Frank Fairlegh

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"Ya'as, Mr. Lawless, we're all right--punctual to a moment--always ready
'to come to time,' as we say in the ring".

"Who is he?" whispered I to Coleman.

"Who is he?" replied Coleman; "why the best fellow in the world, to
be sure'. Not know Smithson, the prince of tailors, the tailor _par
excellence_! I suppose you never heard of the Duke of Wellington, have
you?"

I replied humbly that I believed I had heard the name of that
illustrious individual mentioned in connection with Waterloo and the
Peninsula--and that I was accustomed to regard him as the first man of
the age.

"Aye, well then, Smithson is the second; though I really don't know
whether he is not quite as great in his way as Wellington, upon my
honour. The last pair of trousers he made for Lawless were something
sublime, too good for this wicked world, a great deal."

During this brief conversation Smithson had been engaged in extricating
a somewhat voluminous garment from the interior of a blue bag, which a
boy, who accompanied him, had just placed inside the study-door.

"There, this is the new invention I told you about; a man named
Macintosh hit upon it. Now, with this coat on, you might stand under a
water-fall without getting even damp. Try it on, Mr. Lawless; just the
thing, eh, gents?"

Our curiosity being roused by this panegyric, we gathered round Lawless
to examine the garment which had called it forth. Such of my readers as
recollect the first introduction of Macintoshes will doubtless remember
that the earlier specimens of the race differed very materially in form
from those which are in use at the present day. The one we were now
inspecting was of a whity-brown colour, and, though it had sleeves like
a coat, hung in straight folds from the waist to the ankles, somewhat
after the fashion of a carter's frock, having huge pockets at the side,
and fastening round the neck with a hook and eye.

"How does it do?" asked Lawless, screwing himself round in an insane
effort to look at the small of his own back, a thing a man is certain
to attempt when trying on a coat. "It does not make a fellow look like a
Guy, does it?"

~31~~"No, I rather admire the sort of thing," said Cumberland.

"A jolly dodge for a shower of rain, and no mistake," put in Coleman.

"It is deucedly fashionable, really," said Smithson--"this one of yours,
and one we made for Augustus Flareaway, Lord Fitz-scamper's son, the man
in the Guards, you know, are the only two out yet."

"I have just got it at the right time then," said Lawless; "I knew old
Sam was going to town, so I settled to drive Clayton over to Woodend, in
the tandem, to-morrow. The harriers meet there at eleven, and this will
be the very thing to hide the leathers, and tops, and the green cutaway.
I saw you at the match, by-the-by, Smithey, this morning."

"Ya'as, I was there; did you see the thing I was on?"

"A bright bay, with a star on the forehead! a spicy-looking nag
enough--whose is it?"

"Why, young Robarts, who came into a lot of tin the other day, has just
bought it; Snaffles charged him ninety guineas for it."

"And what is it worth?" asked Lawless.

"Oh! he would not do a dirty thing by any gent I introduced," replied
Smithson. "I took young Robarts there: he merely made his fair profit
out of it; he gave forty pounds for it himself to a man who bred it,
only the week before, to my certain knowledge: it's a very sweet thing,
and would carry him well, but he's afraid to ride it; that's how I was
on it to-day. I'm getting it steady for him."

"A thing it will take you some time to accomplish, eh? A mount like that
is not to be had for nothing, every day, is it?"

"Ya'as, you're about right there, Mr. Lawless; you're down to every
move, I see, as usual. Any orders to-day, gents? your two vests will be
home to-morrow, Mr. Coleman."

"Here, Smithson, wait a moment," said Cumberland, drawing him on one
side; "I was deucedly unlucky with the balls this morning," continued he
in a lower tone, "can you let me have five-and-twenty pounds?"

"What you please, sir," replied Smithson, bowing.

"On the old terms, I suppose?" observed Cumberland.

"All right," answered Smithson; "stay, I can leave it with you now,"
added he, drawing out a leather case; "oblige me by writing your name
here--thank you."

So saying, he handed some bank-notes to Cumberland, carefully replaced
the paper he had received from him in his pocket-book, and withdrew.

