you think o a bonnie lassie, and that s 
 aye a pleasant thought." 
 
 " Why, Donald/ said Fitzmuddle, I declare 
 you are quite a poet ; I should never have thought 
 of such a thing, though now you say it, I do 
 think it sounds nicer to call a river a she than 
 an it. " 
 
 " Begging your honour s pardon/ said Donald, 
 " it s no your fault but your misfortune to be born 
 a Saxon ; if you had been born in the Hielands 
 and had the Gaelic, that way of speaking would 
 just have come natural to you." 
 
 However, further disquisition on the compara 
 tive merits of the Celtic and Saxon races was 
 cut short by a plunge of Fitzmuddle, who, extricat 
 ing himself from the bed-clothes, manfully rushed 
 to the tub, and in due course descended to break 
 fast. Ham and eggs, a broiled chicken, and un 
 limited scones and marmalade, were the solid 
 
TROUT AND SALMON FISHING. 99 
 
 foundation on which he prepared himself for the 
 labours of the day; and having tasted just the 
 least nip of the mountain dew, and lighted a mild 
 Havannah, he started with Donald for a five- 
 mile tramp to the river, his heart glowing with 
 ardour, in peace and goodwill with himself and 
 all mankind, and humming as he walked to the 
 old hunting melody, " This day a fish shall die." 
 Indeed, it was a morning on which it was impos 
 sible to feel otherwise than happy, and Schopen 
 hauer himself must have confessed that "pessim 
 ism/ 7 like most other " isms," had its exceptions 
 and limitations. 
 
 The air, cleared by the storm, was so fresh 
 and exhilarating that to inhale it was like 
 breathing ethereal champagne. The gorse and 
 heather glittered with dew-drops brighter than 
 the brightest diamonds. The cocks and hens 
 at every cottage door, who had stood huddled 
 together so dismal and bedraggled during the 
 two days rain, were now scattered all over the 
 place, preening their feathers, scratching for food, 
 
 and crowing and cackling for sheer delight in 
 
 H 2 
 
loo A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 the rays of the morning sun; while the ducks 
 waddled along over every little plot of grass, 
 hunting eagerly for the slugs and worms which 
 were crawling about on the moistened surface. 
 Higher up the hill an old cock grouse rose 
 at their feet and flew away with a cheerful crow, 
 and the wild cry of a couple of curlews was 
 blended with the distant whistle of a flock of 
 golden plovers. 
 
 Walking at a rapid pace, for Fitzmuddle s 
 long legs and slender frame enabled him almost 
 to keep up with the stronger Donald, they soon 
 topped the ridge, and breaking into a run down 
 the opposite slope, they soon reached the river. 
 It had gone down a good deal since yesterday, 
 though still brimming up to the banks, and 
 presenting a formidable succession of deep pools 
 and foaming rapids. The inky blackness of the 
 water had toned down into a clear amber, or 
 rather the colour of a celestial and spiritualised 
 Guinness s Stout ; in which, as Donald observed, 
 "No weel-conditioned salmon could help rising 
 at the first flie that cam ower him." 
 
TROUT AND SALMON FISHING. 101 
 
 Fitzmuddle watched with eager interest the 
 operations of putting up the rod and fastening on 
 the casting-line, and bent all the attention of 
 his mighty mind to the sage remarks of Donald 
 touching the selection of a proper fly. 
 
 "I m thinking/ said Donald, "that this Joe 
 Scott is about the right thing. The water s big, 
 and she ll stand a good-sized flie and a bright 
 ane, though the day be fine." 
 
 Accoutred for the fray, Fitzmuddle grasped 
 the rod and stepped down briskly to the bank 
 of the river Donald had selected as a likely spot 
 to begin with: a wide pool, flowing deep on 
 the far side under a curving bank of rock, while 
 on the near side a shelving bank of gravel, dry 
 in fine weather, sloped gently downwards. A 
 rapid stream poured through a chasm of rocks 
 at the upper end, which gradually died away 
 into rippling eddies towards the tail of the pool, 
 and finally ran out in a smooth but rapid stream, 
 until it fell in a cascade of some twenty feet in 
 height, through another rocky chasm into the 
 next pool. Fitzmuddle wielded his rod and 
 
A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 manfully essayed to cast his] fly into the stream. 
 But easy as casting a salmon fly seems to be on 
 paper, it is not quite so easy in practice. The 
 slow, steady sweep of the practised angler is not 
 at once attained by a nervous beginner, and the 
 cracking off of sundry flies, and knotting the 
 line into inextricable tangles, are experiences 
 which have to be gone through before the first 
 elements of the art are fairly mastered. However, 
 Donald was at his elbow with sage advice. 
 
 "Just remember make ready/ present/ 
 1 fire, " he said. " * Make ready, when your cast is 
 finished and you are going to lift your flie ; 
 ( present/ when ye throw it fairly back behint ye ; 
 then pause a second, and when you say fire/ bring 
 the rod forward with a smart but steady cast." 
 
 Fitzmuddle possessed the first attribute for 
 a ready learner of this as well as of more 
 important matters, the noble humility which is 
 conscious of its own imperfections and not 
 ashamed to learn. Whether in casting a fly or 
 in the more arduous experiences of practical 
 life, the surest road to failure is to be too- 
 
TROUT AND SALMON FISHING. 103 
 
 conceited to know that you have failed, and too 
 impatient to recognise that docility and 
 perseverance are safer guides than any amount 
 of fancied heaven-born genius. 
 
 Accordingly, after a few unsuccessful attempts, 
 Fitzmuddle managed to flop out some yards 
 of line into the stream, and although the fly fell 
 with a considerable splash, a salmon in the taking 
 humour is not so easily alarmed as the shy 
 speckled trout of a clear chalk stream, and has 
 no idea of being balked of his purpose by such 
 a trifle as a clumsy cast. At his third cast the 
 fly floated down the stream until the line became 
 straight, and Fitzmuddle was in the act of lifting 
 it for another cast, when he was conscious of an 
 obstruction. At first he thought his fly had 
 caught a rock, and he jerked it sharply to release 
 it. Luckily the tackle was sound, and the jerk 
 only served to fix the hook firmly in the jaws of 
 a fine salmon, whose silver side as he gave a 
 plunge on feeling the steel, sent a throb of excite 
 ment tingling through every vein of the astonished 
 angler. 
 
104 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 " Gie him line, for gudeness sake gie him line, 
 and haud up the point of your rod," shouted the 
 equally excited Donald, as the salmon darted with 
 one rush from the bottom to the top of the pool. 
 " Reel him in, reel, reel for your life," again 
 shouted Donald, as the fish turned and ran down 
 stream for the deeper water, where for a time he 
 sulked and remained stationary. 
 
 A stone thrown in by Donald started him off, 
 and he began dashing about the pool wildly, and 
 twice sprang high out of the water, showing the 
 goodly proportions of a clean-run fish of at least 
 fifteen or sixteen pounds. 
 
 "Eh, mon, he s a grand fush," said Donald, "be 
 canny wi him ; keep your rod up, and reel up a 
 you can, and he ll soon be spent." 
 
 And no doubt an experienced angler would 
 soon have had him within reach of the gaff, but 
 Fitzmuddle was inexperienced and excited, and 
 in spite of Donald s admonitions gave the fish far 
 too much of his own way, and half the time the 
 line was quite slack, giving the salmon time to 
 get second wind and renew the fight. At length, 
 
TROUT AND SALMON FISHING. 105 
 
 after about twenty minutes of this work, Fitz- 
 muddle s arms, unused to this strain on their 
 muscles,, became quite stiff, and to relieve them he 
 lowered his right hand and brought his left close 
 to his breast. Horror of horrors ! the line caught 
 in a bunch of keys, lockets, and other useless nick- 
 nacks, which it was one of Fitzmuddle s youthful 
 weaknesses to wear with his watch-chain. It 
 snapped, the bent rod flew up, and the salmon 
 disappeared with a final leap and a flourish of his 
 tail which Fitzmuddle felt as a personal insult, and 
 was wont in future years to aver that the salmon, 
 heaping insult upon injury, distinctly winked at 
 him with its left eye as it plunged into the pool. 
 There are many disappointments in life. It is 
 unpleasant to have your favourite article returned 
 to you by an editor, and your pet picture rejected 
 by the hanging committee ; and worse still for a 
 fashionable young lady in her sixth London season, 
 who has just brought a rich baronet to the verge 
 where she thinks his next sentence must be a pro 
 posal, to see him take up his hat and wish her 
 good morning with a commonplace compliment. 
 
106 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 Nor is the position of an ardent youth altogether 
 to be envied, who having screwed his courage up 
 to the point of popping the question, sees his fair 
 innamorata, like Mistress Jean in the ballad of the 
 laird of Cockpen : 
 
 Say, Na, 
 And drop a low curtsy and turn awa . 
 
 But believe me, reader, these pangs, though 
 more enduring, are less sharp for the moment 
 than the sensation of the angler who, one 
 moment fast in a fine salmon, in the next finds 
 that he is gone, and not without an inward 
 suspicion that some bungling of his own may 
 be responsible for the fiasco. 
 
 Fitzmuddle was simply frantic. He stamped 
 and danced about on the gravel, and at length 
 threw himself down at full length, and declared 
 that he would renounce fishing for ever and a day. 
 
 "Donald," said he, "do you know what one 
 of the wisest men in the world said of fishing ? 
 that it was just a stick and a string, with a fish at 
 one end and a fool at the other." 
 
TROUT AND SALMON FISHING. 107 
 
 "Aweel, sir," replied Donald, "ye maunna 
 be downhearted; that saying can t apply to you, 
 for whatever may be the case at the one end, 
 I am sure there is nae fish at the tother." 
 
 Comforted by this assurance, Fitzmuddle 
 lighted a cigar to compose his ruffled nerves, 
 and finally agreed to follow Donald s advice and 
 go to a smaller pool, a couple of hundred yards 
 higher up, where there was a good chance of a 
 grilse, leaving the big pool to rest for half-an-hour 
 before trying it again for another large fish. 
 
 His perseverance was rewarded, for in the 
 upper pool he really did succeed in catching a 
 handsome grilse weighing six pounds. It was 
 not a very artistic performance, but the tackle was 
 strong, the fish well hooked, and Fitzmuddle 
 hauled him by main strength, after the first rush, 
 within reach of Donald s gaff. 
 
 Inspired by this success, Fitzmuddle, full of 
 the hope that " springs eternal in the human 
 breast/ returned to the deep pool and stood 
 eager for the fray. 
 
 "Just try if you canna cast a yard or two 
 
loS A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 further," said Donald ; " the big fish are very apt 
 to lie just on the far side of the stream. But 
 whatever you do, be careful in wading, for the 
 gravel bank goes down varra steep after you are 
 about ten yards out." 
 
 Fitzmuddle waded out with due caution, and 
 made repeated though ineffectual attempts to cast 
 his fly well beyond the stream. At length a fine 
 salmon made a splendid rise, rolling over his broad 
 back, which to Fitzmuddle s delighted eyes looked 
 as big as that of a porpoise, just about a yard 
 beyond the spot he had reached with his longest 
 cast. Fired by the sight, he forgot Donald s warn 
 ing, and tried to gain the extra yard by venturing 
 to wade a little deeper. 
 
 Alas ! alas ! " facilis descensus Averni," easy 
 is the downward slope that leads to destruction ; 
 "sed revocare gradus," but to redeem lost character 
 and missed opportunities, or, as in Fitzmuddle s 
 case, to regain a firm footing on a steep slope 
 of sand which is slipping away from under your 
 feet, " hie labor hoc opus est," this is a different 
 affair altogether, a work to be accomplished only 
 
TROUT AND SALMON FISHING. 109 
 
 by painful effort, and often not at all without the 
 aid of a friendly redeemer. So Fitzmuddle found 
 it, for getting deeper and deeper as the sand 
 slipped away, he made one tremendous effort to 
 regain firm footing, which, like the last throw of 
 many a desperate gambler, only consummated his 
 ruin, for the treacherous sand gave way altogether, 
 and in the twinkling of an eye he found himself 
 immersed in the rushing water. 
 
 Now let me tell those who have never ex 
 perienced such a catastrophe, that there are few 
 positions more full of danger than to find yourself 
 carried down by a rapid river with wading trousers 
 on. Unless you are a good swimmer, and preserve 
 perfect presence of mind, you have an excellent 
 chance of being drowned. If you attempt to swim 
 on your breast, up go your legs buoyed by the 
 air in your waterproof trousers, and down con 
 sequently goes your head. Your only salvation 
 is to turn on your back, bend it well, and strike 
 downwards with your hands so as to keep your 
 head above water, and kick out with your legs 
 so as to get near enough to the shore to regain 
 
no A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 your footing, or catch hold of something on the 
 bank. I once knew a man who, in such a pre 
 dicament, took things so coolly, that he not only 
 brought himself safely to land, but kept hold of 
 his rod, and never even extinguished the lighted 
 cigar he had in his mouth. But Fitzmuddle had 
 neither the practice nor the presence of mind 
 necessary for such a performance, and with the 
 first plunge he got his head under, his mouth 
 full of water, and floated, splashing and struggling, 
 down the stream that was hurrying towards its 
 leap over the rocky fall. Once over the brink 
 of that fall, his only chance of escape from drowning 
 lay in the contingency that his brains might be 
 dashed out against the boulders before the water 
 had quite completed its work. 
 
 However, let me hasten to reassure the nerves 
 of my readers, and especially of my fair readers. 
 My novel is not a chamber of horrors, and ends 
 happily. Fitzmuddle was saved, as it were, from 
 the very jaws of death, and underwent many more- 
 adventures both of flood and field. It happened 
 in the following manner : 
 
TROUT AND SALMON FISHING. in 
 
 The wonderful relation between Spirit and 
 Matter has long been a problem for the greatest 
 intellects. How certain molecular vibrations trans 
 late themselves into transport, others into agony, 
 how soul, conscience, and all the diviner attributes 
 of human nature are inseparably connected with 
 mechanical combinations of oxygen, hydrogen, and 
 other atoms, is indeed an insoluble mystery. Never 
 theless, learned philosophers have arrived at this 
 result, that certain faculties and emotions are 
 apparently located in certain separate regions of 
 the bodily frame. Thus the brain is said to be 
 the seat of intelligence, the heart of love, and 
 another portion of the human form divine, which 
 it is unnecessary to describe more minutely, is, 
 by common consent, considered to be the seat of 
 honour. Why it should be so is not very apparent, 
 unless it be on the principle of giving the broadest 
 possible basis to that which is the primary and 
 most solid foundation of all real excellence of 
 character, self-reverence, or a keen sense of personal 
 honour. 
 
 Be this as it may, Fitzmuddle on this critical 
 
ii2 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 occasion realised to the fullest extent the truth 
 of the poet s saying, that "the seat of honour is 
 the seat of safety," for as he floated down the 
 stream, face downwards, this portion of his person, 
 projecting above the turbid torrent, presented what 
 Archimedes so much desired, a fulcrum or point 
 of attachment against which force might be 
 profitably exerted. With singular presence of 
 mind Donald had grasped the situation at a glance. 
 On the very verge of the fall, where the roaring 
 torrent plunged twenty feet down over rugged 
 boulders into the dark and gloomy pool below, a 
 ledge of rock just afforded foothold for a single foot, 
 while a dwarfed and misshapen birch overhung the 
 stream, and twined its gnarled roots firmly among 
 the crevices of the rocky bank. Grasping this with 
 his left hand, and holding the gaff firmly in 
 his right, Donald stretched out as far as he 
 could over the water and waited for the 
 approach of the floating form of his unfortunate 
 master. It was no time to stand on ceremony. 
 In another second, Fitzmuddle would have been 
 over the fall, and his sporting adventures would 
 
TROUT AND SALMON FISHING. 113 
 
 have come to a sad termination. Accordingly 
 Donald struck his gaff in with a right good will, 
 and, as the javelin of Diomed pierced through 
 the shield of triple bull -hide and brazen cuirass 
 of the God of War, so did the sharp point of 
 the gaff penetrate through the wading trousers 
 and under garments, until it bit deeply into the 
 tender flesh, which luckily proved tough enough 
 to enable Donald to tow the half-drowned Fitz- 
 muddle to the shore and lift him up the bank, 
 thus realising what most salmon anglers have 
 experienced, that a "clever gaffer often saves a 
 good fish." 
 
 With equal promptitude Donald propped his 
 master up against a sloping bank, got out the 
 whisky flask, poured half of its contents down 
 Fitzmuddle s throat, and soaking a handful of 
 soft moss in the other half, applied it to the 
 wound inflicted by the gaff, and bound it tightly 
 up with his handkerchief. The effect of this 
 double application of whisky, tingling in the 
 inside and smarting on the outer cuticle, soon 
 restored Fitzmuddle to his senses, and to the 
 
 VOL. I. I 
 
114 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 honest Donald s delight he opened his eyes and 
 began to inquire where he was and what had 
 happened to him. 
 
 When this was explained to him he was fervent 
 in his thanks to his rescuer, and vowed that 
 whatever favour Donald might ever have occa 
 sion to ask of him, should be freely granted. 
 The problem then came up for serious discus 
 sion how he was to get back to the lodge, for 
 any attempt to walk, or even to rise, brought on 
 fresh bleeding from the wound to such an extent,, 
 that although Fitzmuddle pluckily attempted it, 
 it was manifestly unsafe to persevere. Donald, 
 however, proved equal to the occasion, for wrap 
 ping Fitzmuddle in his plaid, he took him up 
 in his strong arms as if he had been a baby, 
 and carried him to the nearest cottage, where a 
 cart was procured in which the wounded hero 
 was deposited on a bed of rough hay and safely 
 conveyed to the lodge. 
 
 For several days he was confined to the sofa, 
 but youth, a good constitution, and diachylon 
 plaster work wonders, and he was soon restored 
 
TROUT AND SALMON FISHING. 115 
 
 to his wonted health and spirits. Physical 
 wounds are far more easily cured than those 
 deeper wounds which are inflicted, so often care 
 lessly, by "evil tongues, rash judgments, and 
 the sneers of selfish men ; " and the diachylon 
 plaster has yet to be invented which will heal 
 the scars of a sensitive soul, stabbed by cruel 
 words and ungenerous actions. 
 
 I 2 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 DEER-STALKING -THE SHEPHERD S COTTAGE. 
 
 ONE morning at six o clock in the first week 
 of October, Donald put his head inside the door 
 of Fitzmuddle s bedroom in a state of great ex 
 citement, and said: "The shepherd has sent 
 word that a fine stag was seen last night in the 
 gloaming, a good way on our side of the march, 
 and he really thinks it was the muckle stag o 
 Ben More ; so get up, if you please, sir, and we ll 
 be off and after him." 
 
 Fitzmuddle jumped out of bed, made a hasty 
 breakfast, and mounting two of the shooting 
 ponies, he and Donald started for the shepherd s 
 cottage to get more precise information. The 
 morning was dull and lowering and the mist 
 hung low on the hills, but inspired by the pros 
 pect of a stalk they did not mind the weather. 
 
DEER-STALKING. 117 
 
 On arriving at the cottage Sandy Macdonald, 
 the old shepherd, told them that the stag had 
 certainly come down from the mountain to the 
 Muir of Myrie, a great flat expanse of peat moss, 
 stunted heather, and coarse rusty-coloured grass, 
 which stretched for some miles along the foot of 
 the Ben More range, and he described the locality, 
 about four miles off, where he had last seen him. 
 
 " Eh, mon," he said, " he was a grand beast, he 
 looked as big as a horse last night through the 
 mist, and I never saw sic a head; he must have 
 twelve or fourteen tines at the varra least." 
 
 They pushed forward, full of hope of bringing 
 this grand head back to the cottage before night, 
 and counting the tines at their L leisure ; but deer 
 stalking is not all pleasure, for when they got 
 fairly on to the Muir of Myrie, the wet, clammy 
 mist came down so low that they could not see 
 thirty yards ahead. 
 
 " It will never do to gae on in this mist," said 
 Donald, " we should be sure to gie the beast our 
 wind, and he d be off across the march before we 
 saw him." 
 
ii8 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 " What s to be done, then ? " said Fitzmuddle. 
 " Surely you don t mean to give him up ? " 
 
 " Na, na," said Donald, "but we must just 
 sit down and wait till it clears up a bit. Maybe 
 it will come on to rain in the afternoon, and then 
 we may be able to see something." 
 
 So they sat down under the lee of a peat- 
 hag, and passed the weary hours as they best 
 could, until about two o clock, when, as Donald 
 predicted, the mist turned to good heavy rain, 
 and though it still hung low on the mountain 
 side, it cleared a good deal off the flat muir. 
 Donald took a good spy, but could see nothing. 
 
 "We must gae on another mile or twa," he 
 said, " for it s likely the stag will ha j moved a bit 
 across the muir since last night." 
 
 So they struggled and splashed on over the 
 sloppy ground for twenty minutes or so, when 
 they lay down behind a little hillock, and Donald 
 took another long spy. Carefully he swept the 
 horizon round with his glass, but at last he stopped. 
 
 " Do you see anything ? " asked the excited 
 Fitzmuddle. 
 
DEER-STALKING. 1 1 9 
 
 "I m no quite sure/ said Donald, "but I 
 thocht I saw something varra like him at the far 
 side o the muir. I ll just wipe the glass and tak 
 another look." 
 
 He did so, and after a long, steady look, said 
 in a low voice : 
 
 "Sure enough it s him, I can make him out 
 quite plainly now, and a grand beast he is." 
 
 "Where, where?" said Fitzmuddle ; "let me 
 look." 
 
 But it is one of the lessons that a novice in 
 deer-stalking has to learn, that an inexperienced 
 eye may look through a glass for a week and 
 see nothing, where the practised eye of his stalker 
 can almost count the points on the stag s head. 
 So Fitzmuddle could only see something which 
 might be either a tuft of withered fern, a boulder, 
 or a stag, for any difference he could discern. 
 
 " He ll no be easy to get at," said Donald, 
 " he s out on the flat muir, and the wind blowing 
 right to him, so we ll have to gang a long way 
 round, and be very canny in creeping, to win 
 anywhere near him." 
 
120 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 So he took the bearings of the spot very care 
 fully, and crept back for about two hundred yards 
 from the hillock, till they got into one of those 
 channels in the moss which are worn by the 
 incessant rains, under shelter of which they com 
 menced their stalk in a wide circle of fully two 
 miles, so as to get round to leeward of the stag, 
 and then crawl up, head to wind, as nearly as 
 possible to the place where they had marked 
 him. 
 
 Running with bent back across sloppy ground 
 in a heavy shower of rain, and every now and then 
 flopping into pools of black peat water, or sinking 
 up to the knees in treacherous morasses, is a mode 
 of taking one s pleasure sadly, which I suppose 
 few French sportsmen would appreciate who go 
 out in the glory of a chasseur s costume, with 
 fringed game-bag and feather in Tyrolese hat, 
 to pot at thrushes and blackbirds. But this 
 was nothing to what they had to endure when, 
 having completed their circuit, they had to crawl 
 the last quarter of a mile up wind. For now 
 instead of walking or running with bent back, 
 
DEER-STALKING. 121 
 
 they had to assume the mode of progression 
 of the old serpent who so fortunately deceived 
 Eve, and delivered her descendants from that 
 garden of Eden, where, I think, they would have 
 been horribly bored, and to crawl and wriggle on 
 their stomachs, along slushy runlets, and over 
 spongy moss, and through streaming grass and 
 heather. At last Donald called a halt, for, as 
 ill-luck would have it, the mist came down again 
 thicker than ever. 
 
 " I daurna gang a yard further," he said, 
 " we re close on to the spot where I marked him ; 
 we must just wait where we are, and perhaps 
 about sunset the mist will lift again." 
 
 To Donald this was a matter of indifference, 
 for he was like a water-dog, and accustomed to 
 be wet rather oftener than he was dry ; but Fitz- 
 muddle felt very miserable. As long as he was 
 in motion he was all right, and the excitement 
 kept him up ; but when it came to be a question 
 of lying for an hour or two, half in water and 
 half in wet peat, with his teeth chattering in his 
 head and his bones chilled to the marrow, it is 
 
122 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 no wonder that he found himself asking whether 
 " le jeu vaut la chandelle." Even the solace of a 
 cigar was denied him, for Donald whispered there 
 was no knowing how near they might be to the 
 beast, and a whiff of the scent of tobacco might 
 start him off. So a nip of whisky was all the 
 comfort he could get, and for a long while it 
 looked very much as if all their pains would be 
 undertaken for nothing, for the mist kept thick 
 and night was fast approaching. 
 
 But just as the sun set, a sickly gleam ap 
 peared in the west, and the mist lifted. Donald 
 peered cautiously over the bank of the peat-hag 
 in which they were lying, and drew his head 
 back carefully. 
 
 " He s within fifty yards," he said ; "ye canna 
 miss him." 
 
 Fitzmuddle peeped through a bunch of heather, 
 and there stood the noble animal quite close. He 
 had been lying down during the rain, and when 
 that gleam had come at sunset, he had risen and 
 turned his head towards it, and stood stretching 
 himself out, and yawning, if stags ever do yawn, 
 
DEER-STALKING. 123 
 
 with his broadside fairly exposed at a distance of 
 certainly not over sixty yards. 
 
 Donald shoved the cocked rifle cautiously 
 forward into Fitzmuddle s hands and whispered : 
 
 "Take steady aim, and draw a fine bead 
 just behind the shoulder, right for his heart." 
 
 Fitzmuddle did his best to follow these in 
 structions ; but whether his hand shook from the 
 cold, or from the excitement with which his 
 heart was bumping against his breast, or whether 
 the rifle carried a trifle high at short ranges, will 
 never be known, the only certainty about the 
 matter being that when the smoke cleared off 
 which hung low and heavy in the damp air, all 
 that could be discerned was the tail and hind 
 quarters of a magnificent stag in the act of dis 
 appearing over an adjoining brae. 
 
 " Clean missed him, by God ! " exclaimed 
 Donald. "Dash it; what a pity!" But in the 
 next moment, with true Highland politeness, he 
 thought of Fitzmuddle s wounded feelings, and 
 added : " But it s nae altogether your fault, sir, 
 for I m thinking that was just the muckle stag 
 
124 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 o Ben More himself, and the folks a say he s no 
 canny, and the bullet must be cast o 3 siller that s 
 to bring him down." 
 
 Whether Fitzmuddle believed this or not, or 
 whether he felt so utterly wretched as to be in 
 different to the buffets of fate, I do not know ; 
 but I know this, that he took the escape of the 
 stag much more philosophically than he did the 
 loss of that first salmon who so wickedly winked 
 at him. 
 
 Even in after life, though he did not always 
 miss his stags, he never took so cordially to 
 stalking as he did to other branches of sport, 
 and soon gave it up altogether. You may think 
 it soft of him, but although the stalk was exciting, 
 and the moment of pulling the trigger one of 
 intense interest, he did not like seeing, what so 
 often happens, the poor beast going on with its 
 entrails hanging out, or hobbling on three legs, 
 and finally, when it was brought to bay by the 
 dog and shot down, lying on the heather, with 
 the limbs, a few minutes ago so springy and 
 full of life, giving their last convulsive kicks, and 
 
DEER-STALKING. 125 
 
 the great human-looking eye turned reproachfully 
 on you, and slowly glazing over with the films 
 of death. And then there is that horrid butcher 
 ing business of gralloching, which a man must 
 be a born Highlander to stand. 
 
