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SPORTS AND EECREATIONS 
 
 LN 
 
 TOWN AND COUNTEY. 
 
 BY 
 
 FREDERICK GALE 
 
 (THE OLD BUFFEE). 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 SWAX SONNENSCHEIN, LOWREY & CO., 
 
 PATERNOSTER SQUARE. 
 
 1888. 
 
I 
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 
 THE GAME OF CRICKET. 
 
 ^tf^ a '^oxtxaxi of t^e |luf^or. 
 
 Crown Zvo, Paper Boards^ 7.s. 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 '• Here is a book you can recommend to a friend ; a good book, on a 
 good subject, by a good fellow. Mr. Gale ... is the moralist, the 
 philosopher, the instructor, the story-teller of Cricket." . . . "His 
 Cricket HomiUes . . . should be in the hands of all, and especially 
 of the young." — Saturday Reviezv. 
 
 ' ' Mr. Gale's book, to which we have already referred, is a very refresh- 
 ing book in hot weather, a cool wind blows through it from the past into 
 the present, out of the dead past, over the daisied graves of ancient 
 cricketers." — Daily News. 
 
 "An agreeable volume which every cricketer will read with pleasure." 
 — AthencEum. 
 
 " The tone of the book is thoroughly sportsmanlike, and, what is still 
 better, high minded." — WestiJiinster Review. 
 
 " A thoroughly good book . . . a manly healthy tone befitting a 
 veteran speaking to the young men of a new generation. For the rest, it 
 is practical and shrewd, with a vein of simple humour, too, and many 
 rules for cricketers of all ?iges."— Graphic. 
 
 " Perhaps no living man is so well versed as he in the cricket lore of 
 other days. His recent book on the game is a storehouse of memories 
 and maxims." — Times. 
 
 "The interest never flags in this chatty (and cheap) volume."— 
 Yorkshire Post. 
 
 " Of all the books touching the game of cricket, this one of Mr. Gale's 
 is the most interesting, and ought certainly to become the most popular 
 . . it ought to be in the hands of all cricket enthasiasts."— Cricketer's 
 Herald. 
 
 "Not a dull page in the entire book."— Sporting Life. 
 
PEEFACE. 
 
 HOME twelve years ago the late Mr. Baily, the publisher 
 '^ and originator of Baily's Magazine of Sports and Pas- 
 times — which is familiarly known now as " The Old Green 
 Cover " — asked me if I could contribute an article on cricket 
 in the days of the grand old Kent and Sussex elevens, as 
 one of the greatest sportsmen in England, who took an 
 interest in the magazine (and who died in 1884), was 
 anxious that a record of past cricket heroes should be pre- 
 served in its pages. Happening to have known Fuller Pilch 
 for the last twenty-five years of his life, I put in wi'iting all 
 that I could remember which had fallen from his Kps — during 
 many a long evening spent with him — under the name of 
 *' Fuller Pilch's Back Parlour," which appeared in a book of 
 mine, published in the summer of 1887 by Messrs. Swan 
 Sonnenschein& Co., under the title of "The Game of Cricket." 
 After the publication of that article in 1875, the old sports- 
 man who was the instigator of its production, and who was 
 a leading member of the Pugilistic Club, when the Ping was 
 supported by noblemen and gentlemen, asked if I could do 
 something in the same style about the Prize Ping, and, 
 curiously enough, I had the materials at hand, as during 
 
race. 
 
 Prefc 
 
 some years of my pupilage in London, after leaving school, I 
 lunched every day at the Castle Tavern in Holborn (now 
 the Napier Restaurant), which was kept by <' Tom Spring," 
 the ex-champion of England, who was one of Nature's 
 gentlemen. It was a very respectable place, and answered 
 to what is now called a " Luncheon Bar." So I set my 
 memory to work, and reproduced all that I could remember 
 of numberless conversations with Tom Spring, under the 
 name of " Tom Spring's Back Parlour "—which appears in 
 these pages, and which has not been hitherto reproduced. Mr. 
 Baily, for whose memory I have a great respect, and myself, 
 so to say, " put our horses together," and he gave me a 
 carte Uanclie to write what I pleased connected with English 
 sports and sketches of country and town life, and I availed 
 myself largely of his offer, so much so that a considerable 
 portion of this volume consists of a selection from my articles 
 which appeared in Baily's magazine. In fact, the excep- 
 tions are four papers only, namely, '' Boxing and Athletics " 
 and " My First Salmon," which come from a now extinct 
 weekly paper styled AsUre or Afloat; "The Racing 
 Stable," from Vanity Fair; and "Betting and Gambling," 
 from Sporting and Dramatic. I take this opportunity of 
 tendering my sincere thanks to Mr. Baily, who reigns in his 
 late father's stead, for allowing me to reproduce my former 
 writings. I thought it better to leave the sketches just as 
 they were written, as, for what they are worth, they are 
 mostly reminiscences of happy memories, and are all drawn 
 from the life. People who call those of my school laudatores 
 temporis acti, will find, when the time comes that they 
 cannot shut their eyes to the fact that the shades of early 
 evening are closing over them, that the greatest pleasure 
 
Preface. 
 
 in life is to bring back recollections of scenes and faces 
 which have passed away. 
 
 I have always looked on my fellow travellers of all 
 classes, through life, as brother puppets, who have been, or 
 are, on the wires at the same time as myself, all dancing to 
 different tunes; and I have taken every opportunity of 
 mixing with as many of them as I could, and I have yet to 
 learn that any puppet — however gaudy his dress and 
 spangles may be— has a right to classify any body of his 
 brother puppets, whom the costumier has clothed in more 
 humble attire, as ''the lower orders," without being self- 
 convicted of " judging his neighbour." I adhere to my 
 no 111 de 2^lume, " The Old Buffer," as the American 
 Cricketers, when in England on a visit, told me that 
 whenever they see any letter or article with that signature 
 they look out for something about old-fashioned England 
 of the past. 
 
 THE OLD BUFEER. 
 
PRINTED BY 
 
 CHAS. STKAKER AND SONS, ETSHOPSGATE AVENUE, LONDON, E.G. ; 
 
 AND REDHILL. 
 
C O N T E N T S 
 
 Tom Spring's Back Parlour . . 
 
 Boxing and Athletics . . 
 
 My Two Days' Salmon Fishing 
 
 About Several Men who went a-Angling 
 
 The Pride of Our Village . 
 
 In a Racing Stable . . 
 
 Newmarket 
 
 About Betting and Gambling 
 
 Whyte-Melville's Sermon 
 
 Reason or Instinct 
 
 About Breeches and Boots . 
 
 The Country Parson . . 
 
 I Preach to the Parson 
 
 Pre-Railway Life in London 
 
 The Old Dover Road . . 
 
 Bankruptcy in Arcadia 
 
 When we Old Fogeys were Boys 
 
 ** De Senectute " 
 
 1 
 
 26 
 
 32 
 
 45 
 
 52 
 
 66 
 
 72 
 
 83 
 
 96 
 
 107 
 
 119 
 
 133 
 
 147 
 
 159 
 
 171 
 
 184 
 
 196 
 
 218 
 
TOM SPEING'S BACK 
 PAELOUi^. 
 
 I HOPE I shall not get a reputation for being a pothouse 
 snob because I invite my reader to come into Tom Spring's 
 private parlour. In the month of February, 1842, I was 
 launched into the little village of London. I fancy my 
 candour proved my death-warrant, for on paterfamilias 
 suggesting the propriety of my commencing a profession at 
 the age of eighteen off, my reply was, " Let me have six 
 months more, sir, at school, or I shall miss playing in the 
 Lord's eleven again this summer." Paterfamilias was wise, 
 and foresaw that my mind was on athletics more than on 
 work, and I am sure he was right. When started in a place 
 of business I was in doubt where to go for my luncheon, for 
 I was utterly green to London, when a name on a lamp close 
 to Gray's Inn gateway caught my eye. That name was 
 " Tom Spring." 
 
 I suppose that all the world knows that Spring's real 
 name was Winter. He appeared at the old Fives Court 
 sixty years ago, or thereabouts, and when his name was 
 asked for (according to history), one Paddington Jones 
 shouted out " Young Spring." 
 
 At school we always took in BelVs Life for the 
 
2 Tom Sp7'ing's Back Parlour. 
 
 cricket in the summer and for general news and amusement, 
 especially the fights, in the winter ; and Bell indulged in 
 caricatures of " Heads of the People," with poetical desciip- 
 tions, some of which caricatures, as we afterwards learnt, 
 were drawn by the immortal John Leech, w^ien a young 
 student in London. I can remember my old friends now. 
 Caricatures of the Lord Mayor, Common Councilmen, the 
 City Marshal, &c., and one in particular, of an assault case 
 at a police-court in which a young lady-costermonger, 
 kissing the book, deposes : 
 
 " Ees, sir, I'll do as you desire, 
 
 And tell 'ee how it coomed about : 
 Muggins called Giles a thundering liar, 
 And so Bill Giles sarved Muggins out." 
 
 I very Hkely shall be discursive, and reproduce some of 
 the eccentricities of Bell when Vincent Dowling was consul. 
 
 Two or three things to my uneducated mind seemed 
 impossible : one was that any men could really have seen 
 the Derby and have lived, or have spoken to such men as 
 Tom Spring, or Peter Crawley, or Tom Cribb — more im- 
 possible still to realise, — and have walked about afterwards 
 as ordinary citizens. I pictured to myself a prize-fighter as 
 a ruffian who lived on nearly raw meat, knocked every one 
 down who contradicted him, and out of whose mouth curses 
 and ribaldry proceeded, and into whose mouth went nothing 
 but brandy. However, curiosity overcame my scruples, 
 and I walked up the passage into the Castle in Holborn, 
 and found myself in a very comfoitable bar, behind which 
 stood a tall, broad-shouldered man, who looked a very well- 
 to-do Baptist minister, minus the hypocritical smile which 
 some of those gentlemen assume — an oily, unctuous, cold, 
 untoasted-muffin expression. He must have been nearly 
 six feet high, if not quite, and boasted a pair of very broad 
 shoulders. His hair was getting slightly grizzled, as were 
 
Tom Spings Back Parlour. 3 
 
 Ms whiskers, which were bushy ; but I never shall forget 
 his eyes. If I remember rightly, his eyes were rather far 
 apart ; and in speaking, a kind of frown, which was not an 
 angry frown, seemed to come over his face and wrinkled 
 his forehead a little. His nose was disarranged from the 
 aquiline somewhat, as most of the P.R. heroes experienced. 
 He had a nice voice and a frank and open manner, which 
 stamped him as one of nature's gentlemen. He was dressed 
 in an evening black suit, though it was early in the after- 
 noon — for he always dressed for dinner, — and wore a white 
 neckcloth, and a brooch with some hah* in it in his shii-t 
 frill, and his boots were polished in a manner such as I never 
 saw surpassed, except by the late Mr. Daniel O'Connell ; 
 and it was enough to raise the envy of Beau Brummel to 
 have seen old Dan's boots. 
 
 I stood looking at him in blank amazement, and I thought 
 to myself, " Can this man be Tom Spring, the great prize- 
 fighter ? " Spring looked at me, and said with a smile, 
 " Well, young gentleman, what are you staring at ? " My 
 answer was, '' Are you reaJbj Tom Spring ? " ^' Well, I was 
 Tom Sirring this morning," he said, "and I suppose I am now." 
 
 Having made known my wants, which were some bread- 
 and-cheese and a glass of stout, Spring summoned his niece 
 from the back parlour, which opened out of the bar, and 
 my luncheon was placed on the counter. Now for Tom 
 Spring's niece — I never knew her name, except that she 
 was called " Mrs. B." She was a widow, of very consider- 
 able dimensions, of about forty years of age, fresh coloured 
 with a pau^ of arms from which I should have been very 
 sorry to have received a " one, two." An active little curly- 
 headed waiter, named Hickman (a relative of the celebrated 
 gasman), and a potboy, Joe Phelps (brother to Brighton 
 Bill) completed the establishment, so far as the outer world 
 could see ; and a very quiet, orderly household it was. 
 B-2 
 
4 Tom Simufjs Back Farlour. 
 
 I used to go daily for my luncheon, and after a little wliile 
 I 'vvas invited into the sanctum ; but I never smoked a 
 pipe in S^Dring's parlour, for if I remember rightly, smok- 
 ing was not allowed in the daytime in the front bar, and 
 never in the private parlour. 
 
 The Castle was a quiet, cosy place, well removed from 
 Holborn by a long passage, and there was a homely appear- 
 ance about it all. There was generally a well-to-do cat 
 snoozing in the sun, and a bird hanging up in his cage, which 
 drew his own water with a little bucket and chain, and a 
 thrush or blackbird singing, and frequently some flowers. 
 In fact, nothing could be less like a prize-fighter's home. 
 The Castle was a bond fide luncheon house. 
 
 Bullet-headed ruffians, resembling bull-dogs who had been 
 baptized with what Charles Dickens called " a large tract 
 of barren country behind the ear" (though, by-the-bye, 
 Dickens utterly failed in painting a life-picture in the 
 character of " the Chicken "), dressed in flash coats, with 
 cheese-plate buttons adorned with fighting cocks and fancy 
 devices, and wearing fur caps, had no place in that bar. 
 They might go into the taproom if they did not get drunk 
 or use bad language ; though if they did, the way down the 
 passage was speedily shown to them, and they would as soon 
 have thought of insulting Tom Spring as a little parish 
 clerk would of kicking the Archbishop of Canterbury. 
 The old school, consisting of such men as Spring, Peter 
 Crawley, Jem Ward, Jem Burn, Frank Redmond, and the 
 like, had a position ; and having been backed by noblemen 
 and gentlemen of the highest rank, they had acquired that 
 natural good-breeding which is engendered by associating 
 with people much above them in society. You see this in 
 gamekeepers, cricketers of good stamp, huntsmen, yachts- 
 men, and the like, who have made their services essential to 
 the enjo}Tnent of men of fortune, and who have been treated 
 
Tom Sprlnr/s Back Parlour. 5 
 
 with confidence and respect by the supporters of a pleasure 
 in which master and servant have a common interest. 
 
 Spring christened me " young gentleman," and I christened 
 him " governor ; " and I can honestly say, at this distance of 
 time, I look back with gratitude to his kindness to m3. 
 London afc the time I am speaking of was at about its very 
 worst. There were few railways to gefc out by, no Saturday 
 half-holidays, no cricket ground but Lord's, no volunteers, 
 few boating clubs, and every kind of blackguardism was put 
 under one's very nose by day and by night. The Tom and 
 Jerry days were not extinct. Most of the flash supper- 
 rooms and the upper boxes of the theatres were a disgrace 
 to a civilised country, and peopled with as delicate an 
 assembly of the softer (?) sex as the stage is now too often, 
 to the delectation of audiences who are delighted with 
 posturing, semi-nudity, and low slang ; and " fast life " 
 meant going to the devil, and ruin of health and happiness. 
 Bachelor life in chambers and in lodgings consisted much 
 of card-playing and drinking hard ; and a large number of 
 youngsters, after a short stay in London, got quite tired of 
 ladies' society. 
 
 Now, I remember old Tom's first " paternal." I went for 
 my usual luncheon earlier than customary, and instead of 
 my pint of stout, wanted some cold brandy-and-water. He 
 took me into his sanctum, and said : 
 
 " Look here, young gentleman, you will go to the dogs 
 if you drink brandy-and-water at this time of day, and 
 under twenty years of age, too ; and I don't mean you to go 
 to the doars." And then he told me that he never drank 
 before dinner, and never had a glass of anything in the bar 
 unless his niece was there and took the money ; " for," he 
 said, " whether the money comes back into a man's pocket 
 again or not, the act of taking his money out and paying 
 for his drink makes him think twice ; and many a time I 
 
6 Tom S])ring's Back Parlour. 
 
 say to myself, ' Spring, yon worked hard for that money ; 
 keep it in your j^ocket.' " 
 
 If Spring's lectures about card-playing, gambling, and 
 other evils could all be remembered, they would do young 
 England good in these days, when so many foolish boys who 
 get afloat in the world are ruining themselves with brandy- 
 and-soda, pool-plapng and betting ; and I feel certain that 
 I owe it to Tom Spring's advice that I hardly ever won or 
 lost a sovereign at cards or in betting in my life. 
 
 " Well, governor," I said to him sometimes, " Avhy do you 
 bet yourself?" 
 
 Spring used to shake his head and say, " You mind what 
 the parson said — ' You do as I say ; don't do what / do.^ 
 The fact is that when I used to fight I carried hundreds and 
 thousands of other people's money ; and when I had it, I 
 used to put on some of my own ; and I suppose what is bred 
 in the bone must come out in the flesh. And then, I am 
 very fond of a horse, and I do like to back my fancy some- 
 times, and to back a man, too, when he is a good one." 
 
 '' Now tell me about fighting and training, and what your 
 experience w^as." 
 
 '• Well, young gentleman, now I will tell you all about 
 it. Training was very hard work, unless you had the luck 
 to have a very cheerful trainer. The first feeling of having 
 nothing to do and a good job in hand was very pleasant, 
 particularly when you got over the stage when a man did 
 not know what thirst was, and health and strength were 
 coming every day ; but the hard work was when you felt 
 fit to fight twenty men, and the day was two or three 
 weeks ofi"; and then sometimes I could see my trainer was 
 fidgety, and I fancied that my backers might be fidgety 
 too, and I would get suspicious, and would think they were 
 keeping my friends away from me, or that too many people 
 came to see me, and were \vi-iting about me in the papers ; 
 
Tom Sprinr/s BacJc Parlour, 7 
 
 in fact, it was a terrible trial of temper and patience ; and 
 v,-hen the time really did come, and I threw my hat into 
 the ring, and saw my colours tied to the stakes, it seemed 
 like taking a ton weight ofi'my mind, and I would not have 
 changed places w^ith the King of England." 
 
 " AVell, can you remember the rounds now, as I can 
 remember hits and catches of cricket matches years ago ? " 
 
 ^' Most of them ; for, you see, when a man fights he sees 
 nothing of the crowd round him, but his whole attention 
 is on his opponent's face : and thinking over fights, I can 
 see now when I missed finishing a man off, or when I was 
 open, and he never took advantage of it. jSTow about the 
 pain. A heavy body blow or a bad fall must always tell, 
 and hands will sufter ; but the head blows weren't much at 
 the time, when a man's in training and his blood's up, except, 
 of course, behind the ear or parts like that, any more than 
 a hard blow^ on the leg, which would make a man dance 
 for a week in cold blood, hurts a cricketer in the summer. 
 You may depend upon it that the greatest pain to a good 
 man is to find that he has lost, and that they have given in 
 for him. A man feels down and done for. All his trouble 
 is thrown aw^ay, and he fancies that he may have lost his 
 friends too ; but if he happens to win, no matter how much 
 he may have been punished, he feels fit to jump over the 
 moon." 
 
 " Well, now, what do you think of the King now ? Is it 
 better or worse ? " 
 
 " What I think of it now is this. London is larger and 
 more accessible than it used to be. There always were 
 black sheep in the Ring, and now there are more black sheep 
 than there were. Lots of men manage to get a fight or so, 
 and call themselves fighting men, and set up low ginshops 
 and make small matches, when " win, tie, or wrangle," 
 seems to be the motto. Mr. Jackson was trusted by the 
 
8 Tom Spring's Back Parlour, 
 
 highest in Ihe land to arrange what we called 'Prize 
 Battles ' when I first began, and any fight with a lot of 
 noblemen behind Mr. Jackson was pretty sure to be square, 
 and if a young man really could fight, and did not show the 
 white feather, he might make his way if he took care what 
 company he went into ; but if he was ever seen in company 
 with blacklegs, he was marked. 
 
 '' The worst of the Rmg was that, when a man had a 
 house and wanted to make money quickly, he would keep a 
 kind of raree-shop, and sell any poison to anyone who 
 would come and drink it, and then he generally went into 
 the trap himself, and drank himself out ; and lost his 
 licence, and ended worse than he began. The grand secret 
 is to keep a good name, and keep your friends. Why, all 
 kind of gentlemen come in here at Derby time or Cattle 
 Show week, and those times — sometimes a lord, or a 
 baronet, or old country gentlemen who saw me fight my 
 early battles perhaps, many of them twenty years older 
 than I am, — and they treat me like a man, and come for 
 old acquaintance sake ; but I don't care for your swaggei'ing 
 betting men, half gentlemen, half, or more than half, 
 rogues. Some of the sporting publicans will let any one of 
 these fellows pat them on the back, and call them ' Bill,' 
 or ' Jack,' or ' Tom,' and think that their sixpenny worth of 
 brandy -and-water is a great consideration. I wouldn't give 
 sixpence for the whole gang. This is my house, and I am 
 landlord, and I choose my own company." 
 
 I once saw Spring settle a snob, and I once saw him 
 settle a bully. The first occasion was when a short, stout, 
 brandy-and-water-faced, dirty-nailed, hot-handed cad, with 
 a sky-blue satin neckcloth, Avith a waterfall to ditto, illumi- 
 nated with a large pin, the device of which was a pair of 
 silver spurs, and wearing no collar, came in, and, holding 
 out his black hand, on the little finger of which glistened a 
 
Tom Springs Back Parlour. 9 
 
 diamond ring, exclaimed, ''Tom, liow are you, old fellow? 
 How am I to go to Chatham races and the tight too on the 
 same day ? " The man winked, as much as to say, " Look, 
 my fine fellows, what a sportsman I am.'' 
 
 Spring put his hands quietly behind his back, and 
 answered, " When did you ever know me well enough to 
 call me ' Tom ? ' " 
 
 It was a floorer. The man had never seen him before in 
 any private company. The look which Spring gave him 
 S3ttled him, and he walked quickly out, muttering, and got 
 into a flash dog -cart and vanished. 
 
 The other occasion was when a drunken soldier, one of 
 the foot guards, came in and w^anted something to drink. 
 Mrs. B., the big niece, told him, very good-humouredly, 
 that he had better go to his barracks, as he had had enough. 
 Whereupon the soldier came out with a dreadful oath, and 
 called her a horrible name. 
 
 Spring came out of his parlour with his hair almost on 
 end. I never saw him angry before. He let fly at the 
 soldier in words somewhat warmly, and the soldier said 
 that if Spring had been a younger man, he would have 
 knocked him down ; and he began to take his belt off, like 
 a coward. In a much shorter time than I can write three 
 words of this. Spring was round the bar, and there was 
 such a CLU-ious conglomeration of a red coat and a black 
 coat twisting round and round down the passage into 
 Holborn, that it had the eftect of Chinese fireworks, which 
 are produced by constant change of colour revolving ; and, 
 to my delight, I saw Spring's right foot r pplied as a finisher 
 as he kicked the man into the street. In a minute or two 
 his good-humour returned, and he got his wind again. 
 " There," he said, " I would serve a whole regiment such as 
 that blackguard so, one at a time, or two, if they wished it. 
 That fellow fight ! Why, my niece could beat him." 
 
10 Tom Sping's Back Parlour. 
 
 " That I could, uncle," said Mrs. B. ; '' and should 
 like the job too." 
 
 Spring Avas a very industrious man, and was always busy 
 in the morning, sometunes in a white smock-frock when he 
 was arranging his cellar. He enjoyed life thoroughly, be- 
 cause he never w^as a cockney. He knew a good horse, or 
 dog, or game-cock, especially a good beast, and was a good 
 judge of farming. I met him at the Cattle Show once, 
 amongst the Herefordshire shorthorns (Herefordshire being 
 his county), and I was immensely pleased to see how his 
 countr}Tnen welcomed him. Top-booted, sturdy farmers and 
 graziers and theii' daughters crowded round him ; and his 
 opinion — particularly as he was originally apprenticed to a 
 butcher — was cordially asked for. He was also very fond of a 
 day's shooting, and I can record what I heard from a country 
 gentleman, Avho had some very fine preserves in Hampshire, 
 and who let his shooting one year, owing to the absence of 
 his sons, of a trait in Tom Spring's character. My host 
 told me that he was horrified to hear from his head keeper 
 that the gentleman who had hired his shooting had invited 
 Tom Spring and Frank Redmond, the prize-fighters, to 
 shoot ; and that he, of course, expected wholesale slaughter, 
 and every kind of poaching. He also told me of his 
 surprise when he received a letter from Tom Spring, 
 apologizing for having accidentally shot a hen-pheasant 
 (hens being held sacred in January), and saying that he had 
 fined himself half a guinea for his mistake, and had paid it 
 to the keeper. 
 
 I never shall forget an eccentric picture which I saw 
 once in the old back parlour. I had been away for a few 
 days, and read in the paper that Spring's eldest son had 
 died very suddenly. I at once started for Spring's, and 
 Mrs. B. told me that the governor was sitting alone, and 
 very bad indeed. I went in to see him, and I could not 
 
Tom S])rin(js Back Parlour. 1 1 
 
 help laughing, and so did he afterwards ; for he was sobbing 
 audibly, with the tears running down his eyes, and trim- 
 ming a game-cock for Peter Craidey. 
 
 It was about the year 1845 or 1846,1 think, that a new 
 visitor was found at the Castle, as old Tom Cribb paid Spring 
 a very long visit. It was to me like talking to a man from 
 the dead, for if Spring was to me one of the heroes of the 
 past, what was Tom Cribb ? — antediluvian at least. Cribb 
 always occupied an easy-chair near the fire, and I had from 
 his own lips the accounts of his first fights and of his two 
 fights with Molyneaux, the black. 
 
 Cribb told me that where he first worked, when a young- 
 ster of about eighteen, he was bullied and " set upon" — I 
 think it was in a coal wharf. Anyhov,-, the oppression be- 
 came so terrible that he could stand it no longer, and he 
 picked out three of the worst bullies, and matched himself 
 to fight them one after another, and— " God forgive me," 
 said Cribb, who was about sixty -eight when I first knew 
 him, "it was on a Sunday morning; but I did a good 
 Sunday morning's work, and polished them all oft' at five 
 shillings a man." 
 
 Cribb was Spring's second when he fought Langan, and 
 told me all about that fight, as, in the words of BeJVs Life 
 " Cribb had promised to 2^^c7c up Spring." Anyone can 
 read the account of Spring and Langan' s fights in JB ell's 
 Life for 1824, and tremendous fights they must have been ; 
 but to show how the old school stuck to one another. Spring, 
 a few days after the tAventieth anniversary of that fight, 
 gave me a liqueur glass of neat whisky from a keg which 
 Jack Langan — who became a prosperous man in the whisky 
 trade — had sent to him as a token of respect and affection, 
 and in memory of the fight. 
 
 Tom Cribb, who had taken his farewell benefit in 1822, 
 appeared once more in the ring in 1845 or 1846, I think, 
 
12 Tom Sping's Back Parlour. 
 
 when in his sixty-eight year, at his own benefit at the West- 
 minster Baths, and put on the gloves with old Tom Oliver. 
 It Wtis a tremendous crush, and of coursa the old man could 
 not spar, but he just showed us the old guard with his right 
 hand within a few inches of his face about the level of his 
 eyes, and his left hand advanced a little before it, and a few 
 inches higher. It is impossible to exaggerate the wonderful 
 reception which he received from people of all classes. 
 
 A host of good men sparred on that evening, Spring 
 included, who looked like a gentleman, in his black trousers, 
 well-polished boots, and close-fitting white jersey. About that 
 time there were a great many good men who really could spar, 
 and did spar with a good deal of fire — Owen Swift, Hannan, 
 the two Broomes, Bendigo, Johnny Walker, Hayes, Keen, 
 Phelps, young Keed, Alec Reid, Ben Caunt, and others ; 
 Peter Crawley, Spring, Jem Burn, and Jem Ward often 
 appeared amongst the veterans ; and there were two of the 
 minor lights who were too delighted to show, anywhere and 
 at all times — '' Porky Clark" and " Jacko," who were 
 further removed from the Adonis type than any two 
 bipeds whom I ever saw ; but when they did put on the 
 gloves they hammered one another as if their lives de- 
 pended on it. 
 
 The master of the ceremonies at the grand benefits, Jem 
 Turner, the D"Orsay of the ring (as he was called in Bell) 
 was a host in himself, and if he had been educated, would 
 have made a splendid low-comedian, as he had a most 
 astonishing flow of a ready wit. 
 
 When Caunt and Bendigo were induced to meet some 
 time after their fight, in Avhich the ISTottingham Lambs 
 .smashed the ring, and which Caunt lost by a foul blow, 
 according to the referee's decision, there was bad blood be- 
 tween them. The two sparred in fighting costume — I think 
 at Tom Cribb's benafit — and party spirit ran high amongst 
 
Tom S])rin(js Back Parlour, 13 
 
 the spectators. Jem Turner introduced them : " Ben 
 Gaunt, gentlemen ; Bendigo, gentlemen ; both champions 
 of England. No applause, gentlemen. Mum as oysters, 
 gentlemen. If you please — time ! " That was something 
 like a set-to, and Bendigo gave Gaunt a regular hammering? 
 and hit him just as he pleased. 
 
 I went to many benefits with Spring, or by his advice, 
 at the Westminster Baths and elsewhere, but I never but 
 once went to a fight, as it was very expensive work in the 
 first place, and very rough work, as a rule, in the second. 
 The fight I saw was between Keen and Grant, and I met 
 Spring on the ground by appointment, and I certainly 
 would go a hundred miles to-morrow to see it over again. 
 The fight took place in the autumn of 1849, on the borders 
 of Hants and Surrey. Spring told me that it was sure to 
 be a good fight, as he knew that the money was found by- 
 men in the Household Brigade, who could afford it, and 
 that strict orders had been given by both sides to take 
 either man away if fairly licked. I can recall every inci- 
 dent of that day as if it occurred yesterday. The arrange- 
 ments were perfect, and a special " way in " at the railway 
 station was reserved for the excursionists ; and the police 
 made no bones about it, but kept on calling out, " This 
 way for the fight, gentlemen ; this way for the fight — two 
 pounds and a pound." A poor old lady, a venerable third- 
 classer, made a mistake and thought she was going to Ports- 
 mouth, and it was only discovered just in time. I was in 
 a second-class carriage, full of old ring-goers, and was 
 amused to see the enthusiasm with which they recorded 
 past battles. One old gentleman in tops and corduroys, 
 and a large mackintosh and low-crowned hat (who need net 
 have informed us that he was a cowkeeper, as there was 
 an aroma about him which disclosed the fact), who had 
 seen one of the men every morning during his training. 
 
14 Tom Sj)rin(/s Back Parlour, 
 
 and supplied him with new milk, was very enthusiastic 
 about his performances. 
 
 We had a funny scene at Woking, where the train 
 stopped, and a number of the constabulary were drawn up, 
 and announced that they had a warrant to arrest the men, 
 on which Old Bishop, the gun-maker of Bond Street, ex- 
 plained that it was a private train, and that he had come 
 down with a party, " to consecrate a church^ After much 
 parleying and delay the police were allowed to get into an 
 empty carriage at the end, and after they had been run 
 out a hundred yards, the train was backed and the bobbies' 
 carriage was uncoupled, and they were left lamenting. 
 
 We had good fun with an old farmer in a smock-frock, 
 in whose field the fight took place. I often pass the spot 
 now, near Fleet Pond. It was a meadow three fields 
 off from a lane just below a high embankment : each 
 meadov/ had a gate opening into the last, which was a cul- 
 de-sac. A long parley ensued about what was to be paid, 
 and Spring and Burn wanted to give three pounds. 
 
 "Noa," said the farmer ; "five pounds is my money." 
 
 " But," argued Jem Burn, '' you are an old fool, for we 
 shall do your meadows five pounds' worth of good, trampling 
 'em down in the middle of October." 
 
 u Very likely you will." 
 
 *' And you will see the fight for nothing." 
 
 u Yery likely I shall." 
 
 "Now, what is your price? " 
 
 Farmer, loq. " Five pounds in money, gentlemen ; five 
 pounds' worth of good done to my meadows by stamping 
 'em down, and a view of the fight for nothing." 
 
 " Give the d old fool his fiver. Burn," shouted a 
 
 noble Lord (since deceased) v/ho was in the Life Guards, 
 and who lived almost for sport. 
 