~32~~"Smithey was in great force to-night," observed Lawless, as the
door closed behind him--"nicely they are bleeding that young ass Robarts
among them--he has got into good hands to help him to get rid of his
money, at all events. I don't believe Snaffles gave forty pounds for
that bay horse; he has got a decided curb on the off hock, if I ever
saw one, and I fancy he's a little touched in the wind, too and there's
another thing I should say----"

What other failing might be attributed to Mr. Robarts' bay steed
we were, however, not destined to learn, as tea was at this moment
announced. In due time followed evening prayers, after which we retired
for the night. Being very sleepy I threw off my clothes, and jumped
hastily into bed, by which act I became painfully aware of the presence
of what a surgeon would term "certain foreign bodies"--i.e., not, as
might be imagined, sundry French, German, and Italian corpses, but
various hard substances, totally opposed to one's preconceived ideas of
the component parts of a feather-bed. Sleep being out of the question on
a couch so constituted, I immediately commenced an active search, in the
course of which I succeeded in bringing to light two clothes-brushes,
a boot-jack, a pair of spurs, Lempriere's _Classical Dictionary_ and a
brick-bat. Having freed myself from these undesirable bed-fellows I soon
fell asleep, and passed (as it seemed to me) the whole night in dreaming
that I was a pigeon, or thereabouts, and that Smithson, mounted on the
top-booted Sphinx, was inciting Lawless to shoot at me with a red-hot
poker.

As Coleman and I were standing at the window of the pupils' room, about
ten o'clock on the following morning, watching the vehicle destined to
convey Dr. Mildman to the coach-office, Lawless made his appearance,
prepared for his expedition, with his hunting-costume effectually
concealed under the new Macintosh.

"Isn't Mildman gone yet? Deuce take it, what a time he is! I ought to be
off--I'm too late already!"

"They have not even put his carpet-bag in yet," said I.

"Well, I shall make a bolt, and chance it about his seeing me,"
exclaimed Lawless; "he'll only think I'm going out for a walk rather
earlier than usual, if he does catch a glimpse of me, so here's off."

Thus saying, he placed his hat upon his head, with the air of a man
determined to do or die, and vanished.

Fortune is currently reported to favour the brave, and so, to do her
justice, she generally does; still, at the best of times, she is but a
fickle jade, at all events she appeared determined to prove herself so
in the present instance; for ~33~~scarcely had Lawless got a dozen paces
from the house, before Dr. Mildman appeared at the front door with
his great coat and hat on, followed by Thomas bearing a carpet-bag and
umbrella, and, his attention being attracted by footsteps, he turned his
head, and beheld Lawless. As soon as he perceived him he gave a start of
surprise, and, pulling out his eye-glass (he was rather short-sighted),
gazed long and fixedly after the retreating figure. At length, having
apparently satisfied himself as to the identity of the person he was
examining, he replaced his glass, stood for a moment as if confounded by
what he had seen, and then turning, abruptly re-entered the house,
and shut his study-door behind him with a bang, leaving Thomas and the
fly-driver mute with astonishment. In about five minutes he re-appeared,
and saying to Thomas, in a stern tone, "Let that note be given to Mr.
Lawless the moment he returns," got into the fly and drove off.

"There's a precious go," observed Coleman; "I wonder what's in the wind
now. I have not seen old Sam get up the steam like that since I have
been here. He was not half so angry when I put Thomas's hat on the peg
where he hangs his own, and he, never noticing the difference, put it
on, and walked to church in it, gold band and all."

"I wouldn't be Lawless for something," observed I; "I wonder what the
note's about?"

"That's just what puzzles me," said Coleman. "I should have thought
he had seen the sporting togs, but that's impossible; he must have a
penetrating glance indeed if he could see through that Macintosh."

"Lawless was too impatient," said Cumberland; "he should have waited a
few minutes longer, and then Mildman would have gone off without knowing
anything about him. Depend upon it, the grand rule of life is to take
things coolly, and wait for an opportunity: you have the game in your
own hands then, and can take advantage of the follies and passions of
others, instead of allowing them to avail themselves of yours."

"In plain English, cheat instead of being cheated," put in Coleman.

"You're not far wrong there, Freddy; the world is made up of knaves and
fools--those who cheat, and those who are cheated--and I, for one, have
no taste for being a fool," said Cumberland.

"Nor I," said Mullins; "I should not like to be a fool at all; I had
rather be----"

"A butterfly," interrupted Coleman, thereby astonishing Mullins to such
a degree that he remained silent for ~34~~some moments, with his mouth
wide open as if in the act of speaking.

"You cannot mean what you say; you surely would not wish to cheat
people," said I to Cumberland; "if it were really true that one must
be either a knave or a fool, I'd rather be a fool by far--I'm sure you
could never be happy if you cheated any one," continued I. "What does
the Bible say about doing to others as you would have others do to you?"