 It is a curious instance of the inconsistency of 
 the human mind that a man should feel senti 
 mental over the sorrows of a stag, who slaughters 
 any number of grouse or pheasants without scruple 
 or remorse. He never thinks of the wounded birds 
 who get away, and doubtless have a very " mauvais 
 quart d heure," until some beneficent hawk or 
 friendly fox puts a short end to their agony. I 
 suppose, after all, humanity resolves itself into 
 selfishness, and we pity only those creatures who 
 come near enough to ourselves to enable the 
 imagination to see some reflection of human suf 
 fering in their expiring struggles. The stag is 
 such a mass of vigorous vitality that its death 
 affects us almost as if we saw the athletic High 
 lander, whose elastic step on the heather guided 
 us in the stalk, struck suddenly dead. And the 
 full eye has an expression which suggests human 
 
126 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 feelings of pain, terror, and upbraiding ; while the 
 grouse is too remote from us to excite similar 
 feelings, and as for the salmon, with the exception 
 of that wink which Fitzmuddle vouched for with 
 more and more positiveness every year as time 
 rolled on, we never heard of its eye conveying 
 any suggestion of human emotion. 
 
 However, Fitzmuddle and Donald, trudging 
 through the wet for six weary miles, thought much 
 more of reaching the friendly shelter of the shep 
 herd s cottage than of any such refined specula 
 tions, and right glad they were when at last they 
 saw its lights gleaming through the darkness. 
 Once within the door, their troubles were ended, 
 for Maggie, foreseeing the plight in which they 
 would arrive, had piled on the peats and made 
 a blazing fire both but and ben, and laid out the 
 shepherd s suit of Sunday clothes as a change for 
 Fitzmuddle, and got a pot ready with three fowls 
 and some slices of ham, and potatoes, and onions, 
 and cabbage, all ready to put on the fire when 
 they came in, and in the meantime the kettle 
 boiling to give them a cup of tea, or glass of hot 
 
DEER-STALKING. 127 
 
 toddy, as they might prefer, while supper was 
 getting ready. 
 
 The shepherd s clothes were safe to fit Fitz- 
 muddle on the principle upon which the hat and 
 wig of his friend the Calendar fitted John Gilpin, 
 
 viz. : 
 
 " My head is twice as big as yours, 
 Therefore they needs must fit," 
 
 for, indeed, the shepherd was about two inches 
 taller and two feet more in circumference than 
 Fitzmuddle. So he got into dry clothes, had a 
 cup of hot tea, and sat down in an arm-chair before 
 the fire enjoying the appetising smell that came 
 from the mess boiling in the adjoining kitchen, in 
 a state of supreme comfort. As for Donald, after 
 much blushing and giggling on the part of Maggie, 
 and protestations on his part that wet clothes 
 never hurt a Hielandman, he was persuaded to 
 put on a pair of dry trousers and stockings, and 
 take off his wet coat and wrap a blanket about his 
 shoulders. 
 
 Fitzmuddle often looked back on this day s 
 adventures with pleasure, for we are so constituted 
 
128 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 that the recollections on which we like to dwell 
 in after days, are not those of ease and comfort, 
 but of hardship and privation. I often fancy 
 myself in the Bay of Biscay, hove to in a heavy 
 south-west gale on board one of the P. and O. 
 steamers, and see the great mountainous waves 
 of deep indigo blue, flecked with foam, rolling in, 
 and sometimes, when a ray of sickly sunlight 
 struggled through the drifting clouds, green-glim 
 mering towards the summit before they curled 
 over in a cascade of brilliant white. On that 
 voyage we were said to have broken ;ioo worth 
 of crockery, and the spectacle of the stewards 
 staggering in with the dishes at dinner was that 
 of good men struggling with difficulties ; while 
 every mouthful had to be snatched at the turn 
 of one of those rolls which converted horizontal 
 into perpendicular. Yet the remembrance of those 
 three days is a green spot in my memory, while 
 the many good dinners I have eaten, and the soft 
 beds I have slept in, have all faded away. 
 
 So also in matters less material than rolling 
 waves or misty mountains, we like best to recall 
 
DEER-STALKING. 129 
 
 those passages of our lives in which we stood face 
 to face with dangers and difficulties, and looked 
 straight into their eyes, and either by supply 
 avoiding or grimly encountering them, vanquished 
 them and threw them fairly behind us. Life is 
 made up of contrasts, and is fullest for those who, 
 like Ulysses, have ever 
 
 Enjoyed greatly and suffered greatly, 
 
 and more lives are rusted to death by disuse 
 than are broken in the keen sword-play of polished 
 blades. 
 
 Fitzmuddle s reflections, however, did not get 
 beyond the sensation of intense animal enjoyment 
 as he stretched his legs before the fire after making 
 a hearty supper on Maggie s miscellaneous stew, 
 which he ever afterwards pronounced to be the 
 ne plus ultra of the art of cookery. The shepherd 
 and Donald wanted to leave him in the best room 
 in solitary dignity, but he would not hear of it, 
 and insisted on their coming in and having a glass 
 of whisky toddy, and a smoke and comfortable 
 crack altogether, before they went to bed. 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
130 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 They did so, and the talk happened to turn on 
 the Crofter question, which was then exciting much 
 attention. Old Macdonald, the shepherd, was 
 great on the subject of their grievances. 
 
 " Where would the lairds have been," he said, 
 " if the men of the clan had not won the land by 
 the sword and held it ? It s no for me to speak 
 against sheep, who makes my living by them, but 
 it is gae hard to see men turned off the land like 
 nowt, just because woo gaes up, or some rich 
 gentleman from the South bids a high rent to mak" 
 a deer forest." 
 
 But Donald was all for emigration. 
 
 " What you say is true enough, Sandy," he 
 said ; " but there s many a hard thing in this 
 world. It was hard on the auld Picts when the 
 Gael turned them out o their land ; and on the 
 Macdougalls when they lost their holdings to 
 Macdonalds and Campbells just because their 
 chief took the wrang side in Bruce s wars. But 
 it s nae good whining over things ; we must just 
 take them as we find them and make the best 
 of them. Set a stiff heart to a stey brae/ ye 
 
DEER-STALKING. 131 
 
 ken, and dinna stop at hame starving and grum 
 bling on wee patches o stanes and moss, that 
 are na fit to keep a decent cow on, when there s 
 plenty o good land and good wages to be got 
 in America." 
 
 "Yes/ said Fitzmuddle, "and what says the 
 Scripture : * Increase and multiply and replenish 
 the earth/ You would not go against Scripture, 
 Sandy, and say that a whole continent is to be 
 left to buffaloes and red Indians, instead of sup 
 porting millions of hardy, industrious, God-fearing 
 men and women, just because Highlanders and 
 Irishmen cling to their native hills and bogs like 
 children to their nurses aprons ? " 
 
 " Weel, weel, sir/ said Sandy, " I canna deny 
 it, and it s na for me to gang against Scripture ; 
 but it s hard on a man for a that to leave the 
 glen where he was brought up, and go among 
 strange places and strange faces/ 
 
 "Why/ said Fitzmuddle, "all the races that 
 have ever been worth anything in history have 
 been great emigrants. Look at the old Norse 
 men and the modern Scotchmen. What are you 
 
 K 2 
 
132 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 Highlanders but the descendants of a set of 
 Irish who emigrated long ago ? You know that 
 Ireland was called Scotia and the Irishmen 
 Scoti in the time of the Romans." 
 
 This was a staggering argument, to which 
 Sandy made no reply, so Fitzmuddle pushed 
 his advantage and said : 
 
 "Now tell me truly, Sandy, if you had your 
 life to live over again, would it not have been 
 better for you to go while you were young, to a 
 country where you might by this time have 
 owned a fine farm of your own, instead of 
 herding sheep for another on the mountain 
 side?" 
 
 "Maybe it might," said Sandy, "but then 
 you see I married when I was quite young, and 
 though the Lord in His mercy took the wife 
 now six years past, I had a sair lot of bairns, 
 and a man wi a lot o bairns canna just be off 
 as if he were a single lad like Donald here/ 
 
 " But why did you marry so young ? " said 
 Fitzmuddle. " If you had waited a bit you 
 might not have had such a sair lot of bairns, 
 
DEER-STALKING. 133 
 
 and might have saved money enough to take 
 the wife and all of them to America." 
 
 " Weel, you see, sir," said Sandy, " I was 
 bred as a shepherd, and it s gae lonely up in 
 the hills, and there s just twa things we shepherds 
 maun fain hae." 
 
 "What are they?" asked Fitzmuddle. 
 
 "Wives and tobacco," said Macdonald; and 
 then putting his head a little on one side, he 
 added contemplatively, "But maistly tobacco." 
 
 They all laughed, and having finished his 
 toddy and being pretty well tired, Fitzmuddle 
 turned into the box bed, which was a sort of 
 dark hole in the wall, and in a minute was fast 
 asleep. So also did the shepherd ; but Donald 
 and Maggie had apparently some interesting 
 communications to make to one another, or why 
 did they sit so long over the fire and discourse 
 in whispers, and why were their heads in such 
 close proximity, and when at last they said 
 good night, and rose to part, why was Maggie s 
 face so red ? I suppose it was the fire. But 
 was it the fire that made Donald, when he 
 
134 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 stepped out, look up at the stars and heave a 
 sigh before he turned in among the dry heather 
 beside the ponies, or was it that the Highland 
 nature is full of a sort of instinctive poetry un 
 known to the more solid or stolid Saxon ? 
 
 Fitzmuddle slept the sleep of the righteous till 
 the first rays of the morning began to stream in 
 through the narrow slit which did duty for a 
 window, and then he woke with a curious tingling 
 sensation all over him. 
 
 " Good Lord ! " he said, " is it possible that I 
 have got the Scotch itch ? They say it comes of 
 eating oatmeal, and I have been eating a deal of 
 porridge lately." 
 
 Then he looked out, and on the floor he saw 
 the shepherd s two collie dogs ; one was scratching 
 his ear with his hind leg as if for dear life, the other 
 had his head turned round and his nose inserted in 
 the fur of his back and wrinkled up in the energetic 
 pursuit of some unseen enemy. 
 
 " Surely it can t be the Scotch itch," said Fitz 
 muddle, " the two dogs can t have caught it in the 
 night." 
 
DEER-STALKING. 135 
 
 Then he rubbed his eyes and saw, horror of 
 horrors ! a great spider suspended by a single 
 thread from the ceiling within an inch of his nose, 
 and legions of little crawling things on the blanket, 
 which to his excited fancy seemed as big as black- 
 beetles or small shrimps, and to be advancing 
 steadily towards him in two well-formed columns 
 of attack. 
 
 He jumped out of bed and rushed out into the 
 clear morning air. The sun had not quite risen, 
 
 but 
 
 The sanguine sunrise with its meteor eyes 
 
 And burning plumes outspread, 
 
 was just lighting up the edges of the light clouds 
 floating near the horizon with crimson and with 
 gold. The air, after yesterday s rain, was deli- 
 ciously fresh, and clear, and pure, and the purple 
 hills stood out in strong contrast against the delicate 
 ethereal blue of the eastern sky. The mountains 
 themselves and the moor lay in shade, dark, 
 fresh, and dewy, like a new-made world, as you 
 see them in Guido s fresco of Aurora. A little 
 burn rippled down behind the cottage, and fell 
 
136 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 in a tiny cascade over a ledge of granite rock, 
 making a deep, clear pool below, in which Fitz- 
 muddle took a dip. The fresh cold water greatly 
 allayed the cuticular irritation, and he came in 
 with an excellent appetite for breakfast, and, for 
 getting his alarm about the Scotch itch, began 
 by laying a solid foundation in the shape of a 
 bowl of oatmeal porridge with a jug of delicious 
 cream. 
 
 Breakfast over, he and Donald rose to depart, 
 and mindful of the shepherd s aphorism of the 
 previous evening respecting the superior solace of 
 tobacco, he asked him to accept a sovereign to 
 buy himself a good stock for the winter of his 
 favourite luxury. 
 
 Macdonald at first declined, and protested it 
 was far too much, and that he did not wish to 
 be paid anything for a night s lodging. But on 
 being pressed he reflected that it would not be 
 altogether polite to refuse a gentleman s offer, 
 and that there was a good deal of smoking in a 
 sovereign s worth of tobacco, so he ended by 
 accepting it. 
 
DEER-STALKING. 137 
 
 "Many thanks, sir," he said, "and I hope 
 you have been comfortable a the night." 
 
 "Very much so/ said Fitzmuddle, "only 
 you introduced me to rather a scratch lot of 
 acquaintance, whose too familiar attentions were 
 not altogether acceptable." 
 
 1 Me introduce you to acquaintance ? " said 
 Macdonald, with open-mouthed surprise. " I 
 dinna ken what you mean." 
 
 " Why/ said Fitzmuddle, " they were such 
 a scratch lot that you see I have not done 
 scratching myself yet."" 
 
 Sandy gave a great laugh and said : " Oh, it s 
 the fleas your honour means; we dinna make 
 much account o fleas in these parts, there s aye 
 plenty o them." 
 
 So they shook hands and parted excellent 
 friends, but before he left, Fitzmuddle made 
 another present, that of a handsome cairngorm 
 broach to Maggie, which he had sent for to 
 Oban, with instructions that it was to be the 
 biggest and finest the jeweller had, on purpose 
 to present to her as a token of gratitude for her 
 
138 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 double rescue of him from the bog and from the 
 bulls. Maggie blushed and curtseyed her thanks, 
 and Fitzmuddle held her by the hand rather longer 
 than was strictly necessary, and when he bid her 
 good-bye, told her she must be sure to come down 
 to her aunt s and dance with him at the gillies 
 ball, which he intended to give before taking his 
 departure from Mull. 
 
 Now by this broach there hangs a tale, but we 
 must defer telling it till the next chapter. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 THE GILLIES BALL. 
 
 MAGGIE would not have been a true daughter of 
 Eve if, next day being Sunday, she had not 
 worn that splendid broach when she went to 
 the Free Kirk; nor would Flora Eraser have 
 been one if she had not observed it. 
 
 Flora was a tall, strapping, and not bad- 
 looking Highland lass, daughter of the little 
 shop-keeper in the Clachan, with whom Donald 
 may have had some slight passing flirtation 
 before he lost his heart to Maggie. 
 
 It was scarcely in human nature, therefore, 
 that Flora should entertain any very friendly 
 feelings towards Maggie, and seeing the broach, 
 she at once had a shrewd suspicion where it came 
 from, for some rumours of Fitzmuddle s adven 
 tures in the bog and with the bullocks had 
 
140 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 reached the Clachan, and as usual in such cases, 
 not without considerable exaggerations, so that 
 winks and nudges had already passed among its 
 female population, and tongues had already begun 
 to wag, and wonder what the English gentleman 
 could see in a great hulk of a shepherd s lass like 
 Maggie Macdonald. 
 
 Donald had not been to kirk that Sunday, for 
 though he would like to have met Maggie, to tell 
 the truth he was so keen about that muckle stag, 
 that he neglected both his devotional duties and 
 the attractions of his sweetheart, and spent that 
 Sunday on the march seeing if he could spy 
 anything of that mighty monarch of the glen. 
 So when Flora met him next day, he was 
 altogether ignorant of the broach and everything 
 appertaining thereto. 
 
 Flora accosted him : " Weel, Donald, I suppose 
 you have been saving up a your siller to buy 
 that grand broach for Maggie she cam to the 
 kirk wiV 
 
 "What broach?" said Donald, "I ken nae- 
 thing aboot it." 
 
THE GILLIES^ BALL. 141 
 
 "Oh," said Flora, "if you did na gie it to 
 her we ken wha did. It s no every lass that 
 gets presents o broaches from fine English 
 gentlemen ; tho if you dinna mind it s nae 
 business o ours, tho a the Clachan are talking 
 o the way she is carrying on with Mr. 
 Fitzmuddle." 
 
 It is wonderful what a deal of mischief that 
 little implement the tongue can do, when it is set 
 a-wagging to spread a tale of scandal. To be 
 sure, if young men and young women would only 
 be reasonable, and have a frank and friendly word 
 of explanation with one another, they might pretty 
 well defy 
 
 Evil tongues, rash judgments, and the sneers of selfish men ; 
 
 but then young men and young women will not be 
 reasonable, and especially when they are in love- 
 Love seems to tighten up all the chords of emotion 
 in the heart to such a high pitch that the slightest 
 touch will often make one of them snap, and 
 instead of giving forth sweet melody, pop ! it goes 
 off with a loud, discordant crack. 
 
142 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 So in this case, if Donald had only had the 
 sense to wait till he saw Maggie, and then ask her 
 in a friendly way to tell him all about Fitzmuddle 
 and the broach, she would have told him, what 
 was the honest truth, that she loved his little 
 finger better than all the bodies of all the fine 
 gentlemen in England, and they would have kissed 
 and been friends, and had a hearty laugh at 
 Flora and her little malicious tittle-tattlings. But 
 Donald, like a foolish fellow, felt jealous, and like 
 
 Othello, found 
 
 In trifles light as air, 
 Confirmation strong as holy writ. 
 
 And when he next met Maggie he took what 
 was about the worst course possible with a high- 
 spirited girl, that of innuendo and hinting sus 
 picion. 
 
 " I suppose you winna condescend to dance 
 wi a plain laddie at this gillies ball," said he, 
 " noo that you ha gotten sic a braw broach frae a 
 fine gentleman ? " 
 
 Maggie fired up, as was natural, and replied : 
 "I will just dance wi* any one I like, and if 
 
THE GILLIES BALL. 143 
 
 you choose to be jealous about nothing, you can 
 dance a the night wi Flora Fraser." 
 
 So when the night of the ball came, though 
 all the rest were uproariously happy, there was 
 one there who was glum and miserable, and 
 Maggie, though she seemed in high spirits, and 
 did her best to initiate Fitzmuddle into the 
 mysteries of the Highland fling, kept casting 
 occasional glances towards Donald ; and when, 
 after drinking an extra tumbler or two of whisky 
 toddy, he did, just out of bravado, stand up for 
 a reel with Flora Fraser, you may be sure that 
 made things no better but rather worse. 
 
 But the others had no such cares to oppress 
 them, and the fun waxed fast and furious. The 
 village piper came out in all the glory of full 
 Highland dress, with his bagpipes all streaming 
 with ribbons, and blew away till his face got as red 
 as a turkey-cock or as we call it in Scotland, a 
 bubbly-jock and his cheeks swelled out until you 
 thought they must burst. And the fiddler, whom 
 Fitzmuddle had got over from Tobermory, scraped 
 with such vigour that his elbow ached again. 
 
144 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 The lads and lasses, aye, and the middle-aged 
 men and buxom dames, whooped and shouted 
 and stamped on the floor, and tossed their legs 
 and arms high in air, like that Miller Rab who, 
 
 in the old song, was 
 
 Fidgen fain, 
 To dance the Highland fling. 
 
 And when the "Reel o j Tullochgorum " struck 
 up, Fitzmuddle was so excited, whether by the 
 melody, the whisky toddy, or the charms of the 
 "sweet Highland girl/ that he started up, and 
 seizing Maggie by the hand actually reeled 
 through the reel, and made an energetic if not 
 altogether successful attempt to "shak a fit," and 
 fit the poetry of motion to that of music in the 
 Highland fling ; and when, after five minutes of 
 the hardest gymnastic exercise he had ever gone 
 through, he subsided into his chair, he pronounced 
 it to be real good fun. 
 
 It is a curious thing how dancing develops 
 the real type and true national spirit of different 
 races. The Scotch reel illustrates to the life 
 that " Perfervidum ingenium Scotorum," the 
 
THE GILLIES BALL. 145 
 
 glowing white heat in the inner furnace of a 
 Scotchman s soul, which on rare occasions 
 breaks through the outer surface of caution, 
 shrewdness, and reserve, and gives us in the 
 lower ranks of life a "Miller Rab," or a 
 " Maggie Lauder," and in the higher a Burns, a 
 Walter Scott, or a Gordon. Look again at an 
 Italian, a Frenchman, and an Englishman, 
 dancing a pas seul in a quadrille, or leading out 
 a lady in a cotillon. The Italian does it with 
 an easy spontaneous grace that makes the per 
 formance a pretty little artistic picture; the 
 Frenchman looks like a little strutting bantam- 
 cock who fancies himself the cynosure of the 
 admiring eyes of a bevy of hens ; while the true- 
 born Briton simply looks and feels like a fool : 
 either he stalks solemnly through his part, looking 
 as if he were doing penance for some unutterable 
 sin, or else, from the fear of looking so, he falls 
 into the opposite extreme, and indulges in some 
 grotesque and extravagant capers. 
 
 So with other nations : German men and 
 maidens float round in the slow sentimental waltz, 
 
 VOL. i. L 
 
146 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 or at least did so, until their natural taste got 
 sophisticated by the hoppy-jumpy waltzes which 
 have supplanted the beautiful, melodious strains of 
 Beethoven, Mozart, and Weber ; while the Pole 
 jingles his spurs in the polka, and shows the 
 brilliant but ostentatious and inconsequent spirit 
 which, in more important matters, has brought 
 his country to grief. 
 
 However, the genuine Scotch national spirit 
 reigned supreme at Fitzmuddle s ball, and even 
 the grave and reverend seniors, who sat at the 
 long table and stuck steadily to the whisky 
 toddy, wagged their white beards and venerable 
 heads, and beat time with their fists on the table 
 and their feet below it, to the inspiring strains of 
 MacAlister the piper. 
 
 But everything in this world comes to an end, 
 and some of the lads and lasses had far to go, 
 so towards midnight the party broke up, though 
 not without drinking Fitzmuddle s health and long 
 life to him, to which he responded in a speech 
 which, although somewhat incoherent, fairly 
 
THE GILLIES BALL. 147 
 
 brought the house down when he concluded by 
 saying, that for many a long day he should think 
 of that night and sing : 
 
 My heart s in the Hielands, my heart is na here. 
 
 When they got out into the cool night air, it 
 was dark, but the stars were out and shining 
 brightly, and Fitzmuddle insisted on walking up 
 the glen with Maggie to see her to her aunt s 
 cottage. Maggie would have declined the honour, 
 but glancing over her shoulder, she saw Donald 
 still glooming and in the act of putting the shawl 
 on Flora Fraser, and bidding her good-night. So 
 the spirit of mischief seized her, and turning with 
 a smile to Fitzmuddle, she told him that he might 
 just gang a wee bit o the way with her up the 
 glen, to cool himself after the crowded room and 
 whisky toddy. 
 
 Fitzmuddle in his sober senses was the most 
 modest of mortals, and would as soon have 
 thought of kissing the Queen, as of taking any 
 liberty with the humblest female who ever \vore 
 
 L 2 
 
I 4 8 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 a petticoat. But to-night he had drank an extra 
 glass of whisky toddy, and as Burns says : 
 
 Wi usquebaugh we fear nae evil, 
 Wi tippenny we ll face the devil. 
 
 And if the devil, how much more a comely 
 lassie with whom we have been dancing and 
 flirting all the evening ! Accordingly, when it 
 came to wishing her good-night outside her aunt s 
 cottage, Fitzmuddle s arm, straying from the paths 
 of propriety, found itself encircling Maggie s 
 capacious waist, while his lips whispered in her 
 ear : 
 
 " Give a fellow a kiss, just one kiss, like a 
 darling good girl.-" 
 
 The astonished Maggie uttered something 
 between a skirl and a giggle, and said : 
 
 "Behave yourself, Mr. Fitzmuddle, and take 
 your arm away, or I ll just gie you a good 
 skelping, and send you home wi a flea in your 
 ear." 
 
 Whether Fitzmuddle would have proceeded 
 to further extremities, and whether Maggie would 
 
THE GILLIES* BALL. 149 
 
 have carried out her threat, are questions which 
 must remain unsolved in the womb of time ; for 
 even as the valiant knight Sir Tristram, bending 
 his head to place warm kisses on the white neck 
 of the fair Yseult, heard a sudden cry and felt a 
 sudden blow ; so in a second of time, Fitzmuddle 
 found himself prostrate on the grass, with a 
 thousand stars glancing in his eyes from a heavy 
 blow on the forehead, administered by the strong 
 arm of Donald Cameron, who, fired by jealous 
 fury, had followed the couple up the glen. Picking 
 himself up and regaining his feet, Fitzmuddle, 
 with the innate gallantry of his distinguished race, 
 faced the unequal contest, and throwing himself 
 into an attitude inspired by his recollection of a 
 sporting print of the battle between Tom Sayers 
 and Heenan, squared boldly at his redoubtable 
 antagonist. Donald, when his blood was up, 
 cared not for man or devil, and drew back his 
 right arm for another blow, which would probably 
 have proved a finisher. 
 
 But as Athene on the " ringing plains of windy 
 Troy " threw her broad aegis over her wounded 
 
ISO A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 hero to protect him from the insulting foe, or 
 as the Sabine matron rushed with outstretched 
 arms between the sword of her father Tatius and 
 the spear of her husband Romulus, so Maggie 
 threw her capacious charms between Fitzmuddle 
 and his assailant, and seizing hold of the latter s 
 arm, exclaimed : 
 
 " Oh, Donald, dinna strike the puir laddie ; 
 dinna for my sake ; it s my fault and no his. 
 And you, sir, get your ways home as fast as you 
 can ; Donald s five times as strong as you, and 
 when he s mad, he s waur than any Hielan bull." 
 
 Fitzmuddle, however bemuddled, had sense 
 enough left to recognise the soundness of this 
 advice, and accordingly commenced a rapid 
 strategical movement to the rear, which only 
 terminated when he found himself safely en 
 sconced in the fortification of his feather bed 
 and double pair of blankets. 
 
 The gleam of the morning sun through the 
 bedroom window of the unfortunate Fitzmuddle 
 roused him from his sleep of stupor, and found 
 him perhaps the most miserable mortal in Her 
 
THE GILLIES BALL. 151 
 
 Majesty s dominions. He had a racking head 
 ache, a dull pain between the eyes, and an un 
 easy consciousness that one, if not both of them, 
 was likely to wear for several days the sable 
 livery of mourning. But his bodily pains were 
 as nothing compared with his mental agonies. 
 As he gradually recalled the recollections of what 
 had occurred after he left the ball to walk home 
 with Maggie, his imagination depicted them in 
 the darkest colours. He had behaved like a 
 snob, had grossly insulted her, and had been 
 soundly and deservedly thrashed for doing so 
 by his own gamekeeper. How should he ever 
 look them in the face, or show himself outside 
 the door, with his tell-tale black eye exciting 
 the comments of the whole community ? Utterly 
 wretched he lay, tossing on his bed for half-an- 
 hour, till at length his better nature asserted 
 itself, and he said : " Well, I have been a fool and 
 a snob, there is no use denying it ; so there is 
 only one thing to be done, and that is to con 
 fess it like a man, make Maggie a humble apology 
 and ask Donald to forgive me." 
 
152 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 It is wonderful what consolation there is in 
 true repentance ; in not trying to deceive your 
 self by illusions, or to get out of a scrape by a 
 lie, but looking things fairly in the face, touching 
 bottom, and coming to a firm determination to 
 take whatever punishment may be in store for 
 you bravely, and having sinned and suffered, to 
 sin no more. Even worse scrapes than poor 
 Fitzmuddle had got into, may, if met in this 
 spirit, turn out to be blessings in disguise. In 
 vigorated by this resolution, Fitzmuddle sprang 
 out of bed, looked in the glass, and saw that 
 one eye only was blackened, and that not so 
 badly as he had feared, and after a tub of cold 
 water, felt his head better, and going downstairs 
 sat down to a cup of tea and slice of toast. 
 
 While thus engaged the servant-girl opened 
 the door and said : " Please, sir, Maggie Mac- 
 donald is here, and would like to speak with you/ 
 
 " Show her in, show her in at once," said 
 Fitzmuddle, feeling like a man who, having a 
 tooth to be drawn, is anxious to get it over as 
 quickly as possible. 
 