 " Ah ! just you do ] that's what I say about it." 
 
Tom Springs Back Parlour. 15 
 
 Of course the five-pound note was paid, and as soon as it 
 was, the man said, " Now, who is a fool ? I've got all I 
 want, and now I shall let you have a truss or two of straw 
 to make yourselves comfortable in the inner ring, and shall 
 be happy to see you another time." 
 
 It was a splendid autumn day, and the scene of the 
 fight was in the heather country, in that part of Surrey 
 which so strongly resembles Scotland and Ireland. It was 
 a pretty sight to see the crowd dotted about. If I remem- 
 ber rightly, the commissariat was highly praised in the 
 sporting papers. All I can say is, that in the company of 
 many Peers, Guardsmen, Members of Parliament, and fre- 
 quenters of the best London clubs, who like myself were 
 half famished, I made one in consuming what appeared to 
 be half-raw horse, which probably had been killed the day 
 before, eaten with the crummiest new bread and no salt, 
 a,nd washed down with some brandy-and-water, which 
 ought to have killed us all on the spot. 
 
 Just before the fight commenced, a startling event 
 occurred. A gentleman on a magnificent hunter, took a 
 hedge and ditch which bovmded the field in grand style, 
 ^nd, riding up to the ring-side, he informed a select few of 
 the company, Spring included, that he was a magistrate 
 for Surrey and Hants, and confessed his incapacity, single- 
 handed, to clear the ring, if called upon to act, but he 
 dropped a hint pubHcly that the county constabulary would 
 be up at least in two hours, whereupon the crowd gave him 
 three cheers. The magistrate, who was an ex-guardsman, 
 and formerly a patron of the P.R., lit his cigar, and, as I 
 saw him with my own eyes, gave Lord L. a sovereign for 
 the losing man after the fight. (For particulars of the 
 fight, vide BelVs Life October, 1819.) The fight lasted 
 an hour and five minutes, and, barring one or two nasty 
 incidents, which are not worth mentioning, I never enjoyed 
 
16 Tom Siwings Back Parlour. 
 
 a sight much more, it being a wonderful display of science, 
 courage, and endurance, without any brutality. The 
 slighter man tried wrestling with Grant, and got the worst 
 of it ; and afterwards, about the sixth or seventh round, 
 by sheer science and timing the blow, knocked Grant clean 
 off his legs. Two things only distressed me : one was the 
 broken-hearted look of the man who lost, when he came to 
 himself ; though I saw him eating some bread and meat 
 within half an hour, and surrounded by a number of gentle- 
 men who cheered him up, and told him that he had done 
 his best, and that they would be his friends ; and the other 
 was the hideous blasphemy of some of the lower grade of 
 prize-fighters, who got a lift down for nothing for some 
 service which they rendered. As regarded the arrange- 
 ments, an inner ring ticket secured as comfortable a place 
 as one would find in a cricket ground ; but if for no other 
 reason than the outrageous language and blasphemy, which 
 were twenty thousand times worse than I ever heard in a 
 London crowd — even an execution crowd, — the abolition of 
 the Bing was a necessity. I saw one rufiian kneel down and 
 tear the grass with his hands like a wild beast, apparently 
 to assist him in his blasphemy. Coming back, there was a 
 scramble for places, and, to my horror, 1 found myself, 
 with the exception of two officers, in a carriage full of the 
 roughs of the King, and I suppose that amongst the whole 
 lot there was not one who could read or "svTite. One inci- 
 dent did amuse me, which was a question asked, not un- 
 civilly, by one of them, of a gentleman, who, speaking about 
 a well-known prize-fighter, remarked that he got into 
 trouble about a crim. con. " Beg your pardon, sir," asked one 
 of the prize-fighters, " Who did crlm. con. fight ? " Possibly 
 the question was excusable, as a certain Mr. Con Parker 
 was backed to fight Tass Parker at that very time. 
 
 I suppose, if the truth was really told, the Ping once had 
 
Tom S])ri)if/s Back Parlour. 17 
 
 its palmy days. Battles were fought under the auspices of 
 the highest in the land, who backed a sport in which many 
 of them would not have minded taking the punishment 
 themselves, as, according to reUable accounts, many " sets 
 to " in Gentleman Jackson's rooms, between amateurs who 
 stood high in the fashionable world for what was called " a 
 bellyful," were next door to a fight. And I know that 
 many of the most mincing dandies, who u?ed to be seen 
 with their lavender kid gloves and curled whiskers and 
 moustaches, sitting in their cabs, w^ere ready and willing at 
 a moment's notice, at a race meeting or elsewhere, to jump 
 off their drags and to tackle a big bully twice their size. I 
 once heard an enthusiastic patron of the ring describing a 
 fight at which he lost his money, in these words as nearly as 
 possible : " I give you my honour, that for nearly twenty 
 minutes my man's left was hardly off the Black's face for a 
 moment, and I doubled my bets, I was so sure, when, to all 
 our surprise, the Black put in an upper cut, which knocked 
 my man out of time, and the sponge was thrown up at once. 
 It was such a splendid upper cut, that, although I lost my 
 money, I could not help admiring the man who gave the 
 blow, and I was so pleased that / should like to have had it 
 
 The low sporting (?) publicans appear to have brought 
 the Bmg to its lowest ebb, just as they have done with 
 many local metropolitan races. Matches for small stakes, 
 which the backers could not afford to lose, the cheap trips 
 by steamboats into the marsh districts on the Thames, 
 brought together a crowd of costermongers and roughs, 
 who ruled the roost, and some of the scenes enacted caused 
 much public scandal, and the whole thing became a nuisance. 
 Many years ago much sensation was caused by the accounts 
 of the fight between Gaunt and Bendigo, when the Notting- 
 ham Lambs attended en masse, and the spectators were 
 c 
 
18 Tom Simncjs Back Parlour. 
 
 stripped of watches, money, and jewelry wholesale ; and I 
 heard, upon good authority, that an unfortunate foreignei", 
 who wanted to witness La boxe, injudiciously w^ent do\\ai in 
 a new pair of patent-leather boots, and who, after being 
 relieved of all his valuables, was set down on the ground, 
 and some roughs also took off his boots, and left him to 
 get home in his socks. 
 
 The low sporting publican who encouraged little fights, if 
 not a fighting man, was generally a pudding-faced rufiian 
 who could not stand one in the face from a boy, and was 
 much of the same class as those who engaged windows at 
 public executions, and who delighted in cruelty for cruelty's 
 sake. 
 
 How Thackeray delighted to portray the low sporting 
 *' gent," to wit, the slang young man at his club, who in- 
 formed you that he had run down to Epsom from Saturday 
 till Monday, to spend Sunday with Hocus, the leg ; or 
 Colonel Altamont, who went to the Derby in a four-in-hand 
 from Wheeler's of the Harlequin's Head, with a " slap-up 
 lunch in the boot ; " or Sir Francis Clavering, going down 
 in the steamer, and losing his money on Billy Bluck, the 
 cabman, who was killed ; or the sporting parson, the Eev. 
 Bute Crawley, w^ho, in enumerating his nephew RawTlcn 
 Crawley's vices, exclaimed, " Didn't he cross the fight 
 between Bill Soames and the Cheshire Trump, and thereby 
 lose me forty pounds ? " 
 
 Sayers and Heenan created as much sensation as the 
 Crimean War or the Prmce of Wales's marriage. The 
 Times, according to their own statement, sent a rejDorter to 
 the fight for the first time for thirty-six years, and their 
 report, as a piece of graphic description, will be quoted long 
 after most of us of this generation are under the tuif. 
 Their account of that fight opened people's eyes to iLe 
 reality of prize-fighting. It was not couched in the curious 
 
Tom Sjjring's Back Parlour. 19 
 
 phraseolgy of ever-pleasant BeWs Life, which poor Thackeray 
 described in his dry way as " an admirable paper, with a good 
 deal of erudition in the ' Answeis to Correspondents,' but 
 they called a spade a spade, and described how ' Heenau 
 felled Sayers Hke a bullock.' " 
 
 I said I was going to be discursive, so, under " Tom 
 Spring's Back Parlour," I may as well call to mind a few 
 Ring peculiarities, including its literature. 
 
 The Times stuck to Tom Sayers, and commenced their 
 leader with, " Yesterday all England was determined to 
 break the peace." I have not looked to the file of the 
 Times to correct myself, nor have I looked to the files of 
 Bell either, except for two dates, nor shall I, in what I shall 
 quote about that good old sporting paper. 
 
 ISTo doubt the Ring had to be humorously treated. It was 
 considered by many, some of the judges and members of 
 the Legislature included, almost a necessary evil. '' The Art 
 of Self-defence v. The Knife " was a popular cry ; and if a 
 fatal accident occurred, the delincpients were dealt with 
 with leniency, and the defence always was that it was a fail* 
 fight. 
 
 I remember, on one occasion when a man was killed, 
 w^hose name, I think, was Simmonds, the daily press went 
 in for sensational w^riting on the brutal spectators who saw 
 the man killed, and "^stuck the knife " into BeWs Life 
 for advertising the sport. BeWs Life had a leader in 
 which they quoted the greater part of the article, and 
 candidly admitted in effect that the spectators were of the 
 lowest and most rufiianly order, almost outside the ]3ale of 
 civilisation ; but as they were left by the State in an un- 
 educated and semi-barbarous state, and as the only sermon 
 which could touch them was an exhibition of a fight under 
 the rules of fair-play, which they all understood, and which 
 the majority of them respected^ and as they belonged to a 
 
 C-2 
 
20 Tom Sj)ring's Back Parlour. 
 
 class who habitually got drunk and quarrelled, it was much 
 better for them to be taught to settle their quarrels in a 
 mode which left them with a couple of black eyes and a 
 broken nose, than to be found in the street with a knife 
 stuck in them, and a widow and fatherless children left 
 unsupported. In the same article they stated that, as 
 i-egards the Ring, if no necessity for it existed, nothing- 
 would please them more than to withdraw all note of it 
 from their columns. 
 
 Whether it is owing to our frequent intercoiu^se with 
 foreign nations, or from what other cause, I know not, but 
 the knife is much more frequently used now than it ever 
 was. 
 
 I knew very intimately, from having passed a long vaca- 
 tion — within the last twenty years — in the parish where 
 he dwelt, a very eminent editor of a very eminent sporting 
 paper, who used not only to -attend the great fights, but 
 was often referee. He was one of the most amiable cf 
 men, and his three proclivities were gardening, being a vei y 
 active Yicar's churchwarden, and looking after the parish 
 schools, in which his wife was an indefatigable worker. I 
 remember at church disturbing the devotions of a very 
 excellent lady, who was getting her money ready for the 
 collection at a missionary sermon, by remai'kmg that Bell's 
 Life was stakeholder. 
 
 But what quaint language they used in Bell, especially 
 in the days of old Vincent Dowling, and, earlier still, in the 
 days of Pierce Egan. 
 
 I wish everything would stick to my memory like the 
 quaint sayings of such writers do. Here is a specimen, in 
 the description of a fight between young Dutch Sam and 
 Ned Neale, from Pierce Egan's " Book of Sports " : — 
 
 " The nobby appearance of Curtis and Holt attracted the 
 admiration of the spectators. They were dressed in new 
 
Tom S^jrings Bach Parlour, 21 
 
 flannel jackets with side pockets to ditto, in fact they might 
 have been termed ' dress-jackets,' and, in order to make the 
 tnit enseinhh more complete, the tonsor had been put in 
 requisition to decorate their nobs." 
 
 Then, in the Answers to Correspondents : — 
 
 *' Owen Swift did not marry a nun, nor Avas his father a 
 friar." " Frosty-faced Togo was his godfather." And 
 (nihil ad rem to ring) — " Our correspondent can have his 
 question about the young lady answered at the stage-door 
 of Drury Lane Theatre, but we advise him to go ivitli his 
 nose ireJl soaped''' 
 
 ''Phil Sampson himself again. — We are happy to announce 
 that the gallant Phil Sampson is not, as was reported, 
 knocked out of time : our correspondent had a loag of his 
 daddle last Sunday." 
 
 Then, again, a benefit advertisement : — 
 
 '•'• The gallant Jem Davis having lost his wife, begs to 
 announce his benefit for Tuesday next, and hopes his friends 
 will rally round him and dry up his tearsT 
 
 One more specimen, and I have done. In the account of 
 the fight between Caunt and Bendigo, the reporter 
 (evidently old Vincent Dowling) A\T:*ites : — 
 
 "And now let us record our gratitude to that good 
 Samaritan the Right Rev. Father the Lord Bishop of Bond 
 Street, who took us into his carriage and recruited us with 
 a twopenny buster and a slice of bees-wax, which, with a 
 flash from his pocket pistol, enabled us to survive and tell 
 our tale." 
 
 There ! I have not seen any of the above in print for, I 
 suppose, five-and-twenty years, nor have I looked at Bell 
 (except for dates), as Bell will testify ; but I fancy that 
 any one who refers to the originals will not find me far out. 
 With all its oddity, BelVs Life had a strong and lasting in- 
 fluence over the London roughs who attended fights, and an 
 
22 Tom Swing's Back Parlour, 
 
 exposure in their columns of any blackguardism committed 
 by a man who aspired to be a pugilist soon brought him to 
 his senses. 
 
 The ring now is dead, sto7ie dead, but boxing and good 
 boxing, perhaps never was better. Young Reed, though he 
 must be well middle-aged, I will be bound to say makes 
 twice as much as three-fourths of the clergy of England do, 
 and is as much surrounded by Peers and men of position 
 as Gentleman Jackson ever was, though his rooms are only 
 designed for pure business, and are not a lounge ; and many 
 more ''professors" are doing well. I very much doubt if 
 people would stomach a regular prize-fight now. The halo 
 y\-hich surrounded it is gone. The quaint language and 
 oddities which marked it are things of the past. 
 
 It would never have done to have talked about fists, 
 noses, mouths, blood, teeth, and eyes in describing a fight, 
 or to have recorded, in cold blood, how one man knocked 
 out another's teeth and cut his knuckles to the bone. It 
 would read nasty, so it was necessary to say *' that the 
 Nobbier dashed in his left mawley and landed on the British 
 Oak's kissing-trap, drawing the claret freely, knocking out 
 two of his front rails ; though we doubt if the move was 
 advantageous in the long run, as the Nobbier was evidently 
 in pam with the force of the blow, which cut his knuckles 
 badly, and he was inclined to use his ' right duke ' the most 
 till the finish." Strange it was to see the delight which the 
 British rough showed in having this kind of thieves' Latin 
 read to him, and the gravity with which he accepted the 
 account ; and if he happened to know a friend who was on 
 duty at a fight, how his dignity rose ; and an engagement 
 to go down and to help to guard the commissariat — what Jem 
 Burn called " the belly-timber" — was looked on as some- 
 thing equal to a field-marshal's post. 
 
 I firmly believe that in its time the Bing did a great deal 
 
Tom Sjmnfs Back Parlour. 23 
 
 of good, and that the old rough -and-tough school brought 
 to perfection a system of boxing which is not likely to die 
 out. To show how the Ring was backed fifty years ago, it is 
 recorded in the fight between Spring and Langan, on Wor- 
 cester racecourse, that the magistrates met and determined 
 to allow the fight ; and a short time since, a venerable old 
 gentleman told me that when a great fight took place at 
 the back of the " Queen Charlotte," on the London-road, 
 near Andover — a celebrated fighting country near Stock- 
 bridge, — a grand exhibition of boxing was held at the 
 Andover To^vn Hall, under the patronage of the Mayor and 
 CorjDoration, on the evening before the fight, and that the 
 Mayor, having been driven into granting a warrant for the 
 arrest of the men, lent the prompters of the fight a map of 
 the borough, so that they might fight outside the limits 
 of his jurisdiction, and went, with many of the Cor- 
 poration and the Town Clerk, in a w^aggon, with a luncheon, 
 and sat by and saw the fight out. Some few years since I 
 witnessed at St. James's Hall, on the occasion of a benefit 
 for the Soldiers' Female Orphan School, an exhibition {inter 
 alia) of boxing between soldiers of the Life Guards and the 
 Blues, which for science and pluck were unsurpassed. A 
 great many ladies were present, and at first they did not 
 know whether to be pleased or not ; but, after a round or 
 two, the waving of their handkerchiefs showed what they 
 thought of it. 
 
 Fighting was a bad trade on the whole, as a very large 
 number who did rise were wholly uneducated, and got 
 money, and drank themselves out. Poor Tom Sayers was 
 one of the last specimens of that school. It seems but 
 yesterday that I saw a well-known county member and 
 county magistrate collecting sovereigns in a hat for him in 
 the lobby of the House of Commons in 1860, after his fight 
 with Heenan, w^hen, as the story goes, Lord Palmerston 
 
24 Tom Sj^r big's Back Far I our. 
 
 insisted, against the rules, on giving five instead of one 
 and on being remonstrated with for his over-KberaHty, 
 answered, '• Put down one for me, and four for Lord 
 Shaftesbury." I went to the Tottenham Court Road to 
 see Sayers' funeral start, Avhen the crowd was so great that 
 all traffic was stopped. One of the morning papers stated 
 that the only respectable person present was Tom Sayers' 
 dog. 
 
 Well, good-bye to Tom Spring. He died in 1851, at the 
 Castle, in Holborn, as he lived, respected. Sevei-al testi- 
 monials were given to him ; one, many years ago, after he 
 beat Langan, by the " lads of the cider country." It was a 
 very handsome silver cup and cover, with a cider cask for a 
 handle; the last, in the year 1846, a very massive silver 
 flagon, which was well lined with sovereigns. 1 remember 
 one very amusing incident about the Spring testimonial in 
 1846, which was an announcement that a special extra 
 meeting of the subscribers would be held at the Castle 
 Tavern, Holborn, with a remark in large type, " Mr. T. 
 Spring has kindly consented to take the chair." 
 
 Although I had a horror of ordinary " sporting houses " 
 and of ''sporting gents," I was in Spring's house for 
 luncheon many hundreds of times ; and I suppose that 
 ninety times out of every hundred my refreshment was 
 bread and cheese and a pint of stout. Though, on state 
 occasions, I have been in very good company in his sanctum, 
 when old members of the Pugilistic Club and men of rank, 
 too, gave him a call, and had a bottle of wine, and talked 
 over old times. 
 
 I never heard him say an unkind word, or saw him 
 sponge upon any one, or do a shabby trick of any kind ; 
 and I look back on his memory with something very near 
 affection, and I believe him to have been a kind true man. 
 The clergyman who attended his death-bed wrote a vei-y 
 
Tom Sjjring's Back Parlour. 25 
 
 feeling letter in BelVs Life about liis last moments, and 
 told how he left life as he had lived — an honest Englishman, 
 As a proof of the great respect in which Tom Spring's 
 memory is held, when the trustees of Norwood Cemetery 
 gave notice, thirty years after Spring's death, that his 
 monument at Norwood Cemetery was becoming a dangerous 
 obstruction, for want of repair, it was handsomely restored 
 by public subscription, at a considerable cost — the first 
 subscribers being the present Duke of Beaufort, the late 
 Hon. Robert Grimston, and Sii' John Dugdale Ashley, 
 Bart. 
 
 Spring's first appearance at the Fives Court must have 
 been some time before the Battle of Waterloo, as the friends 
 of Shaw, the immortal Life Guardsman, had made over- 
 tures to back their hero, on his return from Belgium, 
 against Spring. Shaw had fought and beaten Painter in 
 the April preceding the Waterloo campaign ; and at that 
 time Spring — who afterwards, in 1818, beat Painter, and 
 was beaten by him (his only defeat) in the same year — 
 had only appeared once in the Prize Ring for a small stake. 
 
BOXING AND ATHLETICS 
 
 It is now very many years ago since, as the Times drily 
 remarked, all England was determined that the peace 
 should be broken, and in April, 1860, Sayers stood np for 
 the honour of England against the Benicia boy, Heenan- 
 The records of that fight have been handed down to us by 
 a writer in the Times, and it would be '' gilding refined 
 gold and painting the lily " to try and add a word to the 
 graphic account which was written by the correspondent 
 who represented that paper. Both combatants are dead, 
 the former having laid down his arms after his gallant 
 contest, and the latter having succumbed to Tom Kmg, the 
 now world-known and much respected ex-chami3ion, whose 
 great proclivity now is to be Champion of England in 
 growing roses. 
 
 I am not going to weep over the fallen fortunes of the 
 Ring, and nothing should induce me to go to a fight in 
 the present day, even should such an occurrence take place ; 
 because the pugiHsts are under no control, and, conse- 
 quently, one would have a right to expect unmitigated 
 ruffianism and brutality. 
 
 In the olden days the Pugilistic Club consisted of noble- 
 men and gentlemen of high position ; and if a prize-fighter 
 behaved in a dishonest or cowardly manner, they withdrew 
 their support, and he was much in the same position as a 
 26 
 
Boxing and Athletics. 27 
 
 jockey who is under a cloud, and cannot get employed by 
 the leading men of the turf. 
 
 All the evidence that I have ever collected tallies exactly 
 with what I have heard from the late Old Tom Cribb, Tom 
 Sprmg, Alec Keene, and Young Read (rather long in the 
 tooth, perhaps, now, for a young 'un, but alive and well, 
 and teaching the present generation the noble art) ; which 
 evidence is, that there was a real pleasure in fighting, 
 springing from a love of boxing and an honest struggle for 
 superiority. We all know that there was a black side to 
 it, and so much blackguardism crept in, that gentlemen of 
 position turned their backs on it, and practically it died 
 out. 
 
 And it is a matter of immense congratulation that there 
 has arisen from the ashes of the old Ring a love of boxing, 
 which has produced a large school of amateurs, who 
 perhaps are quite equal to a great number of the good men 
 of the past with the gloves. Whether they are hard 
 enough to do it without the gloves is another thing, and is 
 not of much consequence. On the other hand, it is a 
 matter of much regret that the police are encouraged to 
 pry into every contest under the Queensbery rules for a 
 cup. There should be a little discretion allowed. When 
 they know that two low beershop-keepers are puttmg up 
 two youngsters to box for an endurance match, to see 
 which will last it out, they might put in an appearance, as 
 a man may die of exhaustion quite as much as from an 
 unfortunate blow ; and for the sake of a small stake and a 
 few bets, a contest may be prolonged for the good of no- 
 body, and possibly the death of one of the boxers ; but 
 when a combat of three rounds only is to take j)lace, to be 
 decided by experts in points of excellence, they had much 
 better stop away. The evidence is always the same, and 
 the police say that from information they received it was 
 
28. Boxing and Athletics. 
 
 really a prize fight. Great care should be taken that the 
 world is not getting too soft. In former times fighting 
 was as natural to a boy as quarrelling : boys fought at 
 school, boys fought in the street, and men too, for that 
 matter ; and say what they will, the knife and kicking are 
 not only coming in, but have come in. 
 
 I am not crying down the present in favour of the past ; 
 but we are getting more effeminate in many things. Pads 
 and gloves were invented rather more than forty years 
 ago, and capital things they are ; but pads now are like 
 mats, and double the size of the leg, and many of the 
 modern school, if the ground is not like a billiard-table, 
 make such a fuss about it, that you would think they were 
 going to storm the Redan. I quite agree with the present 
 cricketers, that it is madness to stand against a man who 
 throws as hard as he can on a rough ground, and calls it 
 bowling. The gjime is not worth the candle, and it is not 
 cricket, but I think sometimes they cry out before they are 
 hvirt, and many of them are much averse to taking the 
 rough with the smooth. It is a great pity now that School 
 Board education is carried to such an extent, that manly 
 sports and gymnastics do not form part of the curriculum. 
 Oar friend, the working man, cried out not long ago against 
 drilling, as tending to warfare and military pursuits. I 
 went to an admirable institution, the Polytechnic Young 
 Men's Christian Institute, not long ago ; in fact, we had a 
 talk on manly sports that night. It is, I believe, an Eton 
 mission, where young men and youths have the advantage 
 of classes, preliminary instruction in trades, fine arts, and 
 also a good deal of religious instruction — but one great 
 feature is the gymnasium, where every means and appliance 
 are to be found for manly exercise of all kinds, not forget- 
 ting the noble ai-t of self-defence. 
 
 And now I want to ask this — why are not swimming. 
 
Boxing and Athletics, 29 
 
 single-stick, and boxing taught in the Board Schools — 
 especially the first? It is a shame to Englishmen that 
 year after year the accidents from drowning are so often 
 fatal. If poor Captain Webb, who lost his life so miserably 
 in Canada_, had been taken care of by the G-overnment, and 
 been appointed as swimming inspector to prepare pupil 
 teachers in that art, and if swimming was made part of all 
 English boys' education, it would save hundreds of lives 
 every year. At Eton no boy is allowed to go in a boat 
 until he has passed in swimming ; consequently most Eton 
 boys can swim. There should be a swimming bath in every 
 inland to^\Ta, and in London the parks should be utiHzed : 
 a few pontoons, with staunchions and screens, would do all 
 that is necessary, and the swimming-baths are ready made ; 
 and in county towns there should, as I said, be a swimming 
 bath for the boys, and they should be obhged to learn. 
 Why compel children to be vaccinated, and why not com- 
 pel them to learn to swim ? 
 
 The natural propensity for manly sports is shown by the 
 admirable use which young fellows make now of the Satur- 
 day Half-holiday, by giving their attention to boating, 
 cricket, football, volunteering, and the like — by w^hich 
 means the idle, debauched, effeminate shopmen of the past, 
 who had not an idea beyond doing the Sunday swell, a la the 
 Tittlebat Titmouse family, have disappeared, and seeing how 
 naturally athletics come to those w^ho are above the working 
 classes, surely every opportunity should be given to 
 children of the poor to become active and m.anly. The 
 energies of the ragged little boys who turn cart-wheels for 
 coppers might be turned in a better direction ; and, as I 
 said before, above all things, they should be taught swim- 
 ming and athletics. 
 
 One of the most touching stories ever told was how, when 
 the Goliath was burned in the Thames, the little boys obeyed 
 
30 Boxing and Athletics, 
 
 discipline to the last in getting their fellows out of the ship^ 
 and when the last order was, " Swim for your lives ! " over- 
 board they went, and all reached land safely. In days of 
 the past, the aspirants to the Ring at prizefighters' benefits 
 consisted often of young gentlemen who " had the keys of 
 the street ! " in other words, rough young fellows who slept 
 under the dark arches, or in the markets : many of the 
 costermonger class or their allies, the rough-and-ready school 
 who had to elbow theii' way through the vvorld from child- 
 hood. Coal wharves supplied a good many of them, and so 
 did the river stairs, where the boatmen kept their wherries* 
 I knew all the school pretty well, and I can conscientiously 
 say that rough as many of them were, they were always 
 ready to earn an honest penny, no matter how tough the 
 job might be — I don't mean in boxing, but in their ordinary 
 life, — and they had the keenest sense of justice and of kind- 
 ness, and the most utter contempt for a flash snob. More- 
 over, they were very funny in their remarks. '' Oh ! 'ere's 
 a friend of Prince ^albert's, gentlemen, just come from 
 Buckingham Palace to say the greens must not be biled too 
 long before supper," was the remark I once heard from one 
 of them to an over-dressed snob, who jDushed the s]3eaker 
 out of the way. " I sa}'', governor," another would ask, '' I 
 see you a speakin' to Mr. Spring ; could you ask hun to let 
 my mate go on at the beginning ; he wants a shower of browns 
 very bad, and has set to at Ben Oaunt's and Owen Swift's.'' 
 " What's his name ? " *' Cranky Jack, of Billingsgate 
 Market, sir : it's wery clever he is"— introducing me to a 
 young gentleman with a lignum vitce face and very short 
 hair. And if room could be found for Cranky Jack befoie 
 the great stars appeared, the gratitude of his friends for my 
 putting their " pal" in the way of having his head punclied 
 was unbounded. 
 
 Well, T will admit it was a very rough school, and some 
 
Boxing and Athletics, 31 
 
 of the exhibitions of the past hardly suit a city now number- 
 ing nearly four millions of inhabitants ; but the basis of that 
 school was real English courage, and we cannot have too 
 much of it ; and moreover they all had a keen appreciation 
 of the old English rule of "Fair Play." 
 
MY TWO DAYS' SALMON 
 FISHING. 
 
 I KNOW all the South and West of Ireland, from frequent 
 visits, and I will call back to memory my first and only 
 two days' salmon fishing. I had been staying at a charming 
 village inn, in an out-of-the-way district on the borders of 
 Lough Corrib, and finding that my time was come to re- 
 turn, had packed up my fishing things sadly, and went for 
 a long evening stroll by the mountain side, for the purpose 
 of taking a farewell of scenes Avhich had grown upon me. 
 I saw a light in my room, and on going in, found a gentle- 
 man and lady playing at cards. Moreover, it was not a 
 dry game of '' spoil five," as I found the game to be that 
 they w^ere playing. " I blush to see you, sir ! " said the 
 male intruder ; " but my woife, to whom I introduce you, 
 was taken rather poorly on the c>/ar, and w^e stopped here 
 for the night, and having no other room, the landlady put 
 us in here, and she has ventured to bring in the groceries, 
 that my Avoife might have a glass o' punch before going to 
 bed." The speaker w^as very broad Irish, with a good- 
 humoured eye ; so I stopped further apologies, and swore 
 eternal friendship on the spot, ratified there and then by 
 Biddy the maid producing a tumbler and S230on ; and Saxon 
 32 
 
Mfj Two Days Salmon Fishing. 33 
 
 and Milesian joined in the bowl. In primitive inns man- 
 ners were primitive too, and the custom was to leave the 
 guest with a large bottle of whisky and the kettle and 
 sugar, and to ask him next morning " how many glasses of 
 punch to charge for ; " and as the whisky often possibly 
 '•' never j;)?r? the Queen a sixpence," it was good for all 
 parties. My guests were well middle-aged, evidently of the 
 commercial grade, and it was not long before it was dropped 
 incidentally by the lady, " that her brother-in-law had been 
 to a ball at the Castle, and her uncle had been in the 
 miletia." She asked for trumps so plainly, that I was 
 obliged to admit, with some blushes, that I had been patted 
 on the head by the late Archbishop of Canterbury when a 
 boy — which was strictly true, by the way, as he confirmed 
 me along with the inhabitants of some five or six adjoining 
 parishes. The lady retii-ed for the night ; Bid.ly put some 
 fresh peat on the fire, and brought in a fresh kettle of 
 boiling water, my guest smoked a little of his cigar at 
 intervals — your well-seasoned Irishman who likes the 
 national beverage is generally too busy with the groceries 
 to smoke much, — and I sat me do\\Ti quietly to a well 
 coloured Irish short clay. We spoke in a subdued tone, as 
 the rooms were small and the walls thin, and we did not 
 wish to disturb the lady fair ; in fact, the walls were so thin 
 that (without lifting the veil which screened the privacy of 
 my lady's chamber), we could hear the whistling of a stout 
 staylace through the eyelet-holes, in the air, and eventually 
 the fall of a heavy paii' of stays ; and I am bound to 
 record that we kept a respectful silence while the re2)resen- 
 tative of the fair sex, with a fine brogue, said her prayers, 
 which were very audible — a practice much to be commended, 
 — and to our mutual joy a good wholesome family snore 
 eventually proclaimed that the night was our own. 
 
 We got friendly and confidential, and my guest remarked, 
 
 D 
 
34 Mij Two Days Salmon Fishing. 
 
 " Did ye ever catch a salmon, now ? " I admitted my 
 innocence of that feat, remarking that the cost of salmon 
 fishing was so enormous, and the chances of good sport so 
 vague, that the game was not worth the candle, and it was 
 not worth while to pay a pound for a licence, and nearly 
 four pounds for a week's ticket. " Give me your hand, my 
 boy ; stop where I am going," naming the place, '' and I 
 will give ye two days' salmon fishing for nothing ; it shall 
 only cost ye a trifie for the fisherman, and a man w:th a 
 boat, and a relation of my woife's (our house is full), will 
 take ye in as cheap as any inn, and much more comfortable. 
 As to a licence, there is no fear, as I am officially connected 
 with the fishery, and shall hear first of any chance of a 
 prosecution ; and if I hear that anyone is moving, ofi" ye go 
 to England, my boy." You will observe that he was getting 
 friendly and familiar. As the bottle got lighter, and my 
 cruest pulled two strokes to my one, a tear came in his eye, 
 and he called me " Charles," or, as he pronounced it," Chorlus," 
 and told me I resembled an only son who died young; and 
 very much in the small hours he joined the stout fah-y 
 whose snoring was like the noise of a well-regulated gong. 
 