"There, don't preach to me, you canting young prig," said Cumberland
angrily, and immediately left the room.

"You hit him pretty hard then," whispered Coleman; "a very bad piece
of business happened just before I came, about his winning a lot of tin
from a young fellow here, at billiards, and they do say that Cumberland
did not play fairly. It was rather unlucky your saying it; he will
be your enemy from henceforth, depend upon it. He never forgets nor
forgives a thing of that sort."

"I meant no harm by the remark," replied I; "I knew nothing of his
having cheated any one; however, I do not care; I don't like him, and
I'm just as well pleased he should not like me. But now, as my foreign
relations seem to be rapidly assuming a warlike character (as the
newspapers have it), what do you say to giving me a lesson in sparring,
as you proposed, by way of preparation?"

"With all my heart," replied Coleman.

And accordingly the gloves were produced, and my initiatory lesson
in the pugilistic art commenced by Coleman's first placing me in an
exceedingly uncomfortable attitude, and then very considerately knocking
me out of it again, thereby depositing me with much skill and science
flat upon the hearth-rug. This manouvre he repeated with great success
during some half hour or so, at the end of which time I began to
discover the knack with which it was done, and proceeded to demonstrate
the proficiency I was making, by a well-directed blow, which, being
delivered with much greater force than I had intended, sent Coleman
flying across the room. Chancing to encounter Mullins in the course, of
his transit he overturned that worthy against the table in the centre of
the apartment, which, yielding to their combined weight, fell over with
a grand crash, dragging them down with it, in the midst of an avalanche
of books, papers, and inkstands.

This _grand coup_ brought, as might be expected, our lesson to a close
for the day, Coleman declaring that such another hit would inevitably
knock him into the middle of next week, if not farther, and that
he really should not feel ~35~~justified in allowing such a serious
interruption to his studies to take place.

"And now, what are we going to do with ourselves?" asked I; "as this is
a holiday, we ought to do something."

"Are you fond of riding?" inquired Coleman.

"Nothing I like better," replied I; "I have been used to it all my life;
I have had a pony ever since I was four years old."

"I wish I was used to it," said Coleman. "My governor living in London,
I never crossed a horse till I came here, and I'm a regular muff at it;
but I want to learn. What do you say to a ride this afternoon?"

"Just the thing," said I, "if it is not too expensive for my pocket."

"Oh no," replied Coleman; "Snaffles lets horses at as cheap a rate as
any one, and good 'uns to go, too; does not he, Cumberland?"

"Eh, what are you talking about?" said Cumberland, who had just entered
the room; "Snaffles? Oh yes, he's the man for horse flesh. Are you going
to amuse yourself by tumbling off that fat little cob of his again,
Fred?"

"I was thinking of having another try," replied Coleman; "what do you
say, Fairlegh? Never mind the tin; I daresay you have got plenty, and
can get more when that's gone."

"I have got a ten-pound note," answered I; "but that must last me all
this quarter: however, we'll have our ride to-day."

"I'll walk down with you," said Cumberland; "I'm going that way;
besides, it's worth a walk any day to see Coleman mount; it took him ten
minutes the last time I saw him, and then he threw the wrong leg over,
so that he turned his face to the tail."

"_Scandalum magnatum!_ not a true bill," replied Coleman.

"Now, come along, Fairlegh, let's get ready, and be off." During our
walk down to Snaffles' stables Cumberland (who seemed entirely to have
forgotten my _mal a propos_ remark) talked to me in a much more amiable
manner than he had yet done; and the conversation naturally turning upon
horses and riding, a theme always interesting to me, I was induced to
enter into sundry details of my own exploits in that line. We reached
the livery stables just as I had concluded a somewhat egotistical
relation concerning a horse which a gentleman in our neighbourhood had
bought for his invalid son, but which, proving at first too spirited,
I had undertaken to ride every day for a ~36~~month in order to get him
quiet; a feat I was rather proud of having satisfactorily accomplished.

"Good-morning, Mr. Snaffles; is Punch at home?" asked Coleman of a stout
red-faced man, attired in a bright green Newmarket coat and top-boots.

"Yes, sir. Mr. Lawless told me your governor was gone to town, so I kept
him in, thinking perhaps you would want him."

"That's all right," said Coleman; "and here's my friend, Mr. Fairlegh,
will want a nag too."

"Proud to serve any gent as is a friend of yours, Mr. Coleman," replied
Snaffles, with a bob of his head towards me, intended as a bow. "What
stamp of horse do you like, sir? Most of my cattle are out with the
harriers to-day."