THE GILLIES* BALL. 153 
 
 Maggie entered the room with some hesita 
 tion, and stood for a moment with her clear 
 eyes cast down, and blushing red as a full-blown 
 rose. She tried to speak, but the words seemed 
 to stick in her throat, and she quite forgot the 
 pretty speech she had composed, breaking down 
 before she had got further than, " Oh, sir ; oh, 
 Mr. Fitzmuddle ! " 
 
 But Fitzmuddle, jumping up from his chair, 
 anticipated her. " Maggie," he said, " I know 
 what you have come about. I behaved like a 
 brute last night ; I have no excuse to make, and 
 can only make you a humble apology and ask 
 you to forgive me." 
 
 "Oh, sir," said Maggie, "you are too good, 
 too good altogether. It s no for myself I am 
 come to see you, but to plead for Donald, He 
 was just mad last night, and if it came to the 
 Factor s ears that he had struck your honour, 
 he d have his discharge that day, and he and 
 his auld mother wad be turned out of their cot- 
 house and warned off the estate." 
 
 "Tell the Factor, indeed?" said Fitzmuddle. 
 
154 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 " I just think not ; do you take me for a sneak 
 to do such a thing?" 
 
 " I maun just tell your honour the truth 
 about me and Donald," said Maggie, "for it s 
 the best excuse that can be made for him. He 
 and I have been engaged to be married this twa 
 years past." 
 
 "Dear me, dear me," said Fitzmuddle, "I 
 had not the least idea of that. What a pity 
 I did not know sooner, for I should have been 
 ever so much more careful ! I suppose he was 
 jealous because I liked to talk and dance with 
 you better than with any of the other lasses." 
 
 " Deed, sir," said Maggie, "that s just the 
 honest truth. Donald s a good lad, but he has 
 a hot temper of his ain, and I was angry with 
 him for misjudging me, and so carried on a bit 
 too far just to vex him. But noo we ve had 
 it out and made it up, and oh, if your honour 
 wad only forgie him it s happy we wad baith be." 
 
 " Forgive him ? " said Fitzmuddle ; " why, it s 
 he who has to forgive me. I wish he were here 
 this minute to tell him so." 
 
THE GILLIES BALL. 155 
 
 His wish had not to wait for its fulfilment, for 
 Maggie darted out of the room calling out : " Donald, 
 come ben, I say, come ben this very instant," and 
 returned, dragging Donald by the hand, who had 
 been waiting outside for the result of her mission. 
 
 Donald looked rather sheepish and embarrassed, 
 and stood twisting his Highland bonnet in his 
 hands and shifting from one leg to the other. 
 Fitzmuddle came straight up to him and said : 
 "Donald, you knocked me down last night and 
 gave me a black eye." 
 
 Donald gave a half-articulate grunt of assent, 
 and cast an imploring glance on Maggie. 
 
 "And, Donald," proceeded Fitzmuddle, "I 
 have thought the matter over and heard Maggie s 
 story, and my private opinion is, you served me 
 quite right ; so I beg your pardon, and if you 
 will forgive me this time, here is my hand ; give 
 me yours, and we will have a hearty shake and 
 be fast friends for the future." 
 
 Donald s eyes filled with tears, his throat 
 swelled, and his voice fairly broke, as he held 
 forth his hand and stammered out : 
 
156 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 "You re too guid altogether too guid. Oh, 
 sir oh ! " and here he fairly broke down ; but 
 Maggie interpreted for him and said : 
 
 " He means that you re a guid man and a 
 true gentleman, and that he and I wad gae 
 through fire and water for you, and sae we ought, 
 for such kindness from a grand gentleman like 
 you to puir bodies like us is past belief." 
 
 " Nay, Maggie," said Fitzmuddle, " one man s 
 as good as another ; and where was the grand 
 gentleman, I wonder, when Donald there fished 
 him out of the water with his gaff? And that 
 reminds me that I promised to do him any favour 
 he asked me for saving my life on that occasion. 
 Have you nothing to ask for him, Maggie ? Why 
 don t you two get married off-hand ? I m sure 
 Donald would be the better of you to look 
 after him, and keep him from getting into pas 
 sions and knocking people down." 
 
 Maggie replied : " You see, sir, Donald is 
 sair set on going to America ; he s got a proud 
 spirit, and would fain go to a new country where 
 a man has a chance to rise; and I wad fain gae 
 
THE GILLIES* BALL. 157 
 
 wi him, but no to be a hindrance to him ; and 
 his auld mither has to be provided for, and 
 his sister, that s Mistress Macrae, who the auld 
 woman wad gae to live with, is but puir, and 
 has bairns o her ain, so she wad need 10 
 to keep her till we could send her money 
 from America ; and the passage to New York 
 and railway to California, where Donald s bent 
 on going, wad come to 10 or 1$ each to 
 do it respectable, so that makes 40, and we 
 wad need at the least 10 or 20 mair to keep 
 us till we could look about and find work; so 
 Donald and I just concluded to wait till we had 
 saved up 60 between us, and that takes a long 
 day, and if your honour had no been so guid 
 and had telled the factor, it wad hae been 
 longer still, and we should ha been grey-headed 
 baith before we wan to America." 
 
 " Is that all ? " said Fitzmuddle, with a cheery 
 laugh ; "that is soon mended. Just set the favour 
 I promised Donald at;ioo; take that from me, 
 and we will cry quits, and go and tell the minister 
 to put your names up in the kirk next Sunday." 
 
158 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 "I couldna do it," said Donald, "indeed I 
 couldna ; you re far ower kind ; but to tak a 
 sum o money like that from a gentleman is 
 what I could never do." 
 
 But I am not a gentleman," said Fitzmuddle, 
 " but a friend, and I have plenty of money ; and 
 you cannot think how disappointed I should feel 
 if you put me at arm s length with your con 
 founded Highland pride and would not take any 
 thing from me." 
 
 And indeed the problem thus raised of taking 
 or refusing a free gift freely offered, is one of the 
 most delicate and difficult with which a man can 
 have to deal. On the one hand, no doubt a man 
 can hardly accept money without a shock to his 
 pride, and some weakening of the feeling of self- 
 respect which tells him that money is a thing 
 which ought to be earned by his own exertions ; 
 and there is no more contemptible object than a 
 man who^having once broken down this barrier 
 of self-respect, sorns on his friends and relations, 
 and finally sinks down to the level of a begging- 
 letter writer, But, on the other hand, there are 
 
THE. GILLIES* BALL. 159 
 
 rare occasions on which more true nobility of 
 nature is shown in accepting than in giving. To 
 deny one s pride the pleasure of refusing, when 
 the receiver is convinced that the donor can afford 
 the gift, and will derive real pleasure from the 
 acceptance, and real pain from the refusal, is a 
 greater act of self-denial than to part with ;ioo 
 which you do not miss. Above all, to accept 
 freely and generously, one must have sufficient 
 confidence in oneself to feel that you are really 
 not lowering your moral standard, and doing an 
 unworthy act for the sake of the money ; and 
 sufficient imagination to be able to transport 
 yourself into the person of the donor, and feel 
 that, if the positions were reversed, you would to a 
 certainty act and feel as he does. 
 
 However, Maggie, without going into these in 
 tricate reasonings, with her true woman s feeling, 
 and quick woman s wit, hit upon a solution 
 which admirably reconciled the two opposite con 
 clusions. 
 
 " Donald," she said, you re partly right and 
 partly wrong. I wadna hae ye take any man s 
 
160 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 money as a gift, not even his honour s ; but what 
 Mr. Fitzmuddle says is true, and after what he has 
 done for us it isna for us to vex him by refusing 
 to let him help us. I am sure he means it, and it 
 would vex him sair to think we were too proud to 
 take help at his hands. And, Donald, a hundred 
 pounds is a grand lot o j siller, and wad be the 
 making of us in a new country ; suppose we say 
 we ll take it as a loan, and I am sure we ll baith 
 work our fingers to the bane to repay it, if our 
 lives be spared." 
 
 " I had far rather you would take it and say 
 nothing about loans," said Fitzmuddle. 
 
 "Na, na, sir," said Donald. "Maggie s just 
 right ; and if you ll mak it a loan, Donald 
 Cameron will no taste whisky or smoke tobacco 
 till it s repaid ; and we ll baith be mair beholden 
 to you than if you had given us a thousand pounds 
 in a present." 
 
 " Well, well/ said Fitzmuddle, " I suppose 
 wilful folk maun hae their way, as your Scotch 
 proverb has it, so a loan be it, though mind, you 
 are to be in no hurry about repaying it ; and as to 
 
THE GILLIES* BALL. 161 
 
 stopping your baccy, I could not be happy to 
 think of it ; I should never enjoy a cigar again if 
 I thought of you pulling at an empty pipe after 
 a hard day s work; so let us compound for the 
 whisky, and allow even an odd drop of that if 
 you get Maggie s leave for it. And so that job 
 is finished ; you will find the ;ioo at your credit 
 in the National Bank ; and now good-bye, for I ve 
 got to pack up my traps and be off early in the 
 morning by the steamer." 
 
 " May the Lord reward you," said Maggie and 
 Donald simultaneously, " for we canna. May 
 every gude blessing be with you as you have 
 brought one on us. Oh, sir, we canna find words 
 to thank you." 
 
 " Nonsense," said Fitzmuddle, " you will make 
 me cry if you go on like that ; and now, Maggie, 
 I asked you for a kiss last night, and I am going 
 to ask you again, but not for one that will make 
 Donald jealous. Give me your hand, my dear, 
 good, bonnie lass." 
 
 Maggie held out her hand, and large as it 
 was, like a well-shaped man s hand, and red with 
 VOL. i. M 
 
1 62 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 the frequent labours of the washing-tub, Fitz- 
 muddle bent over it and kissed it with as much 
 stately courtesy as if it had been the white be 
 jewelled hand of a duchess. 
 
 Next morning he was off to seek the "fresh 
 fields and pastures new " of Leicestershire ; but, 
 early as it was, a crowd had assembled at 
 the pier, and there was cheering and waving 
 of handkerchiefs till the steamer rounded the 
 point, and one couple stood hand in hand at 
 the end of the pier, with tears in their eyes, 
 and grateful blessings in their hearts for the 
 generous benefactor who had so unexpectedly 
 smoothed the path of their young lives, and 
 started them, loving and hopeful, to seek their 
 fortunes in a new world. Of those fortunes some 
 glimpse may be afforded before this history comes 
 to a conclusion ; but for the present it is enough 
 to say that at the end of twelve months a re 
 mittance of ,25 was sent through the Bank of 
 California from one Donald Cameron, ;io for 
 his old mother, and ^15 to the credit of the 
 Honourable Augustus Fitzmuddle ; and before 
 
THE GILLIES* BALL. 163 
 
 two years had elapsed the whole debt was re 
 paid, and Donald was free to smoke unlimited 
 tobacco and to drink as much whisky as his 
 prudent better-half thought was necessary for the 
 good of his constitution. 
 
 M 2 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 FITZMUDDLE IN THE SHIRES FOX-HUNTING. 
 
 THE scene now changes from the mountains of 
 Mull to the rich pastures of Leicestershire, where 
 Fitzmuddle is about to learn his first lessons in 
 the noble science of the chase. 
 
 Why is fox-hunting rightly called the king 
 of sports ? 
 
 I have meditated deeply on this momentous 
 question, and seen the thing as it really is, with 
 the eyes of practical experience. For, reader, I 
 
 too have 
 
 Drunk delight of battle with my peers, 
 
 and seen a good many 
 
 Fast thirty minutes from Ranksborough Gorse. 
 Ay, and jumped not a few oxers, and brushed 
 
FITZ MUDDLE IN THE SHIRES. 165 
 
 through bullfinches, and charged brooks not quite 
 so wide or high as one sees in sporting prints, and 
 reads of in sporting novels, and possibly not quite 
 so wide or high as they seemed to myself, when 
 I sat with a glass of good claret before me and 
 my legs under the mahogany but still quite wide 
 and high enough to bring my heart into my 
 mouth when I crammed my hat down and put 
 my horse at them. And though I never rode 
 quite in the first flight, I rode near enough to it 
 to see what hunting was like to those who kept 
 within sight of the flying pack as it swept, like 
 the shadow of a cloud on a breezy day, over the 
 wide pastures of Leicestershire. 
 
 And this is the result of my experience : 
 In the first place, fox-hunting is a grand sport, 
 because it tests what is the foundation of most 
 of the real worth of a man physical courage. 
 
 There is no very great amount of courage 
 required to shoot at a grouse or pheasant, who 
 can t shoot back at you in return ; or even to 
 pot a noble stag from behind a boulder or a 
 peat-hag. And as for fishing, why, Byron s wish 
 
166 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 is seldom realised, that the fish and the man 
 should change places, and the latter should 
 
 In his gullet, 
 Have a sharp hook, and a small trout to pull it ; 
 
 though, by-the-bye, how much more genial would 
 Byron s poetry have been, if, like dear old Isaac 
 Walton, he had loved to stray on a summer s 
 morning across the flowery meadows, and meet 
 milkmaids, fresh and blooming as the cowslips, 
 and send them home happy with a shilling to 
 buy blue ribbons to "tie up their bonny brown 
 hair " ! 
 
 And there is another object of the too frequent 
 chase of the coarser sort of man poor helpless 
 woman, who cannot retort against any insult or 
 injury with any sharper weapon than her tongue, 
 and her meek pathetic eyes ; and the man who 
 is brute enough to insult a woman is not likely 
 to mind these much. 
 
 But in fox-hunting it is quite different; and a 
 stiff post and rail, or high wattled hedge with 
 treacherous ditch on the far side, and a bad take 
 off out of plough, do most effectually and un- 
 
FITZMUDDLE IN THE SHIRES. 167 
 
 mistakably resent any injudicious familiarities. 
 And, take my word for it, if you do not possess 
 some fair share of that primary attribute of man 
 hood, physical courage, you had better stay at 
 home, or confine your hunting to MacAdam and 
 the mahogany. But granted this primary attri 
 bute, it is only the foundation on which to build 
 up the edifice of the reputation of a man "who 
 rides well to hounds/ 
 
 When Sir Joshua Reynolds was asked what he 
 mixed his colours with to produce such brilliant 
 results, he replied : " Sir, I mix them with 
 brains." 
 
 So it is with most things in this world, and 
 with fox-hunting among others. For the man 
 who aspires to be one of those whose familiar 
 face is generally to be seen among the favoured 
 twenty or thirty, out of a field of two or three 
 hundred, who are mopping their faces, and looking 
 at their watches, and loosening their horses girths, 
 after a sharp thirty or forty minutes burst over a 
 stiff country, where fences are big and come often, 
 must unite discretion with valour. His wits must 
 
i68 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 never be wool-gathering. He must have brain 
 power enough to fix his attention on what he is 
 about, and not be mooning on the wrong side 
 of the covert when the hounds get away ; or, if he 
 does get a fair start, he must keep his wits about 
 him, and be constantly watching how the leading 
 hounds turn, or if they run so fast that he cannot 
 quite see the hounds, he must try to watch the 
 huntsman, or the coat-tails of some of the foremost 
 riders as they disappear before him over the 
 fences. And, above all, he must have quick 
 decision, and make up his mind in a moment when 
 he gets into a field how he means to get out of 
 it ; and if he comes to an extra high fence or 
 wide brook, whether he means to have it or not, 
 or if not, then he must gallop off at once for the 
 nearest bridle-gate or ford. 
 
 But the chosen one or two who do habitually 
 cut out the work and go foremost, not on paper 
 only, must have these qualities in a superlative 
 degree. They must have nerves of iron, and, like 
 Nelson, have to ask what fear is like, for they 
 have never felt it. And their decision must be like 
 
FITZMUDDLE IN THE SHIRES. 169 
 
 that of Frederick the Great s famous Hussar, 
 General Von Seidletz, who, when he was riding with 
 his master one day across a bridge, and Frederick 
 asked him in jest what he would do if a Russian 
 picket appeared at the far end, and a squadron of 
 Austrians closed up the end behind them, for 
 sole answer wheeled his horse round, jumped him 
 over the low parapet into the river, and swam to 
 the shore. And an eye for country they must 
 have, like the eagle glance with which Wellington 
 detected the false move of Marmont, when he sent 
 Foy down from the hill of the Arapiles to spread 
 his division out and try to turn the English left, 
 and our Iron Duke met him with a swift swoop, as 
 of a falcon s wing, and sent Marmont and his 
 60,000 veterans running for dear life from Sala 
 manca to Burgos. 
 
 Now these are exceptional gifts, and he who has 
 them is a born leader of men ; and the beauty of 
 fox-hunting is that it puts all ranks on a level, 
 and it is the man and not the title or money-bags 
 that come to the front. I have seen a young 
 farmer on a broken-kneed gray mare, that did not 
 
1 70 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 look worth a ^20 note, cutting out the work for 
 peers and baronets on their 3OO-guinea steeds ; 
 and I have seen a butcher s boy on a ragged pony 
 wriggle through bullfinches, and scramble down 
 one side of wide ditches and up the other, when 
 the most stupendous swells, got up with the per 
 fection of new red coats, and boots, and leathers, 
 drew rein, and craned their necks, and waited for 
 some one else to go first though the swell was 
 always first over after dinner. 
 
 Moreover, there is one great requisite of good 
 riding, and that is to have what are called " good 
 hands. " And good hands are essentially a ques 
 tion of good temper, and of regard and sympathy 
 for the noble animal who strains every sinew to 
 carry you to the front if you will only let him. 
 You must never be angry and jerk his mouth, or 
 careless, and pull him up sharp with the curb ; but 
 always be on the give and take with him, and 
 trying to humour him, and get to talk in a friendly, 
 rational way with him through the bit, which is the 
 poor horse s almost only means of establishing 
 communication between you and him. This is 
 
FITZMUDDLE IN THE SHIRES. 171 
 
 probably the reason why ladies, as a rule, have 
 so much better hands than men. 
 
 It is not only the fine nervous wrist that does 
 it, but the finer sympathy ; for ladies are almost 
 always fonder of their horses than men ; and love 
 gets its return with a high rate of interest, in 
 sympathy and a better understanding almost 
 everywhere where it is invested. So fox-hunting 
 has more in it than meets the eye, and is really 
 one of the best cramming schools for a competitive 
 examination in many of the finest qualities. 
 
 If so many of our golden youth, with all their 
 faults and follies, are manly, high-spirited fellows, 
 ready to lead their men, and the men ready to 
 follow them, when the Russian masses are surging 
 up the heights of Inkermann, or the dusky Arabs 
 swarming in with sword and spear, when the angle 
 of the square has been broken at Tamanieb or Abu- 
 Klea, it is very much owing to fox-hunting. If 
 they are, as we fondly hope, less luxurious and 
 effeminate than those of their class in other 
 countries, is it not in a great measure owing to 
 that little animal the fox; and would they have 
 
i;2 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 been what they are if their chases had been confined 
 to those of pretty faces and neat ankles, and their 
 decision to that of staking on red or black when 
 the croupier drones out his monotonous cry of 
 " Faites votre jeu, Messieurs " ? 
 
 Therefore it is no wonder that in hunting 
 counties the fox is worshipped as a sacred animal, 
 and to kill one, otherwise than in fair sport, is 
 thought to be a considerably worse crime than 
 killing a Christian. 
 
 For the enjoyment of this noble sport Fitz- 
 muddle had, as we have seen, made his preliminary 
 preparations with due care and deliberation. 
 Martingale had really got together a very fair 
 stud of hunters. 
 
 First there was Sobersides, a big brown horse, 
 who was a perfect model of propriety and decorum 
 of demeanour ; as slow as a top, he was as steady 
 as Stonewall Jackson s ranks at the battle of 
 Bull s Run. He never by any chance committed a 
 mistake, and negotiated all his fences with de 
 liberation, but absolute safety. In short, he was 
 a perfect horse for a novice to ride whose ambition 
 
FITZMUDDLE IN THE SHIRES. 173 
 
 was not so much to show in the first rank, as 
 to learn the art of sticking on while jumping 
 moderate fences. 
 
 Logician, a bright bay with a white star, 
 was a different sort of animal. He had a fair 
 turn of speed, and was an accomplished hunter 
 at all sorts of fences, except timber, which he 
 was rather apt to rush at and take carelessly ; 
 for, being a knowing sort of horse, he had found 
 by experience that top rails are not always as 
 strong as they look, and it is often less trouble 
 to snap one in two than to jump over it. In fact, 
 if he had a fault, it was that of being too knowing, 
 and consequently too opinionative and fond of 
 having his own way. As Martingale said of him : 
 " He is that artful, that, if he could but speak, he 
 would argue the head off your shoulders as well as 
 any lawyer who ever wore a wig." But give him 
 his own way, and, in nine cases out of ten, that 
 way would be the right one, and he would carry 
 you safely and easily in a good place through a 
 good run. 
 
 The chestnut mare, Coquette, was the beauty 
 
174 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 of the party. Clean thorough-bred, she was a 
 picture to look at, with her glossy satin skin of 
 golden chestnut, and her delicate little ears and 
 silky mane and tail, and generally aristocratic 
 and high-bred appearance. Fitzmuddle was never 
 tired of looking at her and admiring her, as a 
 high-born young lady in her first season might 
 admire the beautiful ball dress in which she is to 
 make her debut at Court ; and, as the vanity of 
 personal appearance is not a commodity of which 
 the female sex have by any means a monopoly, 
 the idea did occasionally flit across his mind of 
 what a pretty picture the Honourable Augustus 
 Fitzmuddle would make, arrayed in a faultless 
 red coat and immaculate tops and breeches, and 
 mounted on this lovely mare. 
 
 The fourth horse, Velocipede, was a great 
 raking chestnut, over sixteen hands high, and 
 standing over a deal of ground, whom Martingale 
 had been induced to buy at Lord Scattercash s 
 sale in consequence of a tip he had received from 
 his lordship s head groom, who was an old friend 
 of his, that the horse had been tried 
 
FITZ MUDDLE IN THE SHIRES. 175 
 
 enough to win a big steeple-chase, and that if my 
 lord had not come to grief at Ascot, and been 
 obliged to send everything to the hammer, he 
 believed they would have entered him. for the 
 Grand National. Martingale could not resist 
 the seduction of possibly winning some good 
 hunt race, and, as the horse was entirely dark, 
 getting long odds and winning a pot of money ; 
 so although a potential steeple-chaser was not 
 exactly the mount for a beginner, he compounded 
 with his conscience by resolving to spare no pains 
 in teaching his master to ride. 
 
 Being well known in the Shires, and popular 
 with the farmers, from whom he often bought hay 
 and corn, he made friends with one young sporting 
 farmer about two miles from Belton, who had a 
 grass farm with a good many tolerably easy 
 fences which, with the aid of a few gorsed 
 hurdles, and a little backing up, made a very 
 respectable training-ground, in which to take 
 preparatory gallops. Having bought his hay 
 from this farmer, and promised to put him on 
 the first real good thing he knew of in the racing 
 
176 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 way, he readily obtained permission to use this 
 private course as much as he liked. Accordingly 
 he first proceeded to train his master s horses 
 over it, and then to train his master himself. 
 
 For Fitzmuddle, on leaving Mull, had followed 
 Martingale s advice, and come straight to Reynard 
 Lodge, so as to have a fortnight s schooling in 
 the art of equitation, before putting in a first 
 appearance at the opening meet. 
 
 It would be absurd to say that in this short 
 space of time he became an accomplished, or even 
 a tolerable horseman ; and, as the record of his 
 experiences will show, he had much to go through 
 before acquiring any decent proficiency in the 
 art. Still it is wonderful how much a man may 
 learn in a short time, on two conditions first, 
 that he is not afraid of tumbling off, and secondly, 
 that he gives his whole mind to it. Fitzmuddle 
 complied with both these requisites, for his pluck 
 was undeniable, and he was most anxious to learn, 
 and devoted several hours every day to schooling 
 himself under Martingale s tuition over Farmer 
 Day s fences. At the first attempt he was shot 
 
FITZMUDDLE IN THE SHIRES. 177 
 
 over his horse s head ; at the next he was only 
 shot on to his neck, and very nearly preserved his 
 balance ; at the third he was shot only half-way 
 along the neck, and managed to scramble back 
 into the saddle ; and so on until, after five or six 
 attempts, though a good deal of daylight might 
 be seen between him and the saddle, he generally 
 came down within a few inches of where he had 
 taken off from the saddle, and by the end of a 
 fortnight he could stick on over a hurdle or 
 straightforward hedge or ditch, not altogether 
 ingloriously. Two things conspired to give him 
 confidence ; first, that he found by experience that 
 tumbling off was not such a dreadful thing after 
 all, for, with an average of two or three falls a day, 
 he never hurt himself; the other was that it was 
 so much easier to take a good-sized fence at a fly, 
 going boldly at it at a good pace, than to boggle 
 at a stand over one of less formidable dimensions. 
 
 However, jumping easy fences in a riding- 
 school or training-ground, is a very different thing 
 from taking the obstacles, good, bad, and indif 
 ferent, as they occur in practice in the hunting- 
 
 VOL. I. N 
 
j;8 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 field, as Fitzmuddle soon found ; and before 
 arriving at the goal of his ambition of riding 
 fairly well to hounds, he had to go through a 
 good many experiences, some of which we will 
 proceed to relate. 
 
 It happened singularly enough that these early 
 experiences resolved themselves into lessons, not 
 only in the art of riding, but in the weightier and 
 more abstruse subjects of mechanics and natural 
 philosophy. 
 
 His first appearance was at the opening meet. 
 Martingale sagely advised that he should stick 
 to Sobersides on this first occasion ; but, as we 
 hinted, Fitzmuddle s fancy had been so excited 
 by the picture in his mind s eye of his appearance 
 on the charming Coquette, that he pleaded to be 
 allowed to ride her. The matter was at length 
 compromised by arranging that Fitzmuddle should 
 ride Coquette to the meet, which was only three 
 miles off, and when the hounds threw off he should 
 exchange for Sobersides, whom Martingale would 
 ride on. 
 
 On one point, however, he accepted Martin- 
 
FITZMUDDLE IN THE SHIRES. 179 
 
 gale s advice, viz., to make his first appearance 
 in a black coat ; for, as Martingale said, " If a 
 gent sport a red coat, it is a sort of advertisement 
 to the world that he means to ride ; and nothing 
 looks so bad as to see a swell in pink not taking 
 his fences in his turn, but craning, or turning away, 
 and going with a lot of outsiders in search of 
 gates and gaps ; but if a man is in a black coat no 
 one particularly notices him." 
 
 Accordingly, in a neat-fitting black coat, but 
 with unexceptionable boots and breeches, our hero 
 mounted the beautiful Coquette and rode her 
 slowly on to the meet. 
 
 The opening meet was at Kingsley Hall, a 
 fine mansion with an Italian portico, in a large 
 and well-timbered park, from which the grounds 
 were separated by a low ha-ha fence. The hounds 
 were clustered round the huntsman just outside 
 the fence, and more than three hundred gallant 
 sportsmen were collected, a large proportion of 
 them in red coats, with a number of ladies in their 
 neatest and best-fitting habits; while a large 
 .array of farmers, boys on ponies, and miscella- 
 
 N 2 
 
i8o A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 neons roughs and rustics, the latter drawn there 
 partly by the attractions of the chase and partly 
 by those of the bread and cheese and ale which 
 were liberally served out, added to the animation 
 of the scene. 
 
 The habitues of the hunt were mostly inside 
 the fence, and many of them dismounted, to the 
 great satisfaction of the men who held their 
 horses, and entered the hall, where they fortified 
 the inner man, and steadied their nerves for the 
 coming run, by glasses of sherry and nips of 
 cherry brandy and Curagoa. 
 