 It was with no small pleasure that I listened to my new 
 
 acquaintance of the previous evening, when he told me 
 
 that we should reach our destination before six o'clock m 
 
 the dav, and that I should have a try for a salmon as soon 
 
 as we "^arrived. I was " struck of a heap" as the vulgar 
 
 saying is. One of the large public cars took us leisurely 
 
 along*" through charming scenery, and I was landed at 
 
 my journey's end at a comfortable house close to a large 
 
 weir, and saw at first sight that my new home held out 
 
 every promise of enjoyment— and the river said " salmon." 
 
 The usual inquidtive crowd of idlers, mostly bare-footed, 
 
 forming a picturesque group, stood round the car, and my 
 
 mentor singlmg out a bright-eyed, rough-headed httle 
 
My Two Days Salmon Fishing. o5 
 
 urchin, said, '^ Go at oust, Larry, to Phil Morris, and bid 
 him come quick with his rod, and hook a sahnon for an 
 Enghsh gintleman ; and when you are back, and say he is 
 coming, I will give you a penny." 
 
 Pending the messenger's return, I was pondering in my 
 o'svn mind whether it was consistent with my dignity to 
 have a salmon hooked for me, but on second thoughts I 
 felt confident that I never could manage it myself, before a 
 crowd of strangers, with a large two-handed rod and heavy 
 tackle which was quite new to me. Before I was out of 
 my reverie the boy returned, followed shortly after by Phil 
 Morris, a well-known professional fisherman ; and his rod 
 and tackle somewhat astonished me. The rod, a weather- 
 beaten, rough-looking afiair, consisted of two pieces only, 
 utterly innocent of paint or varnish, about 17 feet in length 
 when spliced together with string. At the end of the butt 
 two holes were drilled, through which a rough winch was 
 bolted, and there were a few rings for the line to run 
 through. 
 
 "Do you think you will get a salmon to-night ? " I asked. 
 
 " Get a salmon, yer honour ? Why, there are as many 
 salmons in them pools as there are rogues at the Curragh 
 on a race day, and I wish the master and his good lady here 
 and all of us were as shure of going to glory and no questions 
 asked, as I am to stick a salmon now." And going to a 
 little distance, where there was plenty of elbow room, he let 
 out what seemed to me a very long line, and made a cast or 
 two, the heavy two-handed rod looking like a feather in his 
 hand, and the long heavy line paying out like a slippery 
 snake uncoiling itself, and the flies falling on the water like 
 gossamer. I could have watched the man for lioui-s, for he 
 was a thorough master of his art ; and whilst I watched I 
 heard a shout ; " I've got one, sir, look out," and a sheet of 
 silver shot up in the air and carqe down with a splash, and 
 D-_2 
 
36 My Two Lays' Salmon Fislihuj. 
 
 then shot up again, and the line went whizzing through the 
 ring.-^. " Bide a while, sir, till I steady him for ye ; " and 
 Phil Morris, after letting the salmon run, wound in the 
 slack till he had him well in hand, and made him feel the 
 weight of the line, the fish ploughing up stream about a 
 quarter of a mile an hour, and then he gave me the rod and 
 said, " Catch hold, sir, now you've got your first salmon on, 
 and never mind if you lose him. I'll get you another." 
 
 And I said to myself, " Now I've got my first salmon on, 
 and if I lose him he'll get me another," and then 1 thought, 
 " Well, the tackle is heavier and the fish is bigger than 
 Avhat I am accustomed to, but it feels like playing a trout, 
 as far as I can see, and the water is heavy and no piles : by 
 Jove ! I think I shall land him." By degrees I found my 
 salmon tiring, after some minutes, and I had recovered a 
 good deal of line, and could see him, for he was nearly on 
 the top of the water, and he began to move quicker, and I 
 could guide him. The fear I had w^as of his jumping again, 
 and my holding too tight. I felt the perspiration standing 
 in beads on my face, and my hands were cramped. And 
 then for the first time Phil Morris spoke, almost in a 
 whisper, " Go on as you are, sir, aisy, and try and get him 
 alongside that wood-work, fifteen yards ahead, and I'll be 
 handy with the gaff; and for the Lord's sake, when he 
 smashes at the line Avith his tail, keep the top of your rod 
 well over him, and the line as tio^ht as you can convaniently 
 without jerking him." Every word fell on my ear, and I 
 tried to follow the advice, and played him with a steady 
 give-and-take, and suddenly I felt the excitement of a mad 
 fish rushing towards the side, plunging downwards and 
 smashing with his tail, and I thought all was over, when the 
 strain on the line slackened, and with a wild hurroo ! my 
 trusty fisherman laid him on the grass. I was so excited 
 with the fish that I did not see the man (who was Ipng on 
 
My Two Dcujs Salmon Fishing. 37 
 
 his face below the high bank on which I was standing) gafi' 
 him. Aspen leaves " were fools to me," qua shaking, for I 
 felt almost drunk with excitement. " No more fishing to- 
 night, Phil Morris," I said, "or I shall go mad," as he 
 poured a little whisky into the salmon's mouth, more 
 Hibemico, before wetting him ourselves, which we all did. 
 It was autumn, and he was a red salmon, but he was a real 
 salmon, and weighed over nine pounds, and I was verij 
 happy. Acting on my request, Phil Morris got the crowd 
 to disperse, and we were left alone, and I explained to him 
 that I had two days' salmon fishing before me, and I would 
 take care of him if he would teach me to throw a line with 
 a two-handed rod ; and when we were alone I got him to 
 take the flies off, and I kept on till I felt pi-etty certain 
 that I was fairly safe against whipping out my own eye or 
 anyone else's : and we parted for the night with a mutual 
 promise to meet the next morning at six o'clock. It was 
 dark when I got to my lodgings, and I found my friend, to 
 whom I was indebted for so much pleasure, there before me. 
 I never saw a man more pleased, for, like all big-hearted 
 men, his pleasure was in pleasing others. " Bedad, sir," he 
 said, " I went away when I saw you with the rod, for I said 
 to myself, his heart will break if he loses the fish, and I 
 would not like to see it." There was no difficulty about it ; 
 it was all plain sailing ; the fish was well hooked, there 
 were no rocks or piles, and Phil Morris knew exactly when 
 to bring him in^ and how to gafi him. But how happy it 
 made us all, simply because we all loved real sport. Need 
 it be said that a good tea, and some eggs and bacon and 
 buttered toast galore were acceptable, and that a quiet 
 tumbler of punch, or perhaps two, were di'uiik, but no small 
 hours were indulged in, as I was due at six o'clock next 
 morning by the river, and I fell asleep to the music of the 
 water rushing over the weir. The catching of one fish is 
 
38 Mij Two Days' Salmon Fishing, 
 
 much like the catchmg of another. Suffice it to say that 
 for the two days succeeding the taking of my first salmon 
 I worked hard for fourteen hours a day, from six till eight 
 o'clock each day, taking on Phil Morris and a man with a 
 boat, and Larry with the gafi'. Of course I missed lots of 
 fish, for I would not let anyone touch my rod, and it took 
 some time to get into the knack of striking accurately, and 
 not too soon ; but somehow or another, I managed unaided 
 to hook and land five salmon in the two days, and on the 
 last day — having w^aded without waterproofs for some hours — 
 when I got home I felt downright beaten, and could just keep 
 my eyes open to eat a mutton chop and drink a large glass 
 of hot punch ; and, getting under two or three extra blankets 
 at nine o'clock on Saturday night, I slept where I fell, with- 
 out mo\'ing, till half-past one on Sunday afternoon. I 
 believe my five salmon cost me about a sovereign apiece, 
 after Phil Morris, and the boat, and the boy with the gafi", 
 and my lodging, and the bill for refreshments, and flies were 
 all paid ; but one of the best of Irish fishermen (I need 
 hardly say that Phil Morris is not his real name) I ever 
 saw, tried his very hardest to teach me to throw a salmon 
 line, and if I had the chance again I think I could do it 
 w^ell enough for my own amusement ; but I do not profess 
 to know more of salmon fishing than I learnt in my two 
 days' experience, and I look back on that visit as one of the 
 brightest eras of my life. 
 
 My chance acquaintance overpaid me twenty times for 
 the loan of my private room, by giving me. the fishing, and 
 I made him accessory after the act to breaking the laws of 
 his country, he being a member of the Salmon Fisheries 
 Board. It occurred thus. On Sunday evening I told Phil 
 Morris I must have a dish of salmon-parr for dinner, and 
 he slipped down to a quiet spot and got me a couple of 
 dozen about the size of large smelts. The penalty, I be- 
 
Mij Two Days Salmon Fisldng. 39 
 
 lieve, is forty shillings for every one found in your posses- 
 sion. I got over my kind landlady's scruples, and per- 
 suaded her to let me have them fried in batter, and in the 
 middle of dinner in walked my Irish friend. '•' Have 
 some Kentish smelts," I said to him ; " came this morning 
 by post ; sit down and join me." 
 
 He winked, and sat down. " Holy Moses ! " he ex- 
 claimed j " they are salmon -parr ; you are in for two pounds 
 apiece." 
 
 " And you are in for it too, my boy, for you have eaten 
 three already." 
 
 " Ah ! well, let us put them all out of sight, then. Give 
 me two or three more, for they are food for the Pope 
 himself." 
 
 The next day I left my salmon haunts, and went back 
 with much content to what trout fishing I came across. It 
 is childish to sa.y that a man who had once caught a salmon 
 -would never care for anything else. In my rambles I came 
 across an Irish fair in a picturesque village on the sea- 
 shore. 
 
 " I shall give a halfpenny to the best boy," I said to a 
 group of bare-footed, shock-headed, bright-eyed little Irish 
 urchins w^ho w^ere standing in a ring round '' the English 
 Gintleman," who was sitting on the stump of an old tree 
 outside '' Pat Murphy's Grocery and Entertainment," in 
 the little Irish village, where he was the only stranger in 
 the place. I was that stranger. " I am the best boy, sir," 
 yelled the little crowd, in chorus, and each sang his own 
 virtues lustily. " But stop, my little men," I continued ; 
 " I am going to give a penny to the worst boy." The 
 chorus turned round and proclaimed the wickedness of 
 their neighbours. " That boy helped beat his uncle when 
 they got him down at the fail-," said one. " That boy was 
 sent to Mass with twopence for the priest's dues, and only 
 
40 My Tivo Days' Salmon Fishing. 
 
 put a penny in the bag," said another, *' and kept the other 
 himself." " And that boy, sir," exclaimed an impudent 
 little rascal, winking at a good-natured police-constable 
 who was standing by, " put the j^ollice off the scent when 
 they were after the whisky stills, and the poor constables 
 had nothing to eat, and slept in the mountains and caught 
 nobody." And so they went on blackening one another, 
 in hopes that the capital might be safely landed by one of 
 the party, for the good of the commonwealth. So I referred 
 the question to the police-constable, who decided that they 
 were all such bad boys that they were all worst, and giving 
 them the benefit of the doubt, they received a penny apiece, 
 which gave general satisfaction. 
 
 Did you ever go to an Irish fair ? I mean a real country 
 fair, where you see all classes — county gentlemen, farmers, 
 small squireens, peasants, and some of the prettiest girls in 
 the world. You don't see the latter at their best, as they 
 make it a point to come to fairs in shoes and stockings, and 
 you miss the wonderfully graceful carriage which marks 
 them wdien they walk barefooted with a j)ail of milk or a 
 basket on their heads. 
 
 I was at a fair on the sea-shore early in the day, in time 
 to see the crowd assemble, and made the acquaintance of a 
 handsome old dame who was sitting before a table, on 
 which, mirahile dictu, was a clean cloth — for that article is 
 less common in Ireland than with us at home —and upon 
 it a lot of sheep's tongues and biscuits. " Glory be to God, 
 it's a fine day, yur honour," said the old lady, taking her 
 pipe out of her mouth, " have a ship's tongue and a cracker 
 to keep ye in good humour, and if ye wish it I'll get ye a 
 a drain o' punch from Dan Finnigan's booth, and take care 
 of your rod and your basket when ye go into the fair, and 
 (looking into the basket) them mountain trout will just do 
 for a poor ould woman's supper when she gets home, and 
 
My Two Bays Salmon Fishing. 41 
 
 you're sure to catch some more when the sun is sinking, 
 and your fishing book bulges out your pocket — let me take 
 that, too, and make room for the fairings ye'll be buying." 
 
 I complied with the old lady's proposition, barring the 
 fishing book, " No, mother, not the fishing book, for 
 tackle is the only thing the Irish will steal." 
 
 *' True for ye, there ; the boys icill steal it or coax the 
 English gintlemen out of it — and, there now — give me a 
 bit for my son, for he is a clever boy with the trout." And 
 so I sat down and had two or three tongues and crackers, 
 and even a second sip of Dan Finnigan's whisky, for I had 
 walked a long way and had had nothing but a tumbler of 
 milk and whi.Nky very early in the morning ; which, by-the- 
 bye, in default of breakfast, will carry one on for three or 
 four hours. 
 
 It was a pretty sight seeing the people arrive on cars and 
 donkey carts, or strolling down the hill-side on foot, the 
 girls with their red or blue cloaks and hoods or shawls, 
 artfully put on, the older women in clean w^hite caps, and 
 the squii-eens with wonderful shirt collars, and frieze coats 
 with metal buttons. Some had a fowl or a duck under 
 each arm, others a basket of eggs or butter, or jars of 
 honey, and not a few drove a pig before them, or a cow or 
 horse of no great pretensions, or a donkey. I watched the 
 bartering, and observed that a good donkey was the greatest 
 subject for competition, and though I did not catch the 
 figures, the biddings went on for a long time over each 
 donkey sale. The cattle and sheep and horses were sold 
 some little way from the pleasure fair, arrd a substantial 
 class of farmers and county gentlemen, and more than one 
 London horse dealer whom I recognised, were assembled. 
 But that was dull business. 
 
 My old lady called me to her as I was strolling back from 
 the cattle sale. " Come here, sir ; here's the prettiest Irish gii-1 
 
42 My Two Lays Salmon Fishing, 
 
 in Connauglit, the blacksmith's daughter." And by Jove she 
 did speak the truth. Aye, indeed ! and he's Y\'orth a dale of 
 money, a hunther they say, when her ould father goes ; and 
 he was bad last Christmas, and Father Regan made his 
 sowl." 
 
 " Yes," remarked a bystander, ''and the punch brought 
 him to life again." 
 
 " Get out, Mick, and don't be listening to my discourse ; 
 'tisn't you that's the boy she will be having — there's better 
 nor you in the barony — and (to the gii"l) come here, Mary, 
 and I'll tell you a sacret." 
 
 " And what's that, mother ? " as she called the ould 
 woman. 
 
 " I tould the English gintleman that you are the 
 prettiest girl in the Connaught, and I tell ye something 
 else ; there's Phelim, not a hundhred yards from ye noAv — " 
 And she spoke the truth, for Phelim, a fine young fellow, 
 came towards her, blushing very much, and catching sight 
 of me (for the story told itself) looked as if he would have 
 smashed me if he could, under an erroneous suspicion of 
 jealousy, thinking that I had spoken to her perhaps. It 
 vjas a case, and from the hajDpy expression on her face and 
 on her lover's, I was certain that the green-eyed monster 
 was quelled. I wish a few London 'Arries would go over 
 to an Irish fair and make some of their witty (?) remarks 
 to an Irish peasant girl or two ; they would get what they 
 deserve so much. 
 
 Turning from love to theatricals, I have seen something 
 pretty good at old Greenwich Fair in the past, with Wicked 
 Barons, injured innocence, and blue fire and ghosts ; but 
 commend me to the same thing at a rural Irish Fair. Upon 
 my word, I think they took the drama for reality, for when 
 the ghost of the bleeding nun appeared to the virtuous 
 character, and pointing, said, " Ye'll find my bloody corse 
 
My Tii'o Days' Salmon Fishinrj. 43 
 
 Yonder," one gentleman remarked, *• I'll go bail it's in the 
 cupboard." *' Hould yer tongue, you fool,'"' said his friends 
 " it will be buried under the stairs." A horrible vision 
 crossed my mind — had the speaker ever had practical 
 experience with the body of an agent ? However, when 
 the AVicked Baron is led to the fatal corner, and the 
 \-irtuous character runs his sword through him, the dehght 
 of the audience was enormous, and there were loud cries of 
 " Kill him again ! Kill him again ! " But the Corpse and 
 Ghost and the Baron and the virtuous character contented 
 themselves with bowing to the audience. 
 
 Then followed something of a pantomime ; but a screw 
 was loose evidently, and there was a cry of '• AVhere's the 
 merriman ? Where's the Jack Pudding ? •' whereon the 
 manager, who evidently was well known to his audience, 
 came forward and said in a kind of stage whisper, " Ladies 
 and gintlemen, I never like to disappoint my friends, and 
 I'll tell ye the truth — he's been to his aunt's funeral, and is 
 a little overcome with excitement." Which apolog}- was 
 received with acclamation. Only fancy an Irish clown in 
 liquor ! 
 
 The old woman prophesied rightly about the trout, for as 
 I strolled home in the evening, when the sun was sinking 
 the fish were mad with glory, and I brought home enough 
 for my supper and the peoj^le at my inn too. And over 
 my evening's pipe and a tumbler of punch my thoughts 
 went back to the blacksmith's daughter, and I drank to her 
 happiness. 
 
 I don't think I shall ever re-visit my old haunts. There 
 is hardly a spot in the faiiy land which I have so often 
 trod that has not been the scene of misery, and outrage, 
 and murder since I saw it last, and I prefer to keep in my 
 mind the pleasant visions of the past, and my recollection of 
 the people as they were when I was so happy amongst 
 
44 My Two Days' Salmon Fishing, 
 
 them, and not run the risk of mixing with those whose 
 lives have been embittered, and affections estranged from 
 Enghsh sportsmen by wicked and designing men. As I meet 
 some of these agitating scoundrels, most of whom I know by 
 sight, day by day in London, I feel as if I was meeting the 
 father of mischief himself, and look down expecting to see 
 the cloven hoof. I like to remember the old-fashioned 
 greeting, " You're welcome, anyhow," and a rough answer 
 from an Irish peasant noio would grate terribly on my ear. 
 The drawback to Irish tackle is that their gut is not so fine 
 or pliable as ours, and I rejoiced Phil Morris's heart by 
 giving him two or three of Holroyd's finest-drawn gut 
 collars, and a few of the '' Strange's fancy " Wandle flies, 
 which I have found " death on trout " in mountain streams 
 in Ireland and Scotland. 
 
 Note.— My fishing was in Galv\'ay river, just below the weir at 
 Lough Corrib. My fisherman was young George Brown, but I did 
 not put his name at the time, as there were two George Browns, 
 senior and junior, and near relatives ; and there was much jealousy 
 between them, the friends of one declaring that the other was of no 
 use. My John Brown was the best fisherman I ever saw. The 
 salmon, crede the late Frank Buckland, swarm in Galway river. 
 
ABOUT SEYEEAL MEN 
 WHO WENT A-ANGLING, 
 
 On Yalextixe's Day hundreds of housemaids will look up 
 the area palings, expecting a missive from Postman X, 
 and many a boarding-school miss will try to square the 
 servants so as to prevent the old lady abbess of the boarding 
 school from cutting off some amatory correspondence from 
 lovesick boys. 
 
 You, who have the run of trout streams in the Avarmest 
 parts of the West of England, a sou'-west wind, a keeper 
 waiting for you with all fishing paraphernalia, so as to enable 
 you to welcome your first trout as your valentine on 
 February the lith. This occurred at Broxburn some 
 twenty-eight years ago, and sure I was there. 
 
 Have to wait for thirteen days from the day you read 
 this until you feel the top of your rod bend down almost to 
 your knuckles with exactly the same delightful sensation as 
 a cricketer feels when he meets the first ball of the season, 
 and knowing that it is six inches ofi his wickets, he makes 
 " the cut," which he has dreamt of all through the winter, 
 and feels that the hit has come well off. 
 
 Fancy again. Lady fisheresses (I appeal to good old Tory 
 45 ' " 
 
46 Alout Several Men ivlio went a- Angling. 
 
 young ladies who land big salmon every autumn in or aljout 
 the Gordon-Richmond estates in Scotland), how much jollier 
 it is to see the monarch of the stream on the grass than to 
 *' rink" at Prince's, or to be carried round Belgravian draw- 
 ing-rooms, half dead and quite knocked up, in the mazy 
 waltz. Kot that Prince's is a bad place by any means, nor 
 ballrooms either. 
 
 Now, is not this a romantic opening ? I am going to 
 talk about cockney fishing twenty years ago from this date. 
 
 Dramatis personce. Myself No. 1 : An overworked 
 official in those days ; and I only wish my friend *' the 
 working man" could be induced to do w^hat I did then at my 
 pay, and would put his soul into it as I did, at the risk of 
 heart and brams. 
 
 No. 2. A poor Clerkenwell w^atchmaker, accompanied by 
 a sickly-looking little boy on a crutch and a kitten in a 
 basket. The poor little fellow loved the fresh air much, 
 but he loved his kitten more. 
 
 No. 3. Three jolly young farmers vrho took it into 
 their heads to study the gentle art. 
 
 No. 4. A sour, bumptious fellow, who knew every art 
 of livebait fishing for jack, which only means " ledgei-ing," 
 with a detective to w^atch the float and to haul it in when 
 the jack has gorged the bait, after ten minutes. These 
 coves are not within the pale of the " Fishing Church." 
 
 Twenty years ago w'ork was harder, and no Saturday 
 half-holiday existed, and those who worked with their 
 brains had to work a fair six days, from nine o'clock till 
 six or seven, and very often till two or three in the morning, 
 Saturdays included ; and many, like myself, who had been 
 born and bred in the country, and knew and loved most 
 sports, would be as pleased, for want of better spoi't, to cut 
 out a mouse on a hillside, or catch minnows or gudgeons, 
 than do nothing. Hence it occurred to me that it was 
 
About Several Men tvho ivent a- Angling. 47 
 
 batter to ran down to a place t\yenty miles from London, 
 more or less, which Izaak Walton once trod, for the purpose 
 of quiet and enjoyment in meadows which were sacred to 
 those who paid for privacy and seclusion, than to do nothing. 
 
 According to the accounts direct from the fishery, the 
 fishing was A 1. The real truth was that, under very 
 special seasons, and at special times, a ten or even a fifteen 
 pound pike mi'jht be caught, but in ordinary times perch 
 and roach and jack of no great size ruled the market. 
 
 Well, I went a fishing ; and having the run of the back 
 waters, and by working all day, I had a little incidental 
 sport of no great moment, but every bit of which lifted a 
 ton weight off my mind ; and I spent more time chatting 
 with those who were fishing than I spent in my own sport ; 
 so exit No. 1 of the dramatis per sonce. 
 
 Enter No. 2. The poor Clerkenwell clockmaker and the 
 little boy with the crutch and the kitten. 
 
 No. 1 was taking stock of the frequenters of the water, 
 and "fell into discourse," as Mr. Pepys would have said, 
 with No. 2, and he learnt that No. 2 and his little boy and 
 the kitten had started on foot, on Saturday afternoon, from 
 Clerkenwell, and had made an easy ten miles ; my little 
 friend with a crutch being '■' a rare game one to j^eg along," 
 according to his father's account, and had slept at a friend's 
 house some eight miles from the fishery, and had finished 
 the journey that morning early. Good heavens, little 
 Bethel ! could this honest clockmaker have been fishing on 
 a Sunday ? 
 
 The little fellow was shoutinaj with delisfht at butterflies 
 and dragon-flies, and wdien he saw a Idngfi slier for the first 
 time he went quite mad, and told the kitten all about. 
 
 Well, I sat and looked at the clockmaker for a long time, 
 and saw 7«i.§ fishing. He had a very long bamboo ro 1 which 
 could readily be pulled to pieces, for the 2:>urpose of 
 
48 About Several lieu ivho ivent a'Angling. 
 
 landing his fish, and Avas watching an almost invisible 
 porcupine quill float which sailed about in a little fresh- 
 water sea, and I would defy any one but a clockmaker to 
 mark a bob of that float ; but as sure as the float sunk a 
 hundreth part of an inch he struck ; and when a little 
 roach, about five to a pound, came in, the little boy shouted 
 and told the kitten again. 
 
 I thought to myself, " If that poor fellow had the run of 
 a fine river, well preserved, with an old keeper's instruc- 
 tions and good tackle, wouldn't he * wipe the eye ' of many 
 a salmon-fisher," for I never saw a keener sportsman or a 
 man with a quicker hand and eye. 
 
 No. 2's refreshments were very scanty, and it was in my 
 power to give them a banquet at the cost of half-a-crown ; 
 but such a nature's gentleman was the poor clockmaker, 
 and so happy was he with his harmless enjoyment, that if 
 I had tendered pecuniary assistance he would have looked 
 on me as a snob. 
 
 Some tobacco and a pull at my flask was all 1 dared oflTer : 
 could I ofier more to a man who kneAv Izaak Walton by 
 heart ? In desultory cross-examination I found, to my 
 great jo}^ that the party were going home by train. 
 
 I would have given four times its value to have put a 
 crown into his hand, but I knew the man's mind : he was 
 as independent as I was, and felt it. 
 
 Enter No. 3. The party of three jolly young farmers, 
 ligged out with new tackle, new bait cans, gaiters, fishing 
 boots, and all sorts of things advertised by fishing shops. 
 There was no difliculty in making their acquaintance. 
 They made mine. They had cold chicken, tongue, ham, 
 bottled beer, gin, whisky, rum, and tobacco in all vaiieties, 
 and were in riotous spirits. 
 
 Their story came out in a moment. One of their party 
 professed to be a fisherman, and had enticed all the others 
 
About Several Men lolio ivent a-AnfjUng. 49 
 
 to commence the noble art ; and, at considerable expens9, 
 they had bought the necessary tackle, and the result was 
 " nil." 
 
 I travelled on, and came to No. 4, the sulky ledger-fisher. 
 He was morose and taciturn, and said he had only caught 
 one fish — no sport to speak of. 
 
 " What weight ? " 
 
 *^ Oh ! only about fifteen pounds ! " 
 
 'Twas true he had got it, for I saw it. 
 
 He never asked me to have any lunch. On the contrary, 
 he evidently wished me at the place where little Bethel 
 would have sent him for fishing on a Sunday. 
 
 And now, why did I fish on a Sunday? — for I don't 
 think I ever did so before, and (bar one, under similar 
 circumstances) I don't think I shall ever do so again. It is 
 all very well for poor clockmakers who live in garrets ; but 
 I think a week-day better under ordinary circumstances. 
 
 I will tell you how it came about. I went to the 
 doctor's, half dead, on Saturday morning, and he said, " If 
 you don't go awa}' at once for forty-eight hours into the 
 green fields, and lie on your back, and do nothing, I won't 
 answer for you; for your brain is overworked. No church, 
 mind — no reading — be idle." So I went to a little fishing 
 inn, the only place I knew where I could be sure to be out 
 of a crowd, as the fishing meadows were sacred ; and hence 
 I met my companions. 
 
 Now to kill oft' the dramatis per soncp. No. 2, the clock- 
 maker's party, went home by train, and I had the oppor- 
 tunity of slipping in a jDot of real good ale into my bill, 
 and could tender my friend the stirrup-cup without any 
 appearance of pride, — and, by the way, he put his head into 
 the pot — it was clear he relished it. 
 
 No. 3, the jolly farmers' pai-ty, sent me an invitation to 
 join them in their private rooms. They were in very good 
 
50 Ahoid Several Men ivlio icent a'Angling, 
 
 trim — in other words, were in great mii'th, — though not 
 intoxicated, by any means. Around them were many 
 bottles. On the table was a jack, or " jackikin," of about 
 seven or eight ounces in weight, and I was requested to act 
 as coroner whilst they held an inquest over the deceased ; 
 which office I readily accepted, and a verdict was returned 
 of " found drowned," which verdict was duly wetted by the 
 gentlemen of the jury. 
 
 The way they chafied one of their companions, who had 
 induced them to come a-fishing, was a caution ; but as we 
 fell into discourse (again quotmg Mr. Pepys), I told them 
 that if they really wanted to learn anything about fishing, 
 a Thames fisherman, for a sovereign, would give them 
 enough preliminary instruction to enable them to follow 
 out the art themselves ; and they concluded, as a Yankee 
 would say, to go somewhere where they could be well posted 
 up in the gentle art. 
 
 And here let me digress for a moment, and say a word 
 to young England, if he wants to learn fishing. The genial 
 spirit of Izaak Walton, who taught his '' scholar " all the 
 rudiments of fishing, has descended on his disciples ; and 
 there is not a fisherman in England worth his salt who is 
 not always ready and willing to communicate the mysteries 
 of the gentle art to a tjvo. 
 
 Now for No. 4 — the morose man who landed the 15- 
 pounder. With the aid of the landlord we soon found out 
 his value. He was a pot-hunter, belonging to one or two 
 fishing clubs, and fishing for prizes. His game was, to get 
 information about the water, and as to when and where a 
 good fish was on the feed, and to drop down with tackle 
 ^^hich would tow a barge, and with two rods out, and any 
 amount of live bait, and to go " ledgering." We heard quite 
 enough about No. 4's sport, and he swaggered and blustered 
 about it when he came in, and wrote oflf to the S2')orting 
 
Ahout Several Men lulio ivent a- Angling. 51 
 
 papers on the subject, and then gave himself up to painting 
 his nose with ^roof. 
 
 So No. 1 (that's myself) and No. 3 (that's the three 
 farmers) talked over No. 2 (the clockmaker and his little 
 party), and we voted them the best of the best, and we 
 voted No. 4 a snob. Then the No. 3 party whispered 
 together; and one of them almost died of convulsions, 
 and said to me (that's No. 1), "You ivill hear of a lark." 
 And so we separated for the night. 
 
 Izaak Walton talked of inns where the beds smelt of 
 lavender, and ballads hung on the wall. My bed was a very 
 lively bed indeed, and sleep came not. Whilst I was bless- 
 ing {?) the fleas, and in utter despair, T heard a hubbub 
 which might have awakened the dead. There was much 
 violent language, and, on opening my door, I saw a madman 
 rushing about the passage in a very short night-shirt ; and 
 from adjoining bedrooms, occupied by No. 3, 1 heard shrieks 
 of merriment. The madman was No. 4. 
 
 No. 4 rushed at me like a tiger. 
 
 " Did you do it, sir ? " 
 
 ''Do ivhat ? " I asked. 
 
 "• Did you put the big jack in my bed, sir ? " 
 
 I thought I must have exploded right off: I told him, in 
 remarkably plain words — I may say, in vei'y remarkably 
 plain words — to go to bed, and not kick up such a row ; and 
 shut the door in his face. 
 
 Query? Could No. 3 have done such a wicked thing as 
 to put the jack into No. 4's bed ? Somebody did it. 
 
 E-2 
 
THE PEIDE OF OUE 
 VILLAGE. 
 