"Snaffles--a word with you," interrupted Cumberland.

"One moment, sir," said Snaffles to me, as he crossed over to where
Cumberland was standing.

"Come and look at Punch; and let's hear what you think of him," said
Coleman, drawing me towards the stable.

"What does Cumberland want with that man?" asked I.

"What, Snaffles? I fancy he owes a bill here, and I daresay it is
something about that."

"Oh, is that all?" rejoined I.

"Why, what did you think it was?" inquired Coleman.

"Never mind," I replied; "let's look at Punch."

And accordingly I was introduced to a little fat, round, jolly-looking
cob, about fourteen hands high, who appeared to me an equine counterpart
of Coleman himself. After having duly praised and patted him I turned to
leave the stable, just as Cumberland and Snaffles were passing the door,
and I caught the following words from the latter, who appeared rather
excited:--

"Well, if any harm comes of it, Mr. Cumberland, you'll remember it's
your doing, not mine".

Cumberland's reply was inaudible, and Snaffles turned to me, saying:--

"I've only one horse at home likely to suit you, sir; you'll find her
rather high-couraged, but Mr. Cumberland tells me you won't mind that".

"I have been mentioning what a good rider you _say_ you are," said
Cumberland, laying a slight emphasis on the say.

"Oh, I daresay she will do very well," replied I. "I suppose she has no
vice about her."

"Oh dear, no," said Snaffles, "nothing of the sort.--James," added
he, calling to a helper, "saddle the chestnut mare, and bring her out
directly."

The man whom he addressed, and who was a fellow ~37~~with a
good-humoured, honest face, became suddenly grave, as he replied in a
deprecatory tone:--

"The chestnut mare? Mad Bess, sir?"

"Don't repeat my words, but do as you are told," was the answer; and the
man went away looking surly.

After the interval of a few minutes a stable door opposite was thrown
open, and Mad Bess made her appearance, led by two grooms. She was a
bright chestnut, with flowing mane and tail, about fifteen-and-a-half
hands high, nearly thorough-bred, and as handsome as a picture; but the
restless motion of her eye disclosing the white, the ears laid back at
the slightest sound, and a half-frightened, half-wild air, when any one
went up to her, told a tale as to her temper, about which no one in the
least accustomed to horses could doubt for an instant.

"That mare is vicious," said I, as soon as I had looked at her.

"Oh dear, no, sir, quiet as a lamb, I can assure you. Soh, girl! soh!"
said Snaffles, in a coaxing tone of voice, attempting to pat her; but
Bess did not choose to "soh," if by "sohing" is meant, as I presume,
standing still and behaving prettily; for on her master's approach she
snorted, attempted to rear, and ran back, giving the men at her head as
much as they could do to hold her.

"She's a little fresh to-day; she was not out yesterday, but it's all
play, pretty creature! nothing but play," continued Snaffles.

"If you are afraid, Fairlegh, don't ride her," said Cumberland; "but I
fancied from your conversation you were a bold rider, and did not mind a
little spirit in a horse: you had better take her in again, Snaffles."

"Leave her alone," cried I, quickly (for I was becoming irritated by
Cumberland's sneers, in spite of my attempt at self-control), "I'll
ride her. I'm no more afraid than other people; nor do I mind a
spirited horse, Cumberland; but that mare is more than spirited, she's
ill-tempered--look at her eye!"

"Well, you had better not ride her, then," said Cumberland.

"Yes, I will," answered I, for I was now thoroughly roused, and
determined to go through with the affair, at all hazards. I was always,
even as a boy, of a determined, or, as ill-natured people would call it,
obstinate disposition, and I doubt whether I am entirely cured of the
fault at the present time.

"Please yourself; only mind, I have warned you not to ride her if you
are afraid," said Cumberland.

~38~~"A nice warning," replied I, turning away;--"who'll lend me a pair
of spurs?"

"I've got a pair here, sir; if you'll step this way I'll put them on for
you," said the man whom I had heard addressed as "James,"--adding, in a
lower tone, as he buckled them on, "for Heaven's sake, young gentleman,
don't mount that mare unless you're a first-rate rider."

"Why, what's the matter with her? does she kick?" inquired I.

"She'll try and pitch you off, if possible, and if she can't do that,
she'll bolt with you, and then the Lord have mercy upon you!"

This was encouraging, certainly!

"You are an honest fellow, James," replied I; "and I am much obliged to
you. Ride her I must, my honour is at stake, but I'll be as careful as I
can, and, if I come back safe, you shall have half a crown."