 But Fitzmuddle remained outside, partly from 
 the innate modesty of his nature, and partly, to 
 tell the truth, because Coquette, though generally 
 as good as she was beautiful, showed some slight 
 symptoms of excitement at seeing such a crowd, 
 and once or twice laid back her ears and switched 
 her tail in a somewhat ominous manner. Fitz 
 muddle, therefore, took up what he considered to 
 be a safe post of observation away from the crowd, 
 and close to a nursery-maid with a perambulator, 
 who was watching the proceedings with great interest 
 
FITZMUDDLE IN THE SHIRES. 181 
 
 from a point as near the hounds and huntsmen as 
 she could venture to go. He watched the speckled 
 beauties with intense delight, and edged a little 
 nearer to them ; when, unfortunately, one of the 
 pack, Mischief by name, made a little excursion 
 in the direction of Coquette s heels. The quick 
 eye of the first whip detected the departure from 
 discipline in a moment, and the crack of his whip, 
 resounding like a pistol-shot, elicited a loud yell 
 from the truant hound and recalled her to a sense 
 of duty. But, unfortunately also for Fitzmuddle, 
 it acted also as the last straw which broke the 
 camel s back of Coquette s suppressed excitement, 
 and, with a sudden squeal, she bucked high in the 
 air and flung out her heels still higher. To sit 
 a horse who suddenly combines the operations 
 of bucking and kicking requires a good rider, who 
 is not sitting loosely and thinking of something 
 else. In Fitzmuddle s case both these requisites 
 were wanting. A good rider he certainly was 
 not yet, whatever he might become; and his 
 thoughts happened to be wandering in another 
 direction let us charitably hope not that in 
 
A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 which a pair of pretty eyes were looking from 
 under the nurse-maid s sunshade. Anyhow, the 
 result was that he was projected obliquely up 
 wards ; and if he had been asked in a competitive 
 examination to draw the curve in which a heavy 
 body under such circumstances falls to the ground 
 by the force of gravity, he would have got full 
 marks, for he could not have described a prettier 
 parabola. 
 
 A parabola fortunately, and not an ellipse ; 
 for, had the initial velocity been somewhat greater, 
 he would have been shot into space, as some 
 astronomers say the moon was at some early 
 period of the earth s history, and would at this 
 moment have been revolving in a planetary orbit 
 as a second satellite intermediate between the 
 earth and the moon. 
 
 Fortunately no such catastrophe happened, and 
 his connection with mother earth was not thus 
 abruptly severed ; his parabolic descent ending 
 at the feet of the pretty nurse-maid, and narrowly 
 escaping coming, comet-like, into fatal collision, 
 with her infant charge in the perambulator. 
 
FITZMUDDLE IN THE SHIRES. 183 
 
 The nurse-maid screamed, the roughs and 
 rustics guffawed, and the more polished assembly, 
 with smiles and sneers, asked one another who 
 this muff was who had come out to air his horse 
 manship with the crack Thorn pack at their crack 
 meet on the opening day. Sundry small jokes 
 passed as to his being a tailor intent on cutting 
 out the work, or an organist who had selected that 
 occasion to practise voluntaries. 
 
 Fitzmuddle ruefully picked himself up, none 
 the worse for his tumble, but decidedly a wiser 
 and a sadder man ; and on Martingale s coming 
 up with Sobersides, he made no further objection 
 to exchanging the brilliant Coquette for that safer 
 and steadier conveyance. 
 
 Mounted on that sedate animal he felt much 
 more at his ease, and when the hounds found in 
 the laurels that bounded one side of the park, 
 he went away with them and jumped five or six 
 fences ; and, though they soon ran him out of 
 sight, he followed with the ruck in the rear 
 through gates and gaps ; and as the fox after a 
 twenty minutes burst ran into a drain, he got 
 
1 84 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 up in time to see him bolted and killed, and thus 
 could truly aver that he had been in at the death. 
 So he jogged home, not altogether dissatisfied 
 with his first essay, notwithstanding that initial 
 misadventure. 
 
 Fitzmuddle s next lesson in mechanical science 
 occurred in the following manner. After his first 
 essay on the opening day, he practised assiduously, 
 and improved so rapidly that Martingale pro 
 nounced him quite equal to the feat of riding 
 Logician. 
 
 " You have only to let him have his own way, 
 sir," he said, " and you will find him quite easy 
 to ride, and he will carry you well in front, and 
 give you no trouble but to sit still and stick 
 on." 
 
 Accordingly, when the hounds found and 
 went away from Handley Wood, Fitzmuddle, who 
 got a good start, went on for a time delightfully. 
 The line was over large grass fields with moderate 
 fences, until at last they came to one, the boundary 
 of which was a post and rail, not particularly high 
 or strong, but enough to turn a good many away; 
 
FITZMUDDLE IN THE SHIRES. 185 
 
 for it is wonderful how many dislike the look of 
 timber, and, though they would jump a hurdle, 
 are afraid of a post and rail, which is no higher. 
 
 But there was one who was not afraid of it, 
 and that was Mr. Heavystern, who came up to 
 it just before Fitzmuddle, and about twenty yards 
 to his left. 
 
 Mr. Heavystern was a well-known farmer in 
 these parts, who exemplified admirably that pre- 
 established harmony of things which has ordained 
 
 that 
 
 Who drive fat oxen should themselves be fat, 
 
 for he was heavy in name, heavy in person, he rode 
 a heavy horse, and he farmed heavy acres. He 
 weighed at least twenty stone, and was broad of 
 beam as a Dutch galliot. He might have been 
 called bullet-headed, only his head was rather 
 of the dimensions of a cannon-ball, and with his 
 close-cropped black hair, blue stubbly beard, little 
 pig eyes and huge cheeks, might have been carved 
 out of one of those gigantic turnips which are 
 commemorated in provincial newspapers. His 
 horse was a great raw-boned black with a rat 
 
1 86 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 tail, who looked like a brewer s dray-horse, from 
 whose ribs all the fat had been melted off by 
 carrying the welter weight of his rider. But huge 
 of bulk and uncouth as they were, Heavystern 
 and his horse were often seen well in front in 
 a run, for the farmer was undeniably a hard man, 
 and could crash by sheer momentum through almost 
 any fence in Leicestershire, while he knew every 
 gap and bridle-gate and short cut for miles round. 
 Thus it happened that he came to the post 
 and rail just before Fitzmuddle, and galloped 
 straight through it, making it fly in splinters as 
 if it had been a cobweb. When Fitzmuddle saw 
 the gap he tried to pull Logician towards it, but 
 he might just as well have pulled at a stone 
 Wall. Whether this attempt to interfere with 
 him put Logician out, or whether seeing the top- 
 rail give way so easily before Heavystern s charge 
 led him for once to make a miscalculation, and 
 think it would be less trouble to smash it than 
 to jump it, I am unable to say, but the result 
 was, that when he struck it with his knees it 
 did not give way, but turned him right over 
 
FITZMUDDLE IN THE SHIRES. 187 
 
 into the next field. Had Fitzmuddle been a better 
 rider and stuck to the saddle, the consequences 
 might have been serious, but having a loose seat, 
 he was shot far enough clear of his horse, and 
 they both picked themselves up none the worse 
 for the mishap. By the time he had caught his 
 horse and mounted, the hounds had run out of 
 sight, and he would have seen nothing more of 
 them had they not, after running another mile, 
 thrown up their heads and come to a long check 
 in a ploughed field, which happened to be on 
 Mr. Heavystern s farm. They cast round and 
 round, and backwards and forwards, with no 
 result ; and the field had mostly drawn up to 
 the bridle-gate at its far corner to be ready for 
 a fresh start, when Fitzmuddle overtook them. 
 Mr. Heavystern was standing a little back from 
 the rest, still watching some hounds who were 
 puzzling along the edge on the far side. 
 
 When Logician saw him it is evident that the 
 sagacious animal had worked out in his head the 
 problem set him by what had occurred at the post 
 and rail, and arrived at the .conclusion that, as 
 
1 88 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 momentum equals weight multiplied by velocity, 
 the way to make up for deficiency in the former 
 factor was to increase the latter. Accordingly he 
 seized the bit between his teeth, put on his very best 
 pace, and charged Mr. Heavystern and his horse, 
 who were standing broadside on, with such velo 
 city, that he sent man and horse rolling over and 
 over. As the Templar in the lists of Ashby-de-la- 
 Zouch rolled over before the lance of Ivanhoe 
 three times, grasping the grass and sand each 
 time, so did Heavystern on this occasion, grasping 
 handfuls of his own clay. And when at last he 
 ceased rolling, and sat on his own broad stern 
 on his own broad acres, another still more in 
 teresting fact in natural philosophy was beautifully 
 illustrated. The " correlation of force," as it is 
 called, teaches us that all the energies of the 
 universe are indestructible, and simply appear, 
 Proteus-like, under different forms and transforma 
 tions. Thus, in the present case, the mechanical 
 force, which had been expended in the collision, 
 reappeared in an exact equivalent of heat and 
 energy (of language). 
 
FITZMUDDLE IN THE SHIRES. 189 
 
 Double-barrelled oaths jostled one another with 
 amazing adjectives at such a rate from Heavy- 
 stern s mouth, that Fitzmuddle was only too glad 
 when Melody hit off the scent by the hedge-row 
 in the field beyond, and there was a rush for the 
 bridle-gate, under cover of which he escaped from 
 the vengeance of the infuriated farmer. 
 
 Fitzmuddle s exhibition on the lawn of Kings- 
 ley Hall on the opening day, and the rumours 
 which did not fail to be circulated as to his colli 
 sion with Mr. Heavystern, naturally caused a good 
 deal of merriment among the swells of the hunt, and 
 although he improved so rapidly that he was some 
 times in front of some of those who laughed most 
 loudly at his expense, yet when a man once gets 
 the character of being a muff in the hunting-field it 
 is not so easy to shake it off. It must be admitted 
 also that in his inexperience he occasionally did 
 things which could hardly fail to provoke a smile 
 from the good-natured, and a sneer from the ill- 
 natured spectator. 
 
 Thus, one day when the hounds came to a 
 long check on the bank of the famous Missenden 
 
A MODERN UIXOTE. 
 
 brook, Fitzmuddle, who was standing near a 
 bridge across it, espied an excited rustic in a 
 smock-frock, who, pointing with a dung-fork 
 towards a little copse about a mile off, exclaimed : 
 
 " I zeed un ; fox be gone that way for 
 Boodkr s Copse/ 
 
 Fitzmuddle thought he would do an exceed 
 ingly clever thing by galloping off at once for 
 the copse, and so getting a good start of the 
 field and the hounds. So, giving Coquette a 
 touch with his heel, he set off at a racing pace 
 across the bridge and up the next field, rising 
 in his stirrups and squaring his elbows, under the 
 impression that he was showing the lookers-on 
 a pretty exact imitation of Fred Archer or 
 Charley Wood riding a Derby favourite in its 
 preliminary canter. This attracted the attention 
 of Captain Hardup, late of the Buffers, a well- 
 known member of the hunt, whose income 
 generally showed a negative figure, the positive 
 side being represented by debts, I.O.UVs, and 
 overdue bills; and whose principal means of eking 
 it out consisted in being "hail fellow well met" 
 
FITZMUDDLE IN THE SHIRES. 191 
 
 with all the young swells, getting asked to their 
 dinners and winning their money by bets or at 
 loo. Turning to Sir Samuel Simpleton, who 
 happened to be next him, the gallant captain 
 said : 
 
 " Look at that fellow, Fitzmuddle, what a 
 hurry he is in to discount a cheque (check) on a 
 Leicestershire Bank ; no wonder, when he is so 
 confoundedly out at elbows." 
 
 Whereupon Simpleton laughed and said to 
 himself: "What a deuced clever fellow Hardup 
 is, to be sure ; he is quite one of the right sort." 
 And he had occasion to think him still cleverer 
 the next night, when they met at dinner at Lord 
 Rattlebone s, and Hardup won ^"80 from him 
 at loo in the course of the evening, and booked 
 him for a bet of ;ioo to ^25 against a horse 
 who was scratched next week for the Grand 
 National. 
 
 But the captain did not in the long run, as 
 we shall see by-and-by, get much change out of 
 Fitzmuddle. 
 
 Fitzmuddle s course of instruction in Natural 
 
192 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 Philosophy was, however, not yet completed. His 
 next experience taught a valauble lesson in the 
 Chemistry of Organic Bodies, and the phenomena 
 of their different molecular constitutions. In the 
 beginning of December there was an early fall of 
 snow, followed by a sharp frost, which for several 
 days stopped hunting. At length a thaw came, and 
 although the snow lay on the hill-tops and on the 
 north side of the hedges, and the brooks were 
 filled to the brim with melting snow-water, the 
 hounds met at Bilton Wood. They soon found a 
 fox, and as often happens after snow and frost, 
 when the fields have been washed clean, there was 
 a burning scent. The hounds ran at a great pace 
 across the wide pastures towards Missenden, and 
 Fitzmuddle, who was mounted on Logician, had 
 nothing to do but let him take his own way and 
 stick on as he best could, as he threw fence after 
 fence behind him, and pulled his way very fairly 
 towards the front. He enjoyed it thoroughly, and 
 was in a glow of excitement and perspiration in 
 spite of the raw and chilly air, when an ominous line 
 of polled willows appeared in the middle of a wide 
 
FITZMUDDLE IN THE SHIRES. 193 
 
 grass field. There was no mistake about it, they 
 were approaching the famous Missenden brook, 
 in which so many saddles, stirrup-irons, hunting- 
 crops, and flasks are said to be engulphed, that it 
 has been seriously proposed to form a Joint-Stock 
 Company for the purpose of dredging the brook 
 for the salvage. 
 
 The hounds disappeared in it, and emerged one 
 by one with dripping sterns, and immediately took 
 up the scent and began to run harder than ever. 
 There was not a bridge or ford to be seen, and 
 evidently those who wished to see any more of the 
 run, had to harden their hearts and trust to 
 Providence to find an easy place to jump the 
 brook. Even if he had been inclined to shirk it, 
 Fitzmuddle knew very well that the decision lay 
 not with him, but with Logician, and to do him 
 justice, he was not at all disposed to turn tail in 
 the middle of a good run, for fear of a fall or a 
 ducking. So he thought of the exploits of the 
 Squire and Captain Ross, over this same world- 
 renowned brook, and, sticking his knees into the 
 saddle as tight as he could, he never tried to stop 
 
 VOL, i. o 
 
I 9 4 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 Logician, but let him race down at the brook at 
 his own pace. 
 
 Now if he had been mounted on any other of 
 his horses, he would probably have escaped with 
 out any mishap, for Coquette would have skimmed 
 over it like a bird, Velocipede would have taken it in 
 his stride, and Sobersides would have lobbed down 
 to the bank, looked at it, and declined further 
 acquaintance. But Logician took an intermediate 
 course, for he came down fast to it, stopped for a 
 single second to make a short mental calculation 
 of its width and depth, and then, with a mighty 
 bound, threw himself over and just reached the 
 opposite bank. But that single second proved 
 fatal to Fitzmuddle, for he was projected clean 
 over the head of his horse, and fell with a mighty 
 plump and splash into the very middle of the 
 brook. It was out of his depth, but fortunately 
 the branch of an old willow-tree hung over the 
 stream, and before he had been carried many 
 yards down, he caught hold of it and scrambled 
 out on the bank. But unfortunately on the wrong 
 side, and when he got the muddy water out of 
 
FITZMUDDLE IN THE SHIRES. 195 
 
 his eyes, he had the pleasure of seeing his horse 
 careering gaily over the next field, with the dark, 
 deep stream between them. 
 
 Now for the lesson to be derived from this 
 experience. There is nothing which requires 
 more caution in scientific experiments than to 
 beware of being too hasty in assuming that 
 apparently like causes will always produce like 
 effects. It is a well-established fact that the 
 immersion of red-hot iron in ice-cold water 
 improves its temper, and converts the plebeian 
 metal into aristocratic steel. Surely a similar 
 effect may be expected to ensue from the mole 
 cular changes induced in other bodies by the 
 same process. But, strange to say, the effect on 
 the human body of plunging it suddenly, when at 
 a glowing heat, in water of the temperature of 
 melting snow, is not only not the same as in the 
 case of metals, but, on the contrary, is precisely 
 the reverse. Instead of improving the temper it 
 makes it decidedly very much worse. Such 
 at any rate was Fitzmuddle s experience ; for, 
 sweet-tempered as he generally was, I am obliged 
 
 o 2 
 
196 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 to confess that he felt uncommonly cross, and 
 gave utterance to something very like profane 
 ejaculations, as he trudged, wet to the skin and 
 chilled to the marrow, across the fields, steering 
 for the steeple of Missenden village, and he hardly 
 recovered his composure until he gained the 
 hospitable shelter of the " Fox and Hounds," 
 got a dry suit of clothes from the landlord, and 
 warmed himself thoroughly before a roaring fire, 
 with a dish of fried eggs and bacon on the table 
 and a glass of steaming hot brandy and water. 
 After this, he ordered a fly, and, on arriving at 
 Reynard Lodge, found that Logician had been 
 brought back before him all right by a second 
 horseman, whom he rewarded with half-a- 
 sovereign. 
 
 As the season advanced, Fitzmuddle made 
 such progress in his riding, that Martingale, who 
 had watched him closely, said to him one day: 
 " I really think, sir, you might begin to sport a 
 red coat, you can ride as well as half the men 
 who do, and have more pluck than nine-tenths 
 of them ; and after all the pink is the correct 
 
FITZMUDDLE IN THE SHIRES. 197 
 
 thing for a hunting gent." Fitzmuddle did not 
 hesitate a moment in availing himself of Martin 
 gale s imprimatur to sport a brand-new red coat, 
 which he had often gazed at hanging in his 
 wardrobe with admiring eyes. For man is after 
 all a vain creature, and it is very much the effect 
 of habit and high civilisation that he does not 
 constantly break out into gorgeous effulgencies 
 of costume, as his Palaeolithic ancestors did into 
 tattooings and gaudy stripes of red and blue 
 paint. And a red coat is a pardonable vanity, 
 for a man in correct hunting costume does not 
 look affected or coxcombical, but, on the contrary, 
 more manly and gentlemanlike than in a pot hat 
 and slovenly shooting-coat. And to a certain 
 extent it is, or ought to be, a guarantee for a 
 fair amount of physical courage in facing fences, 
 and the sprinkling of scarlet gives life and anima 
 tion to the scene, and pleases the children and 
 rustics. 
 
 So I am altogether in favour of the devotees 
 of the noble science of fox-hunting appearing in 
 the correct costume of their sect at all its high 
 
198 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 rites and ceremonies, which, being interpreted, means 
 when cub-hunting is over and regular meets begin. 
 
 But Fitzmuddle s first appearance in scarlet 
 was very near being the occasion of a sad catas 
 trophe. The hounds were running fast over the 
 wide pastures beyond Sloughton-on-the-hill, and 
 Fitzmuddle was holding a really creditable place, 
 and striding along at a great pace across a forty- 
 acre grass field, when his horse put his foot in a 
 grip and down he came. The horse got up 
 none the worse, and galloped off ; but Fitzmuddle, 
 though not hurt, was a little stunned and confused, 
 and it took him a few seconds before he scrambled 
 on to his legs and took in the situation. When 
 he did so he saw a sight which might well appal 
 the stoutest nerves. 
 
 There were cattle in the field, not the sober 
 shorthorn or pacific pale-faced Herefords, wha 
 are generally met with in these parts, but, as ill- 
 luck would have it, the farmer had just bought a 
 herd of Irish bullocks and turned them into this 
 field. Excited by the sight of the hounds running 
 and horses galloping, these wild Irishmen were 
 
FITZMUDDLE IN THE SHIRES. 199 
 
 careering about the field, with heads and tails 
 erect, making mad rushes in various directions. 
 
 Now, whether these particular bullocks were 
 descendants of that famous bull who split a whole 
 county into two factions, and set them flourishing 
 shillelaghs and cracking crowns at every fair and 
 market, on the question whether he was a four or 
 five-year-old ; or were they simply nationalist 
 bullocks who had been worked up to a pitch of 
 fury by the impassioned harangues of a Healy or 
 a Harrington, I cannot say. But more probably 
 they had been listening to the singing of the 
 " Wearing of the Green " until they had imbibed 
 a hearty hatred for " England s cruel red." For 
 certain it is that when they saw the brilliant 
 red spot of Fitzmuddle s new coat in the middle 
 of the green field, they charged straight down for it, 
 
 like that 
 
 Deluge of the foaming cavalry, 
 
 which, in Shelley s poem, was flung back from 
 the steadfast square of the Greek patriots, or like 
 
 Byron s 
 
 Wolves who headlong go 
 On the wounded buffalo. 
 
A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 But Fitzmuddle neither stood fast like Craig 
 Ellachie s firm crag, nor like Scott s Fitzjames 
 exclaimed : 
 
 Come one, come all, this rock shall fly 
 From its firm base, as soon as I ; 
 
 but rather like the English hero at the assault 
 of Ismail in Byron s "Don Juan," took to that 
 
 Running 
 Which was a valorous sort of cunning. 
 
 And running he made for the nearest gate at his 
 very best pace, which was by no means a bad 
 one, for he was light of body and long of limb, 
 and fear adds wings to flight, with twenty raging 
 bullocks thundering in the rear. 
 
 Fast as he ran, however, the bullocks ran 
 faster, and they would surely have overtaken 
 him had not the leader, a huge, shaggy, black, 
 long-horned animal, paused for a moment to 
 vent his vengeance on Fitzmuddle s hat, which had 
 come off and broken the guard-string when he 
 fell. Even with this advantage they were close 
 upon him before he reached the gate, and 
 when he turned his head for a second, he could 
 
FITZMUDDLE IN THE SHIRES. 201 
 
 almost feel their hot breath on his cheek. How 
 ever, with a last desperate spurt, he just managed 
 to reach the gate, fortunately a high and strong 
 five-barred one, and, tumbling over it, fell ex 
 hausted on the grass with the wind fairly pumped 
 out of him. The bullocks, baulked of their ven 
 geance on the base and brutal Saxon, were brought 
 to a sudden stand, even as I have seen the full 
 stream of Hibernian oratory suddenly arrested, 
 when the Speaker s form, rising in all the dignity 
 of flowing robe and full-bottomed wig, utters in 
 accents impassive as fate, and stern as Rhadaman- 
 thus, the awful words : " Mr. O Blather, member 
 for Bally-buncum, I name you as trespassing on 
 the time of the House and disregarding the 
 authority of the Chair." 
 
 Fitzmuddle, as he lay panting for breath in 
 his haven of safety, had thus his ideas of sport 
 considerably enlarged by having occasion to con 
 template it from the two opposite points of view 
 of hunting and being hunted. 
 
 Hunting and being hunted, such is the uni 
 versal and inexorable law of creation. 
 
202 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 The fox they were pursuing had the day before 
 gobbled up a harmless hen. But was the hen 
 really so harmless when she gobbled up that busy 
 little ant who was performing its duty as a good 
 citizen in carrying home a captive aphide for 
 the general advantage of the ant community? 
 And so through all creation, life lives on life, 
 the strong prey on the weak, the weak on the 
 weaker, and down to the very lowest orders of 
 being. 
 
 Big fleas have little fleas upon their backs to bite em, 
 And little fleas have lesser fleas, and so ad infinitum. 
 
 Nay, even the Brahmin, whose rule it is to destroy 
 no living thing, is shocked, on looking through the 
 microscope, to discover what legions of life he con 
 sumes in every draught of water. For, if there be 
 any truth in the doctrine of the transmigration of 
 souls, how can he tell that he may not thus be 
 unwittingly swallowing down some venerable 
 grand-aunt, or tough old grand-uncle, who for 
 their sins in this world have been condemned to 
 commence life anew at the bottom of the class, 
 and in the lowest order of animated creation ? 
 
FITZMUDDLE IN THE SHIRES. 203 
 
 But the higher we rise in the scale, the keener 
 becomes the chase, and the greater the contrast 
 between the few who hunt and the many who are 
 hunted. Who, in fact, are the heroes of the world s 
 history ? The Nimrods, Alexanders, Caesars, 
 Attilas, Napoleons, who are mighty hunters 
 before the Lord, whose game is man, and who 
 hunt down and slaughter their victims by millions. 
 But at last comes the mightiest of all hunters, 
 Death, who hunts down all alike, hunters and 
 hunted, tyrants and slaves, oppressors and victims. 
 His bag, when we come to think of it, is truly 
 an enormous one. There are approximately some 
 1,200 millions of human beings living in this tiny 
 planet, and three generations per century. Death, 
 therefore, bags some 3,600 millions of the human 
 species every century, and has been doing so, 
 more or less, for the last fifty or sixty centuries, 
 to say nothing of endless prehistoric barbarians 
 and Palaeolithic savages. And of these a small 
 proportion only have lived out their full natural 
 life, and attained to the Scriptural age of three 
 score and ten ; while a very large proportion, not 
 
204 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 less than twenty per cent., or 720 millions in 
 each century, have died before they attained to 
 anything like clear consciousness or conscience. 
 Why were they born, why did they die, what 
 were they before birth, what will they be after 
 death ? Or are they simply Nature s failures and 
 cast as " rubbish to the void " ? And if so, is 
 
 " love "really 
 
 Creation s final law, 
 though 
 
 Nature red in tooth and claw, 
 
 With ravine shrieks against the creed. 
 
 Mystery of mysteries ! What can we do but 
 struggle, however faintly, with the poet, to hold 
 on to some shred of the " larger hope " and feel 
 that whatever may be 
 
 Behind the veil, 
 our truest course is 
 
 Because right is right to follow right, 
 Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence. 
 
 Fitzmuddle, however, hardly pursued these 
 speculations to their ultimate consequences, and 
 
FITZMUDDLE IN THE SHIRES. 20$ 
 
 his reflections went no farther than saying to 
 himself: 
 
 " I remember reading somewhere of a veteran 
 huntsman, who, when some one talked of the 
 cruelty of fox-hunting, said, The men enjoy it, 
 the horses enjoy it, the hounds enjoy it, and who 
 knows that the fox may not enjoy it too ? Well, 
 I think I can answer that question. If the fox 
 feels at all as I did, when I had those confounded 
 beasts close at my back, I am afraid it would be 
 too great a stretch of the imagination to suppose 
 that the fox enjoys it." 
 
 But then he reflected, that if there were no 
 hunting there would be no foxes; so that, after 
 all, it came to be a question whether the sum 
 of vulpine happiness in living was a positive or 
 negative quantity, as, if the former, it might be 
 cheaply purchased at the cost of being hunted 
 once or twice in the course of the season. And 
 certainly if there was any truth in the economical 
 axiom in favour of " the greatest happiness of the 
 greatest number," there could not be a more 
 signal instance of it than in a pursuit which gave 
 
206 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 pleasure to hundreds, at the expense of a doubtful 
 balance of problematical evil to one predaceous 
 little animal. 
 
 So when he recovered his wind and his horse, 
 which had been caught and brought back to him, 
 he mounted and rode after the hounds, and 
 catching them up at their first check, went on 
 with them for thirty minutes longer in an excellent 
 run, and saw the fox run into in the open and 
 broken up with all the honours, without any 
 compunction or misgivings. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE STEEPLE-CHASE. 
 