 There is between the hills in a south-eastern English county 
 one of the prettiest villages in England. On one side for a 
 distance of several miles there is a line of well-wooded 
 heights, and on the other side some picturesque down- 
 country. Through the valley runs a river, and on the ris- 
 ing knoll stands a village church just above the bridge, over 
 the stream, and near the church are the great house and 
 deer park. It is a very little village, containing some three 
 hundred inhabitants, and was, and probably now is, a very 
 primitive place in its way. There was no public-house or 
 beershop in that village ; the whole jDlace, barring the 
 vicarage, belonged to the squire, who, when a railway first 
 made its appearance, bargained that no station should be 
 placed anpvhere nearer than two miles and a half, and who 
 obstinately refused to every builder who applied for a plot 
 of land the slightest concession to erect any house upon his 
 estate. There were no poor to speak of, and as every 
 labourer was employed, we had no poachers, and so kept 
 the even tenor of our way, content with one service 
 on the Sunday morning or afternoon alternately, for 
 our spirtual wants. We were orthodox withal, for on feasts 
 52 
 
The Pride of Oar Village. 53 
 
 and festivals, when the Athanasian Creed was appointed to 
 b3 read, the old clerk would say to the Vicar, '^ If you please, 
 sir, we have '* Haunanias" creed to-day." The Ranters 
 once tried to preach on the green, and had there been any 
 stocks in the parish, no doubt they would have found them- 
 selves in them ; but as there were no stocks they were 
 simply ordered to move on, and they had the sense to do so, 
 the villagers being conservative, and the river handy. 
 
 Our village was for some twelve months one of the most 
 celebrated in England, for the big house and the park being 
 let by the squire to a nobleman who was sportingly inclined , 
 we all woke up with a new excitement in the shape of 
 racing stables in oar parish. People shook their heads and 
 prophesied the ruin of us all ; but a reaction soon took 
 place. The trainer and a swarm of nice little boys with 
 close-cut hair and shining faces made quite a show in our 
 village church with their smart liveries, and looked as if 
 butter w^ould not melt in their mouths, and the new 
 community of grooms, rough-riders, and stable-boys settled 
 down quite pleasantly amongst us, and people found that a 
 good deal of money was circulated, and that we grew none 
 the wickeder. There was no Sunday training, no four-in- 
 liands came from the cavalry barracks on Sunday after- 
 noons (as the Mawworms all said there woidd be), and the 
 park and the racing stables were as quiet on a Sunday as any 
 other part of the village ; and our new Squire's purse was 
 never closed to any appeal from the Yicar, and we never 
 saw or heard anything of the evils of racing, if such there 
 be. In the autumn our enthusiasm reached its highest 
 pitch, for the next year's Derby favourite became one of 
 our parishioners. High and low, rich and poor, thought 
 and dreamt of nothing else but the coming race in the 
 spring. 
 
 " La ! miss," said our oldest inhabitant, a venerable old 
 
54 The Pride of Our Village. 
 
 woman of nearly ninety, who inliabited the almshouse — 
 ^Yhose first husband was hung for robbing the mail, and 
 also hung in chains afterwards, in the latter part of the 
 last century, when George III. was king — to the parson's 
 daughter, who went to read " Pilgrim's Progress" to her, 
 " I have had a message from the Lord." The lady, who 
 was not unaccustomed to hear very old women say strange 
 things, asked innocently, *^ What was the message ? " 
 "Why," answered the nonagenarian, " the butler from the 
 gi^eat house was here yesterday, and ' ' told me that the 
 Lord " (meaning the noble owner) " had told him that 
 Cleorge, the celebrated jockey, is going to ride the favourite 
 for the Derby, and T do hope he will win." So you see the 
 poor old woman had mixed up her theology with stable 
 talk ; and, old as she was, her mind was on the Derby, as well 
 as ours. 
 
 The fact was that the occupier of the big house — " the 
 Lord," as the poor people called him — was never known to 
 say or do anything except w^hat was kind and generous to 
 every one about him, especially to the jDOor, and conse- 
 sequently every one's heart was in the favourite's success, out 
 of regard to the owner ; and there is little doubt that, had 
 someone suddenly suggested that prayers should be offered 
 up for the favourite's success, the primitive people would 
 not have seen any profanity in it ; and most certainly, had 
 anyone shouted out in the middle of the sermon, " Ten to 
 one against the favourite ! " the parson — whom probably I 
 knew better than anyone else in this life, and who never 
 bet in his life before — would have answered, " Done, man ! 
 done, in sovereigns ! " So great was the feeling in favour 
 of the owner, that a clergjTuan whom I met at dinner in 
 London the Sunday before the Derby, said to me, " I 
 believe a racecourse to be little better than a pandemonium, 
 and I hate the whole system ; but the owner is such a kind- 
 
The Pride of Our Village, 55 
 
 hearted man, that I would go there myself if it could secure 
 his success." 
 
 It was a royal treat to be taken into the stable to see 
 the horse — -a treat which no Avell-bred gentlemen would 
 ever think of asking for, as it is a difficult thing to refuse 
 on the owner's part, and me jiidice, you may as well ask to 
 see a man's banking book. 
 
 The favourite w^as all sixteen hands; a splendid bay, 
 with a beautiful head and a large, full eye, as soft as a 
 gazelle's, and in temper as gentle as a lamb. He recaived 
 his visitors, especially ladies, on whose shoulders he would 
 lay his head (happy horse !), like a thoroughbred gentleman, 
 and came up — possibly with an eye to a little bit of sugar, 
 or apple, or bread, — and did the honours of his loose box 
 with great effect. Very few strangers ever saw him ; and 
 I fancy that I grew six inches, and swelled in proportion, 
 wdien I received a message one Sunday afternoon from the 
 owner, that he would be happy to show me the stables the 
 next morning, and that, if the weather only held on as bad 
 as it then was — it was blowing a December hurricane from 
 the south-west, — I might see him galloped on Monday at two 
 o'clock in the wind and rain. 
 
 The park was a splendid place for training, with three- 
 quarters of a mile finish — very like the Derby course. There 
 were only two paths through the park, and all adits and 
 exits were easily watched ; and should a stranger be found 
 out of the lawful beaten track, what was easier than for one 
 of the keepers (who were many in number) to punch that 
 stranger's head ? jSTo fear of a magistrate of sound religious 
 principles convicting anyone in that part of the country for 
 thrashing a tout who was after our favourite. He would 
 be much more likely to give a tout tln-ee months for 
 running his head against a keeper's stick in the exercise of 
 the keeper's duty. 
 
C6 The Pride of Our Village. 
 
 Barring treachery from within, which was very unlikely, 
 that horse was safe from the touts — though once we thought 
 that we were clone. It happened thus. The old parson 
 Avas ill, and the clergy of the neighbouring cathedral town 
 being in " full blast," as the manufacturers say, owing to 
 some grand Church week, a stranger came from London 
 for two or three Sundays. He was a curious kind of man, 
 and not much like a parson in manners or carriage. People 
 were civil to him, of course, and he had the natural 
 curiosity which most of the parish had about our favourite. 
 Coming out of church one Sunday, the wife of the noble 
 owner was talking about some suspicious people having been 
 seen about the woods, and a sudden idea occurred to me 
 
 which nearly paralyzed her : " Lady ," 1 said, ^' I have 
 
 it ! that new parson is a Newmarket tout as sure as we are 
 born ! " The idea was almost too horrible to think of. 
 
 A young lady who was staying at the Vicarage, after 
 having been sworn to secrecy by every oath which would be 
 likely to stop a woman's tongue, was allowed to accompany 
 me to see the favourite gallop ; and although she w^as 
 particular, as a rule, about catching cold, and damp fee, 
 she cheerfully walked through the long wet grass to a hill 
 side in the park, in such a storm as I never saw excej^t in the 
 "Witches' scene in " Macbeth." 
 
 The favourite had his hood on — and he carried, as I 
 thought, but I did not inquire, of course, a much heavier 
 weight than the Derby regulation weight, and was led by a 
 powerful mare ridden by a feather-weight boy who looked 
 like a squirrel on an oak-tree ; but despite the weather, 
 which w^as tremendous, the horse came along with a mag- 
 nificent stride, at a pace which seemed to me quite equal to 
 Derby speed, and pulled up after his mile and a quartei- 
 perfectly fresh. 
 
 Everything seemed to prosper : the jockey who was to 
 
The Pride of Our Village. 57 
 
 ride the horse came down and tried him and was dehghted 
 w-ith his going, and when early spring came on and our 
 favourite was removed to his final training quarters on the 
 Sussex Downs, and we missed the people at the big house 
 and our trainer and jockeys, our little parish grew quite 
 dull. 
 
 One day at luncheon the Vicar came in, looking as if he 
 had seen the Father of Evil himself. 
 
 " What is the matter, Tom ? " asked his wife, quite 
 alarmed. 
 
 "My dear, dear wife! I have just heard the moot 
 dreadful thing in the world," answered the parson. 
 
 " What is it, my dear ? " 
 
 << Why, some villains have put some broken glass in the 
 favourite's gallop, in Sussex. I would have such fellows 
 hanged twice over, ay, and quartered, too." This he said, 
 forgetting that on the previous Sunday he had preached 
 forgiveness down to any extent, and even so far possibly as 
 forgiving a man who ran away with one's mother-in-law. 
 
 I wonder how many hundreds of persons on cricket- 
 gi^ounds and elsewhere asked me if I could give them any 
 " information," knowing that my people lived in the parish 
 where the favourite used to be. To one and all I gave the 
 same answer, which was, that if they believed in anything 
 such as honesty on the Turf, they now had the chance of 
 backing a horse whose owner possessed that quality, and if 
 not, they had better leave it alone ; and moreover, that if I 
 had any so-called " information," I was not going to betray 
 the confidence of a man who had made me free of his 
 stables on the faith of my being a gentleman and not a 
 tout. 
 
 The Derby Day approached, and we had the latest news 
 that the horse was safe in the neighbourhood of Epsom, and 
 that all was well ; and that to prevent mistakes some of the 
 
58 The Pride of Our Village. 
 
 keepers — all ISTorth-countrymen, slow to speak and quick to 
 act — ^had gone down with him to form a body-guard, and 
 prevent the ^possibility of the horse being got at. 
 
 On looking out of my window on the morning of that 
 memorable Derby Day, the only thing visible was one 
 pei-petual stream of rain, which looked like endless small 
 bell-ropes which were pouring down from a dark-brown 
 ceiling, which w^as called by courtesy a sky. Talk about a 
 wet day — this was a concentration of all the cataracts in 
 the world, sent by atmospheric pressure through miles of 
 colossal cullenders. Ladies, as ladies always do, with their 
 usual unselfishness, Avere deploring the spoiling of a holiday, 
 which a guest of mine — a parson — and myself were going* 
 to enjoy at Epsom, and could not understand how I kept 
 up my spirits and whistled with keen delight, as I arrayed 
 myself in an old fishing dress, which consisted of waterproof 
 boots which came up to my knees over my trousers, a tar- 
 paulin coat which reached to my heels, and a very much- 
 worn waterproof wideawake, with sloping sides, like a 
 beefsteak pudding, two sizes too large for my head ; the 
 combined dress making me look about as big a blackguard 
 as any who started for the Downs that day. 
 
 I was perfectly indifferent to everything during the 
 journey down, utterly unmindful of people who offered me 
 correct cards, or Fundi or the latest sporting paj)er, or 
 tracts warning me of certain perdition if I w^ent to the 
 Derby. Weather, and eating and drinking, were things of 
 nought. One thing only was on my mind, which was the 
 sight which I saw in December, of our favourite going like 
 lightning through mud and slush, and against weather as- 
 bad as we could have that day, and I made up my mind he 
 would do it again. 
 
 Once having gained Barnard's Stand, and having estab- 
 lished myself in a good place next to a post, high up,. 
 
The Pride of Our Village. 59 
 
 iQimediately behind the judge's box, and opposite the 
 winning post, time was no object. I did not miss the 
 Punch-and-Judy men, or stilts, or knockemdowns, or 
 gipsies, all of which unfortunate people never stirred out 
 on that miserable day : it seemed nothing extraordinary 
 that the only things visible were thousands of square yards 
 of umbrellas, and nothing else. Nor was anything else an 
 object. A fight took place close to me, in which I took no 
 interest : I saw one man pick another's pocket, and did 
 not care to interfere ; and my feeling was one of gratitude 
 to the hundreds of thousands who had paid our village the 
 compliment to come down in such weather to see our race 
 — for it was our Derby and nobody else's. Here were my 
 parson friend and myself, two representatives of our parish, 
 and ready to fight the whole crowd — one down, t'other come 
 on, — who said a word against our horse, or his owner. Father 
 JSToah might have come by again in his ark, as of yore — as he 
 might well have done, — and I am quite sure that we two, 
 the parson and myself, would have stopped outside to see 
 race. 
 
 I suppose there n'cis some racing before the Derby, as I re- 
 member bells ringing, crowds clearing, shouting, and 
 numbers going up, and occasionally beds of tulijDS flying by, 
 which no doubt were really jockeys and horses racing : 
 nothins^ roused me till I heard the real bell soundincr for 
 clearing the course for our Derby. Quite right of the Com- 
 missioners of Police to send all those constables to clear the 
 way for our favourite. Ah, I perceive that other jockeys on 
 horses take advantage of the open space, and are galloping 
 too. Well, I have no objection ; we are not selfish. At 
 last I saw a crowd coming down near our stand. No, there 
 was no mistake ! there was our favourite, with George on 
 his back, and the owner and trainer walking by him, and 
 one or two helpers and some of the keepers, and I see the 
 
60 The Pride of Our Village. 
 
 jockey lean down for a moment and speak to the owner. 
 George gives him a shake of the rein, no whip or spur, and 
 our favourite passes us towards Tattenham Corner, going 
 possibly a little stiff. There is no mistake about it, the 
 match is our villa o^e aojainst the world. 
 
 '' Call that a horse," shouted a man close to me, who was 
 eating some fat greasy meat out of a piece of Daily 
 Telegraph newspaper, w^ith a very doubtful knife, and hold- 
 ing in the palm of his left hand a dirty piece of bread, which 
 he gnawed like a dog, and whose mouth seemed filled with 
 equal proportions of teeth like broken rails (which had 
 never been washed by anything but beer since he was 
 weaned), the Litany utterly perverted, and the lowest tap- 
 room slang, j)lus his cold meat and bread ; "I call him (I 
 omit the adjectives and substantives of the speaker) a cow. 
 I'll lay a level ' quid ' (thieves' Latin for a sovereign) he 
 ain't first, second, or third." 
 
 " Done ! " I shouted in his ear, with such a roar that the 
 man almost jumped off the stand ; and in my excitement I 
 called him by an epithet similar to one which Mr. Chucks 
 the boatswain in " Peter Simple," delighted in, which if 
 true — as no doubt it was — would have qualified him to 
 quarter the " bar sinister" on his escutcheon. 
 
 " Halves ! " shouted the parson who was with me ; so I 
 and the Church were partners in a sovereign bet, which was 
 the only one w^e had. 
 
 Again the favourite passes us on his return gallop to the 
 paddock, with a magnificent stride this time, utterly re- 
 gardless of mud or w^eather. I could have shaken hands 
 if I had had time, with every one near me, for I felt sure 
 that our favourite was the favourite of nine out of ten. 
 
 A kind of sulky presence of mind came over me again, 
 and I watched with comparative indifference the horses file 
 out through the paddock to the post. 
 
The Pride of Our TiUafje. 61 
 
 A gentleman behind me, knowing — by instinct I suppose 
 — how utterly absorbed I was in the race, and whom I after- 
 wards found out to be a gi^eat AYest of England horse- 
 breeder, very kindly offered to keep me ' posted up' as to 
 the success of the favourite, as he said, though not a bet- 
 ting man, he knew^ every horse, and the names and colours 
 of the riders and all about them. At a quarter-past three 
 o'clock the lot were at the jDOst, and after a horse called Sky- 
 blue had bolted three or four times, for one whole hour the 
 last horse in the rank, one called Tambourine, every time a 
 start w^as attempted, stuck his feet hard against the gi-ound, 
 and stood on his head with his heels in the air and would 
 not move, although friendly hands with stout sticks gave 
 him one or two which would have seriously injured a hippo- 
 potamus. All this time my informant, who was an admii'- 
 able judge, told me that the favourite was as quiet as possi- 
 })le, and not the least flurried, and the false starts were more 
 likely to prejudice the other horses the most. At last the 
 starter left Tambourine at the post, and after thirty-three 
 false starts they were oif in a hurricane of wind and rain. 
 
 My friend behind me was very hopeful and encouraging. 
 " ISTow," he said, " he is in a good place by the bushes ; they 
 are makmg for the Corner ; now he is well round, w^ell 
 through his horses, a little wide, perhaps, but out of the 
 ruck ; now he is shaking them all off. Look at him passing 
 the stand ! He must win ! He must win. Ko, by Jove, 
 he's broken down ! " (I saw the horse go from under his 
 jockey almost.) " jSTo, he's all right again ! " Then, for the 
 first time, I opened my mouth just as the horse was within 
 a hundred yards or so of home, and I know not why, except 
 from utter madness, I kept on shrieking out like a maniac 
 the jockey's name, in a voice which could be heard half-way 
 across the course, and in a moment I saw two horses locked 
 together dash past the judge's chair. 
 
62 The Pride of Our Village. 
 
 Then came the babel of voices. " Favourite won ! " " No 
 Italian ! " '' No, clead-heat ! " The fact was, as I learnt 
 afterwards, that neither jockey knew which horse had won. 
 I waited quietly for the verdict, when — oh ! horror — a 
 stoutish elderly man in a red coat (the old clerk of the 
 course), mounted on a very powerful chestnut horse with four 
 white stockings, trotted into the space in front of the rub- 
 bing-house, and led out Italian first, followed by our 
 favourite, who was beaten on the post by a very short half 
 head. And then — I am not the least ashamed to say so — I 
 sat down and cried like a child. 
 
 The judge, of course, incurred much odium, because he 
 made a mistake about the number of the third horse, which 
 had afterwards to be reversed, but I have no doubt that 
 he was right, as Mr. F. Verrall, whose obituary was 
 published a short time since, and whom I knew very 
 well, and who backed the favourite, was standing outside 
 the judge's box and could see the race as well as the judge; 
 and he told me that he fancied that the favourite's shoulder 
 and the jockey were first, but the favourite's head was down, 
 and Italian threw up his head in his last stride, and Mr. 
 Yerrall agreed with the judge about the half head, and 
 said that had he been judge he would have given the same 
 decision. 
 
 As to what followed after, is it not written in the annals 
 of racing how our favourite was nearly beaten by a second- 
 rate French horse on the Friday following the Derby, and 
 got into bad odour, and was peppered tremendously by the 
 Ring for months? How the greatest bookmaker laid 
 £11,000 to £1,000 against him in one bet with the owner, 
 and paid the bet the night of the Leger ? How the horse 
 went to Doncaster, and with a start of a hundred yards 
 behind the other horses at the post he won the Lege? 
 easily ? How our villagers and those of the neighbouring 
 
The Pride of Our Village. 63 
 
 villages waited from two o'clock in the afternoon till ten 
 o'clock at night at the railway station, near the big house 
 for the owner's return, a few clays after the Leger ? How 
 they took the horses out of the owner's carriage and 
 dragged him home, and illuminated the park, and burnt 
 tar-barrels ? And this was all done by those who probably 
 amongst them all had not five pounds on the race, or any 
 other race in the world, and it was done simply because the 
 owner was a kind neighbour and honest sportsman. 
 
 I do not believe there is any better evidence of a '' mens 
 Sana in coiyore sano " than for people to take an almost 
 mad interest in any honest sport or amusement. If one 
 only com^^ai-es those who do so with the Mawworms who 
 are always holding meetings about their neighbours' doings, 
 he will see which are of the happiest frame of mind. 2^o 
 doubt many of them are honest, but I have no doubt also 
 that to many of those who attend the Exeter Hall meet- 
 ings, and Moody and Sankey meetings, and the like, the 
 excitement is the real object, bar one — as their wickeder (?) 
 brethren would say, — and that bar one is love of vulgar 
 notoriety and self-glory, and seeing their names in the so- 
 called reHgious papers. I suppose the fact is that I hate 
 your amateur religionist who whistles through his nose like 
 a sandpiper, and bothers me about his ideas of my state of 
 mind, and foretells my perdition because I like to see two 
 noble animals have a fair struggle for victory for the 
 struggler's sake, as much as I hate the man who would be 
 vitterly indifferent whether the competitors are horses, dogs, 
 pigs, cows, or two drops of rain running down a glass, so 
 long as he can rob someone. The Mawworms are like the 
 Puritans of old, who, according to Lord Macaulay, went 
 regularly wild about bear-baiting, not because it hurt the 
 bear, but because it pleased the people. 
 
 There is an anecdote about our favourite which I know 
 
G4 The Pride of Our Village. 
 
 to be true, for I had it from the noble owner. At Don- 
 caster he was restless and off his feed, and great fears were 
 entertained that he had been got at, when one of the stable- 
 boys said to the trainer, '' He's a-looking for his kitten." 
 
 On the chance, a telegram w^as sent to the training 
 stables, two hundred and fifty miles off, for someone to 
 come at once by first express train with the kitten : and 
 the boy turned out to be right. Dh^ectly the kitten was 
 out of his basket and saw the horse, he jumped on his 
 back, ran over his head, and was on the manger in a 
 moment, and began patting his nose, and the horse was 
 quiet at once, and fed as well as ever. 
 
 Of course every real racing man will see that this sketch 
 — which is true in every detail — is so ear-marked that 
 there can be no doubt as to the name of the owner and of 
 the favourite ; but I purposely have not put the real names, 
 because, first, I never put people's names (except on public 
 matters) in print without their leave ; and, secondly, be- 
 cause I want to baulk our friend the sporting (?) penny-a- 
 liner, who would talk about " that prince of sportsmen and 
 good fellow Lord Blank ; " just as he icill, in some hunting 
 account of some run which he describes from the hearsay 
 evidence of some "beery" underwhip — having himself pro- 
 bably seen nothing more of hounds and huntsmen than a 
 glimpse of them passing a tap-room window at which he 
 and the pot-bo}" were sitting-— take in vain the names of 
 numbers of gentlemen to whom he never spoke in his life. 
 But there is a moral to this. See how happily the world 
 goes when the parson and squii^e pull together, and when, 
 as in this case, the owner of the favourite went out of his 
 way almost to avoid offending the honest prejudices of the 
 parson. 
 
 Note. — There is a pleasant reminiscence about this article. Lord 
 St. Vincent, one of the kindest men who ever lived, was owner of 
 
The Pride of Our Village. 65 
 
 Lord Clifden, which was the Derby favourite, and was trained for the 
 Derby, first at Godmersham, in Kent, of which parish my late 
 father was vicar. Some twelve or fifteen years after my father's 
 death, and long after Lord St. Vincent had left Godmersham, I received 
 a letter from him, asking me to come and bring one of my daughters 
 to his youngest daughter's wedding, in London, as he wished to 
 have a reminiscence cf "dear old Godmersham," as he called it. 
 We had lost sight of one another for year?, and I " countered" him 
 by writing a sketch of his former home, and of his favourite race- 
 horse, and got the printers of Baily to get me an advance copy a 
 day or two before publication, and sent it to him as a wedding 
 present. He told me that the story of the kitten was perfectly 
 accurate, and the moral of the story about squire and parson at the 
 end was quite true. The late George Fordham rode Lord Clifder, 
 which was beaten by Macaroni by a short half-head. Tambonr 
 Major made thirty-three (!) false starts. The judge put up the 
 number of the third horse wrong, and had to alter it. 
 
IN A EACING STABLE. 
 
 The worst use you can put a man to, say tlie anti-capital 
 punishment party, is to hang him. The worst use you can 
 put a magnificent horse to, say I, is to make him a mere 
 vehicle for gambling, and to cause him to be so handled in 
 the stable or on the race-coin^se that his whole strength and 
 energy are intentionally cramped for the purposes of the 
 betting-ring or possibly of his owner. 
 
 The late Lord Derby was very strong on the question of 
 the abuse of horse-racing, and stated in print — I think in 
 the Times — that expressions such as " it is not his journey," 
 "he was never meant," (fee, (fee, are direct proofs that as 
 regards the class called "the sporting world," as contra- 
 distinguished from the real British sportsman, the horse is 
 an animal about which they care nothing, except as a means 
 of gambling. 
 
 In the present autumn I had a private introduction to a 
 well-known and much respected trainer and owner of race- 
 horses, who had gone through the whole career of racing 
 from boyhood, from the lowest rung of the ladder, and 
 who, owing to his own industry and integrity, lives in a 
 comfortable house surrounded by a small home farm of his 
 own, all freehold, and all bought and paid for by his own 
 industry. 
 66 
 
In a Bacing Stable. 67 
 
 We are now looking out of the trainer's drawing-room 
 window on to a magnificent sweep of down country, which 
 commands a grand view of over more than one county. The 
 hour is eleven, and it is Sunday morning. 
 
 A long string of horses in single file are coming back to 
 the stables, past the drawing-room window, each horse rid- 
 den by the boy who attends to him except two, on one of 
 which sits the trainer and on another his father, who has 
 gone beyond the Psalmist's allowance of life by some years, 
 but who — like the retired tallow-chandler who bargained 
 to attend the place of business " on dipping days " — always 
 rides a horse at exercise every morning. 
 
 Old fogies who read the Orlando and Running Rein 
 trial, over thirty years ago, will remember that much 
 laughter was caused by a witness explaining to the judge 
 that they never " sweated horses " on a Sunday, but only 
 walked them. I went on Sunday morning because the 
 horses are all walked early, and come in at eleven, and the 
 stables shut at noon or soon after, so that I could see them 
 all being cleaned. 
 
 Whether there were fifty or seventy horses or more I 
 could not tell, as I walked from stable to stable, each of which 
 was so much like the other that there was no means of 
 CQunting the number ; and, moreover, I did not wish to 
 count, reasoning that when a man invites one behind the 
 scenes to see that which is not shown to the general public, 
 the golden rule is, "Ask no questions." 
 
 My friend very kindly showed me everything which would 
 interest a novice, and gave me the names of many horses, 
 with an account of their performances and engagements, 
 and when he did not give me the names I never asked him. 
 
 The most striking feature about a racing stable to my 
 mind is the discipline and oixler. There was a place for 
 everything, and everything was expected to be in its place. 
 F— 2 
 
68 In a Bacing Stable. 
 
 We went into one loose-box after another, most of wliich 
 formed a separate stable, consisting of a square room, with 
 small sky-lights in the roof, a ventilator, but no side 
 windows. And the same sight met the eye in each of one 
 boy and a horse in solitary confinement iiro tern., the boy 
 cleaning his horse after exercise. Every horse seemed to 
 know the trainer directly he spoke, and many of them put 
 their heads on his shoulder and fondled him, though a few 
 of the " softer sex " welcomed him by putting back their 
 ears and pretending to lash out with their hind feet. This 
 was only ladies' chaff. I could quite understand the secret 
 of success which my guide imparted to me, which is ex- 
 cessive gentleness and kindness from the time a colt is first 
 taken up for breaking ; and he told me that if a horse is 
 ever bad-tempered or vicious, it is, as a rule, the fault of 
 the boy. 
 
 Reverting to the question of order. Everything is done 
 under the master's eye, and if a headstall is on the wrong 
 nail, or a comb out of place, it is sure to be observed in a 
 moment, and the boy using it will be reminded — if an old 
 offender with a sharp reproof. But one of the most striking 
 features in training is the wonderful memory which the 
 manager must have. It is clear that he has the whole of 
 the stable on his mind, and remembers every ailment, or 
 threatened ailment, of every horse, and remembers also the 
 treatment -which he ordered the day before, and, without 
 written nobss or memoranda, inquires the result of yester- 
 day's treatment, and gives new directions. 
 
 No wonder that training is anxious work, as at any 
 moment a horse may tread on some rough substance, no 
 matter how carefully the course is kept, or put his feet in 
 a hole, or suddenly sprain himself, and the success of 
 months of training may be jeopardised by an accident, the 
 result of which cannot be known for a day or two perhaps. 
 
In a Bacing Stable, 69 
 
 It may be a slight injury reducible by hot water and 
 bandages in four-and-twenty hours; it may turn out in 
 eight-and-forty hours to be fatal to the fulfilment of a 
 horse's engagements for the rest of the season. What is 
 a trainer to do ? If the owner is an excitable man a false 
 alarm may drive him half crazy ; if he is an unreasonable 
 man he will never forgive his trainer — should the accident 
 prove bad — for not telegraphing to him on the first sus- 
 picion of mischief. Added to these troubles is the danger 
 of mischief from without. There must be black sheep in 
 this world, as any Head Master in England will tell you 
 there are in all ranks of life — and in spite of the eyes of 
 Argus the temptations ofiered by the scum of the earth 
 outside the stables must often break a trainer's rest. A 
 globule, the size of a homoeopathic dose, may contain enough 
 mischief to stop a horse temporarily, without permanent 
 injury, and without fear of detection. Given a weak- 
 minded or wicked boy, a villain with the medical appliances, 
 and ten golden sovereigns, and where is the trainer's labour ? 
 
 People little think when the horse, the engagements of 
 which may be worth many thousands of pounds, is stripped 
 for their admiration, how black care has sat behind the 
 trainer for weeks and weeks past as well as behind the 
 horseman. 
 
 Turning into the home farm and the paddocks, where 
 brood mares of the first pedigree are walking about heavy in 
 foal, it was pleasing to see how many of the mares " sought 
 the master's hand," and to witness how they came up to 
 him as if they were ladies seeing a visitor ; and a young 
 colt, of six months old, of very good pedigree, who had his first 
 headstall, did the honours of his paddock, quite like a 
 gentleman ; but on the first crack of the whip like the 
 celebrated — 
 
 " Liber et exultaas latis equus ardet in agris." 
 
70 In a Racing Stable, 
 
 the baby racer threw up his heels, and of his own accord 
 ran an imaginary Derby round his paddock for ten minutes 
 at least, leaping over small furze or bramble fences at 
 intervals. 
 
 That home farm must be a good thing for a trainer who 
 has a large establishment to keep up of his own household 
 and his stable-boys and servants. And so it struck me that 
 to be a successful trainer the following qualities are 
 necessary : — 
 
 1. Honesty, industry, and great physical endurance from 
 boyhood. 
 
 2. A knowledge of men and horses, and jockey-boys, 
 household management, economy, as well as management 
 of corn and farm produce, and pigs. 
 
 3. A genial and hospitable manner, tempered with a 
 maximum of caution as regards forming ofF-hand acquaint- 
 anceships. 
 
 4. A good education, with facility at accounts and corres- 
 pondence. 
 
 5. Health and prosperity, and a good helpmate above all. 
 
 MoRA-L. — In my visit to the racing establishment I did 
 not hear a single rough word, and I did not see a single 
 thing done which did not say '' industry, and diligence, and 
 care." When those qualities have been exercised on the 
 noblest of God's brute creatures, anyone who directly or 
 indirectly does anything to rob a horse of his health, or 
 prevent his developing to the fullest the wonderful powers 
 of endurance and speed with which jSTature has invested him, 
 is, to my mind, one of the lowest of God's creatures in 
 human form. 
 
 Note. — When you have seen a racing stable don't say 
 " No " when the trainer takes you home and introduces 
 you to his family, and puts before you some silvery cold 
 
Li a Racing Stable. 71 
 
 boiled beef, pickles, home-made butter, and home-made 
 bread, flanked by some very fine bitter beer. Then is the 
 time to eat, drink, and be merry ; and those viands (for I 
 count the beer as a viand), after a turn on the downs with 
 an agreeable and intelligent expert in racing, are worth 
 a king's ransom. 
 
NEWMAEKET. 
 
 BY A NON-RAGING MUFF WHO KNOWS 
 NOTHING ABOUT IT. 
 
 I SUPPOSE that I am within the mark if I say that ninety 
 per cent, of my e very-day acquaintance have been to Epsom, 
 and that not five per cent, of them have ever been to New- 
 market. All the workl has an idea that a Newmarket 
 meeting is sheer business, and they are not far wrong. The 
 cause of it is simple enough, and it is because the Heath is 
 the private property of the Jockey Club, and is under the 
 supervision and management of the first racing men in the 
 world, who are the law-makers of one of the most popular 
 of English sports, and the strictest order and regularity are 
 maintained. Just the same as at Lord's, the committee are 
 the authority to the whole world in cricket, and the sport 
 is conducted by those who have been bred and brought up in 
 the game, and who know the value of order and good 
 management. I was to have gone down with the editor of 
 a sporting paper to see the Middle Park Plate run for ; but 
 I missed my train all " along of " the Church Congress. The 
 fact was that a dear old country parson was staying with 
 72 
 
Xewmarket. 73 
 
 me, who never came home from the Croydon Congress till 
 after eleven o'clock at night ; and having the appetite of a 
 good honest man with an easy conscience, he wanted his 
 supper, and after his supper he liked a long churchwarden 
 by the kitchen fire before going to bed. Could I say " no " 
 to a worthy Churchman who wanted his pipe after a long 
 day's work ? The result was that when my hot water was 
 brought at seven o'clock on the " Middle Park" day, I told 
 the water-carrier to carry the water to a place where it 
 could have been kept hot, and said, " Bother Newmarket," 
 and turned me round for just five minutes more, and you 
 know what that means. 
 