"Thank you, sir," was the reply, "I shall be glad enough to see you come
back in any other way than on a shutter, without the money."

Of a truth, the race of Job's comforters is not yet extinct, thought I,
as I turned to look for Coleman, who had been up to this moment employed
in superintending the operation of saddling Punch, and now made his
appearance, leading that renowned steed by the bridle.

"Why, Fairlegh, you are not going to ride that vicious brute to be sure;
even Lawless won't mount her, and he does not care what he rides in
general."

"Nevermind about Lawless," said I, assuming an air of confidence I was
very far from feeling; "she won't eat me, I daresay."

"I don't know that," rejoined Coleman, regarding Mad Bess with a look of
horror; "Cumberland, don't let him mount her."

"Nay, I can't prevent it; Fairlegh is his own master, and must do as he
likes," was the answer.

"Come, we can't keep the men standing here the whole day," said I to
Coleman; "mount Punch, and get out of my way as fast as you can, if you
are going to do so at all"--a request with which, seeing I was quite
determined, he at length unwillingly complied, and having, after one or
two failures, succeeded in throwing his leg over the cob's broad back,
rode slowly out of the yard, and took up his station outside in order to
witness my proceedings.

"Now, then," said I, "keep her as steady as you can for a minute, and as
soon as I am fairly mounted give her her head--stand clear there."

~39~~I then took a short run, and, placing one hand on the saddle, while
I seized a lock of the mane with the other, I sprang from the ground and
vaulted at once upon her back, without the aid of the stirrup, a feat I
had learned from a groom who once lived with us, and which stood me in
good stead on the present occasion, as I thereby avoided a kick with
which Mad Bess greeted my approach. I next took up the reins as gently
as I could, the men let go her head, and after a little plunging and
capering, though much less than I had expected, her ladyship gave up
hostilities for the present, and allowed me to ride her quietly up
and down the yard. I then wished Cumberland (who looked, as I thought,
somewhat mortified) a good-afternoon, turned a deaf ear to the eulogies
of Mr. Snaffles and his satellites, and proceeded to join Coleman. As I
left the yard my friend James joined me, under the pretence of arranging
my stirrup leather, when he took the opportunity of saying:--

"She'll go pretty well now you're once mounted, sir, as long as you can
hold her with the snaffle, but if you are obliged to use the curb--look
out for squalls!!!"

CHAPTER V -- MAD BESS

"Away, away, my steed and I,
Upon the pinions of the wind,
All human dwellings left behind,
We sped like meteors through the sky,

With glossy skin and dripping mane,
And reeling limbs, and reeking flank,
The wild steed's sinewy nerves still strain
Up the repelling bank.

We gained the top, a boundless plain
Spreads onward.

My heart turned sick, my brain grew sore,
And throbbed awhile, then beat no more,
The sky spun like a mighty wheel,
And a slight flash sprang o'er my eyes,
Which saw no farther."

_Mazeppa_.

OUT of consideration for the excitable disposition of Mad Bess we took
our way along the least bustling streets we could select; directing our
course towards the outskirts of the town, behind which extended for some
miles a ~40~~portion of the range of hills known as the South Downs,
over the smooth green turf of which we promised ourselves a canter. As
we rode along Coleman questioned me as to what could have passed while
he was seeing Punch saddled, to make me determine to ride the chestnut
mare, whose vicious disposition was, he informed me, so well known, that
not only would no one ride her who could help it, but that Snaffles, who
was most anxious to get rid of her, had not as yet been able to find
a purchaser. In reply to this I gave him a short account of what had
occurred, adding my more than suspicion that the whole matter had been
arranged by Cumberland, in which notion he entirely agreed with me.

"I was afraid of something of this sort, when I said I was sorry you had
made that remark about cheating to him this morning--you see, he would
no doubt suppose you had heard the particulars of his gambling affair,
and meant to insult him by what you said, and he has done this out of
revenge. Oh, how I wish we were safely at home again; shall we turn back
now?"

"Not for the world," said I--"you will find, when you know me better,
that when once I have undertaken a thing, I _will_ go through with
it--difficulties only make me more determined."

"Ah!" said Coleman, "you should get somebody to write a book about
you, that is the kind of disposition they always give to the heroes of
novels, the sort of character that will go and run his head against a
brick wall to prove that it is the harder and thicker of the two--they
knock out their brains though, sometimes, in doing it, when they happen
to have any--it is very pretty to read about, splendid in theory, but I
much doubt its acting so well if you come to put it in practice."