 TOWARDS the close of the season, Fitzmuddle 
 had made such progress in the art of equitation, 
 that Martingale began to think the time had 
 come when he might realise the great object of 
 his ambition that of pulling off a good thing 
 with Velocipede. There was a hunt cup contested 
 annually over Tugby Steeple-chase Course, which 
 always excited great interest, being confined to 
 bond fide hunters who had been hunted regularly 
 with the Thorn hounds and were ridden by their 
 owners. Martingale felt very certain that Veloci 
 pede could beat any horse in the hunt, if his 
 rider would follow his instructions and not tumble 
 off, and he really thought that Fitzmuddle, with 
 a little schooling, might manage to stick on. So 
 
2o8 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 he broached the subject to him. At first Fitz- 
 muddle was staggered at the idea of riding a 
 race, and felt very nervous at the notion of riding 
 in a silk jacket over big fences in the presence 
 of several thousand spectators. But Martingale en 
 couraged him, and told him it was much easier 
 to stick on over fences at a racing pace, than to 
 take smaller obstacles in the hunting-field ; and 
 he took him up to Farmer Day s private course, 
 and led him over some fences, which Fitzmuddle 
 negotiated very successfully, so that at last he 
 made up his mind to enter his horse. 
 
 When the name of " Mr. Fitzmuddle s chestnut 
 horse, Velocipede, n stone 4 lb.," appeared in 
 the entry for the "Hunt Cup, over two miles 
 of the Tugby Course, owners to ride," there 
 was much laughter at the club ; and when 
 Fitzmuddle, contrary to his usual wont, happened 
 to look in that evening, he was assailed by 
 a volley of chaff. " It was a shame of him 
 not to give the other fellows a chance." " A rider 
 like him ought to be handicapped with at least a 
 stone more than the rest of the field." And so on ; 
 
THE STEEPLE-CHASE. 209 
 
 but Captain Hardup took a more business-like 
 view of the situation, and thought that perhaps 
 Fitzmuddle s horse might be transmuted into a 
 pony ; or, in other words, that a pony might be 
 made out of him. So he accosted Fitzmuddle : 
 fc Of course you want to back your horse. What 
 do you say, will you take three ponies to one ? " 
 For the judicious Hardup knew well enough that 
 the odds were certain to be not less than five to 
 one, and, like Lord Augustus Fitzplantagenet in 
 Byron s " Don Juan/ he dearly loved to be 
 
 Good at all things, but better at a bet. 
 
 But Fitzmuddle replied : " No, I never bet. I 
 have only just entered my horse for the fun of the 
 thing, and to have some idea of what the sensation 
 is like of flying over fences at a racing pace. And 
 I am sure that, if by any miracle I did get 
 first into the winning-field, some more accom 
 plished jockey, like you, Hardup, or Lord 
 Scamperton, would ride me out of the race, and 
 do me on the post." 
 
 Now Hardup was keen for a bet, and he said : 
 VOL. i. P 
 
210 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 " Oh, you think you will be first into the winning- 
 field, do you? Make it ^150 to ^50, and I ll 
 lay you that you are not." This rather riled 
 Fitzmuddle, and on the spur of the moment he 
 said " Done ! " Then one of the young fellows, 
 who thought himself a bit of a wag, said : " But 
 we must have it quite clear. Which are you 
 betting against, the man or the horse ? Suppose 
 Fitzmuddle tumbles off, and his horse goes on 
 and comes in first, how about the bet ? " 
 
 " Oh," said the captain, " in that case, of 
 course I win, for, to tell the truth, it is the man 
 rather than the horse I am betting against." 
 
 " Come, now," said the wag, " fair play s a 
 jewel, and in that case if the man is first in the 
 winning-field, you lose your bet." And the other 
 fellows chimed in and declared that Fitzmuddle 
 ought to have the off-chance of his horse refusing, 
 and shooting him over his head at the last fence, 
 and that the bet should be off if the captain would 
 not agree. The captain was keen for the bet ; so, 
 after some demur, he assented, and the bet was 
 duly booked thus : 
 
THE STEEPLE-CHASE. 211 
 
 "Captain Hardup bets Mr. Fitzmuddle ^150 
 to $> that Fitzmuddle is not first into the 
 winning-field in the race for the Thorn Hunt Cup, 
 provided that Mr. Fitzmuddle is to ride the course 
 fairly up to the last fence, and not get off and 
 jump that fence on foot/ 
 
 When the eventful day drew near, Martingale 
 came into his master s room and gave him sage 
 advice. 
 
 " Gentlemen jockeys/ he said, " who are new 
 to the thing, if they happen to be mounted on the 
 best horse, lose their races for want of a pace, and 
 because they are afraid of making use of their 
 mount. So they wait till the last field or two, and 
 then get beaten for speed by some little scratchy 
 thing that is quick on its legs, and has a good 
 artist on its back who knows how to finish. Now 
 this here Velocipede can stride along at a 
 real racing pace, and though Lord Scamperton s 
 and the Captain s have both a turn of speed when 
 they are not blown, there is not one of them can 
 live with our horse for a mile at a fair racing pace, 
 and if you do blow him a little, why, you will blow 
 
 P 2 
 
A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 the others ten times more, and the rest are of no 
 account. So take my advice, and directly you are 
 over the brook on the far side of the course, which 
 is just a mile from home, you give the old horse 
 his head and a touch of the spur, and come along. 
 If you only do this, it is only a question of sticking 
 on, and you can t lose the race." 
 
 Fitzmuddle pondered over this, and got up 
 next morning at six, and went with Martingale 
 up to the farm where the farmer had allowed him 
 to take his gallops, and got on Logician, while 
 Martingale mounted Velocipede and took him 
 along for a mile just to give his master an idea 
 of what he meant by a pace. And Fitzmuddle 
 acquitted himself so well over the farmer s fences, 
 that Martingale became quite hopeful and said to 
 himself, " There is no five to one against in it, but 
 rather five to one on our horse, for if master don t 
 tumble off, and I don t think he will, we can t 
 lose." 
 
 So the day came, and all the rank, beauty, and 
 fashion of three counties were mustered on the 
 stand, and in drags and carnages round the 
 
7 HE STEEPLE-CHASE. 213 
 
 judge s chair, at Tugby Steeple-chase Course, and 
 the neighbouring farmers and their wives and 
 daughters were there, and a strong body of rail 
 way men and mechanics from Tugby Junction, 
 and a sprinkling of gipsies and roughs, and a 
 detachment of betting men had come down from 
 London and made the air hideous with their 
 hoarse shouts of 2 to I bar one. 
 
 After two other races the bell rang for the 
 Thorn Hunt Cup, and seven competitors appeared. 
 
 Lord Scamperton s Diana . Rose. 
 
 Captain Hardup s Blackleg . Black and White Cap. 
 
 Mr. Fitzmuddle s Velocipede Green and Buff. 
 
 Mr. Jones Skyrocket . . . White, Bhie Cap. 
 
 Mr. Brown s Badger . . . Blue and White Stripe. 
 
 Mr. Robinson s Rattler . . Chocolate, Yellow Sleeves. 
 
 Mr. Smith s Scavenger . . Blue, Yellow Cap. 
 
 The odds ranged : 6 to 4 against Diana, 2 to 
 I Blackleg, 5 to I Velocipede, 7 to I Skyrocket, 
 10 to i any other. 
 
 The race was run almost exactly as Martin 
 gale predicted. Jones on Skyrocket made the 
 running at no very great pace, but fast enough 
 to dispose of half the field before they came to 
 
2i 4 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 the brook. Brown s horse refused at the second 
 fence, and was out of it ; Robinson came a cropper 
 over the third fence ; and Smith was hopelessly 
 tailed off before they had gone half-a-mile ; Jones 
 only kept his pride of place to the brook, and 
 there Skyrocket being a little blown, stopped 
 short, then shot up into the air like a rocket, 
 shooting Jones up still higher, and both came 
 down together with such a splash that the dirty 
 water spoiled the smart gowns of three young 
 ladies from Tugby, whom a gallant butcher had 
 driven out in his cart, and stationed opposite to 
 the brook in the hope of seeing some fun there. 
 
 This left Captain Hardup with a slight lead, 
 with Lord Scamperton close on his right, and 
 Fitzmuddle about a length behind on his left. 
 They all flew the brook gallantly, Velocipede 
 taking it in his stride so easily that his rider 
 hardly felt him rise. Directly they were over 
 the Captain put on a little more steam, being 
 afraid that if he waited too long, Lord Scamper- 
 ton s mare would beat him for speed. But Fitz 
 muddle, acting on Martingale s instructions, gave 
 
THE STEEPLE-CHASE. 215 
 
 Velocipede his head and a touch of the spur, 
 and to the Captain s intense astonishment he 
 shot past him in the twinkling of an eye, and took 
 such a lead that the others had to sit down and 
 ride in earnest to keep within hail of him. Field 
 after field Velocipede kept striding along and 
 gaining ground, though he lost a little at some 
 of the fences to his more artistically-handled 
 competitors. Still, he kept going like a steam- 
 engine, and when they got into the last field but 
 one he was leading by at least four lengths, and 
 the hoarse roar of a thousand voices arose : 
 " Velocipede wins, Velocipede walks in." 
 
 And, indeed, it looked very like it, for when 
 he came to the last fence into the winning- 
 field, which was a thick and high bushed-up 
 hedge on a low bank, he had a lead of a good 
 five lengths. But whether Fitzmuddle slightly 
 overdid it, in driving his horse across that 
 last field, which was of long grass, heavy and 
 sloppy with rain, or whether in the excite 
 ment of finding himself so near home he forgot 
 to sit still and hustled him at the fence, or 
 
216 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 whether the horse slipped in taking off or mis 
 judged the distance, will never be known ; but the 
 result was, that instead of clearing the hedge he 
 crashed into it, and sent Fitzmuddle flying yards 
 over his head into the winning-field. So there 
 could be no doubt about his having won his bet, 
 for the horse was five lengths before anything 
 when he fell, and Fitzmuddle was a good two 
 lengths before his horse. 
 
 The other two, though their horses were both 
 beaten, managed to scramble over the hedge, and 
 a punishing race ensued ; but Diana had just the 
 foot of Blackleg, and Lord Scamperton won by 
 half a length. 
 
 Fitzmuddle, though badly shaken, was not 
 much hurt, and managed to get up and walk to 
 the stand. Hardup looked very glum, for he had 
 lost a good deal on his own mount, as well as the 
 bet to Fitzmuddle. At first he tried to dispute 
 the latter, and act on the principle of " win, tie, or 
 wrangle," but the case was too clear ; for that Fitz 
 muddle had backed himself heavily, first into the win 
 ning-field, was undeniable, both from the mud on his 
 
THE STEEPLE-CHASE. 217 
 
 back, and the dent in the soft ground ; that he had 
 failed to negotiate a hedge was an obvious fact ; and 
 that he had carried off a big stake was apparent, 
 for there it lay where he had fallen, and a wide 
 rent in his leather breeches showed that nothing 
 but the proverbial fortune of the Fitzmuddles had 
 saved him from being impaled on it. So some 
 of the fellows in the hunt who had a grudge 
 against the Captain, because he had often fleeced 
 them at cards, swore that if he did not pay up like 
 a man, they would have him posted as a defaulter. 
 So Hardup had no help for it, and as he rode 
 home on the drag, he sat gnawing his moustache, 
 and revolving in his mind whether it would not be 
 better to make a bolt of it, and retire to the 
 breezes of Boulogne. But that night he dined 
 with Softy, the son of the rich banker, and the 
 champagne was good, and of the eight or ten 
 young fellows there, two or three drank freely 
 because they had won, and the rest more freely 
 because they had lost, while Hardup drank 
 discreetly, as he always did when there was a 
 prospect of cards after dinner. And sure enough 
 
218 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 after dinner cards were produced, and Hardup 
 proposed loo, and, to use his own phrase, forced 
 the running by getting the stakes fixed pretty 
 high. So the result was that he won 120 from 
 Softy, $o from Smith, and 20 from another 
 fellow, who were all good for the money. 
 
 So he concluded that on the whole it would be 
 better to postpone his trip to Boulogne, and go to 
 Liverpool a man of honour and a gentleman, with 
 40 left after paying Fitzmuddle s bet, wherewith 
 to back for the Grand National a horse, which 
 from private information he thought was meant to 
 be a real good thing. 
 
 So Fitzmuddle got his money, but when he 
 went down to the stable, still feeling very stiff 
 and sore, to. see how it fared with Velocipede, he 
 found Martingale looking very disconsolate, for he 
 had backed him for a tenner at five to one, and 
 it is very mortifying when you thought ,50 as 
 good as in your pocket, to find it gone, and instead 
 to have to hand over a couple of ^5 notes. 
 Fitzmuddle got out of him what was the matter, 
 and told him of his own bet, which comforted 
 
THE STEEPLE-CHASE. 219 
 
 Martingale not a little to think that that sharper 
 Hardup, as the stud grooms and gentleman s 
 gentlemen were accustomed irreverently to call 
 him, for he was no favourite with high or low, 
 had been so hit by his master. But what com 
 forted him still more was when Fitzmuddle 
 said : " Really, Martingale, I cannot bear to 
 think of your losing that bet, for it was my fault. 
 You could not have missed your ^"50 if I had 
 ridden better, and steadied the horse at the last 
 fence. So as I have won ^"150 by a fluke, I 
 shall feel far more happy if you will take $o 
 of it, and just repay me by looking well after 
 the horses." 
 
 Some may think Fitzmuddle a fool for this 
 piece of liberality, but in reality it turned out an 
 excellent investment, for Martingale, who was 
 a very decent fellow, and already fond of his 
 master, from that day forth became such a devoted 
 adherent, that he spent most of his time in pick 
 ing up information about horses and scheming 
 how to buy to the best advantage, and get the 
 best price possible for the cast-offs. And as he 
 
A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 was an excellent judge of a horse, and on good 
 terms with all the leading dealers and stud 
 grooms in the kingdom, and knew all the sport 
 ing farmers round about, he picked up wonderful 
 bargains, so much so, that when some years after 
 wards Fitzmuddle happened to take an average 
 of the price he had paid for his horses since he 
 began hunting, he found that it only came to 
 .130 per horse, though he had been better 
 carried than many a man whose average had 
 been over ^"200. So if he saved even 40 a 
 horse on thirty or forty horses, he got a good 
 return for that $o which gladdened Martingale s 
 heart, and converted him from an honest paid 
 servant into a zealous and devoted friend. 
 
 So true is it that timely and judicious liberality 
 is often the best economy. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 FITZMUDDLE S SMASH. 
 
 FITZMUDDLE, though not much the worse for his 
 fall, was a good deal shaken, and so stiff, that 
 for the next week or ten days he could not 
 mount a horse, which he regretted mainly because 
 it was the closing week of the Thorn pack, and 
 he would get no more hunting till next season. 
 But as good luck would have it, the Duffershire 
 pack in the next county were to have a bye-day 
 the week after at the famous Wellington Gorse, 
 from which they had that wonderful run many 
 years ago, which he had often pored over with 
 admiration in the pages of the Sporting Magazine. 
 So, having now quite recovered from the effects 
 of his fall, he sent over two of his horses to 
 Foxborough, and went on there by rail the night 
 before and slept at the " George." 
 
222 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 In the morning he rode on to the meet, which 
 was only three miles from Foxborough, and found 
 a goodly array of the rank, fashion, and beauty 
 of Duffershire assembled at the covert s side. 
 But on this occasion the famous Gorse did not 
 keep up its reputation, for they drew it blank. 
 
 They next drew Brampton Wood. This was 
 a large covert, and much depended on getting 
 a good start. The bulk of the field kept on the 
 lower side, where foxes generally broke. But 
 about a dozen, among whom were Fitzmuddle and 
 two ladies, happened to be at the upper corner 
 when a fine fox came out, and the hounds dashed 
 after him with a hot scent. For about ten 
 minutes these twelve had it all to themselves, 
 but when they came within a field of the village 
 of Stoke, the Scriptural saying was verified, as it 
 often is in fox-hunting, "that the first shall be 
 last and the last first ; " for the fox, instead of 
 holding on straight on the east side of the village, 
 turned sharp to the right, skirted it, and then 
 resumed his course for Gorton Gorse. This let 
 in the field, but quite threw out the leading dozen, 
 
FITZMUDDLE S SMASH. 223 
 
 who clattered down the road and through the 
 village, making, like John Gilpin, the ducks and 
 geese flutter, and the old women and children 
 scuttle into safe corners. But the long winding 
 street of the village curved in the wrong direction, 
 and those who followed it had extremely little 
 chance of seeing any more of the hounds, running 
 as they did with a burning scent, heads up and 
 sterns down, and so close together that a sheet 
 would have covered them. 
 
 But just before they came to the village, the 
 foremost lady, who was mounted on a clever little 
 chestnut mare, turned off the road over a pretty 
 stiff post and rail into the fields, calling out to 
 Fitzmuddle, who happened to be next behind 
 her: 
 
 " Come along, I know a way across the fields, 
 and we will catch them long before they reach 
 Gorton Gorse." 
 
 Fitzmuddle followed, but the rest did not like 
 the look of stiff new timber, though it was nothing 
 out of the way for height, so they kept on through 
 the village and lost the run. All, except one 
 
224 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 lady, the celebrated Mrs. Gay Spanker, who was 
 famous for having knocked over more men and 
 horses, and caused more spills, than any other 
 man or woman in five shires. She was mounted 
 on an equally well-known and dreaded black steed 
 with a great white blaze down his face, and some 
 irreverent wags christened the pair, " Death on the 
 pale horse." 
 
 One peculiarity of this lady was, that the sight 
 of anything resembling a lady s habit in front 
 of her inspired her with frantic jealousy, so she 
 whipped and spurred her pale-faced steed in the 
 hope of overtaking and passing the leaders. For 
 the first two fields all went well, for the fences 
 were low, and the horses easily cleared them in 
 their stride. But the third field presented a most 
 uncompromising obstacle in the form of an ex 
 tremely high and thick bullfinch, through which 
 daylight could be seen at one place only. That 
 was a sort of gap where the fence had been a 
 good deal broken down, and for it the leading 
 lady steered. But when she got near it, she saw 
 it was at best but a very awkward place. The 
 
FITZMUDDLE S SMASH. 
 
 22$ 
 
 fence, it is true, was not very high, but it stood 
 on a narrow bank, with barely room for a horse 
 to drop a foot on the far side ; then came a ditch 
 of unknown width and depth, for it was so choked 
 up with weeds and brambles that there was no 
 seeing its beginning or end ; and, worst of all, 
 the ground broke away from the edge of the 
 ditch into the next field, in a sharp incline of 
 ten or twelve feet, so that if any one tried to 
 negotiate the whole obstacle at a fly, nothing was 
 more likely than that man and horse would 
 come to grief. 
 
 So the lady pulled her mare up to a trot, and 
 saying, " Now, Daisy dear, take care/ put her at 
 it. The intelligent animal seemed to understand 
 what her mistress said, for she pricked her fine- 
 pointed little ears, just popped over the fence, 
 struck out with her hind feet against the bank, 
 skimmed over the ditch, and when she lighted 
 on the slope, had her hind legs under her so 
 quickly that the hind feet almost touched the 
 ground before the fore feet, and so she got safely 
 over. She turned half round in her saddle and 
 
 VOL. i. Q 
 
226 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 shouted to Fitzmuddle : " It s a nasty, trappy 
 place; go steadily at it." 
 
 Fitzmuddle, with one lady before him and 
 another behind, had no idea of shirking it, though 
 it had been as high as a haystack and as wide 
 and deep as the Grand Junction Canal, but he 
 recognised the wisdom of this advice, and steadied 
 his horse to a slow canter. But just as he had 
 taken off and was in the air, Mrs. Gay Spanker 
 rushed up like a whirlwind and gave him what 
 may be appropriately called a lesson in " field 
 billiards." For, by the same stroke, she both 
 scored a brilliant canon and pocketed the red 
 in the form of the unfortunate Fitzmuddle, who 
 fell with his horse half in the ditch, half on the 
 slope, and the two rolled promiscuously down it, 
 sometimes one, sometimes the other uppermost. 
 The horse struggled up and galloped on, but 
 Fitzmuddle saw more stars in his eyes than he 
 did on the memorable night when he walked up 
 the glen with Maggie from the gillies ball, and 
 his wind was knocked out of him, and he felt a 
 sharp pain in his right arm, and such an acute 
 
FITZMUDDLE S SMASH. 227 
 
 pain in his left ankle, that when he tried in a 
 confused way to rise, he fairly fainted with the 
 agony. 
 
 When he recovered his senses, he found 
 himself in a position which, in his ordinary 
 condition, would have terrified the natural modesty 
 of his disposition, viz., in the arms of a young 
 lady. 
 
 This is how it happened. 
 
 Mrs. Gay Spanker, with the momentum of 
 her headlong career, cleared hedge, ditch, and 
 almost landed at the bottom of the slope. Her 
 horse floundered, and nearly came on his nose ; but 
 to do her justice, she was a good horsewoman, 
 she stuck to the saddle, the horse recovered him 
 self, and she galloped on. She never stopped to 
 look back, for she was keen to catch her rival, 
 and she had an uneasy consciousness that she had 
 committed a gross breach of the unwritten law 
 of the hunting-field by cutting in as she did, 
 and that her wisest course was to get out of sight 
 and escape detection. But the other lady turned 
 round in her saddle before she had gone fifty yards 
 
 Q 2 
 
228 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 to see how her followers had fared ; and when she 
 saw that Fitzmuddle lay still, and did not rise, 
 and his horse galloped past her riderless, plastered 
 over with mud, and wild with terror, she drew 
 rein on the instant and rode back. Fitzmuddle 
 lay motionless on his back with a face as white 
 as a sheet. 
 
 " Good God ! " she said, " the poor fellow is 
 killed;" and jumped off in an instant. "Stand 
 still, Daisy, like a good mare," she said; and 
 the intelligent creature seemed to know every 
 word she said, for giving herself a good shake 
 she began to crop the grass. But the lady raised 
 a clear young voice, not in a scream, but in a 
 loud shout for help in case any one might be 
 within hearing, and going down on her knees 
 without minding the wet clay, looked anxiously 
 into Fitzmuddle s face to see if she could discover 
 any signs of life ; and seeing that though his 
 eyes were shut, the corners of his mouth twitched 
 a little, and he seemed to utter something between 
 low moaning and breathing, she sat down in a 
 puddle, lifted his head gently on her lap, and 
 
FITZMUDDLE S SMASH. 229 
 
 looked round to see if there was any help 
 coming. 
 
 She had not long to wait, for it came in the 
 shape of a rustic in a smock-frock, who had 
 caught Fitzmuddle s horse and was leading him 
 back. Possibly some ray of that hope "which 
 springs eternal in the human breast/ had sug 
 gested to him that thus haply might he earn 
 an odd shilling, and spend his evening after his 
 work was over in the taproom parlour of the " Red 
 Lion/ with a jug of home-brewed beer. And 
 possibly, oh ! enrapturing thought, the owner of 
 the horse might be rich and liberal, and the 
 shilling might be half-a-crown, in which case he 
 registered a silent vow in heaven that the pint of 
 home-brewed should be a quart of the county 
 brewer s very best and strongest XX. 
 
 But when he came up and saw the gentleman 
 lying apparently dead, his look changed to one 
 of consternation ; his jaw fell, his wide mouth 
 opened from ear to ear, and his goggle eyes 
 seemed to dilate into the biggest gooseberries ever 
 commemorated in a provincial newspaper. The 
 
230 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 lady knew him, for he was one of her father s 
 parishioners. 
 
 "Hodge," she said, "don t stand grinning 
 there, but look sharp, and do exactly what I tell 
 you. First give me the hunting flask from that 
 saddle, then get on the horse and ride as fast as 
 you can to Farmer Pratt s it s only two fields 
 off through that gate. Tell him there s been an 
 accident, and to send four men directly with a 
 hurdle, and mind, some soft hay on it ; and then 
 tell Pratt or his son to take the horse and gallop 
 off to Foxborough, and fetch Dr. Ross to the 
 Rectory, and bid him to bring his splints and all 
 his surgeon tools, for I fear there are bones 
 broken ; and tell one of the boys at the farm 
 to run across to the Rectory and tell them there 
 has been an accident, and I am bringing some 
 one home on a hurdle, and they are to get the 
 blue bedroom ready, and they need not send for 
 the doctor for I have done it already, and he 
 must be sure to tell them not to be alarmed, 
 it s not me, but only a poor gentleman. Now, 
 Hodge, are you sure you understand all this ? " 
 
FITZMUDDLE S SMASH. 231 
 
 "Yes, miss, I be quite sure." 
 
 "Well then, try and remember it, and if you 
 carry the message all right there will be half-a- 
 crown for you in the evening if you call at the 
 Rectory." 
 
 Thus promptly did this energetic young lady 
 think out the right thing to do, provide for 
 every contingency and translate her thought into 
 action. 
 
 To compare small things with great, it was as 
 when the molecules of Von Moltke s brain, set 
 vibrating by the news that MacMahon was 
 marching to relieve Bazaine, started off a score 
 of messages along the telegraph wires which we 
 call nerves, which transmitted by other more 
 material wires, in an hour s time changed the 
 direction of the march of the Crown Prince s 
 army of 200,000 men from west to north, and 
 sent it thundering down on MacMahon s flank ; 
 while another army, detached from the force 
 beleaguering Metz, headed him off on the east, 
 and he and his army and Emperor were shut up 
 in Sedan like rats in a trap, and the whole 
 
232 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 glittering and corrupt fabric of the Second Empire 
 collapsed in a day, like the bursting of some 
 rainbow-tinted bubble of stagnant water and 
 mephitic gas, which disappears, leaving a foul 
 odour behind. 
 
 But Hodge scrambled on the horse and went 
 on his errand, and the lady, taking the flask, 
 poured some of its contents down Fitzmuddle s 
 throat. It was but very weak brandy and water, 
 for he was one of the most temperate of men, but 
 it revived him, and he opened his eyes, and found 
 himself in the very compromising position we 
 have indicated, with his head on a young lady s 
 lap. 
 
 "Thank Heaven/ she said; "he is not dead. 
 But now tell me, where do you feel most hurt ? 
 How is your head ? " 
 
 " I think my head is all right," gasped out 
 Fitzmuddle ; " though it seems to swim a bit. 
 But my right arm feels rather bad, and I have a 
 horrid pain in my left ankle." 
 
 " Ah ! that s nothing," said the lady, who from 
 her experience at the sick beds and sick clubs of 
 
FITZMUDDLE S SMASH. 233 
 
 the parish poor, had acquired some elementary 
 notions of the science of surgery ; " broken bones 
 will heal. But now take a long breath, and tell 
 me if you feel anything that seems to stab you 
 inside." 
 
 He did so; but "No," he said, " nothing the 
 matter there. But, good Heavens ! " he said, " what 
 am I thinking about? You are losing your run 
 and sitting in the wet. I beg you ten thousand 
 pardons ; pray get up and go on. I will lie here 
 right enough till some one comes." And the 
 pale lips quivered with pain as he said it, and 
 she thought to herself, " Well, whoever he is, he is 
 a rare plucky fellow ; and what is more, he is a 
 gentleman. I wonder if he can be that Fitz- 
 muddle they were all laughing at at Lady 
 SneerwelPs the other night ! There are precious 
 few of those superfine swells who would ask me 
 to ride on and not miss my run, if they had had a 
 spill like that." But she spoke up and answered 
 cheerily : " Ridiculous nonsense ! Do you think 
 I m a brute to leave you here all alone with I 
 don t know how many of your bones broken, and 
 
234 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 all the fault of that horrid Mrs. Gay Spanker ? 
 No, I mean to take you to the Rectory and have 
 you properly looked after, and your bones mended, 
 and you shall be in the saddle again soon, and we 
 will go out together next season, and cut down 
 old Death on the pale horse." From which it 
 may be gathered that Mrs. Spanker did not stand 
 very high in the young lady s good graces which 
 is true, for she hated an unfair and jealous rider 
 and it had come round to her ears that Mrs. 
 Spanker was constantly making spiteful remarks 
 about her riding and her looks, and the cut of her 
 habit. 
 