 Consequently I went to Newmarket alone the next day, 
 by 9.30 special, with about twenty passengers, all told ; and 
 i was alone for the first half of the racing, until I tumbled 
 across an old Sussex professional cricketer — with whom I 
 have played many and many a match at Eastbourne — who 
 makes a book, and under his auspices I saw all the 
 celebrities of the turf who were present. 
 
 It is a good thing to see a new place alone, as you see 
 everything for yourself. 
 
 On getting out at the station I jumped into a trap, and 
 made the fifth passenger, and completed the number, my 
 four companions being "outside " bookmakers, and the trap 
 being the most rickety, and the horse the longest, boniest, 
 and most bow-backed quadruped, up-hill, I ever saw. The 
 remarks of my companions on the breed and performances 
 of the noble animal which was drawing us were more 
 humorous than polite. I don't believe that there was a 
 portion of his body which is known to anatomical science 
 which was not discussed and spoken of disparagingly. 
 
 The first mouthful of air on the Heath was worth going 
 all the way to inhale, for the day was autumnal and brac- 
 ing, and within half an hour I had what 1 have not had 
 
74 Keivmarket. 
 
 for a long time, and that was a raging appetite. More 
 power to the elbow of the people who cut sandwiches at 
 Jarvis's booth ; they are real bread and good meat, none of 
 the ci'ummy abomination, smeared with bad butter and 
 lined with tough ham, which one too often gets at a rail- 
 way station, but the sandwiches were a fair " fist-full of good 
 victuals," and the beer was good too. 
 
 I am very fond of a grand sweep of country, with God's 
 pure air blowing across it. Possibly I appreciate it the 
 more through having been born and having lived on the 
 Wiltshire Downs during my childhood, and my lungs are 
 made for it. Though living now within eight or nine miles 
 of the Grand Stand on Epsom Downs, I have only been to 
 the races four times in thirteen years, and then I have 
 made my pilgrimage for the benefit of some country 
 cousins. But many times in the year, when seedy, I walk 
 up to Epsom Downs and back for the sake of the magnifi- 
 cent jDure air, and walk the Derby course whilst they are 
 getting me something to eat at the Rubbing House, and 
 when I come back don't I fall on to the grub ? Many a 
 time in the winter, as far as I could see, I was the only 
 person on the Downs. Ay ! and don't I bring back many 
 ghosts of the past, in the days of the old gambling-booths 
 and the immortal Jerry, the king of the beggars, and of 
 Lord Chesterfield, Prince Louis Napoleon, afterwards 
 Emperor, Count D'Orsay, Crockford, Gully, and hundreds 
 of others who were pointed out to me when I saw Atilla 
 win the first Derby I ever saw, in 1842. 
 
 But I must cut Epsom and get back to Newmarket, as I 
 am going to jot down a few notes for the benefit of those 
 who have never been, and with a view to induce them to 
 enjoy as much pleasure as I did. To show how unnecessary 
 it is to have a thorough knowledge of racing to appreciate 
 Newmarket, I may remark at this minute that I can call to 
 
Neicmarket. 1 5 
 
 mind the names of only four horses in England, viz., Silvio, 
 Lady Golightly, Hampton, and Shillelagh, and if yoii werj 
 to give me a ten-pound note, I couldn't remember another 
 for the life of me. 
 
 I think there is something contagious in the precision of 
 racing men. Order and neatness are of course the keystone 
 to success in a racing stable, and I often observe in travel- 
 ling up and down the Epsom line how neat the trainers and 
 jockeys are in their appointments ; and so it is at New- 
 market. I thought I never saw a cleaner town than 
 Newmarket, except Epsom, which is one of the neatest 
 places in Surrey, and when no racing is going on, one of 
 the very quietest; and such, I presume is the case at 
 Newmarket. 
 
 Going back to the air of the Heath, and the charm of the 
 scenery and quiet. There are no niggers, no three-card 
 men, no Whitechapel gipsies, no throwing at the sticks, no 
 parade of the scum of St. Jolin's Wood and Pimlico, painted 
 and noisy and drunk ; no witty (?) London cads squirting 
 some filth out of a leaden squirt, or pea-shooting, or making 
 ribald and senseless remarks ; no sporting cads in tandem 
 carts with a horn ; but order and quiet prevail, the only 
 noise heard being the roar of the betting ring. 
 
 And now I want to ask one question, and it is this : Why 
 should the outside bookmakers (some few of whom I recog- 
 nized as the worst offenders at London suburban meetings) 
 refrain from their blackguard and filthy language at New- 
 market ? and why should they poison the air with their 
 horrible oaths in the neighbourhood of London, and allow 
 themselves to be surrounded by ticket-stealers, whom some 
 of the bookmakers (if they don't encourage them) see steal- 
 ing tickets with impunity 1 The reason is simple enough. 
 It is because they would be put off the course at once by 
 the authorities whose property the Heath is, and it would 
 
76 Newmarket. 
 
 be very good policy for owners of private suburban race- 
 courses to keep as good order as is kept at Newmarket. 
 Mind I don't say that many of the outside bookmakers 
 are not honest men, as I know to the contrary. I have one 
 in my mind's eye now, who supports a very aged mother in 
 comfort, and who is as civil as a man can be, and as honest 
 as the day, and is trusted by his neighbours with many and 
 many a sovereign to do his best with in backing something 
 at the post. Moreover, some of them are not only re- 
 markably well-behaved, but very witty and amusing to 
 boot. 
 
 Now about this Newmarket Heath. I am talking to 
 those who have never been there. In imagination, take a 
 very large tea-tray, and bend the top a good way diagonally 
 upwards, so as to make a hill with a sky-line as viewed 
 from the centre. The sky-line is a great feature in the 
 prospect, as from a distance horsemen and carriages look 
 like moving toys against the sky. Looking from the bottom 
 of the tray towards the sky-line, put down a Noah's ark in 
 the upper left-hand quarter, and dot about the course here 
 and there smaller Noah's arks as fixed stands for certain 
 points of finishing. Put the bowl of a tobacco-pipe here 
 and there about the tray to represent judges' chairs, and 
 stick up some pieces of tobacco-pipe near the bowls, here 
 and there, for posts, and then imagine the bottom of the 
 tray to be an immense sweep of beautifully-kept smooth 
 grass, divested of stones, broken bottles, or rubbish of any 
 kind, and imagine that you have a grand view of the fen 
 country, with the circular horizon just as you have at sea — 
 in fact, the fen land which you see in the horizon was sea 
 once, — throw in a fine autumn day, and there is Newmarket 
 Heath. 
 
 And how many incongruous memories Newmarket brings 
 back. The Rye House Plot, and Charles II., James II., 
 
NeivmarJcet. 77 
 
 and William III.,* and George lY. and his racing scrapes, 
 with the Jockey Club and the ChifFneys ; and Osbaldeston's 
 great two hundred miles match, accomplished in something 
 more than eight hours and a half — the wager being that 
 with the pick of fifty horses he did not ride two hundred 
 miles in ten hours ; and Admiral Eous, the prince of fair 
 play ; and old rinj scenes connected with Six Mile Bottom 
 and Milden Hall, and prize-fighters training on the heath. 
 Why, a man who trained on that heath ought to be able to 
 fio^ht a threshinoj machine and lick it. Hundreds of men 
 and things of the past are seen through the curtain of 
 time. 
 
 Oh, the joy of the elbow-room — which enables one to walk 
 about and look at everybody and everything — not forgetting 
 the trainers' wives and daughters in their broughams and 
 family phaetons, and ladies on splendid horses, w'ho ride 
 about without fear of having their ears shocked by oaths 
 
 * [a. D. 1698.] "The ambassador [Tallard, the French ambas- 
 sador] was graciously received at Kensington, and was invited to 
 accompany William to Newmarket, where the largest and most 
 splendid spring meeting ever known was about to a'^semble. The 
 attraction must be supposed to have been great, for the risks of the 
 journey were not trifling. The peace had, all over Europe, and 
 nowhere more than in England, turned many old soldiers into 
 
 marauders. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Nowhere does the peril seem to have been so great as on the New- 
 market Road. There indeed robbery was organised on a f-cale un- 
 paralleled since the days of Robin Hood and Little John. A fraternity 
 of plunderers, thirty in number, squatted near Waltham Cross, under 
 the shades of Epping Forest, and built themselves hu*s, from which 
 they salliei forth with sword and pistol to bid passengers stand. 
 The King and Tallard were doubtless too well attended to be in 
 jeopardy. But soon after they passed the dangerous spot there was 
 a fight on the highway attended with loss of life." — Loed Macau- 
 lay's History. 
 
78 JS'eivmarket. 
 
 and blasphemy and blackguardism. Then, too, there are 
 the little stable-boys on the yearlings, at exercise, looking 
 like children on mad spiders. It was a treat to hear them 
 talk to their horses when restive, and to see the horses turn 
 round and laugh at them. I suppose it must have been a 
 " horse laugh." I have heard it hundreds of times stated as 
 a fact that the hardest thing in the world is to square the 
 little stable-boy who lives with his horse. An occasional 
 rascally trainer or jockey may be " got at," as Turf history 
 proves, but the horse and the boy are inseparable friends, 
 and I believe the story that the horse is the last friend in 
 the world whom the boy would sell. 
 
 Their little fresh-coloured faces looked just like cherubims' 
 heads on a cathedral stall, though 1 fancy if they were to 
 sing with the seraphims the latter would be a little 
 astonished at some of their expressions, which, pai-rot-like, 
 they pick up in the stables. One young gentleman, who 
 mio-ht have weis'hed three stone or so, and who was 
 about forty-eight inches high, related to his companions an 
 anecdote about what he called the " off hind leg of a tough 
 goose " which they had on Michaelmas Day, and his 
 remarks on the deceased bird were more eccentric than 
 complimentary. If I was Fielding, and we were in the 
 days of George II., instead of Queen Victoria, I would 
 relate the story, but am afraid I must not put it in print. 
 But upon the whole they seemed a happy lot of little 
 fellows, who had the appearance of being kindly treated and 
 well looked after. They are doubtless as good as any other 
 lot of English boys, and their ringing laughter made very 
 pretty music in the clear autumn air. There was one 
 grand old gentleman on horseback who wore one of the old- 
 fashioned long coats, which was neither a great-coat nor a 
 surtout, but like a huntsman's coat of the last century, and 
 mahogany^tops and a loose white neckcloth, who was accom- 
 
JS'ewmarJcet. 79 
 
 panied by a little curly-haired boy of about nine years old 
 on a priceless little horse of about thirteen to fourteen 
 hands high. The little fellow's breeches were about the size 
 of a pair of wicket-keeping gloves, and his leggings no 
 bigger than a lady's six-button gauntlet. He was sitting 
 carelessly on his horse, with his reins and small hunting- 
 whip in his right hand, and leaning on the pummel with 
 his left hand, and remarking to his delighted grandfather, 
 "But, Grandpapa, Uncle G-eorge said at breakfast the 
 Monarch could give Sailor Boy (to coin two names) seven 
 pounds and a beating any day." Yerily, verily, these boys 
 are born and bred in racins^. 
 
 Don't let anyone listen to the nonsense which people say, 
 that it is useless going to Newmarket unless you are 
 mounted. Trainers, and racing men who bet heavily, and 
 who wish to attend the ring and see all the race, must of 
 course be mounted, but those who are content to see the 
 finish, or see the race some way from the post, have no 
 difficulty whatever. Half the fun is watching the troops 
 of horsemen, and the trainers' ponies, some of ti:em wonder- 
 ful specimens, savouring strongly of Welsh ponies, Xew 
 Foresters, and Exmoors. There was one rough iron-grey, 
 wall-eyed, little dray-horse of a pony, apparently able to 
 carry a billiard table on his back, whose legs were almost as 
 thick as mine, who was so intelligent that 1 am sure he had 
 a soul, and possibly a heavy book with some other pony on 
 the race. Talk about excitement dying out with advanced 
 middle age — why I saw" a w^ell-known trainer, who must be 
 very long in the tooth, galloping on one of these ponies, and 
 shrieking at the top of his voice, '• A hundred pounds the 
 young 'un wins," He was as mad as a Harrow or an Eton 
 boy at Lord's, pending a crisis in the match. Even one of 
 the mounted police was on an old racer thirteen years old, 
 who, according to the rider's account, had run thii"d or 
 
80 WewinarJcet. 
 
 fourth in the Derby one year. Why, every horse one met 
 seemed to know all about it. If you are a stranger, any 
 gentleman will tell one where to go for each race, and half 
 the pleasure is walking about on the beautiful turf on a fine 
 day. Oh, but what a terrible place it must be in rain or 
 snow ! Barring two or three scrubby bushes, there is not 
 shelter for your corns even in the open. 
 
 Shouldn't I like to enclose a circle of 450 yards in 
 diameter with a 10-feet bank, well turfed round, with a 
 terrace on the top for spectators, and lay out a cricket 
 ground on that heath, and not let a living soul be on the 
 ground except the eleven, the two batsmen, and the umpires, 
 as is the case at the dripping-pan at Lewes. What a 
 splendid ground it would make. 
 
 1 have a nasty knack of talking to myself when alone, 
 and sometimes of quarrelling with myself out loud ; so, after 
 two hours of my own company, I was not sorry to meet my 
 Sussex cricketer, who knew everything and everybody. I 
 may allude to an admirable arrangement, which is having 
 the birdcage, which answers to the paddock at Epsom, ad- 
 joining the Grand Stand, and open to the public as regards 
 seeing everything, as it was a great pleasure to see the 
 horses saddled and walked about, and the owners, jockeys, 
 and trainers, and to see the people in the Jockey Club, and 
 all the real English sportsmen. Lst me not omit also to 
 draw attention to another admirable arrangement, which is, 
 having a clock-tower on the Stand, which is a great con- 
 venience. I do delight to see a sport carried out by noble- 
 men and gentlemen who really understand it, although I 
 may know little of it myself, as much as I hate shams of all 
 kinds ; and although I was at Newmarket on a quiet day, 
 I never was more pleased in my life. The enthusiasm of 
 the female equestrians, some of whom wore Napoleon boots, 
 and knickerbockers, I suppose — we cannot suppose that they 
 
Newmarket, 81 
 
 wear the unwhisperables — but it would be impertinent to 
 inquii^e, — and short habits (perfectly neat and lady-like), 
 rode splendidly, and were as excited as I sometimes am at 
 a cricket match, when I have a colt in a county eleven, and 
 I fancy it is the same with them about horses. No doubt 
 they know several of the horses from the time they were 
 foals, and have seen them galloped many and many a time, 
 and look on them as almost members of their own family. 
 I was reading in some book — " Post and Paddock," I 
 think — how the landlady of an inn, who was aroused in the 
 middle of the night by the news that some celebrated mare 
 had foaled, jumped out of bed and ran across the stable- 
 yard with nothing on but her night-shift, to see the new 
 arrival. Ay, and I can imagine how racing becomes a 
 passion, like anything else ; and how the better half of 
 creation take an immense interest in a noble horse for the 
 horse's sake. 
 
 How the gentlemen of the press manage to report as 
 accurately and well as they do is a wonder to me. Their 
 only chance is being driven from one course to another and 
 writing in a brougham. It is hard work enough for them 
 to sit in a room on a cricket ground, and to note every over 
 and hit, and to furnish the admirable reports which they 
 publish each day in the summer, and which reports are the 
 next best thing to seeing the matches ; but rushing about 
 from the betting ring to the post and back again all over the 
 course, and writing their report in a carriage, must be very 
 hard and exhausting work. These are the men w^ho are the 
 bona fide sporting press. 
 
 There now, I have jotted down my ideas of a most enjoy- 
 able place and a most enjoyable scene, for the benefit of 
 those who have never been, and I can promise them that, if 
 they don't want to go into the Stand, and are content with 
 an occasional good sandwich when hungry, and some good 
 
82 Newmarket, 
 
 beer, not forgetting the home-brewed, which can be got in 
 the town in many places, they can go first-class by special 
 expresss to Newmarket and back, and have their eating and 
 drinking, for about five-and -twenty or thirty shillings, all 
 told, and get health and enjoyment, and be in rare good 
 company for little money. 
 
ABOUT BETTING AND 
 GAMBLING. 
 
 Perhaps there is no finer amusement on a dull, wet day 
 than a little quiet betting or gambling occasionally, pro- 
 vided always that the stakes are such as cannot injure 
 any person, and that it is an ofi"-hand pastime begun, con- 
 tinued, and ended on the spur of the moment. Unfortu- 
 nately, at this present time betting and gambling are the 
 greatest national curses we have, as they have become the 
 business of life to people who can't afTord it, and they simply 
 produce an unwholesome greed for getting money — not 
 always honestly — about sports of which they know nothing 
 and never see. In the old days of racing, when the gam- 
 bling booths were allowed on the Tattenham Corner side of 
 the course, a large number of people w^ho were out for a holi- 
 day bought a little experience at rouge et noir, roulette, 
 or the homely teetotum games of goose, anchor, club, 
 spade, diamond, and heart, and also put into a lottery or 
 two ; in fact, they went out with two or three sovereigns 
 to play with, and whether they w^on or lost did not much 
 matter. It was really only once in a way, as racecourses 
 were not inundated by cheap excursionists as now. Even 
 schoolboys had a shilling Derby lottery in my days. 
 a— 2 83 
 
84 About Betting and Gambling. 
 
 When I was a boy, card-playing in private houses was 
 very common, and regular card-parties were common also, 
 especially in Cathedral towns — I know not why, — and the 
 seniors played whist, and the general company betook them- 
 selves to a round game ; '' Commerce," which Queen Char- 
 lotte played every evening in the days of our great grand- 
 mothers, was very fashionable, and Pope Joan, rather a 
 complicated game, which required a board with eight 
 divisions in it. The game is mentioned in " Pickwick," in 
 the Dingley Dell scene. '' Vingt-et-un," or " Yan Jon," as 
 it was commonly called, came in rather as an innovation 
 some half -century back, and there was a steady family game 
 called " Casino " much played, for love, in parsons' families. 
 In fact, in the Vicarage there was generally Backgammon, 
 and a game of cards for children every winter evening, but 
 all for love. At Christmas, sometimes, a sixpence or two 
 would be put in the pool, but it did more harm than good, 
 as I have seen little men and women with their eyes half 
 out of their heads with excitement as they got near to 
 winning a pool, and go away crying to bed. Card- parties 
 were a custom, and round games were in fashion, and at 
 round games in which ladies took part, the heaviest winners 
 or losers could count their gains or loses at a sovereign or so ; 
 but still money passed, and tempers were lost, and if the 
 truth was told, all did not play quite fair. There were 
 always one or two — even of the gentle sex — who were 
 suspected of having roving eyes over the hands of those 
 who did not hold their cards up. This card era was not 
 a good musical era. Songs were mild, and pianos milder. 
 ^^ I'd be a Butterfly " was a twittering sentiment at best, 
 and an invitation of '' Will you come to the bower ? " was 
 not attractive, and not much enthusiasm could be got out 
 of " Off, said the stranger ; off, off, and away — and away 
 flew the light bar-r-r-ark o'er the silvery spray." The fact 
 
Ahout Betting and GamhUiig. 85 
 
 is, the world was not educated, and little societies were 
 isolated, and people were old-fashioned, and there was a 
 good deal of boarding-school Miss-ism amongst young ladies, 
 and cards were requisite to prevent people sitting round 
 the room and staring at each other, with little or nothing 
 to say. All this state of things died out with railways and 
 travelling ; and music has made rapid strides, not only with 
 ladies, but men have now the sense to find out that playing 
 the piano is no longer considered effeminate, and there are 
 few country houses now where you do not find young men 
 who accompany themselves or others well on the piano, and 
 who can sing part-music at sight, or even a buffo or patter 
 song very fairly, after the model of Corney Grain or the 
 late Charles Matthews. Lawn tennis out of doors — a 
 charming pastime when that terrible bore, a soi disant 
 champion player, is conspicious by his absence,— dancing, 
 and music have banished cards from ordinary society ; and 
 in what would be called unfashionable life, young clerks 
 and shopmen and id genus oinne most sensibly and credit- 
 ably have gone in for volunteering, cricket, rowing, 
 bicycling, football, and all other pastimes on their Saturday 
 half- holidays, and have places of meeting in the winter 
 where music, dramatic recitals, reading — all taken " with 
 tobacco " in these smoking days, — and the general tone of 
 educated people has been much improved. The broad- 
 brimmed hat and " covert coat " schools, who represent the 
 " gent " of Albert Smith's days, who frequent restaurant 
 bars and music-halls and low billiard rooms, and have no 
 two decent ideas, may be dismissed as useless and mis- 
 chievous excrescences of a city which contains four millions 
 of people ; but there is a class of *' weak-kneed " brothers 
 of all ranks who are going to ruin through betting and 
 gambling under our very noses every hour. I say again 
 that betting and gambling are the curse of the day. It 
 
86 About Betting and Gambling. 
 
 is not the occasional turn at roulette or rouge et noir 
 which one saw once a year, perhaps, but it is the 
 daily, nay hourly, betting and gambling. I ask the 
 whole of your readers whether I am saying the 
 truth or not, when I state that you cannot get into 
 a railway carriage among a lot of young fellows without the 
 conversation running on the odds about this or about that, 
 and more than often " nap " is going on. Why do railway 
 directors not put a notice on season tickets that they are 
 issued on condition that the holder does not play at cards 
 or any other game for money on the journey ? What more 
 demoralising sight is there than seeing young fellows, who 
 are coming some twenty miles or so to London, playing 
 cards at nine o'clock in the morning ? It is becoming a 
 public scandal. I knew one card-playing gang by sight on 
 a railway over which I often travelled — about two of them 
 went together in the same carriage ; they all had known 
 homes and employments, and possibly '' quasi " respecta- 
 bility ; hut I dont think they lost much money, and I don't 
 think the amount of their salaries would have justified 
 them travelling first class, and I fancy they paid their 
 railway fare, and a good bit more, before the year was out. 
 The first time I travelled by that railway I got in at the 
 last moment and found myself the no?i -playing member in a 
 carriageful ; and they kindly asked me to join. The pro- 
 poser of my joining, who took the pack out of what, I 
 believe, is now known as a " card side pocket," was very 
 civil, and so was I, and I made a little joke, the point of 
 which none of them saw. " No, thank you," I said — " by 
 the bye, do you remember Punches joke about sudden 
 acquaintances over games : ' Beware of the man who carries a 
 bit of chalk in his pocket and calls the marker Jack ? ' '' — and 
 these fellows never thought it funny. I took stock of them 
 directly I saw there were two card-players and three pigeons. 
 
About Betting and Gamhling. 87 
 
 Horse-racing has no more to do with the betting mania 
 than the man in the moon, jyer se ; it is the free press which 
 has done it, and the telegraphs. Every penny, and every 
 halfpenny paper now has the latest odds in respect of all 
 horses, and even foreign racing — in fact, a paper which did 
 not publish the betting lists would have no sale, — and the 
 lists are read by a lot of boobies who don't know a racehorse 
 from a cow, which boobies think it the thing to bet ; and 
 the aggregate sum subscribed by boobies who bet, and who 
 " put the pot on," is sometimes so considerable as to be 
 worth more than the stakes themselves, and so Mr. Mephis- 
 topheles, the owner or the man who " manages the stable," 
 goes to some public place of resort and puts the pot on him- 
 self in one big sensation bet, which is taken by a con- 
 federate, who is laying on the quiet every shilling he can 
 get against the horse. Nothing is easier than to get up a 
 rumour that the horse pulled up lame, or some story of 
 that kind, and when Mr. Mephistopheles runs his pen 
 through the horse's name, all the knowing ones (?) declare 
 they must have won if the horse had run. And they go on 
 again and again, till the venerable grey-healed butler 
 cannot make out the plate list correctly ; and some wretched 
 young clerk — " respectably connected and gentlemanly- 
 looking young man," as the police reports say — has put five 
 or six hundred pounds on the wrong side of the ledger ; or 
 young de Plunger has left the cavalry and joined an 
 infantry regiment in India, and so on, and so on, ad 
 infinitum. 
 
 The real connection with horse -racing and betting proper 
 is this : Betting is a chance for an owner who has a good 
 horse to recoup himself for very heavy expenses. He buys 
 a yearling or two, perhaps, or breeds colts ; in fact, he goes 
 in for racing as a business. He enters his horses for various 
 races, and if he has any sense he keeps his thoughts to 
 
88 About Betting and Gambling. 
 
 himself, and when he is pretty sure that he has a promising 
 two-year-old, he determines to try him in some small race, 
 and if he answers his expectations, he will feel his way 
 towards backing him for the Derby (if he is entered for it), 
 in the following year, at very long odds, and if he gets 
 what he wants, he knows exactly where he stands, and he 
 has simply put so much more capital into his racing ex- 
 penses. And then, should his horse turn out a real good 
 one, and prominent amongst the leading favourites, and 
 comes to short odds, he is perfectly justified in betting by 
 commission against his own horse enough to cover him, 
 provided he runs his horse fair to win. Or, again, a man 
 of large fortune likes to own and run race horses, and he 
 likes to back his own horses for a win or a place. Why 
 should he not do it just the same as commercial men are 
 buying or selling for rise or fall of markets every day ? 
 
 As to the bookmakers, the solvent and respectable men 
 are nothing more or less than bankers to the sporting 
 world. They are very clever men and good calculators; 
 and by judiciously laying against everything they make a 
 certain book, as only one horse can win. It is the work of 
 a lifetime, and very harassing work, too ; and one thing is 
 always against them, which is that a bookmaker must pay 
 although some of his creditors do not come to time. His 
 good name is the foundation of his undertaking, and the 
 word of a large proportion of them is as good as Eothschild's 
 in Lombard-street. I have often travelled with and knew 
 many of them, but I never had dealings with them, as 
 betting is not my " vanity," though more than once they 
 have good-naturedly given me a good tip about backing 
 some dark horse for a place, which I have passed on to 
 friends who bet, and they have found it useful. 
 
 A gam, I have known many men who have studied the 
 history of racing as I have done the history of cricket, 
 
Ahout Betting and GamhUng. 8D 
 
 and who know the stud book by heart and pedigrees of" 
 horses. They talk, and talk well and authoritatively, 
 too, about the Sweetmeat and Whalabone and Stockwell 
 strain (I think that is the word), and know all the handicaps 
 and weights. Now these men go ocsxsionally to a race 
 and see the horses gallop, and like to take theii' fancy 
 and back a horse for five, or ten, or twenty, or even fifty 
 or a hundred pounds, according to their means. They 
 have the keenest enjoyment in the sport itself, because they 
 know it and understand it, and see the horse stripped and 
 saddled and galloped ; and if they win great is their joy, 
 and if they lose they have had a run for their money any- 
 how, and no harm is done. The saints and parliament have 
 nothing to do with men of this kind. The " saints" play a 
 game of speculation for livings, and deaneries, and place ; 
 and the lover of racing plays a game of speculation for 
 honest amusement, and wins one day and loses another with 
 even temper. The betting lists have demoralised England, 
 and army, navy, bar, trades and professions, and all their 
 adherents and hangers-on must bet about horses of which 
 they know positively nothing. It is a greed for making 
 money without working for it, and ignoring the good old 
 principle of earning one's bread by the sweat of brow or 
 brain. What on earth has the working man— that grumbling, 
 querulous humbug —to do with betting on horse racing ? 
 But he does bet no end very often, whilst we pay for his 
 children's education, and he is crying out for want of work. 
 Horse-racing in its purity is one of the noblest sports in 
 the world. Although I know nothing about the arcana of 
 the science, I can read " Post and Paddock," and " Scott 
 and Sebright," and Nimrod's ''Turf, Chase, and Road" 
 ao-ain and again. They are so fresh and pleasant, and 
 written by men who loved sport for sport's sake. Racing 
 is so fascinating, and the real followers of it are often so 
 
90 About Betting and Gambling, 
 
 credulous and inexperienced that rogues and scoundrels 
 have grown up round it for a century past, though, thank 
 Heaven, there are plenty of honest owners, and trainers, 
 and jockeys left still. It is seventy years since Dawson was 
 hung at Cambridge for poisoning racers, and the careful 
 reader of " Doctor Syntax " will remember Rowlandson's 
 picture of the Doctor's horror at seeing the favourite, which 
 he backed, " roped " at York races. The scratching of the 
 horse has become so common that nothing is thought of it 
 now; it is sometimes, doubtless, an open swindle, but it 
 cannot be proved or punished. 
 
 And now, my dear youngsters, to whom life is somewhat 
 easy, let me say a word to you who have good expectations 
 and a liberal allowance, and who, according to conventional 
 expression, were born to life and a curricle. Let me take 
 one of you, and imagine that you are the last joined officer, 
 looking out- of the mess-room window of the cavalry bar- 
 racks. You have left school only a year, and here you are 
 "with your red scarlet coat, as proud as a goat with your 
 feathers so fine " (though, by-the-bye, the chances are the 
 coat would be blue), as Mickey Free sung. You are in 
 rather a fast regiment with an allowance of five hundred a 
 year and heir to a good property (if the people's William 
 does not abolish the possibility of such a glorious inherit- 
 ance) ; your uniform, board, horses, regimental expenses, 
 and other claims, will pull hard against that five hundred 
 and your pay. With plenty of leisure and a love of sport 
 you will probably get a little hunting, shooting, fishing, and 
 of course some garrison racing, and any amount of good 
 society, and your daily life and surroundings as regards 
 comfort do not cost you a third of what people pay at a 
 club. Do rest and be thankful, and turn your back on real 
 gambling and betting, and, above all, avoid a book on the 
 Derby. What on earth can you know about it, except 
 
About Betting and Gambling. 9 J 
 
 what you read in the papers ? Read " Digby Grand," that 
 splendid life-picture of Whyte-Melville's, and inwardly 
 digest it ; it is as true as Gospel. Be content to put your 
 sovereign into the lottery on the race-course or back your 
 favourite for a sovereign in the Garrison Steeplechase. 
 
 If you bet and gamble you become the property of 
 scoundrels. I know garrison towns pretty well, and there 
 are always a certain class who have decent houses and keep 
 up outward respectability somewhat, and pass for gentle- 
 men, which they almost are. You never meet these men 
 in society in the county, but they are always hand-in-glove 
 with the officers, and they are always ready for loo, 
 lasquinet, poker, nap, or any other game, and generally 
 have a horse for sale, and not unfrequently are stewards at 
 third-rate race meetings. Xot unfrequently, too, they have 
 a pretty daughter or two who are ready for lunch in the 
 garrison drag. Many of this class are jackals for money- 
 lenders. 
 
 You can convict them of notlnm/, but they never lose. 
 Oh ! if you knew, my boys, how many of your class, some 
 of them old schoolfellows, who have come and told me their 
 sad tale— simply a tale of wholesale credulity on their part, 
 and wholesale robbery by those whom they thought were 
 their friends. " It is impossible," they tell me, " that Major 
 Blank, of the yellows, could have ' rooked ' me ; why, he is 
 a glorious fellow, and I lost ninety pounds to him at poker 
 at a very good fellow's house, Mr. Jollyboy, where we 
 dined." It is no use telling the poor youngster that I know 
 all about Major Blank and Mr. Jollyboy, and the Major is 
 never about with men of his own age and rank, but always 
 with youngsters. Alas ! alas ! it is like the moth in the 
 candle. And nihil ad rem to this subject, why on earth 
 luere moths born to go into candles ? Now, if you must 
 gamble, I will give you a recipe. Sit down a party of six 
 
92 About Betting and Gamhling. 
 
 or eiglit (somehow seven is the best number) who know one- 
 anobher. Shuffle two packs of cards of the same make and 
 colour together, by which means you will have eight aces 
 and thirty-two tens. Buy counters, value sixpence a dozen,, 
 and start with five dozen each. Play at vingt-et-un, limit 
 stake to three counters, with leave to anyone who has an ace 
 dealt to him first card, which very often happens, to turn it 
 up and put a sixpence on it, in which case the dealer must 
 double all round ; ties to pay the dealer, and each to deal 
 three times running in turn ; as you are broke buy counters- 
 of each other. You may play all night at this, and if you 
 play fair and quick you won't win or lose a sovereign nine 
 times out of ten, and you will have all the honest fun and 
 excitement of gambling to the very hilt. If I was colonel ^ 
 of a regiment I should like to see this kind of fun going on 
 every night in the winter in the ante-rooms. Brother 
 ofiicers playing Avith one another come to no harm, and the 
 black sheep in a regiment is seldom a sociable cove — he i:* 
 playing some game outside or in his own quarters, with some 
 youngster from another regiment perhaps. There is one 
 golden rule, which is, name your stakes at starting, and 
 stick to them. The man who wants to play higher is the 
 man who thinks he can win — he is not playing for the game 
 but the money, and he would rob his own brother. Per 
 contra, I never in my life saw high play when someone did 
 not lose his temper, and someone did not go away without 
 a suspicion of sharp practice. 
 
 And if you want the fun of betting, do as I have done 
 many a timie amongst my own friends, and sit down in a 
 cricket tent and announce that you open a sixpenny book 
 and give or take the odds on anything as it goes on, over by 
 over, and if you don't get some fun out of it it is your own 
 fault, and very little money will you win or lose if you know 
 the game ; and if you did the same in half-crowns on the 
 
About Betting and Gambling, 93 
 
 •drag at the races, you would have plenty of fun for your 
 money, and do yourself no harm. Betting money which 
 you cannot command is certain ruin in the end ; and the 
 same remark applies to playing cards at high stakes. If 
 men who really gamble played only with notes and gold, and 
 barred I.O.U.'s and cheques, there would be less loss. I 
 have a great respect for Frith's '^ Derby Day," but I wholly 
 quarrel with his " Eoad to Ruin." Its moral is absurd, as 
 his hero would go to the dogs anyhow. In the first place 
 he is a spoilt boy at college with a great deal too much 
 money ; in his after career he is an overdressed effeminate 
 ■cad, who would have cried and called in the police if any 
 •one " put in one " between his eyes ; and in the last scenes 
 he is going to blow out — what he never had — his brains. 
 Hogarth's hero, " Jack Idle," is a much more interesting 
 character. I pity him somewhat, as the sweep with the one 
 eye began his rain by hussle-penny on a tombstone in 
 <.-hurch time, and eventually split on him. No, I don't care 
 for greedy, spoilt boys, who had no generous traits at school 
 or at college, and who are mean at heart ; but I do shed a 
 tear over fine, manly, generous young fellows, who enter 
 life full of hopes, and from a sensitive abhorrence of being 
 singular or stingy, they touch pitch and are seethed in the 
 cauldron. 
 
 If great merchants and bankers were to make a hard and 
 fast bargain with theii* emjyloyes, that in the event of their 
 ^oing into a billiard-room within three miles of their place 
 ■of business, or playing cards or betting in any public place, 
 their engagements would terminate at once, they would do 
 ^i great kindness to many young men, and real good for 
 themselves, as young men who wanted promotion elsewhere 
 would take a character with them from the fact of their 
 having been in such a firm. 
 
 It is useless reminding heads of schools that potdiunting 
 
94 Ahout Betting and Gambling. 
 
 and handicapping at athletics is the root of this betting 
 evil amongst many youngsters ; they will go on just the 
 same, and the mastei's' wives will give the prizes and have 
 a large party of ladies ; but if I was to publish all the 
 letters which I have received from the first men in England, 
 who have been in their school, university, county, and gen- 
 tlemen of England's eleven, and in their college and uni- 
 versity boats, on this subject, I think the schoolmasters of 
 England, who profess always to have more knowledge of the 
 world than men who have lived in it, would rather open 
 their eyes. Their boys leave them at eighteen years of age, 
 when we make their acquaintance and see their proclivities, 
 and, I am sorry to make the imputation, but I believe it is 
 true, that these pot-hunting athletics are advertisements for 
 many schools. I must wind up wath a little incident in 
 gambling, which is one of the greenest spots in my memory. 
 It was at an hotel abroad. The rain came down as rain will 
 come in a mountainous country, and meant lasting as it did 
 for twenty-four hours. We had breakfasted, and were 
 lounging about in a glass-covered galley, smoking and 
 grumbling, when a Yankee said, "Well, I am miserable, 
 and feel ' very mean ' — bring me a large bottle of cham- 
 pagne and a soda water glass, I guess I can do it in twice ; 
 and if I'm not more cheerful afterwards, I will have 
 another." Pop went the cork, and landed a few yards off 
 on the cocoa-nut matting. A young Oxford fellow, a 
 stranger to me, who was with a reading (?) party, pitched a 
 sous at it. I pitched another. " Have a game of pitch and 
 toss ? " he asked. " Done," said I. " Take me in," said a 
 high church curate, who had been climbing mountains, and 
 was in knickerbockers, and a pepper-and-salt shooting 
 jacket and waistcoat, and a white tie — I like a parson who 
 is not ashamed of the cloth ; — " and me," says the Yankee, 
 " as I found the cork." For the benefit of the uninitiated, 
 
About Betting and Gamhling. 95 
 
 real pitch and toss means playing quoits with pennies, and 
 the one who is nearest to the cork tosses all the coppers up 
 and pockets all the heads ; the next nearest goes on with the 
 remaining coppers, and so each in turn until all the half- 
 pence originally cast turn up heads. In short, we set to 
 work amidst much fun and laughter, and a Frenchman, 
 with his hair cut like a clothes-brush, to whom the game 
 was new, joined us, and a millionake ironmaster, who had 
 come about a railway contract. Our merriment attracted 
 some of the ladies who looked on half in diffidence, and 
 eventually got easy-chairs and sate by. At luncheon the 
 Frenchman was very enthusiastic for " Encore de peetch and 
 toss Anglais;' and to it we went again, and some of the 
 ladies joined. All the waiters looked on, the cook came 
 from the kitchen, and the laundresses too. It was gi^eat 
 fun, and we had a long argument about a fair or unfan- 
 pitch of the ironmaster. I was out of the game pro tern., 
 and it was referred to me, and I gave it against him. The 
 next morning all the party were scattered to the four winds 
 of Heaven, never to meet again— bar two- and the French- 
 man took a touching fareweU of me. In the winter of '66 
 I was in Lombard-street, and met someone I thought I 
 knew, and I puUed up, and so did he, and we shook hands : 
 it was the ironmaster, and we had a hearty laugh. '' And 
 how did you get through the panic? " I asked— for there 
 had been a tremendous panic. " Oh, all right," he said ; 
 .'but the ship nearly grounded." And as we parted and 
 shook hands again he called me back and said, " You were 
 ^^-rong about that penny when you gave it against me— it 
 was a fair tail as it fell." So, in spite of intervening 
 trouble and care, that game of pitch and toss left a sunny 
 spot on the ironmaster's memory, as it has on mine. 
 
WHYTE MELVILLE'S 
 SEEMON. 
 
 When some terrible calamity has occurred — such as the 
 sinking of the Eurydice, the running down of the Princess 
 Alice, an explosion in a mine, the death of the late lamented 
 Princess— we hear that '' several ministers of all denomina- 
 tions improved the occasion, and addressed their congrega- 
 tions on the recent deplorable event." In other words, in 
 most cases vain-glorious men, who delight in their own 
 voices, indulged in rhapsodical utterances, and deduced 
 -absurd theories from events which had already made a 
 solemn impression on thinking men ; and they simply 
 disturbed sad pictures which were for the time indelibly 
 painted on the minds of their audience. 
 
 Public bodies, as a duty, are bound to record certain 
 events, and from published accounts they have for the most 
 part — especially in both Houses of Parliament — done what 
 was right, simply and solemnly, and have communicated 
 their votes of sympathy kindly and delicately to the Queen. 
 When the Princess died every man said to his neighbour, 
 ^' The poor Princess is dead. What a trial for the Queen ; 
 and at this time too ! " So, when a terrible calamity 
 occurred in the hunting field a short time since, and the 
 96 
 
Whyte-MeUille s Sermon. 97 
 
 Ava^ AvSpu)v was killed, men and women of all classes 
 said, with much feeling, '' Poor Whyte-Melville ! " and 
 probably ninety-nine out of every hundred who said so had 
 never seen him, and simply knew him by his writings — 
 which were pure, classical, and graphic — as they knew 
 Dickens or Thackeray. 
 
 I am going " to improve the occasion," taking for my 
 text one work of Ms only, and that is " Digby Grand ; " 
 and I am going to say nothing about the author, and very 
 little about the book, beyond pointing what appears to me 
 to be the moral therein contained to the rising generation. 
 Anyone taking up that book and reading it carefully 
 through can see every rung of the ladder of the facilis 
 descensus most accurately delineated, from the moment 
 that Digby Grand, the young hero, of good family 
 and prospects, leaves Eton until he becomes a beggar. He 
 has a fair start enough in a Line regiment, commanded 
 by a sporting colonel, and falls into the hands of a 
 bad companion, Captain Levanter (who is his bad genius 
 through life, and turns out a thorough scoundrel) ; goes to 
 Canada and enjoys the wild sports harmlessly enough, and 
 eventually joins the Guards in London. He is, perhaps, a 
 little bit of a fop, but manly and simple withal ; honourable, 
 well-bred, and straightforward, and mixes with men of good 
 rank and position. There is nothing slang about him, and 
 things go on pretty fairly until he attains his majority and 
 goes to his ancestral home, where great rejoicings are held 
 in honour of the presumptive heir; on which occasion he 
 enjoys " the run of the season " (the description of which 
 makes the blood run quicker in the veins of the most non- 
 hunting man even in England), and winds up his home 
 visit with an interview with his father. Sir Peregrine Grand 
 whom he finds to be involved in great diJfficulties, and who 
 is furious at his son's wish to marry a charming girl, unfor- 
 
 H 
 
98 Whyte-Melvilles Sermon. 
 
 f unately without a portion. He lias a desperate quarrel 
 with him, and returns to London. Then comes a most 
 graphic account of fast life in London, gambling, bill dis- 
 counting, and racing, which lead to his falling into a lower 
 grade of society ; his being compelled to leave the Guards 
 and to exchange into another regiment ; his arrest for debt 
 on the eve of his leaving England for a staff appointment ; 
 and ultimately his lot is ruin and beggary. Having 
 abandoned his title on the death of his father, he meets 
 with an old friend whose rustication at Oxford he had caused 
 most unintentionally ; joins him in partnership as a wine 
 merchant ; solicits and obtains the custom of some of his 
 aristocratic friends ; makes an honest living, and marries 
 his first love, whom he meets again at his partner's 
 wedding. 
 
 I wonder how many will say, " What is the use of 
 recapitulating the story of an old novel which was written 
 years ago ? " My answer is, " Because it was written for 
 our learning, and I believe the lesson is just as necessary 
 to-day as it was when the book first came out." In that 
 book the author upholds all manly sports and amusements, 
 decries vulgarity and slang men and slang manners, and 
 points out the horrors of gambling. He makes his hero 
 travel, just as many a gambler does now, from rung to rung, 
 to ruin, until he reaches the bottom of the ladder — the 
 exception in Digby Grand's case being that he never loses 
 his innate sense of honour, although he is ruined. 
 
 And as it was in the beginning, so is it now going on 
 daily, and for that very reason I have brought, as it were, 
 from Major "Whyte-Melville's grave his most admirable 
 sermon. In it he hints at Digby Grand eventually buying 
 back the family property, and dismisses the Hon. Jack 
 Lavish — an impecunious cavalry officer, an intimate friend 
 of Digby Grand, who marries an alderman's daughter to 
 
Whyte-Melville's Sennon. 99 
 
 retrieve his fortunes— in a very humorous manner, 
 thus : — 
 
 " I dined with Jack Lavish the night before kst at his, 
 or rather his wife's, house, in Tyburnia proper. He has 
 shaved off his moustache, and has grown stout. Miss Gold- 
 thread that was is a sensible and charming person, and I 
 think I can trace in her manner a slight and not unnatural 
 distrust of her husband's old friends. . . . Jack says 
 he likes being kept tight in hand, it saves so much trouble, 
 and until he had some lady to own him he never knew to 
 which of his fair friends he belonged. . . . He is still 
 as jovial as ever, but beneath his merriment runs a vein of 
 sound common sense, and in his frank and somewhat 
 dandified exterior exists a warm and benevolent heart." 
 
 The real sermon contained in " Digby Grand " is that 
 gambling and bill discounting are simple ruin. And 
 gambling and bill discounting are going on at this present 
 moment to an extent which was never surpassed ; for, 
 whereas in days gone by men ruined themselves at Crock- 
 ford's and the gambling clubs pretty openly, now that 
 gambling is put down by Act of Parliament they are doing 
 it to a far greater extent privately, in all classes, high and 
 low, and on that account the sermon is produced. 
 
 Digby Grand and Jack Lavish are as much alive and 
 walking about now as ever they were, and if some of us 
 who are behind the scenes were to disclose our secrets the 
 world would be rather astonished at what is going on. 
 And the worst of the case is that those who in the end 
 come for succour to men of honour are the real good fellows 
 — weak and impulsive perhaps — who have been dragged 
 to their fate by rogues, and they generally come too late. 
 The old story still goes on, and that story is often this : 
 namely, the bill discounters' credit has been exhausted, and 
 an angry father has been tired out. Sometimes it is the 
 H— 2 
 
100 Wliyte-Melville s Sermon, 
 
 mother who comes in the strictest confidence ; oftener the 
 sister, who begs and entreats one to get poor Tom, or Jack, 
 or Harry, out of his difficulties. "He is so honest and 
 affectionate," they say ; " so kind and obliging ; such a 
 noble fellow, but bad companions have ruined him ; and all 
 the regiment are so fond of him." This class are very bad 
 witnesses as to facts ; the mother is thinking of the curly- 
 headed boy who said his prayers at her knee long ago ; the 
 sister, many years younger, is thinking of the eldest brother 
 who almost turned her brain when she first saw him in a 
 hussar uniform, and remembers how— when he got his first 
 leave— that, as regards herself, he never changed; how he 
 went gathering cowslips, or nutting with her in the woods, 
 just as if he was not a soldier at all ; and she will tell you 
 that it is impossible that her darling brother had been 
 gimbling and racing and is over head and ears in debt, and 
 harassed°by infamous Jews. We who are behind the cur- 
 tain know how debt and difficulties blunt a man's nature. 
 These are scenes of daily occurrence, speaking generally. 
 Whose fault is it ? A young fellow, utterly ignorant of the 
 world, is suddenly associated with men whose main objects 
 in life are pleasure, and excitement, and gambling, and is 
 dragged into a fiery cauldron, and must get out as he can. 
 What think you of a case, for the facts of which I will 
 vouch, and I will sum it up in a very few words ; it was 
 this, and it is one of many : A young officer of a few years' 
 standing, who had been greatly distinguished, left his regi- 
 ment (a very fast one), in which he could not afford to live 
 any longer, and an opening offering in another line of life, 
 a sister at once advanced the capital— 0/ course without 
 security. Being a very honourable young fellow he un- 
 bosomed himself to his lawyer, and wished to do everything 
 by his will, and otherwise to secure his sister's money in the 
 event of his death, which, strange to say, occurred within 
 
Whyte-Melville s Sermon. 101 
 
 twelve months. The sister was wisely advised not to 
 administer to the estate until she knew where she was, as 
 there were Jews enough about his chambers in London to 
 make a row of hat pegs, had their noses been used for that 
 purpose, waiting to see what was going to happen. It so 
 happened, that after collecting all debts, there was enough 
 for everyone eventually, including the sister, and the matter 
 was wound up. But how were many of those debts in- 
 curred ? I hioio the facts to be true. The unfortunate 
 young fellow, being thoroughly good natured and unable to 
 say "No," ^^juinjKcl up hehincV — as he expressed it — or, in 
 other words, put his name to bills in India for several 
 hundreds for " one of my best friends in the world, my dear 
 fellow " (Jack or Tom Somebody), '' who had such a heavy 
 hook on the Derby that he got leave home for the purpose of 
 betting at the post.'' Of course the Jack or Tom Somebody 
 got the money, came home, sold out (being a soldier under 
 the old o-egime), and went to the Colonies; and when the 
 unfortunate victim applied to the family, and proved that 
 he had never received a farthing for himself^ the answer 
 was that they had paid too much already. His sister was 
 guilty of a pious theft ; and although warned that if she 
 took anything out of his chambers she would be liable as 
 executrix, she confessed that when she saw his medals for 
 the Indian mutiny she could not resist putting them in her 
 pocket, and I saw this close under my very nose, and 
 winked at it. I don't believe the hardest-hearted Jew in 
 Europe would have pressed that case, even in his own 
 interest. 
 
 And now about these money-lenders. " Digby Grand " 
 simply applies to the army, so to the army we must stick in 
 quoting Whyte-Melville's sermon. Just imagine the 
 present state of things. The moment a young fellow is 
 gazetted he receives circulars from all the harpies in London, 
 
102 Whyte-Mehilles Sermon. 
 
 offering accommodation on personal security : it is the same 
 in the navy also. Has not the State some power to rescue 
 young fellows out of the hands of these men, by abolishing 
 all rights to sue officers on full pay for accommodation bills ? 
 The system is admirably organised, somewhat in this way : 
 First comes the tempting offer of ninety pounds for a 
 hundred at two months ; then, at the end of two months, 
 comes another advance of a hundred, with ten pounds for 
 renewing and ten more for interest on the next hundred, 
 and ten pounds interest on the original hundred ; and so it 
 runs on until an unfortunate youngster is bound hand and 
 foot by his creditors. A victim once came to me to rescue 
 him, and the transaction was as follows : Ninety pounds 
 paid down for one hundred, and interest (deducted) for 
 two months. Second hundred advanced for two months, 
 with ten pounds for renewal of first bill, and twenty pounds 
 interest on the two hundred (deducted) for another two 
 months. There were four subsequent renewals at forty 
 pounds each ; so that the poor fellow was called on, for 
 interest and renewals, to pay in all cent, per cent. 
 
 In private society the well-bred Jews are the most charm- 
 ing people imaginable, hospitable, accomplished, and refined ; 
 but the lower division of the nation, who infest garrison 
 towns, are many of them the veriest scoundrels unhung. 
 They frequent young officers' haunts, and do everything in 
 their power to get hold of them and tempt them to extra- 
 vagance. 
 
 The money-lending school consist of very many classes : 
 first come the great operators, who hunt and yacht and 
 keep their carriages and give parties, and fly at the high 
 game, such as young men of fortune who have come into 
 their property, and who form a racing stable and plunge on 
 the turf ; and transactions of this kind are done by mort- 
 gages and bills combined, the process often ending in the 
 
Whyte-Melmlles Sermon. 103 
 
 lender getting the mastery and receiverships of estates. 
 Next come the money-lenders who have private houses, and 
 receive their clients there in a kind, confidential manner ; 
 when theii' patience is exhausted, the open unblushing bill 
 discounter comes in to " do a bit of stiif," and there is no 
 ceremony about this ; the borrower chafis him about his 
 nationality, his jewellery, his nose, and his roguery ; all of 
 w^iich the discounter receives with the greatest bojihomie 
 and good temper, and both parties fight for terms in the 
 most open manner. When this crisis arrives it is generally 
 a case of " smash up," or being pulled out of the scrape ; and 
 this is the stage at which a youngster goes to the family 
 solicitor, and if he goes soon enough he may be saved. 
 The settling with the low Jew class is very amusing, 
 as I happen to know, from having pulled many a 
 young fellow out of difficulties. The discounter is always 
 very civil and often jocular, and sherry and a cigar, from 
 habit, are generally tendered ; and something of this kind 
 occurs : " Well, sii^, there is no man in the world whom I 
 
 would so soon serve as Captain A , but he ivas so 
 
 foolish — so foolish, you know — he was so sw^eet on the 
 favourite that he would back him, and I settled his book^ 
 and lost a deal of money myself too by taking his advice ; but 
 I couldn't see a friend in trouble," &c., &c., &c. And so it 
 goes on until real business is commenced, and then, if the 
 last thing left is a settlement by the " old governor," with a 
 large deduction or a " sell up," it is wonderful how figures 
 diminish, and how glad the school are to get their money 
 back, and five or six per cent, on the loan. Let all the 
 world take this as a fact from me, that the low bill-dis- 
 counters are too much afraid of exposure to refuse such 
 terms. 
 
 Setting aside the bill discounters, see how many vultures 
 live on the army. There is the half gentleman, half any- 
 
104 Whyte-Melville's Sermon, 
 
 thing — no one knows what — who never mixes much with 
 his neighbours in the county, but who has a decent house, 
 a horse or two — which he is constantly changing, as he sells 
 horses to the garrison ; with the command of some shooting 
 or fishing, besides being a promoter of local races ; a man 
 w^ho knows every regiment which comes, and gets in with 
 the young officers, and meets them by the covert-side, on 
 cricket-grounds and elsewhere, and sometimes dines at the 
 mess ; gives them a day's rabbit-shooting, " and a bit of 
 lunch and a game of cards afterwards," as he says. These 
 are the men who live entirely on their wits, and encourage 
 youngsters in every extravagance, and are jackals for the 
 money-lenders. 
 
 One of this class died suddenly not very long since, and in 
 his private drawer were found loaded dice, beautifully 
 finished ; two or three dozen packs of new cards, the covers 
 of which had all been loosened so as to abstract the pack 
 and put it back again — ergo, marked cards ; coins in gold or 
 silver with two heads or two tails, as the case might be, and 
 a few oi\iQ,v facetice. 
 
 I never knew a garrison town in or near which some one 
 or more of this doubtful class did not exist, I don't mean to 
 say that all men are convicted of having such a useful 
 collection as my deceased friend (?), but I allude to doubtful 
 m.en who never lose. 
 
 Upon my word, it seems as if all the scoundrels in Europe 
 were determined, if possible to ruin young army officers. 
 If any good regiment would combine and invite all the 
 advertising money-lenders down on the same day, and at the 
 same hour, and get the soldiers out with the barrack engine 
 and pump over them, and trust to British juries and the 
 British public to see them out of the mischief, what a 
 glorious thing it would be. If heads of military depart- 
 ments would bestir themselves, and induce commanding 
 
Whijte-Melmlles Sermon. 103 
 
 officers of regiments to set their faces against gambling and 
 money-lenders, at the same time encouraging all harmless 
 in-door amusements, such as cards and billiards for low 
 stakes, all openly played in barracks before all the officers, 
 how much good it would do. If it was thought '' good form " 
 to play in barracks, and " bad form " to play outside, what a 
 boon it would be too. We should no more see a boy, 
 almost, who knows no more of betting or races than I do, 
 with his betting-book, in the ring, ready for plucking ; and 
 we should not lose, as we do now, some of our most promismg 
 and dashing young officers who cannot go the pace. There 
 was one glorious instance during the Crimean war, of a 
 gallant young fellow who had gone through the London 
 ordeal to ruin, and who turned up in mufti at the battle of 
 the Alma ; saved the life of a former brother officer, when 
 badly wounded himself, and who was reinstated in the 
 
 army. 
 
 And all these remarks apply to a great extent to ci\4hans. 
 How is it that in every railway train a lot of young fellows 
 are playing shilling '' Nap," and losing a sovereign, or per- 
 haps two or three, in a half -hour's run ? How is it that, in 
 large public billiard-rooms, young fellows are playing pool 
 in business hours ? How is that in clubs the whist-room is 
 comparatively deserted in favour of " Nap," or " Poker," or 
 some other game ? How is it that in most club billiard- 
 rooms the haUtues never will consent to play pool for smaU 
 stakes ? The answer is, " Because the spirit of gambling and 
 fast living has seized all classes ; and the spirit of real sport, 
 for sport's sake, is comparatively dead." I know, I am 
 happy to say, many good houses where pool and pyramids 
 are played for mere" nominal stakes, with counters, and 
 where cards are played also for very trifling sums. Those 
 who are in favour of high stakes play for the money, and 
 nothing else. 
 
106 Whyte-Melville's Sermon. 
 
 This is a sermon from Whyte-Melville's best sketch of 
 real life ; and, if the moral which he points induces one 
 youngster only who has broken out, or is about to break 
 out, to stay his hand, the gallant author's ghost has not 
 been invoked in vain. 
 
 Thackeray believed hugely in "week-day preachers; " in 
 other words, authors who tell the simple story of life : and 
 so, I should think, do most of us. 
 
EEASON OE INSTINCT 
 
 This is a big question as regards the animal world, and one 
 which never wears out, but, on the contrary, acquires more 
 interest the deeper we go into it. The minds of animals of 
 the higher class are unfathomable, and I feel convinced 
 that, just as all must have experienced in the business 
 world, some good-natured action has often been the means 
 of bringing about some lucrative advantage in after life 
 most unexpectedly; so constant familiar intercourse with 
 the brute creation gives one a pleasure in life which grows 
 with increasing years, and if I was dying, I think I should 
 feel more comfortable if I said good-bye to my dogs. 
 Charles Dickens was very fond of his dogs; and, to my 
 mind, there is more pathos in Hugh, the rough gipsy out- 
 cast, on his way to the scaffold remembering his dog, than 
 in the death of little Nell, which, with many apologies to 
 the ghost of Mr. Dickens, I think a murder : " There is 
 nothing more; unless," said Hugh, "any person has a fancy 
 for a dog — and not then unless he will use him well. . . . 
 He'll whine at first, but he'll soon get over that. You 
 wonder that I think about a dog just now," he added, with 
 a kind of laugh ; " if any man deserved it of me half as 
 well, I'd think of him:' Whyte-Melville said in words all 
 that could be said about a horse in his beautiful song, " The 
 107 
 
108 Beason or Listinct. 
 
 place where the old horse died ; " and some artist — name 
 (of course) forgotten— painted a picture which was in the 
 first left-hand room of the Royal Academy in 1850, I 
 think, called " Near Home." I wonder if any reader hap- 
 pens to have that picture ; and if it was engraved. In the 
 bxokground was an old ivy-clad church, and churchyard, 
 with grand old trees, and on a bench sat a venerable old 
 huntsman, pulling the ears of a worn-out old hunter, and 
 by him sat a very old foxhound looking up in his face. 
 Those pictures are sermons for life. 
 
 Now reverting to animals. The best friend they ever 
 had was an Irish M.P. who ruined himself, as it was said 
 inter alia by fighting the County of Gal way against Lord 
 Gort. His name was Martin of Cromartin, owner of 
 Ballynahinch, County Galway. He was the originator of 
 the " Martin Act " for prevention of cruelty to animals, 
 which, passed in 1822, has been carefully fostered and 
 carried on from time to time by the Royal Society for Pre- 
 venting Cruelty to Animals, than which no more Christian 
 institution exists, for it carries out the first principles of the 
 creation of dumb creatures, the condition precedent to 
 which was that man should exercise his dominion over them 
 Avith kindness and humanity. Aye, and men and women 
 have learnt, too, that kindness and persuasion are far above 
 the law in protecting dumb animals, as people like Lady 
 Burdett-Coutts, Lord Shaftesbury, and the writers and 
 artists in su3h works as the " British Workman," " Rab 
 and his Friends," and other do2r books, not fororettins: Miss 
 
 ' 7 
 
 Edgeworth's stories of " Little Dog Trusty " and " Lazy 
 Lawrence," in which Jem's horse Lightfoot holds a pro- 
 minent place, have taught men and boys the benefit of 
 kindness. The Donkey Show alone, which was first held 
 in 1834 at the Agricultural Hall, placed Lady Burdett- 
 Coutts and Lord Shaftesbury on the throne of the coster- 
 
Beason or Instinct, 109 
 
 monger world, and the British "moke" thenceforward 
 became the most popular animal in London and all great 
 towns. The song, *' If I had a donkey wot wouldn't go " — 
 which was in fashion when T was a little curly-headed boy, 
 working night and day to learn the multiplication table by 
 heart — the prize being a pair of shoe stirrups for my 
 donkey's pad — contained good sentiments too. 
 
 Let any one compare the status of horses, and donkeys 
 and mules, to what it was nearly forty years ago. Many 
 of us remember the wretched hackney-coach horses ; the 
 half-starved beasts in the small coal and coke-sellers' carts; 
 the persecuted donkeys, thrashed and bullied by gentlemen 
 of the Bill Sykes class ; the carts drawn by dogs, panting, 
 with their tongues out and eyes half out of their heads ; 
 the overdriven bullocks which made Smithfield hideous by 
 night, and which — according to poor Tom Hood's or Cruik- 
 shank's lively fancy, I forget which — caused two gentlemen 
 who were represented on the drop at Newgate, with ropes 
 round their necks, as congratulating one another as a mad 
 bull was charging the crowd, " How lucky it is, Bill^ that 
 you and I are up here." Al] these things, thank Heaven, 
 are things of the past, including the gentlemen outside 
 Newgate — on the drop. 
 
 Look at the present state of things. I hope the reader 
 enjoys a speaking acquaintance with horses; if not, let 
 them try it, and they will find a great deal of cheap amuse- 
 ment, and please the drivers who are kind to them. When 
 you see the great wagon horses two abreast, and possibly a 
 third " unicorn " in front, go quietly behind the head of one 
 of the wheelers and say, in a soft voice, ''And how are you, 
 old man 1 " Round comes his honest face, and up goes his 
 ears, and his companion gets jealous, which is very charm- 
 ing when he is a comic horse, as many are, and puts back^ 
 his ears and pretends to bite his friend ; and then the 
 
110 Heason or Instinct. 
 
 leader turns round and wants to join in, just as a fidgety 
 country parson at a watering place, who is out for a holiday 
 is itching to preach instead of listening to the sermon. And 
 again, with the cab horses, when a hansom driver has driven 
 you smartly up to the station, and you have paid him [JST.B. — 
 As a makeweight to all your sins, live so as to be ready to face 
 all the cabmen at the end of the world, for most of them 
 are good fellows], it costs you nothing to pat the horse, and 
 it pleases him ; and ten to one the cabman instantly tells you 
 what a good little horse he is, and how he or she once ran third 
 or fourth in some celebrated race, which is often the case. 
 Good nurses are invaluable if they are clever at " baby 
 talk," and horse talk is a great comfort to a horse. There 
 is a man whom I used to notice at the South-Western 
 stables — alas ! he is gone, and I never gave him a shilling 
 or '^ stood him a pint ; " he was great at horse talk. One 
 morning a horse which he was grooming slipped his halter 
 and ran up the yard. " Ah ! very well, Mr. Billy, you are 
 a gentleman to-day, are you ? You'll want your dinner 
 presently, and I shall go for my holiday." The horse fairly 
 laughed at the man, who fetched another horse out and 
 began cleaning him, and, when he had finished, the truant 
 came back, and fairly tried to put his head into his halter 
 again. So Billy promised, in fact, to behave better, and was 
 cleaned, and I hope had his dinner. This is reason, far beyond 
 instinct. Circus horses I don't much believe in, any more than 
 in performing lions and tigers, who very often end by biting 
 someone's head off, or walking about with a keeper's arm ; 
 but I make a special reservation in favour of the clown's 
 donkey, who nods his head at the mention of the names of 
 great public men, and on Quaker Bright being named kicks 
 the clown in the wind ; but this I saw done in a strong Tory 
 town in the good old diys of England when the existence of 
 a Deity was a necessary article of faith amongst English 
 
Reason or Instinct. Ill 
 
 statesmen, and doubtless, had the circus been at Manchester, 
 Mr. Moke's heels would have gone up at the mention of 
 Lord Beaconsfield, and he would have nodded at Mr. 
 Bright's name. 
 