 But Fitzmuddle, with his face still twitching 
 with pain, and only swallowing down a groan by a 
 determined effort, said : 
 
 "But I should be awfully in the way. Pray 
 don t put yourselves out on my account. If I can 
 get carried to the inn I shall do very well there." 
 
 "Stuff!" she said, "your wits must be still 
 wool-gathering to think of such a thing. Inn, 
 indeed ! I should rather think not. No, you cannot 
 help yourself, you are my captive, and must do as 
 
FITZMUDDLE S SMASH. 235 
 
 I bid you ; and to the Rectory you go and remain 
 there till you are able to move." 
 
 And whether Fitzmuddle was too exhausted to 
 argue the point, or whether he thought that after 
 all it might be nicer to be nursed by a pleasant 
 young lady than by a dirty maid at a little 
 country inn, it is certain that he made no more 
 remonstrance. 
 
 But now the men arrived with the hurdle, and 
 lifted Fitzmuddle carefully on it, and the lady 
 made a pillow of the soft hay for his head, and 
 they carried him to the Rectory like a wounded 
 hero on his shield. And when they got there, 
 the Rector, and his wife, and Jane the cook, and 
 Alice the housemaid, and the gardener, all stood 
 at the door, and there were exclamations of 
 wonder and of pity, and then of pity and of 
 wonder. But the young lady cut them all short, 
 and had him carried upstairs to the blue bedroom 
 and laid on the bed ; and, indeed, he was almost 
 in a faint again, for, move him gently as they 
 could, the pain was awful. So they gave him a 
 half-glass of brandy, neat this time, and set to 
 
236 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 work to try and get off some of his clothes. And 
 the Rector tried to cut them off with a large pair 
 of scissors, but he was too nervous, and his hand 
 shook ; so the lady sent John the gardener to fetch 
 a pair of pruning shears from the garden, and 
 among them they managed to cut off his 
 boots and coat, and slit up his leathers at the 
 knee. And the women, if a bull may be permitted, 
 stuck to their work manfully, and only stopped 
 when things had come to the last extremity, that 
 is, when they had got everything off except the 
 last-mentioned habiliments and his flannel waist 
 coat. And they covered him over with the bed 
 clothes, except the ankle which could not bear 
 even the pressure of a sheet, and that they kept 
 bathing with a handkerchief dipped in eau-de- 
 Cologne it was one of the lady s best hand 
 kerchiefs, by the way, with a laced fringe ; but 
 perhaps Alice thought it might be the softest, or, 
 in her hurry, she took the first that came to hand. 
 And Jane suggested beef-tea and ran down to the 
 kitchen to make it. And the Rector fidgeted 
 about the room till his daughter told him he could 
 
FITZMUDDLE S SMASH. 237 
 
 do no more good, and had better go downstairs 
 and wait till the doctor came. And she and 
 Alice sat down by the bedside, with that sweet 
 sympathy for physical suffering which is an 
 invariable attribute of the female heart, bathing 
 his ankle, and now and again bathing his brow, 
 and murmuring soft words of pity and consolation. 
 
 But the doctor soon came with his box of 
 implements and examined him all over, and pro 
 nounced that there was no internal injury, and 
 nothing but a compound fracture of the right arm, 
 and a very bad sprain, which almost amounted 
 to a dislocation, of the left ankle. So he bound 
 these up and put splints on, and got him made 
 quite comfortable, and administered a dose of 
 morphia, which lulled the pain and sent him off 
 into a sort of doze for the next twelve hours, and 
 left him, speaking cheery words that he would 
 have him up on the sofa in a week, and in the 
 saddle long before next season. 
 
 And here we must leave him and give some 
 account of our heroine and her belongings, for 
 that this prompt and decided young lady, who 
 
238 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 picked him up and brought him home, is to be 
 the heroine, is an open secret, which by this time 
 the most obtuse of our male readers must have 
 almost divined ; while our fair readers, with that 
 intuitive quickness of apprehension which charac 
 terises their sex in all matters appertaining to 
 love and matrimony, have doubtless divined it 
 long ago. 
 
 Miss Mary Morton was the only daughter of 
 the Rev. John Morton, rector of the parish of 
 Stoke-Regis in the county of Duffershire. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 COURTSHIP. 
 
 THE Rev. Rector was a fine specimen of the good 
 old Church of England parson, half saint and half 
 squire, who attended to all his duties, visited the 
 sick, relieved the poor, preached orthodox though 
 slightly soporific sermons on Sundays, but on a 
 week-day thought it no sin to attend occasionally 
 the meets of the Duffershire hounds, in a black 
 coat, and discuss the prospects of the crops, and 
 the price of cattle, with the neighbouring landlords 
 and farmers. He was liberal and charitable to an 
 excess, spared no time or trouble in promoting 
 schools, sick clubs, and all good works in his 
 parish, and in fact, possessed all the virtues under 
 the sun, except the cardinal one of making both 
 ends meet, and finding himself at the end of the 
 
240 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 year with a balance at his banker s. The younger 
 son of a good family, he was thought to be pro 
 vided for by the family living, and left with a 
 small patrimony, which, as years went on, became 
 "small by degrees and beautifully less." He 
 married, while young, a penniless girl for love, 
 by whom he had two children, Frank, a fine, 
 gallant young fellow, who would go into the army, 
 and was now with his regiment in India ; and our 
 heroine, Mary. 
 
 Mary Morton was what is called a real good 
 girl, honest as the day, frank and genial, but with 
 a rare gift of sterling common sense, and a latent 
 fund of energy and decision, which made her 
 invariably come to the front in all family diffi 
 culties ; these qualities, implanted by Nature, had 
 been strengthened by the circumstances in which 
 she was placed. Her mother, Mrs. Morton, had 
 been for years an invalid, and the tender care 
 which her father lavished on the loved wife of 
 his youth, had been one cause of his pecuniary 
 troubles, for he thought nothing too good for her, 
 and spent hundreds in doctors fees, and trips to 
 
COURTSHIP. 241 
 
 the sea-side and foreign watering-places. At the 
 same time he anxiously kept these troubles from 
 her, and shielded her from all domestic worries, 
 lest they should disturb her shattered nerves. 
 
 Mrs. Morton, an amiable but not very strong- 
 minded woman, acquiesced readily enough in this 
 soothing treatment, and, although always kind and 
 loving to her husband and children^ quietly relapsed 
 into a nonentity as far as all business affairs and 
 household arrangements were concerned. 
 
 Frank was a good boy, and not at all extrava 
 gant, but a young man who goes into the army is 
 not much at home, and costs money ; and as long 
 as his allowance of ^"200 a year, in addition to his 
 pay, was paid punctually, he asked no questions, 
 and concluded that everything was right at home. 
 
 Hence it came to pass, that as Mary grew up, 
 Mr. Morton, who it must be confessed was not 
 exactly a pillar of strength himself, came to lean 
 more and more on her sounder sense and stronger 
 nature. Thus, by degrees, she slid into the position 
 of the undisputed head and manager, not only of 
 the Morton household, but of the Morton finances 
 
 VOL. I. R 
 
242 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 and affairs generally. Perhaps it was this which 
 gave at times an expression of manly strength and 
 almost sternness to her pleasant and comely face, 
 and drew down the corners of her full lips with a 
 set look of decision. For Mary s face, in its usual 
 sunshine, though not exactly that of a professional 
 beauty, or made up of the catalogue of perfec 
 tions usually ascribed to the heroines of novels, 
 was a real pleasant face that did you good to look 
 at. Clear, honest gray eyes that looked you 
 straight in the face ; a broad, white forehead, with 
 plentiful clusters of dark-brown hair ; a complexion 
 that told of health and country air ; and an 
 expression that told as plainly of health of mind, 
 sense, good nature, and a naturally happy dis 
 position. What though her nose was not perhaps 
 to a critical eye as finely chiselled, or her upper 
 lip as short and curved as those of a Greek goddess ; 
 and the bloom on her cheek might be pronounced 
 by some pallid votaress of London fashion to be 
 that of a peach which the sun had wooed too 
 ardently ; the whole combination was a pleasant 
 one in the eyes of Fitzmuddle, as I am sure it 
 
COURTSHIP. 
 
 243 
 
 would be in the eyes of every male reader who can 
 appreciate what is meant by a good, honest, 
 modest, sensible English girl ; and, I would almost 
 hope, by every female reader who was such herself, 
 and whose taste had not been sophisticated by 
 studying the fashionable monstrosities who squeeze 
 their waists into the form of attenuated hour 
 glasses, and expand unmentionable regions into 
 humps like those of dromedaries, while they smirk 
 and simper at one another in the pages of the 
 Journal des Modes, or the Queen : the Lady s News 
 paper. 
 
 Such, at any rate, was not the figure of Mary 
 Morton. She was such as Nature, and not a 
 French milliner, made her: rather above the 
 middle height, with a well-rounded though elastic 
 figure, and a waist which may be aptly described 
 as a juste milieu, or happy compromise, between 
 that of a fashionable lady and our old friend 
 Maggie Macdonald. 
 
 Such as she was, she was seated with her 
 father in his library, on the black Boxing-Monday 
 of the preceding Christmas, with a pile of accounts 
 
 R 2 
 
244 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 before them, and an open bank-book on the table, 
 which showed a most attenuated balance. 
 
 " Papa dear," she said, " this will never do ; 
 this can never go on. Sims the butcher, and 
 Brown the baker, are good men, but they can t 
 go on supplying us with meat and bread for 
 ever if we don t pay them at the end of each 
 year; and there are the grocer, and the tailor, 
 and the corn-factor, and the coal bill, and a 
 host of others who ought all to be paid. It is 
 not honest to take their goods if we cannot pay 
 them. We are downright swindlers if we go on 
 living at the rate of ^"1,200 a year when our 
 income is barely ;8oo." 
 
 "Too true, my dear," sighed the Rev. 
 Morton, " but what can we do ? Your mother s 
 health requires constant attention; it would be 
 hard on poor Frank to stop his allowance, and 
 hard on me to give up all my subscriptions and 
 charities ; besides, how would all that help us 
 in the present difficulty, how to tide over the 
 next New Year ? You see yourself it would take 
 800 at least to clear us, and we must have 
 
COURTSHIP. . 245 
 
 something to go on with, till I get my next 
 half-year s tithe." 
 
 "I have thought of all that/ said Mary; 
 " sell those shares in the Great Golconda Gold 
 Mine, in which you would invest the last ^"2,000 
 we had left, though I would never have let you 
 do it if I had but known." 
 
 For it must be known that one of the good 
 Rector s weaknesses, and that which had contri 
 buted more than any other to his present im- 
 pecuniosity, was a fatal facility for believing in 
 gaudy prospectuses. Like most weak men he 
 was a firm believer in his own luck, and no 
 amount of failure could cure him of the fascina 
 tion that he was destined some day to draw a 
 great prize in the lottery of joint-stock com 
 panies, which would remove all his embarrass 
 ments, and enable him to indulge in the modest 
 luxuries of taking his wife to Homburg, doubling 
 Frank s allowance, and buying a first-rate hunter 
 for his dear good Mary. 
 
 However, when brought suddenly to book by 
 this matter-of-fact proposal, his brow darkened, 
 
246 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 and he said sadly : " It would be a thousand 
 pities to part with the shares just as they have 
 sent out the new crushing-machine, and are 
 -Tping to find gold enough to make us all rich, 
 ivforeover, between ourselves, they are not very 
 marketable at present, and I don t think, if I 
 forced a sale, I could get even ^1,000 for them/ 
 
 " I felt sure of that," said Mary, " so I have 
 thought of another string to our bow. Mr. 
 Barton, of the Duffershire Bank, is an old 
 friend. Go to him, tell him your story, and 
 ask him to give you a loan for a year of ^1,000, 
 on your own bond, with the security of those 
 shares, and of a bill of sale over our furniture 
 and effects, which are worth more than that. 
 I am sure he will do it ; then we will pay off 
 all our debts and start clear with a balance of 
 ^"200 at the bank, and you must give me carte 
 blanche to cut our expenditure down to our 
 income." 
 
 Mary s good sense and decision carried the 
 day. The Rector rode with a heavy heart to the 
 bank, and as Mary predicted, Mr. Barton, the 
 
COURTSHIP. 247 
 
 senior partner, a kind-hearted though somewhat 
 weak old man, though it was not a very 
 proper banking transaction, gave the loan to 
 oblige an old friend, Mary, with an equally 
 heavy heart, sat down and wrote to Frank to tell 
 him of the unavoidable necessity of stopping his 
 allowance. Having got over this, which was the 
 worst part of her task, she set to work bravely to 
 encounter all the minor disagreeables incident to 
 reducing an accustomed scale of expenditure. 
 The butler was replaced by a neat parlour-maid, 
 the coachman and head gardener were discharged, 
 the carriage-horses sold, and a hard-working man, 
 with a lad and a little occasional help, looked after 
 the stable and the garden. She would have sold 
 her own hunter at once, but was advised not to 
 send her up to Tattersall s, where she would be 
 thrown away, but to ride her occasionally to 
 hounds through the rest of the season, and she 
 would be sure to get ;ioo for her before it was 
 over. Thus it was that she happened to be out 
 with the hounds on the day when she acted the 
 part of the good Samaritan to Fitzmuddle. 
 
A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 The cloud that hung over the Rectory was thus 
 for a time dissipated, and Mary, whose brave, 
 buoyant spirit, though always ready to face diffi 
 culties, never made herself wretched by anticipa 
 ting them, was able to resume her usual duties, 
 and at the same time to devote a good deal of 
 attention to her interesting invalid, who, as the 
 doctor predicted, had in a few days got down 
 
 to a sofa in the library. She was a capital nurse, 
 
 ./ 
 
 always ready and decided, but never fussy, and 
 she and Fitzmuddle soon got to be excellent 
 friends. She liked his simple, innocent ways, and 
 felt a pleasure in doing him any little service, 
 while he found her presence had a wonderfully 
 soothing effect, and was never so happy as when 
 she sat by the side of his sofa, and read to him, 
 or talked to him so nicely and sensibly that he 
 quite forgot to be shy, and after a few days felt 
 quite at his ease. At last they got quite con 
 fidential, and as he was unable to use his right 
 hand, Miss Morton was installed for the nonce 
 as his private secretary, opened his letters and 
 conducted his correspondence. Among others 
 
COURTSHIP. 249 
 
 she wrote the following for Fitzmuddle to 
 sign: 
 
 "MESSRS. COUTTS & Co. 
 
 " SIRS, 
 
 " Having broken my right arm, please note 
 that I shall sign as under for the present with my 
 left hand. Send me here my bank-book, as usual, 
 made up to the end of the month. 
 
 "Yours faithfully, 
 
 " A. FITZMUDDLE." 
 
 Under this treatment he came out in quite a 
 new light, and showed that so far from being a 
 fool he really had a very fair understanding, and 
 could take an interest in a great many things that 
 neither he nor any one else had given him credit 
 for. 
 
 "Do you like poetry ?" asked Miss Morton 
 one wet afternoon. " Shall I read you a bit of 
 my favourite Tennyson ? " 
 
 "I am afraid, Miss Morton," he said, "that 
 the gods have not made me poetical. I tried 
 
250 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 Swinburne once, and Browning, but really I could 
 not make head or tail of them. However, any 
 thing you like I am sure I shall like, so please 
 read away and I will listen." 
 
 She took the "Idylls of the King/ and in 
 a low, musical voice, quite natural though full of 
 feeling, read him the tale of Launcelot and 
 Elaine. 
 
 He got quite excited over it, and said : " Why, 
 what a fool he was not to marry that dear, sweet 
 girl, Elaine, and what brutes he and Guinevere 
 must have been to behave as they did to good 
 King Arthur \ 
 
 She was amused at his indignation, and said : 
 " But you see they were not quite so bad, for 
 Launcelot had got from the Lady of the Lake 
 at his birth a fatal gift of fascination, which made 
 all the ladies fall in love with him. So it was 
 a sort of fate, like what we read of in the Greek 
 tragedies ; and I sometimes think that Tennyson 
 must have meant, under the guise of this fable, 
 to give us the tragedy which is just as true now 
 as then, of noble souls drawn by some resistless 
 
COURTSHIP. 251 
 
 destiny into false positions, where they sin and 
 suffer without altogether losing their nobility of 
 nature." 
 
 " By Jove ! " he said, " what a clever girl you 
 are ; you read books and see in them things I 
 should never have seen, and yet when you explain 
 them they seem quite obvious/ 
 
 And so they read more Tennyson together, 
 and the story of Enid specially took his fancy, and 
 he began to build castles in the air, and dream 
 how, if he were only a noble knight like Geraint, 
 he would kiss the fair hand that brought him his 
 tea and toast and morning newspaper, and do 
 some heroic action which should entitle him to 
 claim it as his own. 
 
 Thus he slid day by day farther down the 
 flowery slope, until he was much too far down 
 to think of recovery, and, to use the common 
 phrase, was " over head and ears in love." 
 
 But she stood hovering on the brink, for she 
 was too good and sensible a girl to fall in love 
 without some assurance that her love would be 
 returned ; and with all her strength of character 
 
252 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 she had, at bottom, a fund of diffidence in herself 
 and her own attractions, which made her slow to 
 believe that a little pleasant intercourse and harm 
 less admiration from a man shut up in a dull 
 country parsonage, really meant anything so 
 serious as committing matrimony with a penniless 
 girl with a wide mouth, and a nose slightly 
 retrousst. 
 
 Perhaps her experiences of the male sex had 
 been adverse to much belief in the capacity of 
 young men of the present day to marry for love. 
 Like most young women who have reached the 
 mature age of twenty-two, she had " dreamed her 
 dreams," and fancied once or twice that the true 
 prince had come. The first was a dashing young 
 cavalry officer whom Frank brought down with 
 him during their long leave for a month s hunting. 
 But he, like many another bold dragoon, " made 
 love and rode away." Then came Mr. Chasuble, 
 her father s curate, who read poetry with her, 
 poured sentimental nonsense into her ear under 
 the disguise of spiritual experiences, and generally 
 led her to believe that he was in a state of ecstatic 
 
COURTSHIP. 253 
 
 despair if she frowned, and of seraphic delight if 
 she smiled. But somehow his tale of love sounded 
 a little too unctuous and ecclesiastical to be quite 
 to her mind, and it was with a feeling of relief 
 rather than of disappointment that she heard, that 
 having gone to Scarborough to recruit his health, 
 shattered by the violence of his emotions, he had 
 become engaged there to a soap-boiler s widow, 
 ten years older than himself, but with the solid 
 attraction of a fortune of ,20,000 at her own 
 disposal. 
 
 Thus Mary Morton had escaped without any 
 serious wound from the illusions of her youthful 
 imagination, but had been just near enough the 
 fire to make her feel, like the burnt child, that it 
 was safer to keep away from it, and to make her 
 require some strong outward impulse to break 
 through the barriers of her reserve. 
 
 This impulse soon came in an unexpected way. 
 The cloud, which had been dispelled for a time 
 by the arrangement with the bank, burst one 
 morning suddenly like thunder from a summer 
 sky. 
 
254 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 On taking up the county newspaper at break 
 fast, the following announcement, in the largest 
 type, caught the astounded eye of the worthy 
 Rector : 
 
 "FAILURE OF THE DUFFERSHIRE BANK. 
 
 "We regret to say that this old and highly 
 respectable institution has suspended payment. 
 It is due to the senior partner, Mr. Barton, to state 
 that he is in no way responsible for this lamentable 
 event, which took him completely by surprise; 
 but it appears that the junior partner, Mr. Dicey, 
 who has latterly taken the chief part in the 
 management, owing to Mr. Barton s advancing 
 years and declining health, had become involved in 
 large speculations on the London Stock Exchange, 
 to support which he had used the credit and 
 reserves of the Bank to an alarming extent We 
 fear this stoppage will cause great inconvenience 
 throughout the district, as so many of the county 
 gentry and farmers kept their accounts there, and, 
 of course, will be unable to draw out the balances 
 on which they had reckoned to meet current 
 
COURTSHIP. 255 
 
 expenses ; while those, and we fear there are 
 many, who have had advances from the bank will 
 be compelled to discharge them at once, as the 
 bank will be thrown into liquidation." 
 
 No wonder the Rector dropped the untasted 
 toast from his mouth, and fell back in his chair 
 with a heavy groan. 
 
 "What on earth is it, papa?" cried Mary;, 
 " nothing bad about Frank, I hope ! " and she 
 snatched the paper from his hand with a sudden 
 feeling of tightness about the heart, and read the 
 ominous paragraph. "Thank God!" she said, 
 " it is not Frank, only the bank." 
 
 "Only the bank!" said the Rector; "why,, 
 surely that is bad enough what on earth is to 
 become of us ? " 
 
 Mary paused a moment, and her head seemed 
 to swim, but she rallied in an instant, and felt that 
 if she gave way all was lost. 
 
 " After all, papa," she said, "it might be worse, 
 we have paid off all our little debts; perhaps it 
 is not so bad as it looks, and we may have time 
 
256 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 to turn round, and, if the worst comes to the 
 worst, we can sell all the things here, which will 
 pay the bank, and go into lodgings, and I will 
 be your maid-of-all-work. Depend upon it, things 
 seldom turn out quite so bad or quite so good, as 
 we feared or hoped at the first blush." 
 
 So the brave girl met the blow, and did her 
 best to cheer and comfort her parents. But brave 
 as she was, she received another blow which, for 
 the time, quite broke her down, and made her 
 feel that Fate is stronger than the strongest will. 
 
 Next morning among the letters was one 
 addressed to her, with an Indian post-mark, and 
 in the well-known handwriting of her brother 
 Frank. She snatched it up and retired to the 
 library to read it. It ran thus : 
 
 "MY OWN DEAR SlSTER, 
 
 " I am in desperate trouble, and as usual 
 fly to you, as I know you will help me if you can, 
 and if any one can it is you. I got your letter 
 as to poor father s affairs, and how you had been 
 obliged to stop my allowance. You did quite 
 
COURTSHIP. 257 
 
 right, and it was no one s fault, and, as you say, 
 it would have been swindling to go on running 
 up bills we knew we could not pay. So I don t 
 say a word of complaint, but it came at a most 
 unlucky time for me. I have been put to a lot 
 of expenses lately, which I really could not help. 
 There was the move of the regiment, no end of 
 subscriptions for bands, balls, etc., in which I was 
 obliged to share ; I had to advance money to poor 
 Nesbitt of ours, to give him a chance of living 
 by going home in vain, for he died, poor fellow, 
 on board the steamer, but it took a lot of my 
 ready. And then, to crown all, my horse died, 
 and I had to buy another, and, like a fool, I 
 bought a gray horse from a fellow in the iQth, 
 which I knew had the foot of all in our regiment, 
 and like a still greater fool (this is for your own 
 private ear, dear Mary), put 50 on him at 4 to r 
 for our races, hoping to get back the money I 
 wanted. And so I should, but as ill-luck would 
 have it, he broke down when winning in a canter. 
 
 " So that is about where I was when I got your 
 letter: my mess bills not paid, ;ioo owing for 
 VOL. i. s 
 
258 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 the horse, and $o for the bet, and both to 
 fellows who would not give me a month s time 
 to save my life. What on earth was I to do ? 
 As a last resource I went to Binnie of the Agra 
 Bank, who is a great pal of mine, and a real good 
 fellow, and asked him to cash a bill for me on 
 Cox s for 200. Binnie looked grave and said : 
 f My dear fellow, I would do it for you with 
 pleasure, but I hope you know what you are 
 about, and are quite sure the money will be at 
 Cox s to meet it. You know what happened 
 when those two men in the 1st Diddlesex paid 
 their debts in India by bills not worth the paper 
 they were written on, how they had to leave 
 the army, and the Commander- in-Chief got into 
 a furious rage, and swore he would have no- 
 swindlers in Her Majesty s service, and would 
 cashier the first officer who drew a bill without 
 the means of meeting it, if he was his own brother.. 
 And you know Sir Hector is a man of his word, 
 so be careful, and don t ask me to cash this bill 
 unless you are sure it will be met/ 
 
COURTSHIP. 259 
 
 " Well, this made me wince, but needs must 
 when the devil drives, and I felt sure that how 
 ever badly my father might be off for money, 
 he would not like to see all my prospects blasted 
 and have me turned out of the army with disgrace 
 for ;2OO. And, dearest Mary, I felt the greatest 
 confidence in your clear business head seeing some 
 way to pull me through. If you can t, I am very 
 sure it is not for want of will but from sheer 
 impossibility, and I must just grin and bear it, 
 and, I suppose, dive under and go to the diggings. 
 But if you can but manage to have ^"200 paid to 
 my credit at Cox s by the 1st May, when the bill 
 will be presented, it will be all right. You know 
 me too well to -think I would ever ask or take 
 another farthing, while my father and mother are 
 obliged to deny themselves their ordinary com 
 forts ; and between ourselves, I have some good 
 friends here on the Viceroy s staff, and if I can 
 weather this storm, am almost certain to get a 
 good staff appointment soon, which would enable 
 me to help them instead of their helping me. 
 
 S 2 
 
260 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 "So now, dearest Mary, you know the whole 
 story, and I am sure you will do, as you always 
 do, what is best and wisest. 
 
 "Your affectionate, 
 
 " but not over happy brother, 
 
 "FRANK MORTON." 
 
 The letter dropped from her hands. The ist 
 of May, and this was the 28th of April, and only 
 ;io in the house, and no deposit to draw on at 
 the bank. Oh ! if she had only got the letter a 
 week ago, when a cheque on the bank would 
 have been honoured ! No wonder she had that 
 thrill at the heart about Frank, when the news 
 came of the failure ! And poor Frank, the bright, 
 good boy, her only brother, who had been such 
 a pride and pleasure to them all ! 
 
 For the first time in her life she felt fairly 
 overwhelmed, and sank back in her chair with a 
 burst of tears. Just then the door opened, and 
 Fitzmuddle, who could now hobble about with a 
 stick, came into the room where his sofa was 
 drawn near the window, and he was accustomed 
 
COURTSHIP. 261 
 
 to lie all day, and talk to Mary or think about 
 her. 
 
 It was too late to hide her tears. Fitzmuddle 
 saw them at a glance, and with intense agitation 
 stammered out : 
 
 " Dear me, Miss Morton, what on earth is the 
 matter ? I beg your pardon, but I am sure it is 
 something dreadful to make you cry. I can t 
 bear to see it, indeed I can t ; I don t want to 
 intrude, but pray tell me if there is anything I 
 can do for you. Or, perhaps, you would rather 
 I left the room." 
 
 "No, Mr. Fitzmuddle," she said, "it is only 
 some family troubles which we don t want to 
 bother a visitor with. Don t stand lie down on 
 the sofa, and I will go upstairs and have my cry 
 out and think matters over, and then wash my 
 face and come down." 
 
 With that she rose hastily and rushed out of 
 the room, putting the unhappy letter, as she 
 supposed, into her pocket, but in her agitation 
 she missed the pocket and put it in a fold of 
 her dress, and it fell on the floor. When she shut 
 
262 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 the door, Fitzmuddle saw the letter lying there 
 and picked it up. He held it in his hand and 
 looked anxiously at it. " I am sure," he said, "that 
 is the letter which made her cry. I wish I knew 
 what is in it, for perhaps I might be able to do 
 something to help/ And then he looked again, 
 and wondered if he might not venture to have 
 a peep at it. But then he reflected that young 
 ladies troubles were generally supposed to be 
 connected with love, and that this was very likely 
 a letter from some fellow in India (for he saw 
 the post-mark) to whom she was engaged. 
 
 If so, it would be mean to read it, and Miss 
 Morton would never forgive him if she knew 
 it. And so he was about to replace the letter 
 in her desk, when his eye almost involuntarily 
 caught the signature of " Frank Morton. " 
 
 "Frank Morton," he said, "why, that s her 
 brother; there can t be any great harm in read 
 ing what her brother writes her, and ten to one 
 it is some money trouble in which I could help/ 
 So he read it through, and looking very grave, 
 carefully replaced it in the blotting-book inside the 
 
 \ 
 
COURTSHIP. 263 
 
 writing-desk, and hobbled back to his own 
 room. 
 
 What he did there will presently appear. 
 
 In the meantime, Mary had her cry out in 
 her own room, and began to think the matter over. 
 Her brow knit, and her lips were drawn down, 
 till at last she thought of the only thing possible 
 to do, when her lips relaxed, she got up, washed 
 away the trace of tears, and wishing to read the 
 letter again before putting her plan into execution, 
 put her hand into her pocket for it. To her 
 dismay it was not there, but she thought possibly 
 she had left it in the blotting-case, and only 
 fancied in her hurry that she had put it into 
 her pocket. So she ran downstairs, found the 
 room empty and the desk shut, and the blotting- 
 case in it just as she left them. She opened 
 the case, and there lay the letter folded up with 
 the last page and Frank s signature alone visible. 
 " Ah," she said, " it is all right, no one can 
 have possibly seen it, and I must have made a 
 mistake about putting it into my pocket. No 
 wonder, for my wits were wool-gathering." 
 
264 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 She read it carefully over again, and then 
 sat down and wrote the following letter: 
 
 " MESSRS. Cox & Co. 
 " SIRS, 
 
 "A letter from my brother, Lieutenant 
 Morton, of the Duffershire Light Infantry, now 
 in India, informs me that a bill of his for ^"200 
 will be presented to you for payment by the 
 Agra Bank on the 1st of May. It is of vital 
 importance to him that this bill should be 
 honoured, and when he drew it he had every 
 reason to feel certain that the money would be 
 lodged with you before that day. But owing 
 to the failure of the Duffershire Bank, of which 
 you have doubtless heard, it has become im 
 possible for his father, the Rev. Mr. Morton, of 
 Stoke Rectory, to find even this moderate sum 
 at such a short notice. In this emergency, I 
 can think of only one plan to save my brother 
 from ruin. I have an annuity of ^25 a year, 
 left me by an aunt who died two years ago. 
 It would be an act of real charity if you would 
 
COURTSHIP. 265 
 
 sell this annuity for me, which, as I am only 
 twenty-two years of age and in good health, 
 should be worth more than 200, and in the mean 
 time advance the money to meet the bill. I 
 will give you my promissory note, and execute 
 any assignment of the annuity you think neces 
 sary, and if you send me a telegram I will run 
 up to London by the next train to sign any 
 deed. In the meantime, I can only appeal to 
 your generosity to comply with this urgent 
 request if it is at all possible. 
 "I remain, 
 
 "Yours faithfully, 
 "MARY MORTON." 
 
 Next day, the evening post brought a letter 
 from London to Miss Morton. Her heart beat 
 so that she could hardly open it, but on doing 
 so, what was her surprise and delight to find 
 that it ran as follows : 
 
 " MADAM, 
 
 "Your favour of yesterday was duly re 
 ceived. It is quite unnecessary for us to avail 
 
266 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 ourselves of your generous offer, as a cheque 
 for ^200 was this morning paid to the credit 
 of Lieutenant Morton s account here, by a friend 
 whose name we are under strict injunctions not 
 to mention. 
 
 "We remain, 
 
 "Your obedient Servants, 
 
 " Cox & Co." 
 
 She fell back in her chair, with a sigh of relief, 
 and pressed her hands tightly on her eyes to keep 
 in the tears this time joyful tears which welled 
 up in them ; and then with a start withdrew them, 
 to satisfy herself by reading the letter again, that 
 it was not an illusion, and that she was awake in 
 the library, and not in bed dreaming. But, no : 
 it was all right the letter was there, brief and 
 business-like, and there could be no doubt what 
 ever about it ; her dear brother, her darling Frank, 
 was saved! 
 
 " Who could it be ; who on earth could it be ?" 
 she asked herself, and her prophetic soul by a sort 
 of instinctive divination reverted to Fitzmuddle. 
 
COURTSHIP. 267 
 
 " It is just the sort of thing he would do," she 
 said, " he is so good and generous." But then she 
 thought, " How could he possibly have known ? 
 I never said a word, and he could not have seen 
 the letter, for there it lay inside the blotting-case 
 inside my desk, just as I left it." More probably 
 Frank had told his trouble to one of those good 
 friends in India whom he wrote about, who had 
 written or telegraphed home and lodged the 
 money. 
 
 But still a sort of instinct in her heart kept 
 repeating Fitzmuddle. Could she but know could 
 she venture to ask him ? But, no. If, as her 
 common sense told her, it was more probably 
 some one else, how indelicate it would seem to 
 hint that she had half expected and half hoped 
 that he had sent the cheque ! No, she could not 
 ask Fitzmuddle such a question, and must wait 
 for time to solve the mystery. In the meantime 
 there was one thing she must do, and that was, not 
 to keep poor Frank in suspense a minute longer 
 than was necessary ; so she wrote out a telegram to 
 him, " All right, bill paid/ and took it down her- 
 
268 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 self to the post-office, and despatched it to India. 
 She then took a long walk across the fields to 
 collect her spirits and soothe her agitated nerves. 
 But all the time she kept saying to herself, " Who 
 ever could it be ? " and sometimes the needle of 
 her thoughts pointed to the unknown Indian 
 friend, and sometimes it swung round and pointed 
 Fitzmuddle-wards. 
 
 However, she had not to wait long for the 
 solution of the mystery, which came about, I am 
 sorry to say, not by the apparition of any ghost or 
 lady in white, or other expedient dear to the 
 soul of readers of sensational novels, but in the 
 following plain, prosaic, and matter-of-fact manner. 
 
 For the next two days she had felt quite shy 
 and embarrassed when alone with Fitzmuddle, and 
 the poor fellow felt quite miserable, thinking he 
 had offended her. But on the third day, when she 
 came into the library to bring him in his cup of 
 afternoon tea, he mustered courage to say : 
 
 " I hope you are not angry with me, Miss 
 Morton. I really could not help finding you so 
 upset the other morning. I would never have 
 
COURTSHIP. 269 
 
 thought of coming into the room if I had known 
 I was intruding." 
 
 " Dear me, no," replied Miss Morton. " I angry 
 with you ? How could you possibly think such a 
 thing ? I was only upset about some family 
 matters which are all right now, and it is I who 
 ought to ask your pardon, if I have neglected my 
 patient for the last two days." 
 
 Fitzmuddle brightened up immediately, and 
 said : " Well, if you are not angry, show me that 
 we are as good friends as ever by sitting down for 
 a few minutes if you have no particular engage 
 ment, and helping me, as you used to do in the 
 good old time, with this batch of letters. You see 
 a fellow with a broken arm is no great hand at 
 writing letters ; and, by-the-bye, would you mind 
 just looking over this bank-book, and seeing if you 
 can find out a mistake ? They send me my book 
 at the end of every month, and somehow they make 
 the balance a"good deal short of what I make it 
 out by my own note of my cheques/ 
 
 She opened the bank-book, and the last entry 
 in it at once caught her eye : 
 
270 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 "April 30///. Morton, ^200." 
 
 She threw down the book, fell on her knees 
 beside the sofa, caught Fitzmuddle s uninjured 
 hand, and gave it a fervent kiss, exclaiming in 
 broken accents : 
 
 t{ Ah, you are our saviour. Something told me 
 it from the first, and now I have found it out ; 
 it was you who sent that cheque to Cox, which 
 saved poor Frank from ruin and disgrace. May 
 Heaven ever bless you ! " 
 
 Fitzmuddle blushed up to the roots of his 
 hair, and began to stammer out apologies. 
 " Pray don t, Miss Morton ; pray get up, and 
 don t talk like that. I know it was a great 
 liberty to take, but I never thought you would 
 have found me out; nor would you if I had not 
 stupidly forgotten to enter that ^"200 cheque, and 
 so got into a muddle about my balance. But 
 I really did not mean to intrude on your private 
 affairs, and hope you will excuse me." 
 
 " Excuse you, indeed ! " said Miss Morton. 
 " Excuse you for what ? For doing the most noble, 
 generous action that ever was done on this earth,. 
 
COURTSHIP. 271 
 
 and saving my brother from utter ruin, and my 
 father and mother from dying of broken hearts ? 
 But tell me, how did you ever come to know 
 anything about it ? " 
 
 Fitzmuddle blushed more furiously than ever, 
 and said : " I am almost ashamed to confess, but 
 it s no good telling a lie, and you are so clever you 
 would be sure to find me out. I did a very mean, 
 dishonourable thing, and read your letter/ 
 
 " But how could that be ? " said Mary. " I 
 found the letter just where I put it, inside my 
 blotting-case." 
 
 " For once you are wrong, Miss Morton/ said 
 Fitzmuddle, "you did not put it there, but / did ; 
 you dropped it on the floor, and I picked it up 
 and read it, but pray believe me, I would never 
 have done such a thing if my eye had not caught 
 the signature, Frank Morton/ just as I was in 
 the act of putting it back ; and then I thought, 
 Oh, if it is her brother there can be no great 
 harm in a fellow reading it, and ten to one the 
 trouble is about money, and I may be able to help. 
 For to tell the truth, Miss Morton, I could not 
 
272 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 bear to see you crying, and it put me in such a 
 flutter that I hardly knew what I was about, so I 
 hope you will not be very angry with me, though 
 I own I read your letter." 
 
 Miss Morton s heart rose to her throat, and 
 she said in a choking voice : " Why, you are heap 
 ing coals of fire on my head ; you do the most 
 noble, generous act, and then you try to conceal it, 
 and make me as many apologies as if you had 
 ruined instead of saving us. How can I ever 
 repay you ? " 
 
 A sudden inspiration seized Fitzmuddle, a 
 sudden flush of courage rose to his face, and he 
 said : 
 
 " There is one way in which you could repay 
 me a hundred times over, and that is if you would 
 give me the right to draw your cheques and read 
 your letters for the rest of my life. Oh, Miss 
 Morton, if you would only take pity on a poor 
 fellow, and condescend to be my wife, I would be 
 the happiest man in existence ; and I really think 
 with a wife like you I might be made something 
 of." 
 
COURTSHIP. 273 
 
 Miss Morton grew grave in an instant and 
 said : 
 
 "Mr. Fitzmuddle, you do me the greatest 
 possible honour, and my doubt is not whether 
 you are good enough for me, but whether I am 
 good enough for you. But this takes me quite by 
 surprise. I had no idea of anything of the sort, 
 and I must not repay you for your generous 
 kindness by allowing you to engage yourself, 
 unless I feel quite sure that I can love you as you 
 deserve to be loved, and can be to you all that a 
 good and true wife ought to be. You must give 
 me till to-morrow morning to think it over and 
 decide. It is a habit I have got into to think 
 anything important well over by myself, before I 
 finally decide." 
 
 And with that, in spite of Fitzmuddle s pro 
 testations that she was far too good for him, and 
 that he was quite willing to chance it, she rose 
 and left the room, making an appointment to meet 
 him there next morning and give him her answer, 
 so as not to keep him in suspense. 
 
 Poor Fitzmuddle was left in a state of great 
 
 VOL. I. T 
 
274 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 inward trepidation. He could not bring himself 
 to believe that such a grand, glorious girl could 
 really care for a fellow like him, who had been 
 brought up like a muff, and was always getting 
 into some absurd scrape that made him look like 
 a fool. " No," he said, " if she won t have me, I 
 shall certainly go to the bad if I remain in 
 England, and end by becoming a fool or worse, 
 as well as looking like one. I ll be off to South 
 Africa, and there I am certain to stumble into 
 the mouth of some lion, or get in the way of a 
 rhinoceros, and there will be an end of me ; and 
 better, too, than if I were to hang on about the 
 West End of London, and Newmarket, and Melton, 
 betting, gambling, drinking, and running after 
 loose women, just to try to still the pain in my 
 heart that was aching for Mary Morton." 
 
 Mary, on the other hand, gave what was for 
 her the unusual excuse of a headache, to go to bed 
 early, but not to sleep, for she lay awake half the 
 night, resolutely thinking the matter over, and 
 trying to come to a right decision. She was not 
 enough in love to let her feelings run away with 
 
COURTSHIP. 275 
 
 her reason ; but was she in love enough, or did 
 she feel that she could become so, to make an 
 honest, true wife, and to feel certain that she was 
 not marrying him for his money and position, or 
 in a passing fit of gratitude for what he had done 
 for her brother ? Was she quite sure that she 
 loved him well enough not to feel ashamed when 
 others laughed at him ? And did she think she 
 could be a worthy help-mate to him, and make 
 him be seen by the world the noble, generous, 
 simple-minded gentleman which she knew him 
 to be ? She pondered on these things till far in 
 the night, and, being unable to sleep, she rose and 
 opened the window and looked out at the stars, 
 and the still, solemn night brought gentle in 
 fluences and sweet counsels. She seemed to see 
 the poor pale face lying on her lap, and the 
 white, quivering lips parted to beg her not to lose 
 her run, and let him lie. She thought how 
 pleasant it had been to trot backwards and for 
 wards to the library with his cup of tea and 
 newspaper, and to sit reading to him, and see 
 
 his intelligence bursting out like a spring flower 
 
 T 2 
 
276 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 after a winter s frost. She thought how dull the 
 Rectory would be if he went away, and wondered if 
 she should ever return to the old life, with its little 
 daily round of little duties, and fill up week after 
 week, and year after year, with visits to the 
 poor, teaching Sunday classes, and trying to bring 
 cosmos out of chaos with tradesmen s bills and 
 domestic expenses. 
 
 And then she thought of that crowning act, 
 the cheque for 200, and if possible, even more 
 of the generous nature that strove so hard to 
 conceal it, and instead of using it as a means of 
 pressing his suit, unfeignedly thought it a thing 
 to be apologised for. " I have had to be the man 
 of the family so long/ she said, "that I almost 
 feared I had got a man s heart and lost my 
 woman s nature. But now I know that I have a 
 woman s heart still, and can be soft and love if 
 I am loved in return ; and what sort of a heart 
 should I have if it were not touched by such 
 noble, knightly devotion, and how can I repay 
 it better, or work out a more useful and happy 
 career for myself for the rest of my life, than 
 
COURTSHIP. 277 
 
 by devoting myself to him and trying to make 
 him as happy and respected as he deserves to be ? 
 So now my mind is made up, and I will go to 
 sleep/ 
 
 And sleep she did soundly and with happy 
 dreams, till half-past seven o clock, when Alice 
 called her. She rose and dressed slowly with the 
 rays of the morning sun streaming in through the 
 fresh green and blushing roses that twined about 
 her window, thinking how he would look and 
 what he would say. 
 
 "I will wager anything/ she said, "he is 
 fancying at this very moment that I am going 
 to say No/ he is so very modest; well, that is 
 a fault on the right side, for there is mighty 
 little modesty going among the young men of 
 the present generation as far as I have seen." 
 
 And truly enough, Fitzmuddle, who had been 
 already in the library for half-an-hour, to the 
 astonishment of the housemaid, who had just 
 begun to sweep it out, had worked himself up 
 to the conviction that it was utterly impossible 
 that Miss Morton could accept him. " If she 
 
278 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 meant Yes/" he said to himself, "she would 
 have said Yes/ yesterday. But she meant No/ 
 though her kind heart would not let her pain me 
 by saying it right off, just after she had found out 
 about the cheque for her brother. Well, well, 
 if it is as I fear, I suppose I must make up my 
 mind to grin and bear it." 
 
 The door opened and Mary entered. Any 
 cool and dispassionate observer might have seen 
 that her face, though grave, looked happy. But 
 Fitzmuddle, who was neither cool nor dispassionate, 
 saw only the gravity and not the happiness. 
 
 " Tell me my fate, Miss Morton, don t keep 
 me in suspense, though I am afraid I know it 
 already. It can be nothing but f No to such a 
 poor fellow as I am." 
 
 "For once you are wrong," said Mary. "I 
 have thought it over and slept on it, and it s not 
 No/ but Yes/ So if you are in the same mind 
 as you were yesterday, and really want to marry a 
 poor penniless parson s daughter, I am yours for 
 life, and I am quite sure I love you and will do 
 my best to make you a true, good wife." 
 
COURTSHIP. 
 
 Fitzmuddle s transports of bewildered delight 
 may be more easily imagined than told. In fact, 
 the few first minutes of a scene like this are apt 
 to be somewhat incoherent, and take the form 
 of the broken ejaculations and emphatic gesture- 
 language of our Palaeolithic ancestors, rather than 
 that of the spoken speech of civilised societies. 
 Novelists would on the whole do best to leave 
 these first rapturous five minutes to the imagina 
 tion, and take up the thread of their narrative 
 again when reason begins to return, and connected 
 sentences are less broken up by osculatory in 
 terruptions. 
 
 The first sign of this returning rationality was 
 afforded by Fitzmuddle s whispering in Mary s 
 ear: 
 
 " But tell me truly, darling, how did you ever 
 manage to fall the least little bit in love with a 
 fellow like me, who is not the least of a lady s 
 man?" 
 
 "Well, Augustus dear/ she replied, "the 
 first time I heard your name mentioned was at 
 a hunting dinner, where a lot of supercilious young 
 
2 So A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 swells were laughing at you. I knew what a set 
 of empty-headed idiots they were, so it set me 
 against them, and I said to myself, I should not 
 wonder after all if this Fitzmuddle is a better fellow 
 than any of those asses, who have no idea of 
 judging of a man by any other standard than 
 the cut of his coat and the colour of his boots, 
 and whose intellectual resources are confined to 
 slangy talk about dogs and horses, and coarse 
 talk about women/ Well, my first introduction 
 to you was a day or two afterwards, when that 
 horrid Mrs. Gay Spanker knocked you over and 
 broke your bones, and I never could quite forget 
 how your poor head lay in my lap, and your 
 pluck in bearing the pain, and your courtesy in 
 bidding me go on and not lose my run. I don t 
 think Sir Launcelot himself could have shown 
 such true courtesy. And then you were brought 
 home and I nursed you, and you know from 
 Elaine s fate that nursing wounded knights is a 
 dangerous occupation, though my Launcelot is 
 not going to ride away and leave poor me to 
 die of a broken heart, and float down the river 
 
COURTSHIP. 281 
 
 in a black barge. And then, and then what 
 finished the business, and quite did for me, was 
 that charming love-letter you wrote." 
 
 " I wrote you a love-letter ? On my honour 
 I never thought of doing such a thing. What on 
 earth are you talking about ? I had quite enough 
 to do to screw my courage up to speaking, let 
 alone writing, which I never was much of a hand 
 at." 
 
 " Yes, you did, sir," said Mary, with an arch 
 smile ; " you wrote the most eloquent love-letter, 
 to my mind, that was ever penned. Pray who 
 wrote Pay Lieutenant Morton or bearer 200 ? 
 That s what a letter ought to be, to my mind : 
 short and sweet, and coming straight to the point. 
 It was worth a whole reamful of darts and Cupids, 
 and the usual rubbish of that sort, fit only to raise 
 a laugh in an action for breach of promise." 
 
 "Well, I declare," said Fitzmuddle, "I am 
 just the luckiest fellow in the world. Whenever 
 I get into a mess it turns out to be the best 
 thing that could have happened. If Mrs. Spanker 
 had ridden fair, I should not have been knocked 
 
A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 over and broken my bones ; if I had not broken 
 my bones you would not have picked me up and 
 taken me to the Rectory ; if that bank had not 
 failed, and Frank got into that scrape just at the 
 right time, you would never have needed the 
 cheque ; if I had not been mean enough to read 
 your letter I should have known nothing about 
 it ; if I could have used my right hand and had 
 not got into a muddle about my balance, you 
 would never have found it out. And now the 
 end is, that you are the dearest, best girl in the 
 world, and I the happiest fellow." 
 
 "Well, Augustus dear/ laughed Mary, "it 
 really hangs together like the tale of the house 
 that Jack built. And do you really and truly not 
 repent, and mean to marry the maiden all 
 forlorn ?" 
 
 The answer was given in that inarticulate 
 primitive language to which we have alluded, 
 though when lips come together, soul often says 
 to soul a great deal more than could be con 
 veyed by the choicest spoken language. 
 
 " But now," said Mary, " I must go and tell 
 
COURTSHIP. 283 
 
 papa and mamma, and not keep them waiting 
 for breakfast any longer." 
 
 Fitzmuddle s face became anxious. 
 
 "You don t think they will object, do you ?" 
 
 " Well," said Mary, " I think I have conducted 
 more difficult negotiations to a successful issue ; 
 so do you trust to me, and lie there, like a good 
 boy, and rest your poor ankle till I come back. 
 I won t be many minutes gone." 
 
 The Rector and his wife had been wondering 
 why Mary, who was usually so punctual, did not 
 appear. 
 
 " Perhaps she has got a headache still, poor 
 thing, and won t come down to breakfast," said 
 Mrs. Morton. " Do step up, dear, and knock at 
 her door, and see if there is anything the matter/ 
 
 Mary entered with a beaming face, which told 
 that last night s headache was, at any rate, not 
 the cause of her unusual delay. She kissed them 
 both, and said : 
 
 " I have got a bit of news for you this 
 morning, you good old dears. I will give you 
 a penny if you can guess it." 
 
284 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 " Nothing bad/ said the Rector. " I can see 
 that by your face. Is it the Golconda Mine ? 
 Have they struck gold ? " 
 
 " Better than ten thousand Golcondas," said 
 Mary; "read that/ and she held out Frank s 
 letter. 
 
 " Good God ! " said the Rector, when he came 
 to the end ; " do you call that good news ? Why, 
 the girl is mad. Poor, poor Frank, it will break 
 our hearts if this be true ! " 
 
 " It s all right, you dear old goose/ said Mary. 
 "The money s paid, and the man who paid it 
 never said a word about it, till I found him out, 
 and now he has asked me to marry him, and I 
 have said yes, and you ought to thank Heaven for 
 sending your daughter such a husband, and you 
 such a son-in-law." 
 
 And then there were transports of astonish 
 ment and delight, and Mary had to tell the whole 
 story, and her mother kept repeating : " But is it 
 really true ? Are you quite sure there is no 
 mistake ? " and the Rector had to take his 
 spectacles off and wipe them, for somehow they 
 
COURTSHIP. 285 
 
 had got so dim that he could hardly see his Mary s 
 face, and he kept on exclaiming : 
 
 " What a noble fellow ! Who would have 
 thought it possible ? How can we ever thank 
 him ? " 
 
 "Come into the library," said Mary, "and 
 thank him yourselves, for he is waiting there in 
 sad alarm lest you two tyrannical parents should 
 interpose obstacles." 
 
 So they went into the library and tried to 
 thank him, but their voices broke down, and the 
 good old Rector could get nothing out but : 
 
 "May God reward you. I can give you 
 nothing for what you have done but an old man s 
 blessing." 
 
 " Oh, I say ! " said Fitzmuddle, " you must not 
 take it like that. You can repay me ten times 
 over if you will give me my own dear Mary, and 
 let me try to be a second son to you, the same as 
 your own boy in India/ 
 
 So the tears were dried up, and when, after 
 ten minutes spent in congratulations and explana 
 tions, they adjourned to the breakfast-room, 
 
286 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 though the breakfast was cold and the tea bitter, 
 I doubt if a happier quartet ever sat down to a 
 morning meal. 
 
 But there was great commotion downstairs at 
 these extraordinary proceedings. What could 
 possibly be the meaning of this delay in breakfast, 
 and of these mysterious comings and goings 
 between the morning-room and the library ? 
 
 " I tell you what it is," said Jane the cook, 
 who was of a romantic turn of mind, to Alice the 
 housemaid : " what did I say to you the other night 
 when we were reading that delightful story of the 
 Wounded Baron and the Fair Chatelaine ? Did 
 not I say, why, it s just like what is going on in 
 this house this very blessed day ? There is Mr. 
 Fitzmuddle carried to the Rectory, just as the 
 Baron was to the Castle, and he can t choose but 
 fall in love with our Miss Mary, so good and sweet 
 as she is, and mark my words, the end of it will 
 be a marriage at our parish church, with silks and 
 satins, and orange-blossoms, and bridesmaids, and 
 everything that is delightful." 
 
 " Sure enough you said so," said Alice, " but I 
 
COURTSHIP. 287 
 
 wonder if it can really be true. Do you think we 
 could ask her ? Suppose you do, you have been 
 longest in the house." 
 
 " Yes," said Jane, " but I have been mostly in 
 the kitchen, and you have been most with her. 
 Do you speak up and ask her; she won t be 
 angry." 
 
 However, at last they agreed to go together 
 for mutual support, so they went upstairs to her 
 bedroom, and knocked at the door. 
 
 "Come in," said Mary; "what do you want, 
 girls ? " 
 
 Alice was the spokesman, but she felt fluttered 
 and excited, and blushed and broke down, after 
 " If you please, miss." 
 
 " Out with it," said Mary. " I won t eat you 
 up, whatever it is." 
 
 "Please, miss," said Alice, "Jane and I have 
 got it into our heads that we might have some 
 thing to congratulate you about, and if it is so, we 
 should like to be the first to wish you joy." 
 
 " Alice, and you, Jane," said Mary, " you have 
 been good girls, and stuck to us in our troubles, 
 
A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 and never grumbled at the extra work, so I look 
 on you both as friends rather than servants ; and 
 it won t be long secret, and every one will know 
 it in a day or two, so I don t mind telling you 
 first after papa and mamma. It is true, and there 
 will be a marriage in our church some of these 
 days, and you two will be there in new gowns to 
 see your Miss Mary made Mrs. Fitzmuddle." 
 
 " Oh, dear, we are so glad," they exclaimed 
 simultaneously. "We do wish you joy with all 
 our hearts, and he such a nice, civil-spoken gentle 
 man, and we thank you so for condescending to 
 tell us ; but the house will be awfully dull if you 
 leave it." 
 
 " It will be your own fault if you find it dull, 
 Alice," said Mary, " for I shall want a maid after 
 I am married, and I would far rather have an 
 old friend and a Stoke girl, than a stranger; and 
 I would ask Jane too, only I know that she 
 would not be happy away from Stoke while a 
 certain bold baker, Bill Johnson by name, keeps 
 shop there." 
 
 Jane tossed her head and said : 
 
COURTSHIP. 289 
 
 "I am sure Bill Johnson is nothing to me, 
 or me to him." 
 
 " Fie, fie/ 7 said Mary, with a smile, et don t 
 tell stories. I know more than some people 
 suppose. Pray who came to the garden gate 
 two nights ago, and who went to meet him, and 
 whose arm was round whose waist ? And if I 
 were put on my oath I could not deny that I 
 heard something that sounded uncommonly like 
 a kiss." 
 
 Jane s comely face turned the colour of a 
 peony, and she no longer sought to deny the 
 soft impeachment. So blushing and giggling, 
 the two girls once more wished their mistress 
 joy and retired to the lower regions. 
 
 " Oh, how nice, how very nice ! " said Alice ; 
 " and to think how right you were, Jane, and how 
 the novel has come true ! But I know who will 
 be most pleased at the news, and that s Miss 
 Brown ; so as I have an errand in the village 
 I ll just put on my bonnet and run down to the 
 school and tell her." 
 