 And now about other horses : observe the intelligence of 
 the contractors' horses, which are as colossal as the navvies 
 are. The navvies call them names which would look bad in 
 the " Sunday Reader ; " but there is great sympathy 
 between the Herculean bipeds and the great strong horses ; 
 they go mostly by word of command, and you seldom see a 
 navvy hard with a horse, which moves apparently at the 
 roughly expressed word, and drags the enormous load of 
 earth to the top of the embankment, and turns it on the 
 second, and clears the truck, and runs round just in time to 
 avoid his hind legs being smashed when they are " tipping.'' 
 Or look at the race-horse in a training stable under the 
 command of an imp of a boy, whom he could annihilate, and 
 probably he would " savage " you or me if we went near 
 him. It is curious to hear these little fellows, when a horse 
 threatens to kick, rate him with his childish voice, and give 
 him a sharp smack on his hind quarters, and to watch the 
 quiet way in which the horse will let him take up its hind 
 leg and wash it, and when he has done will put its head 
 round and expect the little fellow to make it all up again. 
 I always try to fancy what one of these lad's feelings must 
 be when he sees his favourite coming along stride by stride 
 to the front in a Derby or Leger, and wonder that he does 
 not go mad. 
 
 Perhaps the finest draught horses in London are those 
 which occupy the medium between the carriage horse and 
 the cart horse, in the large covered tradesmen's carts, rail- 
 way carts, (fee, which take loads along at a steady trot ; and 
 especially the dray horses in Liverpool, which draw goods 
 up and down hill to the docks. These are bred to a great 
 
112 Beason or Instinct. 
 
 extent in Lincolnshire and the Midland counties, and very- 
 long prices they fetch. The horses look prosperous, and 
 from outward appearances I should say that the whip 
 ti-ade, except for show, must have declined considerably. 
 There is a very good custom at Liverpool, and I believe at 
 some other large towns in the North, which is to have 
 a procession of horses on May-day for prizes. And this 
 mention of the whip brings us back to the ante-Martin 
 days. In the second stage of " Cruelty " Hogarth paints 
 his prize villain, Tom Nero, — the last of whom we see on the 
 dissecting-table after execution, — as a hackney-coachman^ 
 butt-ending an unfortunate horse which had fallen down 
 whilst bringing four counsellors, who have clubbed their 
 threepence apiece to ride from Thavies Inn to Westminster ; 
 in which same picture a bull is tossing a boy, a drunken 
 brewer is running over a child, and a drover beating a sheep 
 to death. Who knows but that Hogarth was the pioneer 
 towards a system of kindness which exists now ? Police- 
 man X of to-day would run in " all those culprits ; " and 
 things go further, for not only must animals not be 
 beaten, but if carried too closely packed, or sent away with- 
 out proper food and water, the Eoyal Protection Society 
 will be down on them. 
 
 Now about dogs. For reason the sheep-dog must come 
 No. 1, and I think one fact proves it, which is this : In the 
 wolds of Yorkshire and other similar places where immense 
 numbers of sheep are pastured, and outlying sheep get 
 mixed, and there is a dispute about ownership, it is left to a 
 jury of dogs, and the different dogs are collected and pick 
 out their own sheep and separate them, and the verdict is 
 final. The sheep-dog has a purely business mind ; in fact, 
 I never saw one at play. I am sorry the old woolly sheep- 
 dog is going out in favour of the colley ; but shepherds 
 know best, I suppose. I am afraid of col leys, and my 
 
Beason or Instinct, 113 
 
 experience is that to the outward world they are treacher- 
 ous. Hounds are undomesticated dogs, and are like a great 
 public school ; they live together, work together, and have 
 ways and manners of their own, and look down on the 
 general public, though their extraordinary intelligence is 
 shown by obedience to the rating of the huntsman if unruly 
 and the honest answer to his voice when cheered on. 
 
 The dog with real reason is the family dog, who always 
 lives about the household. My dogs are a fair specimen of 
 dog-sense, so I preach on them. My favourites now which 
 constitute my canine establishment are a strong, shortish, 
 broad- backed, big-headed black retriever, somewhat like a 
 black bear, " Point," which I bred — his twin brother, " Slip," 
 unfortunately died of distemper — and a Dandy Dinmont, 
 with a dash of the otter-terrier in him, " Rufus," who flew 
 at me one Sunday evening at a railway station, and whom 
 I threatened to " brain," for I was once badly bitten in my 
 life, and am fearful of strange dogs. The dog came to me 
 a minute or two afterwards, and took a lively interest in a 
 biscuit I was eating, and we made friends. His master, 
 to whom I was a stranger, though he knew my name, seeing 
 my wrath had cooled, apologised for his dog's bad manners, 
 and said that his wife would not have a dog in the house 
 and offered him to me if I would give him a home. If any 
 dog ever had a soul Kufus has. He is a favourite with the 
 whole family, and has ways of his own. He sleeps in my 
 son's bedroom, and comes down punctually at 8 o'clock and 
 sits in front of the fire in winter, and in a particular corner 
 of the carpet in summer, and on no consideration will he 
 notice anyone, except to fly at the postman, until 9 o'clock. 
 He listens to every word which is said, and I believe Avrites 
 shorthand notes of his own. Soon after 9 o'clock he goes 
 with one of the family across the common to the station, 
 and is ordered to return home, which he pretends to do, 
 
114 Beason or Instinct, 
 
 but if he is not watc-hed he comes in another way, hides 
 behind the advertisement boards, and at the last moment 
 jumps into the guard's van and turns up at Croydon. He 
 goes out at intervals and fights the grocer's dog, and comes 
 back on three legs and tries to carry it off with a high 
 hand, but you can always find out the truth by asking him 
 if the dog with the gooseberry eye beat him, and if such is 
 the case, he retii-es in a state of high mental depression if 
 he lost, but if he won he invites you to go out instantly 
 with an eye to renew the fight. Only a few weeks since 
 Rufus had been set on by a large savage dog and badly 
 bitten on the neck, and the dog doctor was sent for. I 
 came home and found him in the doctor's hands, with his 
 mouth tied up, and struggling hard, for dressing the 
 wound caused him a good deal of pain, and the moment he 
 saw me and I held his paw he was as patient as a Christian 
 until it was all done. This must be reason. Rufus never 
 went into the kitchen, and if the family were all out in the 
 evening, he sat alone in the drawing-room, and the gas was 
 lit for him, and if he condescended to go out with a ser- 
 vant, when he came home he went to the front door, and 
 the servant had to go round and let him in. " Point " is an 
 outside dog, and is never allowed in the house under any 
 circumstances, except on Sunday ; and on every Sunday 
 punctually at 2 o'clock he comes outside the conservatory, 
 and walks into my room, banging the furniture with his 
 great tail, and puts his honest old head on my knee. I don't 
 feed him, and he simply wants to spend the day with mc 
 and if I go out he runs and digs up a large stone some 
 where and brings it to me in the garden, and I throw it 
 over a high solid fence into the middle of a large field, 
 sometimes, I am ashamed to say, when my neighbour's 
 meadow is in grass or laid down for hay, and the grass is as 
 high as my hips. The dog has to run a hundred and fifty 
 
Reason or Instinct. 115 
 
 yards for an opening in the hedge, and never fails to find 
 that stone, though it is impossible for him to see where it 
 fell ; but he always brings the same stone. Sometimes he 
 goes to the River Wandle and dives down and fetches up 
 all the old pots and kettles he can find and lays them in the 
 grass. He is sitting by me now, for this happens- to be 
 Sunday, and I have read him the paragraph, of which he 
 thoroughly approves. In fact I always read my articles to 
 myself out loud, and he listens attentively. 
 
 The love of big and fierce dogs for children is extra- 
 ordinary. My eldest son, when a little child of a year old, 
 was with me at a large country house in Ireland, in the 
 Waterford Mountains, and the nurse used to take him into 
 the garden in a perambulator to sleep. There was a big 
 bloodhound which never was allowed to be about except 
 under control, and " Larry," a Httle gossoon, a hanger-on on 
 the estate, was generally with him, for he could manage 
 him. Larry came running in, " Oh ! Miss Mary, Miss 
 Mary, what will 1 do ? The bloodhound has run away into 
 the garden and the child is there." There was no cause for 
 fear ; the noble hound was sitting behind the perambulator 
 with his head on the child's shoulder like a sentinel. And 
 very much the same thing occurred at my father's not very 
 long after, when my son was about three years old. He 
 was utterly fearless of dogs, and had wandered out on his 
 own accord, and found a large dog in the yard. Tlie dog 
 was a big Russian kind of mastiff, so savage that he never 
 went out, and was only unchained at night to protect the 
 yard, and no one went within reach of him by day. To the 
 nurse's horror the boy was sound asleep, with his head on 
 the dog, and the dog's paw round him. This was a serious 
 matter, as the moment anyone went near the child a set of 
 teeth, like the guns of a frigate, appeared, and a most 
 disagreeable growl was heard, and nothing could be done 
 1—2 
 
116 Reason or Instinct. 
 
 but to call to the child until he woke and came away. Poor 
 dog ! I suppose he had a bad name and wanted a friend — 
 what an old, old story that has been in real life with many 
 outcasts. 
 
 Now for my cats : the Deuce, a jet-black Tom, only 
 remains. Beelzebub, the wickedest black Tom I ever saw, 
 was probably killed by someone for bad manners, for he was 
 a thorough blackguard, though friendly with me. When 
 they were both alive, the Deuce always came in to dinner 
 at seven, and Beelzebub at nine o'clock to tea ; and on a 
 Sunday Beelzebub came punctually at five o'clock to 
 afternoon tea, and the Deuce came at nine o'clock to 
 supper ; they never came together, and were punctual to a 
 moment, and they did not come from the kitchen, following 
 a servant, but turned up promiscuously of their own accord. 
 The funniest things I ever saw in the cat world was when 
 a friend of mine brought home a small monkey from the 
 Brazils ; it was very tame, and lived in a cage in the dining- 
 room. My then cat — of the pre-Deuce era — a she-cat with 
 a kitten, came in at breakfast-time and saw the monkey ; 
 up went her tail like a furze-bush, and she stood on the 
 tips of her claws, her kitten doing ditto ; they backed out 
 and fetched the stable cat, and the three proceeded in 
 Indian file to interview the monkey ; and at last the fore- 
 most cat tapped the monkey's paw, and in a second master 
 Jacko nailed the cat, with his teeth meeting well in her 
 paw. I think reason steps in in a case of this kind^ when 
 the cat went and fetched the stable cat, which had never been 
 in the house before, and was, in fact, only on bowing terms 
 with the family. One more word, though, about dogs. A 
 neighbour of mine, who has a trout stream, is generally 
 accompanied by his dog Moses, a large brown retriever, who 
 has taken strongly to the sport. If his master hooks a 
 trout he is in wild excitement whilst he is playing it, and is 
 
Beason or Instinct. 117 
 
 mad with glory when he lands it and takes it off the hook^ 
 and the dog carries the fish and puts it into the basket ; and 
 if he plays the fish and happens not to land it, Moses howls 
 and refuses to be comforted. 
 
 Anyhow, whether animals have reason or not, it is a 
 great comfort to know that they are amply protected now, 
 both by law and by common consent of thinking men. Tom 
 Nero butt-ends the hackney-coach horse at his peril ; and a 
 costermonger who thrashes his donkey unmercifully finds 
 plenty of his own class to ask him to " put up his hands " on 
 Mr. Moke's behalf. Dog's tails and ears must not be 
 cropped, poultry must not be plucked alive, and calves must 
 not be bled to death ; but there is one thing which the 
 Royal Society should look after, and they must fly at very 
 high game, which is to summon the City authorities, who 
 are answerable for the asphalt pavement, for not roughing 
 it with gravel or some other substance in frosty and slippery 
 weather. Money and expense are of no importance as 
 regards the footway for stout aldermen — why neglect the 
 horses ? One winter I counted seven horses down near 
 Lombard Street within five minutes, and those which kept 
 their footing were in a lather of sweat from fear. No 
 animal knows better than the horse what he can or what he 
 cannot do, and no animal is more willing to do his best, 
 and to a horse in a two-wheeled vehicle it must be just the 
 same to feel himself slipping with a weight on his back as 
 it would be to any of us to carry as heavy a weight as we 
 could walk under on dry land across slippery ice. 
 
 And there are two other evils against which a wholesale 
 crusade should be made : the first is mostly found on Bank 
 holidays and Sundays, and such days, on commons and open 
 spaces, near London especially — which is the cruelty shown 
 to half -starved saddle ponies and donkeys by the owners. 
 Hour after hour these wretched animals are galloped up 
 
118 Beason or Listinct, 
 
 and down until they are fit to drop from exhaustion, and 
 frequently they are ridden by great lubbers who weigh them 
 down. The other evil is the wicked overcrowding of carts 
 and wagons on Derby day, Hampton races, and such occa- 
 sions, when frequently unfortunate horses can hardly crawl 
 before they get half way. The Society ought to have 
 arbitrary power to seize the horses and vehicles and im- 
 pound them. It is a positive fact that an unfortunate mare 
 was taken out of a cart, and foaled on Ba,nstead downs on 
 a Derby day by the road side, and my son saw it occur. 
 
 I have not much faith in foreign missions, there is too 
 much talkee-talkee and platform oratory, but I do believe 
 in home missions, whether the promoters be Roman 
 Catholics, Church of England or Dissenters, for I know that 
 many kind men and women get the confidence of the very 
 poor and are the apostles of humanity. And now for once 
 I will be a home missioner, and respectfully ask the mother 
 of every household where these pages may find a home, to tell 
 the children whenever they see a big rough stone or brick or 
 anything of that kind, especially a broken bottle lying in 
 the road, to remove it to the side of the road in a town and 
 to throw it into the ditch in the country, as the doing so 
 may save many a horse and possibly somebody's life. 
 
ABOUT BEEECHES AND 
 BOOTS. 
 
 My father took me when a boy at school on my way home 
 for the holidays into the old House of Commons three 
 months before it was burnt down, and the thing which 
 struck me most was seeing some honourable members dressed 
 in top-boots, and wearing their hats. This circumstance 
 connected with the fact that — as I was informed and verily 
 believe — I was brought into the world by a Wiltshire 
 country doctor who had on top-boots, breeches, and spurs, 
 induces me to think that I have a mission to preach upon 
 that costume. The doctor's story is unquestionably true, as 
 the old nurse told me that the doctor galloped all the way, 
 and was only just in time to meet me, as I made my bow 
 sooner than was expected, and began life by disturbing the 
 family arrangements. 
 
 I saw the last pair of tops which ever carried a peer to his 
 seat in Parliament in the year 1846. The members of the 
 Upper House were in that year sitting in the Painted 
 Chamber, pending the completion of their present House, 
 and the owner of the boots was a dear old gentleman, a 
 marquis, name forgotten, who stuck to his leather breeches, 
 top-boots, buff double-breasted waistcoat, blue coat, gilt 
 119 
 
120 About Breeches and Boots. 
 
 buttons, white neckcloth, and broad-brimmed white beaver 
 hat, and drove down to the House daily in a yellow, old- 
 fashioned, high kind of gig with a head, much resembling 
 the vehicle in which Dr. Syntax is represented by Rowland- 
 son as driving Mrs. Syntax home to his vicarage at the end 
 of his third tour. I wonder how many men have '' passed 
 out" in honours in classics, mathematics, law, physic, 
 divinity, army, navy, &c., (fee, who are well posted up in 
 dates of imaginary deeds, which by courtesy are called facts, 
 out of compliment to so-called history, who have never read, 
 and possibly never heard of, Dr. Syntax's '' Tour," the best 
 record by far of some of the rustic life and manners in the 
 days of our great-grandfathers. 
 
 Top-boots, similar in principle to those of our grand- 
 fathers, were worn in the time of George II., in proof 
 whereof vide Hogarth's '' Rake's Progress," the gambling- 
 house scene, in which a highwayman is represented as sitting 
 by the fire in a pair of boots with tops made from a turn- 
 over at the top ; but our old-fashioned top-boot belonged to 
 George III.'s reign. In many of the pictures of George III. 
 as a young man, he is represented in private life in breeches 
 and tops, the Windsor uniform coat, and a cockade in his 
 hat, such as a footman wears now. No matter about the 
 exact date, the dress is nearly a century old, at any rate. 
 The villainous crew who belonged to Robespierre, Marat, 
 and the Girondists, copied the top-boots from us, and also 
 imported the bull-dog. In fact, from time to time other 
 European nations and ourselves have exchanged articles of 
 dress. We borrowed the Hessians from our foreign neigh- 
 bours ; they certainly were in vogue at the time of the Irish 
 rebellion, as Emmetfc, the Irish rebel, was painted in them, 
 and were common during the first quarter of this century 
 in the Theodore Hook days. The French copied our 
 " Wellingtons," and I suppose that we are indebted for the 
 
About Breeches and Boots. 121 
 
 homely blucher, which, like the " Albert hat," was never 
 popular, to our ally at Waterloo, who, after we had won 
 the battle, took the whole credit of the victory, and joined 
 us in the occupation of Paris, and wanted to " loot " the 
 city. The Napoleon boot, or a boot of that character, 
 without the high front, and somewhat curtailed in form, 
 and commonly called " the Butcher's boot," has been common 
 for the last seventy years, at various periods, to the tyrant 
 of Europe, to Mr. Gommersall, who " played Nap," in the 
 battle of Waterloo at Astley's, to our modern hunting-men, 
 our firemen, our soldiers, our butchers, our ostlers, and our 
 bishops. There is a deal of character in that Napoleon 
 boot and its family, according to the wearer. It looks very 
 workmanlike on the hunting-man, the fireman, and the 
 soldier ; but when trod down at the heels and looped up to 
 the back of the breeches, showing an interregnum of dirty 
 stocking, and worn by a slovenly butcher or ostler, it has a 
 dog-fighting, beery appearance, and ought to go to the 
 station-house. On a bishop's legs it looks as if it had been 
 consecrated with the horse and saddle at the same time as 
 his lordship, and was part of the trappings of a solemn pro. 
 cession. I don't see why a bishop's boots should not last 
 him until he becomes archbishop, or goes the way of all 
 flesh, as he gets on his horse at his own door, and only walks 
 up the floor of the House of Lords, or of some drawing-room, 
 in them, and nowhere else. I always wish when I see a 
 bishop riding in Rotten Row, which, by-the-bye, is a rare 
 circumstance now, that he would go to Ascot and the opera 
 sometimes, and go the "whole hog." Bishops seem to me 
 to dabble in the shallow waters of Vanity Fair, and want 
 to take a plunge but are afraid. They are somewhat like 
 the strict moralists (?) who put down the cards in the 
 middle of a rubber at midnight on Saturday, but who, if 
 they were sitting up, would not object to play a rubber the 
 
122 About Breeches and Boots. 
 
 moment the clock strikes twelve on Sunday night. The 
 bishop of bishops on horseback was the late Bishop Wilber- 
 force; he seemed thoroughly happy, and rode as if he 
 enjoyed it ; and his horse enjoyed it, too ; and he was, more- 
 over, as history says, a rare good judge of a horse. With due 
 deference to the late Lord Houghton, who, speaking of the 
 bishop in the "Fortnightly Review " of last March, says : 
 '' He was notoriously fond of riding, and had the reputation 
 of being a good horseman, which was not true, for he rode 
 very loosely," &c., I maintain that the bishop was a very good 
 rider, though unfortunately he was killed by his horse 
 stumbling, as were the Marquis of Waterford and poor 
 Whyte-Melville, both fine horsemen. True it is that he 
 had a forward seat on a park cob on the stones, but Lord 
 Houghton never saw him sit a spirited horse in the open. 
 I should be sorry to depend on Lord Houghton's opinion on 
 horses or riders, or even on art or literature, though he 
 fancies himself M^cenas of all England, and is always more 
 than anxious to play the part in public. I once saw an 
 archbishop in knickerbockers, and what is more he photo- 
 graphed me in profile with a short pipe in my mouth, 
 standing on a rock in the attitude of " throwing a fly." It 
 was in a Highland glen by the side of a splendid trout 
 stream, which I pine after in my dreams. The keeper said 
 the archSd^shop wanted some figures on the rock, and 
 he posed us and sat down himself; so we all went down to 
 fame. 
 
 In a water-colour sketch which is before me now, 
 '' swells," male and female, of the end of the last and 
 beginning of this century are introduced. The St. James's 
 Street dandy, who is arm-in-arm with a guardsman attired 
 in pantaloons and black gaiters similar in size to a High- 
 lander's gaiter of to-day, sports a pair of boots with deep tops, 
 from a little below the knee to the ankle, showing an in- 
 
About Breeches and Boots. 12a 
 
 terregnum of stocking (probably silk). A gallant hussar 
 appears in pantaloons and Hessians, walking with a lady 
 whose feet and ankles, according to now modern custom, 
 are confined by a dress absurdly small at the bottom, and 
 who wears a fire-scoop bonnet, not unlike the fashion of to- 
 day. The dandy top-boot and the country top-boot in the 
 days of our grandfathers were very diflferent things. The 
 story has so frequently been repeated, amongst others by 
 Captain Gronow, that probably it is true, that Hoby, in St. 
 James's Street, on a customer complaining "that his boots 
 had burst the first time he walked in them," exclaimed : 
 *' Good heavens, sir, surely you never locdhed in those 
 boots 1 " There are, or a few weeks ago there were, in St. 
 James's Street some jockey boots — evidently nothing more 
 than a loose, black kind of kid stocking — marked to weigh 
 three ounces only, and I venture to say they would burst if 
 walked in. The home-made country top-boots of our grand- 
 fathers were a reality in wild country districts, and were 
 meant for wear and not for ornament, and were of good 
 strong leather, and made roomy enough to receive a woollen 
 stocking, and to allow of the circulation of the blood, and 
 strong enough to turn brambles and thorns in narrow 
 bridle-paths or in a thick covert. Country gentlemen, 
 farmers, doctors, and parsons who kept a horse could not do 
 without their tops and breeches ; the parsons sometimes 
 compromised matters by wearing a drab cloth top which 
 buttoned round below the knee and the top of the calf, and 
 which looked less like fox-hunting— not that parsons Avere 
 averse to hunting, by any means — but the fact was that the 
 farmers, being churchwardens, waywardens, overseers, and 
 fining all the parochial offices, would not spend a halfpenny 
 out of the rates if they could help it except on the main 
 road to the market, and country lanes, which really were 
 parish roads, were left to shift for themselves, and became 
 
124 Ahoiit Breeches and Boots. 
 
 impassable in the winter to all but equestrians. The houses 
 were victualled for the winter at Michaelmas, as regarded 
 groceries, flour, and other necessaries, and bacon was laid 
 down, and beef put in pickle in case of accidents, in the 
 event of being snowed out or flooded in. 
 
 The Melton men and London dandies were very particu- 
 lar about their boots, and if you look in " Tom and Jerry 
 atTattersall's" in 1821, trousers were very rare, and you 
 may be sure that Cruikshank was accurate as regarded 
 details. Again, see in '' Tom and Jerry " the picture of the 
 Royal Academy, and observe the ridiculous trousers of the 
 period. The two neatest men who ev«r appeared in riding 
 costume were Jem Mason, the steeple-chase jockey, and a 
 dapper little man, Mr. Rice, the manager and principal 
 rider for Anderson, the horse-dealer in Piccadilly: from his 
 hat to his heels there never was such a picture of neatness, 
 and there was no one in London who could show off" a horse 
 in the Row better. He was a witness in the late Chief 
 Justice Earle's Court years ago in a running-down case, in 
 which a valuable hunter had been ruined by a brouo-ham 
 breaking its leg. Of course there was plenty of hard swear- 
 ing on both sides, as there always is in a horse case, and the 
 defence was that the man on the horse was drunk. On the 
 witness appearing, Justice Earle, speaking to counsel on 
 both sides, in gossip, intimated that the witness was an 
 expert whom he saw every morning. '^ Yes, my lord," said 
 witness, "I see you ride by every morning." ''Yes yes 
 witness," answered his lordship, who was very fond of riding' 
 and who had a very bad seat, "tell us, do you think 
 from his ridmg, the man was drunk or sober ? " '' Well' 
 my lord, that is impossible to say. I see your lordship 
 every morning, and did I not know who you are, and your 
 character, from the way that you roll about, first on the 
 pommel and then on the crupper, I should say, ' That old 
 
About Breeches and Boots. 125 
 
 gentleman has had a little drop this morning.' " Need it 
 be added that the good-natured judge led the Court and 
 spectators in a roar of laughter at his own expense. 
 
 As to the little dainty riding-boots worn by ladies, they 
 ought only to be made by poetical bootmakers. You see 
 them in the hands of ladies'-maids, who pass you in a corri- 
 dor with a giggle as they pretend to hide some other part of 
 female equestrian attire. Apropos de hottes, a friend of 
 mine, a very light weight, whose back many a good man 
 has seen in the Leicestershire and Northampton country 
 was staying in a country house during the hunting season. 
 Like many good riders, he was a great dandy about his top- 
 boots, which were standing outside his dressing-room door. 
 On going upstairs to put them on, he found they were gone, 
 and he heard the pattering of ladies' feet in rapid retreat 
 down the passage, and in his dressing-room was a very 
 pretty girl, who, thinking the owner had gone out, had just 
 succeeded in drawing one of them on. My friend, poor 
 devil ! was married, and thus the groundwork of a sensation 
 novel was lost for ever. 
 
 Country gentlemen and substantial old farmers, who from 
 age or weight had given up riding, were faithful to the 
 breeches, and in their grounds, or on market-days, might be 
 seen in very fine light drab cloth breeches and long gaiters 
 of the same, coming down over well-polished roomy shoes. 
 The last pair of breeches and gaiters I saw in Parliament 
 were worn by Mr. Patterson, member for the City, an old 
 Radical, but a dear, fat, God-fearing old Radical, not one 
 of your foaming democrats of to-day. He always went by 
 the name of old " G — ts and Gaiters," and was very popular, 
 and Punch immortalized him by one of his best jokes, 
 " multum hi parvo — Patterson in smalls." Old Patterson 
 carried the Corn Bill up to the Lords in 1846 as one of the 
 " Message from the Commons," and the late Lord Shaftes- 
 
126 About Breeches and Boots. 
 
 bury, a plain-spoken old Tory, and Chairman of the House 
 of Lords, a great character in his day, sotto voce made a 
 remark in fun about the Corn Bill, which would have 
 brought the roof of Exeter Hall down. I was at the Bar 
 of the House and heard what he said. Sir Tatton Sykes, 
 as I have heard, though I never had the pleasure of seeing 
 that grand old sportsman, always adopted the breeches and 
 gaiters when not in tops. 
 
 In books of my childhood, pictures of heroes of crime, 
 such as ''Dick Turpin," " Black Bill," &c., the bad man in 
 the " Gipsy's Curse and the Murderer's Doom," and stories 
 of a similar kind, always represented men in tops, yellow 
 breeches, red waistcoats, blue or green coats, and they wore 
 black mutton-chop whiskers. Doubtless Mr. Thurtell had 
 his top-boots on when he drove Mr. William Weare down 
 in a gig, and cut his throat, near Elstree, though the 
 ingenious Madame Tussaud, who, for the instruction of 
 future generations, exhibits the old gallows which she 
 bought from the authorities of Hertford Gaol, w^hen public 
 executions ceased, represents the figure of Mr. Thurtell 
 stepping to his doom, attired in the drab breeches and 
 gaiters, which I claim as an emblem of respectability. 
 Highwaymen, who always were hung in uniform, doubtless 
 went off the ladder in their tops and boots, which, so to say, 
 were " treed " at Tyburn or some suburban gallows. 
 
 Individuals were styled after their boots ; crede Dickens 
 in '' Pickwick " — " IFAo is there in the house?" said Sam 
 (Weller). " There is a wooden leg in No. 6 ; there's a pair 
 of Hessians in No. 13 ; there's two pairs of halves in the 
 commercial ; there's these here painted tops in the snuggery 
 inside the bar ; and five more tops in the coffee-room." 
 
 From what I remember of post-boys of the past, I 
 fear their boots and breeches were seldom found in the 
 attitude of prayer. They lived a very hard life, often com- 
 
About Breeches and Boots, 127 
 
 mencing the world as hangers-on in a stable, and sleeping 
 m their clothes on the straw. Their manners and language 
 were not always agreeable, and their demands were exces- 
 sive ; their evidence in courts of justice respecting runaway 
 matches, smuggling affairs, prize-lights, elections, and so on, 
 were not received without much cross-examination, as their 
 memories were the longest or the shortest, as occasion served. 
 They were the bad men of female authors' moral story books, 
 though I remember a quasi-tract called " John the Post-boy," 
 which pictured an imaginary hero who never rode on a 
 Sunday unless he satisfied himself that the job was a work 
 of necessity, and who always read the service to himself at 
 leisure hours, if he missed church. There might have been 
 one or two such post-boys, but I do not think they fairly 
 represented theii- party. I wonder by the way that tailors 
 do not reproduce a very useful part of the old post-boy's 
 dress, which consisted of double-milled cloth overalls, 
 perfectly weather proof, which came from the hips to the 
 ankle over the boots, and far superior to any indiarubber. 
 
 I remember a very wicked pair of tops in the dock at 
 Bow Street in 18J:2, after Ascot. The owner was a stout, 
 oily-faced man, with a juicy mouth and prominent front 
 tooth, dressed in blue and brass, buff waistcoat and cords, 
 who, in company with two others, very respectable-looking 
 men, had robbed a man of colour of some hundred sove- 
 reigns, watch, chain, rings and jewellery, on the road to and 
 from Ascot, and on the course. The late Mr. Lewis got 
 them off for want of jurisdiction, as the prosecutor, who was 
 hazy and frightened at cross-examination, could not swear 
 to any particular offence on the course within the magis- 
 trate's jurisdiction. 
 
 The owner of the tops was at Epsom in 1843 with the 
 same companions, and invited me to join him at thimble- 
 rig, and offered to go ten pounds for us both if I would 
 
128 About Breeches and Boots. 
 
 deposit my gold watch. I was under twenty years of age, 
 and young-looking for my age, too, and I shall never forget 
 the man's face when I quietly asked him, " Who robbed the 
 black man at Ascot?" His language on being so " picked 
 up " by a boy would really have startled Old Nick ; it was over- 
 heard by a gentlemanly -looking man with a quick eye, who 
 simply said, " You are at your old games, are you ? olf the 
 course, or I shall want you directly." Need I say the 
 speaker was a detective ? 
 
 If the little tops and breeches which were worn years ago, 
 when every London dandy had his cab and tiger, could 
 have written their autobiographies, what stories we should 
 have of cabs waiting at houses of '' other fellows' wives," 
 outside Crockford's, or at private hells, at Chalk Farm or 
 Wimbledon Common at daybreak, whilst the noble owners 
 were making targets of each other; of journeys to and from 
 Richmond with pink bonnets, and numberless other " fie-fie 
 stories," only mentioned now by gray-headed old gentlemen 
 over their wine when the youngsters are out of the way, or 
 by wicked old dowagers — who possibly were behind the 
 scenes — at early tea in Mayfair. 
 
 The last remnants of top-boots in cockney life belonged 
 to the low sporting school. Ben Caunt was fond of appearing 
 in public in white cords and tops, green cutaway, basket but- 
 tons, scarlet neckcloth set off by a large gold spread-eagle pin, 
 presented to him by Freeman, the American giant, and a 
 broad-brimmed white hat with green eaves; in fact, his 
 portrait taken in that costume was in a shop window in 
 Fleet Street, in which he was represented as pointing to a 
 table, whereon were placed a champagne bottle and glasses, 
 and box of cigars, and " Bell's Life," and underneath the 
 picture was a valuable certificate : " This is the best portrait 
 of me. B. Caunt, Champion of England." Old-fashioned 
 omnibus men and coachmen who drove the short stages to 
 
About Breeches and Boots. 129 
 
 and from the suburbs clung to the tops until thev passed 
 away. 
 