 Miss Brown, or to give her full appellation, 
 
 VOL. I. U 
 
290 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 Miss Rosa Matilda Brown, was the schoolmistress 
 of the girls school in the village, and Miss 
 Morton s great ally and trusted aide-de-camp in 
 all matters of charities, Sunday schools, and cloth 
 ing clubs. To the outward eye she was a tall, 
 thin, and somewhat angular female of the doubtful 
 age betwen forty and fifty, remarkable chiefly for 
 her staid look, prim attire, a pair of spectacles on 
 her somewhat lengthy nose, and a wonderful and 
 awe-inspiring erection on her head, which might 
 pass for either a castle, a cap, or a bonnet. But 
 inwardly, she was a good, pious, conscientious 
 Christian woman, with a mind and information 
 superior to her station, and admitted by all to 
 be an excellent schoolmistress. Her one weak 
 point was a romantic spot left at the bottom of 
 her middle-aged bosom, which made her suscep 
 tible to all tender emotions, and the one solace 
 she permitted herself after the duties and labours 
 of the day, was to sit down for half-an-hour with 
 a cup of tea and a yellow-backed novel, and 
 indulge in sentimental tears over the woes of 
 imaginary Belvideras and Clarissas. She simply 
 
COURTSHIP. 291 
 
 idolised Miss Morton ; and her mean opinion of 
 the male sex generally was confirmed by the 
 fact that no bold barons and gallant knights came 
 trooping up to the Rectory to do battle for the 
 favour of a glance from her bright eyes. 
 
 She was sitting in the school teaching the 
 young idea how to shoot at the mysteries of the 
 multiplication table, when Alice put her head in 
 at the door and said : 
 
 " Please, Miss Brown, can you step out and 
 speak to me for just one minute ?" 
 
 Miss Brown resigned her seat to the eldest 
 pupil and said : 
 
 " Now be good girls and stand there quietly 
 for a minute till I come back; and you, Emma 
 Dixon, try to recollect that nine times nine does 
 not make ninety-one. What is it, Alice ? " she 
 said. " Nothing wrong, I hope, at the Rectory ? " 
 
 " Dear me, no," said Alice, " but such delight 
 ful news that I knew you would like to hear it 
 before the others. Our Miss Mary is going to 
 be married to the grand, rich gentleman who 
 was carried into the Rectory last month with a 
 
 U 2 
 
292 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 broken neck no, I mean a broken arm ; and 
 it s quite true, Miss Mary told Jane and I her 
 self." 
 
 "You don t say so!" said Miss Brown; "and 
 what is he like ? Is he good enough for our Miss 
 Mary ? " 
 
 " Well," said Alice, " no one can be quite good 
 enough for her ; but he is a real nice, pleasant- 
 spoken gentleman, and I am sure he is as good 
 as gold, and has got a kind heart. You should 
 have seen how he bore the pain of his poor arm 
 and ankle, and never said a word, except to smile 
 and thank us as civilly as if we had been fine ladies, 
 every time Jane or I did the least little thing for 
 him ; and they say he is a Right Honourable, which 
 is as good or better than a Lord, and as rich 
 oh, as rich as rich can be." 
 
 Satisfied on this point, Miss Brown gave free 
 reins to her imagination, and pictured all the 
 delights of a real romantic novel of actual life : a 
 wounded hero, a lovely and accomplished heroine, 
 and all going to end with a happy marriage in the 
 village of Stoke, in the county of Duffershire, and 
 
COURTSHIP. 293 
 
 the country of England. She conceived a brilliant 
 idea, and going back into the school, said : 
 
 " Now, girls, listen to me. I have just heard a 
 piece of joyful news ; our dear, kind Miss Morton 
 is engaged to be married." (Great excitement and 
 shuffling of small feet.) "Now, be quiet a moment, 
 and hear what I have got to say. You shall have 
 a half-holiday, and go out this fine afternoon, and 
 pick all the primroses and violets you can find in 
 the meadows, and we will make wreaths of them, 
 and go up to the Rectory at six o clock this 
 evening, and present them to her with our best 
 wishes. So be here with your flowers at five 
 sharp ; and now be off with you." 
 
 A chorus of little shrill voices at once rose in 
 joyful shout and gleeful giggle, and a stampede 
 was made for the door. In a few minutes the 
 whole little flock were over the stile, and out in 
 the meadows, running for the copse, pushing one 
 another, larking and screaming with delight, and 
 each one anxious to be first to get the best lapful 
 of primroses for their dear Miss Mary. 
 
 When six o clock came, the party in the 
 
294 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 drawing-room were aware of a similar, but more 
 subdued, chorus of little voices on the lawn, all 
 talking together, but with a predominant sound of 
 " Miss Mary, Miss Mary," emerging from the con 
 fused chatter. It was a fine warm May evening, 
 so they threw up the windows, and stepped out. 
 There stood Miss Brown emotional, but still 
 majestic at the head of her little flock, who 
 stepped forward, seized Mary by both hands, and 
 said : 
 
 " My dear Miss Mary, we have heard the news, 
 and come to wish you joy; and see what your little 
 pupils have brought you all these wreaths of their 
 own picking and their own making, just to show 
 you how they love you." 
 
 The erection on her head trembled, and so did 
 her voice, as she added : 
 
 " But, oh ! Miss Mary, how shall we get on 
 without you ? You have been like sunshine to 
 us, lightening our dark places." 
 
 " How very, very nice and kind of you," said 
 Mary, " and of my dear little children ! I do 
 thank you so very much, and I am sure the 
 
COURTSHIP. 295 
 
 Queen never had a nicer present than these 
 beautiful wreaths. I only wish they would keep 
 for ever to remind me of you all, and of dear 
 Stoke. Augustus," she added, "let me intro 
 duce you to one of my very best friends 
 Miss Brown, our excellent schoolmistress ; and 
 mind, sir, you have got to like her, if you wish me 
 to like you." 
 
 " I won t like her/ said Augustus, " 111 love 
 her, for I see she loves you, and I am quite sure 
 from that she must be a most charming and 
 discerning lady." 
 
 This speech quite won Miss Brown s heart; 
 she bridled up and smiled, and talking of it next 
 day to her neighbour, Miss Jones, the dressmaker, 
 said : 
 
 " If any man could be worthy of our dear 
 Miss Mary but that s impossible it would be 
 Mr. Fitzmuddle ; he is such a perfect gentleman." 
 
 "And now, Miss Brown, you must come in 
 and have a cup of tea with us/ said Mary, " and 
 you, my dears, go into the kitchen. I am sorry 
 there is no cake, for I did not know you were 
 
296 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 coming, but Jane and Alice will give you a nice 
 thick slice of bread and butter each, and plenty of 
 jam on it." 
 
 " And I say," said Augustus, (f some day soon, 
 and I hope very soon, if Miss Mary will consent, 
 you shall have a splendid plum cake and an orange 
 each, and as much fruit as you can eat, and a glass 
 f gi n ger wine each to drink Miss Mary s health 
 and mine, but she won t be Miss then, but Mrs." 
 
 A general cheer greeted this announcement, 
 and the flight of little birds took wing to the 
 kitchen, where their tongues were all loosened to 
 tell Jane and Alice what a nice gentleman Miss 
 Mary had got, and they chattered away until their 
 mouths were stopped by the thick hunches of 
 bread with half-an-inch deep of strawberry jam on 
 them. 
 
 In the meantime Mary made tea in the draw 
 ing-room, and Miss Brown, getting Augustus into 
 a corner, became quite confidential, and was so 
 pleased to talk of Miss Morton s virtues and 
 perfections, and he was so pleased to listen to 
 her, that at last Mary said laughingly : " Why, I 
 
COURTSHIP. 297 
 
 declare, Miss Brown, you make me quite jealous; 
 and you, sir, how dare you flirt so outrageously 
 with another lady before my face, and that too on 
 the very day when you seduced me into promising 
 to marry you ? " 
 
 Miss Brown simpered and looked pleased, and 
 Augustus vowed that nothing could have taken 
 him for a moment from Mary s side, but the 
 delightful sensation of hearing her praised as she 
 deserved, by a lady of such fine judgment and 
 evident discernment as Miss Brown. And so with 
 the pleasant chaff and simple harmless nonsense 
 that well out from happy hearts, they sat, till the 
 shades of evening gathering in warned Miss 
 Brown that it was time to take her little flock back 
 and dismiss them to their several homes. 
 
 When they were gone, Augustus said : "And 
 now, my own dear Mary, those children will be 
 longing for the cake I promised them ; can t you 
 say an early day ? There is no earthly reason why 
 we should wait till we are both gray-headed." 
 
 " It is too soon to be talking about that," said 
 she, " but now that I have made up my mind to 
 
298 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 say ( yes/ I mean to love, honour, and obey, and 
 you won t find me letting any girlish nonsense 
 stand in the way of meeting your wishes in any 
 way I can properly. And now, Augustus dear," 
 she added, "I am going to show that I really 
 consider myself your property by asking you a 
 favour." 
 
 " How very nice," he said, " to be asked a 
 favour by you ! Three days ago you would not 
 ask me for a couple of hundred pounds, and I had 
 to give it on the sly, for fear of offending you." 
 
 " I shall never forget that if I live to be a 
 hundred," said Mary ; " but this is not quite a 
 ^200 affair. You saw those dear little girls ; I 
 have taught them in the Sunday school, and I love 
 them almost as if they were my own children. I 
 should so like to have a troop of them for brides 
 maids, when we are married in our parish church, 
 and I want you to agree, and to give a nice white 
 frock with a rose-coloured sash to half-a-dozen of 
 the biggest of them. It would so delight their 
 little hearts." 
 
 "And mine, too, my darling," said he; "it is 
 
COURTSHIP. 299 
 
 the prettiest idea I ever heard of, and I don t 
 wonder they all love you so, you are so kind and 
 thoughtful." 
 
 "And, Augustus dear," she went on, "there 
 is just one other thing. You saw what a good old 
 creature Miss Brown is, would not you like to 
 make her happy too ? " 
 
 "Of course I should," said he; "there is 
 nothing I would not do for her, she spoke so 
 nicely about you." 
 
 "Well," said Mary, "send her a present of a 
 cream-coloured satin dress made by a fashionable 
 milliner in London. I know the dear old thing 
 thoroughly in and out, and I am sure it would 
 make her happy for the rest of her days. And 
 how she would talk of it, and how she would 
 triumph over Miss Jones, and what romances and 
 castles in the air she would build, whenever she 
 opened her wardrobe and looked at it ! But it 
 would cost a deal of money, perhaps ^"15, and I 
 hardly like to ask you to do it." 
 
 " Fifteen pounds ! " cried he. I only wish 
 it were ^150. I am so very glad you thought of 
 
300 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 it and told me. But you will choose it, won t you ? 
 I am no great judge of cream-coloured satins ; 
 and while you are about it, you may as well choose 
 some for yourself, so as to lose no time. And I 
 say, Mary, it would be cruel, would it not, to keep 
 Miss Brown and the children waiting a day longer 
 than is necessary ? " 
 
 " Perhaps," she said, " but it is a serious matter, 
 and I must take my usual plan of thinking it over 
 and sleeping on it." 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 HOW GOLCONDAS WENT UP. 
 
 THE result of her deliberations was, that as there 
 was no real reason for postponing the wedding, 
 it was fixed for an early day in autumn. In the 
 meantime, however, the preparations for the im 
 portant event were considerably facilitated by two 
 strokes of good fortune which befell the sorely- 
 tried finances of the Morton family. In the first 
 place, the affair of the bank turned out, as Mary 
 had predicted, neither quite as well nor quite as 
 badly as they had hoped or feared at the first 
 blush of the intelligence. For a London bank 
 took up the defunct concern, and made arrange 
 ments by which depositors could draw out their 
 money, and debtors were not called upon to pay 
 until the securities which they had given arrived at 
 maturity. 
 
302 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 But a still greater piece of good fortune befell 
 them, for before the wedding-day arrived, and 
 while the corn was still green, another ray of 
 light beamed on the Rectory from a quarter 
 where the clouds seemed densest, and as in the 
 memorable case of 
 
 Via prima Salutis 
 Minime quam reres Graia pandetur ab urbe, 
 
 Golconda shares actually rose above par. 
 
 Thus it occurred. Mr. Sharpus, the shrewd 
 promoter who had brought out the company and 
 put in a board of dummy directors, and appointed 
 the manager in India, and judiciously made him 
 safe by giving him a share of the plunder, was 
 reclining one evening in an easy arm-chair in 
 the bosom of his family, at his well-appointed 
 suburban villa on Sydenham Hill. Now Mrs. 
 Sharpus, though a worthy woman, could hardly 
 be said with truth to be a very entertaining one, 
 so Sharpus yawned and took up a novel which was 
 lying on the table. It chanced to be a novel 
 by a late illustrious statesman, whose loss a whole 
 nation deplored, whether they liked or disliked his 
 
HOW GOLCONDAS WENT UP. 303 
 
 politics, and whose enthusiastic admirers have 
 founded a new sect who worship annually at 
 the shrine of St. Primrose. Whig and Tory, 
 Radical and Conservative may well wish that 
 his face, impassive as a marble mask, still looked 
 from the front Conservative bench to rebuke 
 rowdiness and silence vulgarity, and that his 
 voice could be still heard, twanging out short, 
 incisive sentences ft like arrows from Apollo s 
 bow," now to raise the spirits of a defeated party, 
 now to stir the heart of a nation to heroic 
 thoughts, but always to show how a gentleman 
 ought to speak in an assembly of gentlemen, 
 and to illustrate by his example the difference 
 between polished invective and coarse scurrility. 
 But to return to Mr. Sharpus and his novel. 
 Amidst a description revelling in oceans of pearls, 
 rivers of rubies, and all the gorgeous upholstery 
 of an Oriental imagination, these words caught his 
 eye, " Golconda diamonds." 
 
 To you or me, gentle reader, the reflection which 
 would have occurred would probably have been 
 this ; how nice it was to see that this battered 
 
304 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 and veteran statesman, this hero of a hundred 
 Parliamentary fights, had retained in his extreme 
 old age such an unfeigned, gushing, school-girl 
 admiration for all bright and beautiful things, 
 even if it took the form of Arabian Night-like 
 palaces, and jewels, and marble halls, and velvet 
 carpets, and embroidered draperies ! 
 
 But Sharpus reflections were very different. 
 A brilliant idea struck him. How if a hundred 
 pounds or two judiciously invested in South 
 African diamonds, might grow up, like a gourd 
 in the night, into more than as many thousands. 
 As he lay in his bed that night and turned it 
 over, he thought there might be even ; 10,000 in 
 it. So he rose early, went to his office in Throg- 
 morton Street, and set to work. 
 
 The result was that there began to be inquiries 
 for Golconda shares, and a good many odd lots 
 of the ;io shares were picked up quietly at 
 prices ranging from ten shillings to a pound, 
 and rumours began to circulate in the City among 
 the knowing ones, that there was something up 
 in Golcondas. Most thought it was a rig ot 
 
HOW GOLCONDAS WENT UP. 305 
 
 Sharpus s, but some believed that gold had really 
 been found, and all concluded that it was safer 
 to buy and trust to getting out on Sharpus s back, 
 than to sell and risk being caught as bears. So 
 the shares kept creeping up. But one day the 
 real rise came, there were buyers for the shares 
 in thousands, and the next day the following 
 paragraph appeared in the financial newspapers : 
 
 " EXTRAORDINARY RISE IN GOLCONDA 
 SHARES. We understand that the rumour of a dis 
 covery of diamonds on this Company s property 
 has been fully confirmed, and that a box containing 
 a first instalment of them has been forwarded 
 from India by the manager, and can be seen at 
 the Company s office in Old Jewry." 
 
 And then followed some glowing paragraphs 
 bristling with statistics about Kimberley and the 
 South African Mines, and the supply and demand 
 of the diamond-market, and ending by congratu 
 lating the possessors of shares on their extra 
 ordinary good fortune, and advising immediate 
 purchases, before they went up, as they infallibly 
 VOL. i. x 
 
306 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 would, to a hundred or a thousand per cent, 
 premium. 
 
 And so they rose and rose, and went first to 
 par, and then to $ and then to ^"10 premium, 
 but the shrewd Sharpus, who remembered the 
 saying that " the public are like the old woman, 
 who, when she began to run, ran very far and very 
 fast/ still held on. 
 
 Now our dear old Rector, who studied the share- 
 list every day, read all this, but sagely said 
 nothing, for he had a misgiving that, if Mary 
 heard of it, she would make him sell and Mary 
 had other things to think of than share-lists, until 
 one day she thought she would just take a glance, 
 and see if there was any faint hope of repaying 
 the loan to the bank without selling their furniture. 
 She could hardly believe her eyes when she read : 
 
 " Golconda Gold Company Shares, 10 paid 
 19 to 21, with a buoyant market and large 
 buyers." 
 
 She had her father into the library on the 
 instant, and urged immediate sale. He remon 
 strated for a long while, and declared his con- 
 
HOW GOLCONDAS WENT UP. 307 
 
 viction that they must go to ;ioo. But it is hard 
 to resist established authority, and Mary had been 
 so long accustomed to get her own way ; and 
 between ourselves, that authority had been con 
 siderably strengthened by her becoming an im 
 portant personage and being about to marry the 
 brother of an Earl, with an income of ;6,ooo a 
 year. 
 
 So she got her way once more, and the Rector 
 with a sigh gave a reluctant consent, and you may 
 be sure she put on her bonnet, and ran down to 
 the post office, and wrote out the telegram herself 
 to her father s broker, giving the order to sell his 
 two hundred Golcondas at once, at the best price 
 he could get. 
 
 And the second day after came a letter from 
 Giles & Co., dated "Drapers Gardens, Throg- 
 morton Street," to this effect : 
 
 "Your telegram received yesterday, too 
 late for business hours. This was fortunate, for 
 in the morning there was a fresh rise in Golcondas, 
 and we sold your two hundred shares at 
 
 x 2 
 
308 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 In the afternoon, prices fell heavily, and there 
 were some ugly rumours afloat, and they closed 
 
 15 sellers. 
 
 " Your obedient Servants, 
 
 "GILES & CO." 
 
 And within a week the bubble burst ; the ugly 
 rumours were confirmed, for an acute dealer, 
 sharper than Sharpus himself, who h.id sold a 
 bear at the top price, got a clue, and ran from 
 a cold to a hot scent, and traced the purchase 
 of the South African diamonds, and the passage 
 of a box out to India and back, which bore a 
 marvellous resemblance to the box which came 
 home and was shown at the office, and though 
 Sharpus lied stoutly no one believed him, and 
 well, he had better have let Mrs. Sharpus talk 
 him to sleep in his arm-chair that evening than 
 have taken up the novel, for he had been dazzled 
 by what seemed the certainty of realising the 
 vision of the ^"10,000, and held on just a little 
 too long and was caught, and had to dive under 
 for a while, and go to Boulogne for the benefit 
 
HOW GOLCONDAS WENT UP. 309 
 
 of his wife s health, who, he suddenly found out, 
 was delicate and wanted sea-air. 
 
 And the shares fell and fell, till they relapsed 
 to the original five shillings, and there was great 
 consternation, and meetings of indignant share 
 holders, and some of them consulted an ex 
 perienced City man whether they should not 
 prosecute. But his advice was : " On no account. 
 In the first place it is doubtful whether this 
 fellow Sharpus is worth the powder and shot. 
 Then, though the case is morally clear, you never 
 can be sure there is sufficient legal evidence, and 
 what your witnesses may say when the cross- 
 examining thumbscrew of Mr. Serjeant Browbeat, 
 or Mr. Ferret, is brought to bear on them ; and 
 moreover, there is one standing axiom which a 
 long experience of commercial matters has im 
 pressed upon me, and that is this. If you want 
 to know what the law is in any commercial case, 
 try to reason out what is the common-sense view 
 of the matter, and assume that the direct opposite 
 is probably the law. Acting on this axiom has 
 saved me thousands." 
 
310 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 So there was no prosecution, the storm blew 
 over, Mr. Sharpus returned invigorated by the 
 breezes of Boulogne, compounded with his credi 
 tors, and went back to his old game of playing 
 (if he could with loaded dice) at the game of 
 contangoes, and backwardations, and premiums, 
 and discounts. 
 
 But this solid result remained, that the Rector s 
 debt to the bank was paid off, and his bank-book 
 showed the quite phenomenal balance of ^3,600 
 remaining at his credit. So Mary was not obliged 
 to stint herself in the matter of wedding dresses 
 and presents to her humble dependants, and she 
 would have paid, only Fitzmuddle would not for 
 a single moment hear of such a thing, for that 
 cream-coloured satin which was to make Miss 
 Brown for ever happy. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE WEDDING. 
 
 AT length the day arrived, and the wedding came 
 off at the parish church in a style which surpassed 
 the brightest imaginations of Alice and Jane, and 
 afforded matter for gossip for the whole female 
 population of Stoke Regis for years to come, and 
 even to the second generation, a theme for elderly 
 spinsters to descant upon as to the degeneracy of 
 modern times, when such brilliant ceremonies were 
 things of the past. 
 
 For the Earl of Muddleton, as beseemed the 
 head of the family, came over with the Countess 
 and two of the little Lady Fitzmuddles, who, after 
 they and the six little village girls in the white 
 frocks and rosy sashes had looked shyly at one 
 
312 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 another for a few minutes, fraternised, and made a 
 really pretty group of charming little bridesmaids. 
 And the inside of the church was all resplendent 
 with red poppies, and wild corn-flowers, and yellow 
 ears of ripe wheat and barley. And the Bishop 
 came over to assist in the ceremony, which, in 
 the case of distinguished couples, seems to be 
 generally one of such overwhelming difficulty as 
 to overtax the powers of any single ecclesiastic. 
 And the volunteer band from Foxborough came 
 over and discoursed loud, if not eloquent, music. 
 And Alice and Jane were there in their new 
 gowns in a state of rapturous excitement. But 
 above all, Miss Brown towered radiant and 
 majestic in her cream-coloured satin, the envy 
 and admiration of Miss Jones and all the female 
 population of Stoke, with tears gleaming through 
 smiles, like sunbeams through April showers, as 
 her soft heart melted with delight at her dear 
 Mary s marriage, and sorrow* at the thought of 
 losing her. 
 
 The wedding-breakfast was magnificent, with 
 choice flowers, pines, and peaches sent over by the 
 
THE WEDDING. 313 
 
 Earl from Muddleton Hall, and there was no lack 
 of what Tennyson calls 
 
 The sparkling wine of Eastern France, 
 
 in which the guests drank once and again to the 
 health and happiness of the bride and bridegroom. 
 
 Nor were speeches wanting, though it must be 
 confessed that on these occasions they are apt to 
 be a penance to those who have to make them, 
 especially to the bashful young man to whose lot 
 it falls to propose the health of the bridesmaids ; 
 but they have their revenge, for the speeches are 
 apt to be a still greater penance to those who 
 listen to them. However, the wagging of tongues, 
 and the thumping of tables, with cries of " hear, 
 hear," is part of the decent ceremonial of all great 
 occasions where Britons meet, and is, perhaps, a 
 more civilised mode of making a noise than the 
 ancestral method of firing off many guns, and 
 drinking of much ale and whisky. 
 
 At least so it appeared on the present occasion, 
 for the Earl s speech, though consisting mainly of 
 a hesitating succession of indifferent jokes, yet heard 
 
A MODERN UIXOTE. 
 
 through the environing atmosphere of his exalted 
 nobility, appeared to the Stoke mind as a bright 
 example of elegant wit and genial affability. 
 And the Bishop s more fluent and sonorous periods, 
 though it must be owned they appeared at the 
 time to be a little long-winded, were long treasured 
 and referred to as a specimen of lofty eloquence. 
 But, after all, the greatest effect was produced 
 by Fitzmuddle himself, for though, as usual, he 
 broke down, and did little more than stammer 
 out a few incoherent sentences about being the 
 luckiest and happiest of men, and his love and 
 affection for Stoke for giving him such a wife 
 as his dear darling Mary, and his fixed deter 
 mination to do all that he possibly could to show 
 himself in the smallest degree worthy of her ; yet 
 it came from the heart, and what comes straight 
 from one human heart goes straight to others, 
 however imperfect may be the medium by which it 
 is conveyed. Indeed, the less perfect the words 
 the greater often is the effect produced, for the 
 eyes, and expression, and trembling voice, tell of 
 real feeling, while polished sentences show that 
 
THE WEDDING. 315 
 
 the speaker is thinking of himself, and what 
 others are thinking of him, instead of being under 
 the sway of genuine emotion. 
 
 And as for Mary, she had no need to speak ; 
 you had only to look at her to see all sorts of 
 good and gentle things speaking in her face. 
 For her nature 1 was too thorough to do things 
 by halves, and when she had once made up her 
 mind to love, honour, and in all reasonable things 
 obey, she was as incapable of change as the needle 
 of deserting the pole. The little flutterings, and 
 trepidations, and misgivings of weaker natures 
 were altogether unknown to her, and she was 
 calmly and serenely happy, only suffused with a 
 shade of softer emotion when she thought of 
 parting from her parents and home, and from 
 the friends, old and young, whom she saw around 
 her. 
 
 Now, reader, although there may be more 
 interest and variety in a more fickle and emotional 
 temperament, believe me, if you have to live your 
 whole life with another person, there is immense 
 comfort in having him or her straightforward and 
 
316 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 sensible, and being able to rely on finding your 
 companion sure to see things in the right light, 
 and not fret and fidget you by weak indecision, 
 and idle regrets, and misgivings. And if, as the 
 French proverb says, " Le mieux est Pennemi du 
 bien," it is a comfort not to have your life made 
 miserable by repinings that, although things are 
 well, if they had been done differently they might 
 have been better. 
 
 But out-of-doors the enjoyment, if not more 
 real, was decidedly more demonstrative. For two 
 large tables were spread on the lawn, at one of 
 which all the school children of the village were 
 seated, and at the other the old and infirm men 
 and women of the parish. At the juvenile table 
 Fitzmuddle, mindful of his promise on the day 
 of his engagement, had provided a gigantic bride 
 cake, which towered like a snow-clad mountain 
 above a profusion of smaller cakes, and buns, and 
 tarts, while nearly a waggon-load of fruit of every 
 description had been sent down by train from 
 Covent Garden. Nor were lemonade, gingerbeer, 
 and currant wine wanting, and crackers of brilliant 
 
THE WEDDING. 317 
 
 colours and still more brilliant devices. So the 
 little people ate and drank, and stuffed, and 
 chattered, and cheered until you would have 
 thought their young skins must have burst, and 
 their young voices cracked. But young stomachs 
 stand a deal of stuffing, and young throats a deal 
 of straining, and a lot of children are always 
 happy if there is plenty to eat and plenty of noise. 
 The grave and reverend seniors at the other 
 table were less vociferous, but not the less did 
 they enjoy the noble sirloins of beef, and boiled 
 legs of mutton with turnips, and steaming hot 
 dishes of baked potatoes which graced the board, 
 and not the less valiantly, after having eaten 
 enough of these to last for a fortnight, and washed 
 the whole down with foaming glasses of the best 
 ale, did they attack the gigantic plum puddings 
 which formed the finale of the meal. And the 
 wrinkles in their old withered faces softened out, 
 and their bleared old eyes winked and sparkled as 
 they drained each a goblet of good old port, to 
 drink health and long life to the newly-married 
 couple. 
 
318 A MODERN QUIXOTE. 
 
 At length the hour of departure came, and 
 as the village of Stoke was too primitive and 
 unsophisticated to have adopted the senseless and 
 inartistic fashionable freak of throwing old shoes 
 and bags of rice, the happy couple drove off 
 amidst a more appropriate shower of flowers, and 
 cheers, and blessings. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS, CRYSTAL PALACE 1 RESS.