 And now for the cause of the appearance of this gossipincr 
 paper. It occurred thus: On the Oaks day I met an old 
 friend, who was riding across Mitcham Green, with whom I 
 have had many a chat on many a cricket ground, and 
 whose name I do not know, who always wears top-boots, 
 spurs and cords, and whom I never saw in the streets or in 
 the country or in the suburbs except on a good horse I 
 know he is not a dealer, nor does he ride horses to sell I 
 was laughing with him about his tops, and told him that 
 i never remembered an Epsom week in which I did not see 
 him on the way to the races or coming back, or on the 
 course, and he said that he had been— I think— for thirty 
 nine years in the same dress. There was another thine 
 which put the subject into my head, and it was this • On 
 the 29th of May last, the anniversary of a day some two 
 centuries and a quarter ago, or thereabouts, when Charles 
 II. was '^ first for the oaks," after his father had lost a crown 
 by " a neck on the post," there was cricket at Lord's between 
 two elevens, most of whom, from boyhood upward, have 
 almost lived in breeches and boots. The players were the 
 huntsmen and the jockeys. I was very doubtful about the 
 '' Jockeys and Huntsmen's" match which we all remember 
 took place on the Saturday in Derby week. I fancied there 
 would be a lot of loafers, and especiallv our friend ^' 'Arry 
 the Cockney Cad," who -knew old Geor^y Fordham and 
 Freddy Archer, my boy," and ^' five-to-one-bar-one school " 
 It was "very much t'other," and proves exactly what I 
 always have maintained, which is that the betting rinc don't 
 care a straw for anything but the money. As to the match, 
 _ ±5ells Life " has a most elaborate and accurate account of 
 It, which any one can see. As regards the cricket, naturally 
 amongst the huntsmen there were many men heavily handi- 
 
130 Ahout Breeches and Boots. 
 
 capped by age, and some of them were stiff. There was 
 some very good play on both sides, especially the bowling, 
 in proof whereof between 300 and 400 balls were bowled for 
 four wides ; and the wicket-keeping was good also, and, 
 seriously speaking, the Surrey and Middlesex counties, 
 whose match was broken off to make way for the " knights 
 of the pigskin " and " the honourable company of horn 
 blowers," might very advantageously have boiTOwed two 
 bowlers from the equestrian elevens. 
 
 Everyone who knows anything about cricket and about 
 the man must be aware that, but for his professional en- 
 gagements elsewhere, R. I'Anson would be a great acquisi- 
 tion to the County of Surrey, being much superior as an all- 
 round man to a large majority of those who play for it now, 
 as he can bat, bowl and field really well, and can keep 
 wicket on a squeeze, and is j)assionately fond of the 
 game. 
 
 Now for a glance at the ring at Lord's. There were five 
 thousand peoj)le at the least, at one time, a large proportion 
 being men of mark of the Nimrod stamp, and women of 
 mark, too, half-sisters to Diana Yernon, in four-in-hands, 
 mail phaetons, carriages, on horseback, (tc, ttc, a great 
 many genuine cricket lovers, and a large sprinkling of those 
 connected with racing and hunting, more of the former 
 than the latter, as naturally racing men of all counties had 
 been attracted to Epsom. The dirty short pipe and 
 <cabbage-leaf cigar were absent, and there were so many 
 ll^dies about that it became necessary, when one wanted a 
 quiet pipe, to get into an out-of-the-way corner. No rough 
 word could be heard anywhere, though there was plenty o£ 
 fun and laughter. In fact, the match consisted of fair 
 cricket, which a great number of people of all classes were 
 watching, with real pleasure, a game between two elevens 
 out for the day, who were playing for the love of the sport 
 
About Breeches and Boots. 131 
 
 ^nd a summer holiday. All the " horsey world ^' were off 
 the stage for this day. One could not mistake the trainer 
 with his wonderfully neat hat, w^ell-trimmed hair and 
 whiskers," or clean-shaven face, carefully tied neckcloth, 
 rather long frock coat fitting exquisitely, rather light dra^ 
 trousers coming over a boot polished with a blacking only 
 known to themselves — I expect those who clean their boots 
 ■** hiss " all the time, as if grooming a horse. Trainers also 
 are especially recognisable by the quick, restless eye, which 
 betrays no expression of thought, but notices everyone 
 from an archbishop downwards, for fear he should be a 
 tout. Then the first-rank jockeys always betray themselves 
 by their neat little figures, well-cut clothes, dogskin gloves 
 and excellent cigars — where do they get them ? I can't get 
 them at the club. A few knowing stable-boys would have 
 looked happier, perhaps, with a little ground ash stick in 
 their hand, and a fox terrier at their heels, but all were 
 •"off the stage " for the afternoon, and the little sticks and 
 little dogs were left at home. I saw INI'George, the starter, 
 pass through them once or twice, but they looked as if they 
 had never seen him before, or had ever been anxious for a 
 start. The huntsmen were scarcer and less recognisable 
 most of them. One hardly ever sees a huntsman except in 
 his professional clothes, whereas jockeys and trainers 
 «warm alive on railways which run to and from a racing 
 •district, and very pleasant companions they often are. To 
 review the match shortly : 1 , the cricket was very fair ; 2, 
 all enjoyed themselves; 3, the match must have been a 
 great financial success ; 4, those of the press who prejudged 
 the question and talked about " burlesque cricket," kc, ttc, 
 ^c, for once in their lives were icliolhj wrong, and as 
 our friend 'Arry, the slang cad, would say, 'Hhe 'unts" 
 men 'ad a fast thing that day with blood at the hend," 
 and the jockeys *' sat do^^ii on their 'orses and walked 
 K— 2 
 
132 About Breeches and Boots. 
 
 in as they pleased," and as regards the Kevilers, who ran 
 against them as far as theij were concerned, they weren't 
 in it, *' it was all a 'orse to a 'en " on the day's sport versus 
 failure. 
 
THE COUNTEY PAESON 
 
 Those who have had to make their own way in the world 
 must call to mind times and seasons in their younger days 
 when the stress of business occasioned their burning the 
 midnight oil, night after night, and frequently not 
 '' dividing the Sunday from the week," for weeks or months 
 tof^ether. In the days when my lot was cast in the midst 
 of a very hard-working world, at the time of the railway 
 mania, I was fortunate enough to be ''semper welcome" at 
 more than one country vicarage, if I could get away on 
 Saturday evening; and, although a hot London church 
 would have been unbearable, the quiet village Sundays were 
 periods of rest which I recall with much pleasure. There 
 was no need to be awakened on Sunday morning. A tree 
 full of birds close to the window kept up a chattering early 
 enough, and the sun shining in, and the cawing of the 
 rooks, and the tramping of the cart horses going to water, 
 and impertinent bees who flew in at the open window and 
 levied toll on the flowers which stood on the table, to say 
 nothing of the church bells, which rang at 8 o'clock, made 
 sleep impossible. And who ever wanted sleep on a fine 
 June morning ? 
 
 It used to be a great treat to find that I was the only 
 idle man on the parson's busy day, though the time never 
 133 
 
134 The Country Parson. 
 
 hung heavy for a moment. Sometimes we began with a 
 wedding at eight, the Sunday school after breakfast (at 
 which I only assisted occasionally as Mr. Spectator, listening 
 to some of the primitive answers*), church at half -past ten, 
 a chat for half an hour before with the patriarchs, who 
 represented the House of Lords amongst the villagers, 
 sitting about the blacksmith's shop in the week days, and 
 occupying the posts of honour on the benches under the 
 old yew-tree in the churchyard on Sundays. One of these 
 fogies sometimes might be a Trafalgar man, or a Peninsular 
 or Waterloo veteran, and better company I never met. 
 Then came the early dinner at one, church again at half- 
 past two ; after church a walk round the parish with the 
 parson, who went to see some very old parishioners who 
 were too feeble to come out, and to read to them a little 
 out of '* Pilgrim's Progi^ess," which is to the aged poor what 
 " Pobinson Crusoe " is to a school-boy ; pending the reading 
 whereof I would drop in and pay the churchwarden a visit, 
 and sit in his chimney-corner — which held six, three each 
 side — and have a glass of his strong beer and a quiet 
 smoke with an old she^^herd, who always ''rested on his 
 way home ; " in other words, had his pint of strong home- 
 brewed regularly every Sunday — accompanied by his rough 
 sheep-dog, a stout churchman, who always slept in the pew 
 and never barked in his sleep, and who never looked in vain 
 for some scraps in the churchwarden's outhouse. Then 
 about seven came a tea and supper combined, which makes- 
 me hungry to think of now. And I think that parson, wha 
 Jbad done eleven hours' honest work, aided and abetted by 
 Ms wife and dauofhters, who tausfht in the school and 
 
 * A country parson once told me that when his class could not 
 remember the shepherds as the first recipients of the great Christmas 
 naessage, he asked who were likely to be in the fields by night, and 
 one lively village bucolic eagerly answered " the poachers." 
 
The Country Farson. 135 
 
 managed the singing, had f aii'ly earned his leisure and his 
 pleasant evening chat and cigar, and a quiet perusal in 
 " Bell " (which I always took with me) of the cricket or 
 rowing of the past week. This is not a theological treatise, 
 and if I attempted to make it so there would be a just and 
 indignant howl ; but I fancy that most of the readers are 
 in accord with me, that a good country parson is the salt of 
 the earth, and that nine sensible people out of ten, except 
 the ecclesiastical lawyers, think that the columns in news- 
 paper reports of religious squabbles about shadows are 
 evidence of wicked waste of money and fanatical temper. 
 And although every word of this paper is true and from 
 the life, it is not a sketch of A., or B., or C, but of a class 
 whom I have been fortunate enough to know, and of scenes 
 which I have witnessed. 
 
 First, as to our congregation. There was the conven- 
 tional bore, who exists everywhere, the most respectahle man 
 in the parish, who made a lot of money somehow, and 
 always came to church in shiny black dittos, and a shirt 
 frill (hke Mr. Chuck's, in " Peter Simple "), and stiff white 
 neckcloth, who said '"the minister did not preach the 
 gospel," and who encouraged the ranters, and bellowed out 
 the psalms, emphasising any damnatory clauses with a wave 
 of the hand and a satisfactory shake of the head. The 
 squire's family of course occupied one enormous pew, reached 
 by steps, with armchairs and a fire-place, and every con- 
 venience of a club, except the morning papers ; a second 
 large pew held the upper servants, and there was an 
 inferior pew for the under female servants, with benches 
 for coachmen, grooms, gardeners, ttc, outside. (Of course 
 this state of things has long since ceased to exist.) 
 
 Then came the farmers' families, the younger portion of 
 whom always expected me to make them a " clown's face " 
 just before the Litany — and were never disappointed — 
 
136 The Country Parson, 
 
 though often reproved by the elder sisters, who were not 
 much displeased when the London stranger nodded his head 
 seriously and winked an apology. Another pew was 
 occupied by the blacksmith, a hale man of seventy without 
 a grey hair, looking noble in a black velveteen coat, and a 
 shirt-collar like a sail, and a *' bird's-eye fogle " tied once 
 round, showing the neck of a perfect Hercules ; and in 
 the same pew was an old superannuated huntsman, 
 who looked as if he was always feeling for the horn, with 
 his hair close cropped and white tie with long ends, a fox's 
 head for a pin, and a long frock-coat, breeches, and 
 mahogany tops. And next the old huntsman sat the 
 blacksmith's daughter, a snake-headed one, with jet black 
 hair and blue eyes, and the smallest of ears like shells ; and 
 next to her the under-keeper, a fine Yorkshireman, who 
 shared her book, attired in a brown velveteen coat, and 
 bronze buttons displaying every kind of dog's head. And 
 we were not surprised when their banns were put up, and 
 the old huntsman gave Vulcan a dig in the ribs, and we all 
 looked round at the handsome couple, and should have had 
 much pleasure in giving three cheers had it been decent. 
 No wonder that the old village poacher's j)lace was empty, 
 for you may be sure that some hare suffered that day. It 
 was quite time that the banns were put up, for I saw, a 
 few weeks before, the young keeper and the blacksmith's 
 daughter trying to catch a pony in the orchard, and never 
 were two people so long about a simple job ; and when the 
 pony was caught the captors' heads were as close together 
 as the two-headed nightingale's. I should like to have had 
 a hand in catching that pony, for the reward was very 
 ample remuneration for the trouble. 
 
 It was rather sad to see the numbers of very old, old 
 people who evidently could not read in those days, though 
 they had a simple creed of theii' own, as besides the cardinal 
 
The Country Parson. 137 
 
 points of religion, they believed in the squire, the parson, 
 the devil, the gallows, and ghosts. For they lived in the 
 days when wicked boys and girls were taken to see the 
 men go in a cart to " Hang Fair," and believed that many 
 ghosts walked, and that certain corners were bad to pass at 
 night. But I will trouble you to find a man who could 
 burn a pig, throw down a tree, or take a swarm of bees like 
 " Old Joe." To see him burn a pig ; didn't he wet his finger 
 to see which way the wind was, and arrange the straw so 
 artfully that every bit of the hair was taken off '' wi'out 
 burning a hole in his breeches anywhere," as he said. Why, 
 the pig, within an hour of his disease, was like a beautifully 
 coloured meerschaum, and it would reconcile anyone to 
 cremation, if it was not carried further. The old man only 
 professed to do three things, viz., ''to tack bees," "vail a 
 tree," and " singe a hog," and he did all three things well, 
 though he never learnt to read or write. 
 
 It required some effort to keep one's countenance, when 
 the church was chilly, to see Farmer Jemmy, by way of 
 protection to his head, put on a fustian cap with a shade, 
 which he had bought at a fair, and decorated with crossed 
 guns and dogs' heads. He was a grand old boy who, as he 
 said, " went to bed wi' the buds (birds) mostly, and got up 
 wi' the buds ; who lived in his kitchen and swung the pot ; " 
 in other words, gave dinner-parties, one of which we shall 
 enjoy presently. We often had an interlude in the shape 
 of a raid on the schoolboys by the master after a contra- 
 band apple, which had rolled out and had been recovered, 
 and could not bs found, and a lot of heads were punched 
 and ears boxed on suspicion, probably the innocent suffering 
 for the guilty. The plough-boys and farm labourers 
 generally stared into vacancy, and clattered in with their 
 hobnailed boots, and clattered out again. Remember, I 
 am speaking now of the dark ages years ago, when farmers 
 
138 The Country Parson. 
 
 employed every village urchin bird keeping, or as odd boys, 
 and parsons were unheard and unheeded almost as regarded 
 education, and could only fight against ignorance in the 
 Sunday schools. 
 
 I wonder how many sectarian sermons of all kinds I 
 have heard by " popular preachers " (that odious expression) 
 since those days, and how many I remember, or which I 
 cared twopence for ; possibly none ; but I bear in mind 
 many of those village sermons now, when men stood up, 
 and in their natural tone told a short story under twenty 
 minutes, and represented the dramatis personoi of sacred 
 history, walking and talking as they probably did in life ; 
 though one parson made the deadest failure I ever knew in 
 trying to say a few words about the late village cobbler and 
 parish clerk (who had been clerk for half a century) on the 
 Sunday after his funeral. He started as brave as a lion, but 
 he came to utter grief in a very short time ; for were not 
 the old clerk and the parson sworn friends ? and didn't those 
 two and your humble servant once dig an old woman's grave ? 
 This occurred in October, when the ground fortunately 
 was soft, and it occurred thus : A very old woman, Sukey 
 
 , was dying, and the parson used to see her every day- 
 
 "We were going out shooting, and on the way the parson 
 called to see how the old woman was, and heard, without 
 surprise, that "she had just passed off like a lamb." This 
 was on a Monday, and the people asked if she could be 
 buried at four o'clock on Saturday ; so to save them the 
 trouble of sending to the clerk, the vicar said he would let 
 him know about the funeral. On the Saturday we were 
 out shooting again some way from home, and the parson 
 
 said, " We must go back; I have to bury old Sukey 
 
 at four. By-the-bye," he added, " did you tell the old clerk 
 about her grave ? " The terrible fact came before us that 
 no grave had been dug. Back we posted, and found the 
 
The Country Parson. 139 
 
 old clerk soling a boot. Q. "Have you dug old Sukey's 
 grave, George ? " A. " Xever heerd about it, zur." 
 Q. ''What's to be done? — it is now three." A. '"Don't 
 rightly know, zur; there be no one at home but me." There 
 was only one thing to be done ; and a man was sent on 
 horseback to put the funeral off till five, leaving us two 
 hours. The old clerk took his tools down behind the church 
 tower, out of sight, to a spot where no one had been buried 
 within living memory. We prospected with the boring- 
 ii'ons as quickly as possible, the clerk's little grand-daughter 
 fetching someone to toll the bell, and we three stripped to 
 our shirts, and in an hour and a half dug as good a gi'ave 
 as anyone could desire ; and if ever I did enjoy a pull at the 
 beer, it was in the vicarage when the job was done. At 
 five o'clock all were in their places, and no living soul but 
 ourselves ever knew who dug the grave. 
 
 We must dine with " Yarmer Jemmy," after all this talk. 
 He always used, out of compliment to me, as the Londoner, 
 to dine late, and our dinner was at twelve, instead of eleven 
 A.M., his usual time. 
 
 Old Jemmy was one of those cimous characters whom 
 one seldom meets now. He w^as a hale and hearty octo- 
 genarian, whose hours in bed were from 7 o'clock p.:\i. to 5 
 A.M. in the winter, and from 8 till 3 in the summer. Besides 
 his farm he dealt in timber, and had a saw-pit, and con- 
 tracted for farm buildings, always making money and never 
 spending it, hardly ever away from home, kind to the poor, 
 finding odd jobs for the men in the winter, and very 
 hospitable. He lived alone with an elderly female servant 
 who was near seventy. Jemmy was very warm in the 
 pocket. He trusted only to a canvas bag and specie, and 
 probably never had a cheque-book. 
 
 Our banquet-room was in the large bricked kitchen (for 
 Jemmy only used his parlour when ladies came to see him). 
 
140 The Country Parson, 
 
 before an enormous fire-place, where, winter and summer, 
 the logs were smouldering on the dogs. The party consisted 
 of his brother-in-law the churchwarden, " Varmer Guy," 
 who could never get within two feet of the table, owing to 
 his corporation, a nephew or two, the parson and myself, 
 and old Charlotte, who cooked the dinner, waited and 
 joined in the conversation, and cheered us on. The table- 
 cloth was like the driven snow, and, if j^ou please, there 
 were heavy silver spoons and forks for the visitors ; and as 
 to the dinner, it was so good that on the night before old 
 Jemmy's party we used to sit up very late so as to ensure 
 sleeping till eleven the next morning, in time for a tub, a 
 cup of cofiee and a pipe, but no breakfast ; for it would have 
 been a shame to have gone without an appetite. As to 
 roast S23are-rib3, chines, chickens, ducks, asparagus, peas, 
 and all the best farm and garden produce, gooseberry 
 pudding, and cream, the table literally groaned ; but the 
 wary and wise kept a place for the boiled ox-beef — the 
 Martinmas beef, I presume, which Macaulay speaks of — 
 beef which had been kept in pickle and preserved for months. 
 Probably it was the beef of oxen which had been at the 
 plough and fatted, but nothing ever beat it. And the 
 wise and wary likewise held aloof from the strong beer, 
 and took the lighter ale, and reserved themselves for one 
 glass of the celebrated home-brewed, the colour of sherry, 
 which flared like brandy in the fire, with some cheese which 
 was worthy of the feast. And when a man had done his 
 duty by all this, if he was not content with a quiet smoke 
 in an arm-chair and one more glass of the strong beer, he 
 did not deserve to live — that's all. 
 
 Although, especially as regarded education, things are 
 changed now, much of the primitiveness still remains. 
 " How do you manage to get on with everyone so well ? " I 
 asked the parson — who is still vicar — not very long ago, 
 
The Country Parson. 141 
 
 " By minding my own business and trying to do my duty/' 
 was the answer. " As you know, I was never meant for the 
 Church, but this was a family Hving, and I had it ; and 
 when I began I liked the country, and liked the hunting, 
 but I very soon found that a man who is a man ought to 
 do his work ; and plenty I had to do. The farmers were 
 mostly fond of hunting, and were not sorry to see that I 
 went to the meet once or twice a week, but I found that 
 some of them were very loose, and very hard on the poor • 
 and they soon discovered that I didn't care about their 
 market-ordinary tales and flash stories, and though I enjoyed 
 a run with the hounds, I meant to do so like a gentleman. 
 Some of the magistrates were very hard on the poachers — 
 not your London gang men, but the unfortunate half- 
 starved fellows who found a snared hare and pocketed it ; 
 and what with talking to one and another, and a kind word 
 here and there, I got on without quarrelling. And then, 
 thinking I ought to teach in the school, I got accustomed 
 to it and fond of it, and liked the village children. The 
 secret of leading people is easy enough, if 3'ou make up your 
 mind that they won't be driven. I took an interest, too, 
 in preserving the foxes, and consoled the old women for loss 
 of ducks and chickens ; and the magistrates set that off 
 against my pleading for the small poachers and putting in 
 a word or two for a misdemeanant, pledging myself for his 
 better behaviour. But I attribute my success jorincipally 
 to one thing, which is this : I set my face against meddling 
 and faction and sensation, and, although often urged to 
 have anti-papal meetings, and evangelical alliances, and 
 heaven knows what besides, by all kinds of people, I kept 
 aloof from them all. Some clerical secretary wrote to me a 
 long time since, and said the bishop expected all his clei-gy 
 to petition against opening the British Museum and similar 
 places on a Sunday, and sent me a petition deploring *' the 
 
142 The Country Parson, 
 
 desecration of the Sabbath by the lower orders, and praying 
 that no places of entertainment should be open on a Sunday ; " 
 and I replied, that I knew nothing of the wants of 
 London, and sent the petition back, altering ' lower orders ' 
 to ' higher orders,' and praying that Tattersall's, the hotels 
 at Richmond, Blackwall, and Greenwich, the parks for car- 
 riages of the rich, and such places, should be closed on a 
 Sunday, with a request to the bishojD to present that peti- 
 tion — which, of course, he never heard of even. Then, too, 
 there w^ere some village revels which were village drunks ; 
 and, though there was much obstruction, particularly by the 
 young farmers, we have gradually substituted a good jflower- 
 show, athletics — in which I was supported by a fine young 
 fallow, son of a late well-known London prize-fighter — 
 winter concerts, and those things, and they all like them 
 now. In short," he said, ''if the world would read the 
 story of the pharisee and the publican every morning, and 
 aot on the moral, and believe that all people are fallible, 
 things would come right of themselves ; and so long as a 
 man has the courage to face the big men manfully, and to 
 ba firm and kind with the poor, and not pretend to be over- 
 righteous, both will respect you. ' Always disarm a man ' 
 is my motto. The other day a busybody had a London 
 sar — a layman and a great Exeter Hall light — down to 
 p -each in a barn on a Sunday, and no doubt thought he 
 could annoy me. I called on the Londoner instantly, and 
 threw no impediment in his way, for the man behaved Hke 
 a gentleman, and did not preach in our church hours, and 
 he w^as perfectly astonished to find that I was not afraid of 
 his competition. Another day, a ' dissenting minister,' as 
 he called himself, whom I never saw before, came and 
 personally attacked me about hunting and about the 
 * Burials Bill,' and said that I was one of those who wanted 
 to keep him and his flock out of the churchyard ; and I told 
 
The Country Parson, 143 
 
 him that I would bury him and all his flock for nothing 
 when they were ready, and that shut him up. Half the 
 mischief is done by giving a dog a bad name. When a poor 
 fellow has got into a scrape, the best thing is to give him 
 work, like old Jemmy does, and let him get his character 
 back. Why, look at that splendid horse-artiller}'man, whom 
 you saw in church, and who paid me a visit afterwards. 
 That fellow was the greatest scamp in the place, always 
 •drinking, fighting, and poaching, and when he enlisted I 
 persuaded his old mother, who was a httle above the world, 
 and who would have sold everything to raise the money to 
 get him off, to let him have his own way ; and he told me 
 that the sergeant of his company, or battery, prophesied his 
 fate at once — that he would either be flogged or make a 
 good soldier ; and he said he found his master directly, and 
 was determined to 2,0 strai^jht — and so he did. Beinsr fond 
 of horses, he soon became a favourite, and he has never been 
 in trouble, and is now a corporal. Bullying and psalm- 
 singing would never have done for that fellow ; and, take 
 my word for it, that the kind word in season is a power of 
 strength with all Englishmen. Promote then.' good, and 
 above all things theii' amusements, and give up lecturing 
 them morning, noon, and night, as if we were wholly 
 immaculate and they were all wrong, and all will go well. 
 Look at the charity of the poor, and see how much they do 
 out of almost nothing, and don't let those who go to parties 
 and clubs in London be always throwing the public-house 
 in their faces, A poor man who gets an unexpected pot of 
 beer always hands it round to friend and stranger. Do we 
 •do the same ? " 
 
 Now, all is from the life, and the moral is simple enough. 
 I suppose you have observed that the old-fashioned village 
 parson is very much supplanted often by cockneys of a 
 Jovver grade, very many of whom have not only not had any 
 
144 The Country Parson. 
 
 university education, but are not gentlemen in manner or 
 feeling, and who are wholly incompetent for country 
 parsons. Some of these clip the Queen's English and talk 
 about 'oliness and 'eaven ; some of them, especially in 
 suburban parishes, make cliques among rich, vulgar people, 
 who live for show and originate mission meetings and 
 temperance meetings, and pepper people with stupid tracts 
 — all one-sided — with reference to the immorality of the 
 poor, whose ways and manners they never understood, and 
 whose amusements they don't support, though at their own 
 homes they are not above lawn tennis and claret cup, which 
 answer to the " beer and skittles " of the poor. They are 
 ready to go to extravagant stupid parties, and insist on all 
 people being very good on "the sabbath," and are horrified 
 at a parson playing a quiet rubber, or enjoying a run with 
 the hounds, or dancing, or going to the theatre. And why ? 
 Because they are muffs who can do nothing and have no 
 taste. What would they have said to the late Bishop 
 Selwyn's wish for the clergy to start theatres in large towns 
 for bringing out good plays for the edification of the 
 people ? 
 
 They are always wanting to start something new, but 
 won't use the materials they have. They will wake up 
 some fine morning and discover the Church to be in real 
 danger, and will be surprised to find that people will put 
 their hands quietly in their pockets and tell them it is their 
 own doing and they must save themselves, and that the only 
 places in which the real support will come, and /rowi which 
 it will take a hard fight to drive Mother Church, are 
 those in which the parson is the friend of rich and 
 poor, one of themselves, and living amongst them 
 r9C0gnising and taking part in all, which, properly en- 
 joyed, is harmless, and setting the example of goodness 
 and toleration. 
 
TJie Country Parson. 145 
 
 A sporting parson and a parson who is fond of sport are 
 two very different beings. The man who is constantly 
 drinking and card-playing with his farmers loses their 
 respect and his own ; but one who appears at the covert-side 
 in his black cut-away and white tie, or in the village match ^ 
 and says grace at the cricket dinner, is the right man in the 
 right place, and does a deal of good by his presence, and 
 makes his mark on Sunday, you may be sure. Men like 
 Charles Kingsley, the bold rider, who set his face against 
 vice, and who went to poor old^Cuffey, the Chartist,* because 
 he had no friends, and acquainted himself with the Chartist 
 grievances, are of the right stamp, too ; and so are some of 
 those splendid parsons, old university oarsmen and 
 cricketers, who understand roughs and work amongst the 
 costermongers and the lowest of the London poor, unseen 
 and unknown, who look at poverty and crime as their 
 battle-field. So are some of those on the mission 
 to seamen who go out to ships in the roadsteads 
 in the worst winter weather, one of whom, in advocating 
 the cause of his mission, said, " they only asked for food and 
 shelter, and assured his hearers that some of their body 
 were so poor, that the fishermen and boatmen on his station 
 sent anonymously a pilot coat and a tarpaulin suit for the 
 parson." And don't let us forget the late Bishop Selwyn, 
 formerly of iSTew Zealand, and afterwards of Lichfield, who 
 went on board of a frigate in the Pacific, against the preju- 
 dice of the sailors, and won all their hearts when they found 
 that he could pull as good an oar as they could, and could 
 sail a lugger as well as themselves. And when his cruise was 
 over, and he said a few kind, manly words, the crew asked 
 leave to man the yards and to give him a parting 
 cheer. 
 
 * Cattey was a Mulatto and Chartist leader, who had two year's 
 imprisonment under the Treason Felony Act. 
 
146 The Country Parson, 
 
 If a voluntary church on the same principle as voluntary- 
 church rates is ever mooted, there is no fear for good old 
 country parishes or places (which have been unpolluted by 
 morbid fanatics who are all talk) in which well-educated 
 gentlemen profess to be men, like their parishioners, are the 
 parsons. 
 
I PEEACH TO THE 
 PAESON. 
 
 ^^ It is no use telling me that it is a harmless amusement/' 
 said the parson. " I will be bound to say that your 
 cricketers are in that room there at the Green Lion, drink- 
 ing and playing cards now, as I hear they are every 
 Saturday evening ; the police ought to indict the house," 
 
 We were passing the Green Lion, a good old-fashioned 
 village inn, in which the principal common room was 
 bravely lit up, and from the shadows on the red blind there 
 ■evidently was a numerous company. 
 
 " Now look here, parson ; you go on, and I will come in 
 presently, and tell you who are there and what they are 
 doing ; for I want to speak to them about a match next 
 week. I shall find most of them there." 
 
 The parson walked on to the vicarage, and your humble 
 servant went through the bar into the common room — ■ 
 or, more strictly speaking, the icncom.m.on room, as it Avas 
 only for the use of the landlord's regular customers, and 
 strangers could not get in — and was greeted with a chorus 
 of " Good evening, sir ; what's the news ? " Not to spin 
 out this article with " padding," as is the custom in three- 
 
 L— 2 
 
148 I Preach to the Parson, 
 
 volume novels, let me say that the news was that a match 
 was made, that an eleven was wanted, and, according to 
 ancient custom, a gallon of shandy-gafF was ordered in and 
 paid for to drink success to the eleven; and that being 
 done, the writer, having arranged the match, returned to 
 the vicarage to report as promised. 
 
 In this article I shall make the parson wholly a listener. 
 It must be understood that the Vicar and Mrs. Vicar too 
 were bombarding me with hot shot all the time, but conver- 
 sations in print are tedious. The talk, or whatever it may 
 be called, is a repetition of arguments which I have had 
 with very good men, who were cut the wrong way of the 
 stuff — I fear with no great success — in hopes of inducing 
 them to see the urgent necessity of looking after the village 
 sports, and getting at the people who delight in them. 
 
 " You are quite right, vicar," I said on entering; '' most 
 of the cricketers are there drinking, smoking, and playing 
 cards, and I have stood them a gallon of shandy-gafi, and 
 of course you say I set them a terrible example. The com- 
 pany present were, the landlord, the keeper, the bailiff's son, 
 and the beadle, who were playing four-handed cribbage, a 
 penny a corner and fourpence on the rubber ; which means 
 sixpence for a rubber of two games won, fivepence for a 
 rubber of three games, and the stakes w^ere all s^Dent on 
 shandy-gaff. The others are talking cricket, and some of 
 them watching the card-players, and bets of a j)int, or even 
 so much as a pot, were given and taken whilst I was there. 
 I know all the company, and they were very pleased to see 
 me ; they are all most respectable men, who work hard and 
 are sober and well-conducted ; and what you say is true, 
 they are always there every Saturday night, and probably 
 will be there for many a year as long as the present land- 
 lord goes on. It is quite true, as you say, that few of them 
 ever come to church, and that they hardly recognise you 
 
/ Preach to the Parson, 149 
 
 when you meet them ; but they touch their hats to me 
 because I stand them beer. And there you are just wrong ; 
 it is not the beer, it is because my friends and myself get up 
 the cricket, and readings and concerts, and so sometimes 
 amuse them in the winter ; and pardon my home truths, your 
 party do not inaugurate a single amusement amongst them 
 to gain a laugh from New Year's Day to the following 31st 
 of December. The fact is, parson, you do not understand 
 what 2/ow call "the working classes," for the simple reason 
 that you were brought up in a cockney parish in London, 
 and don't understand village folk. You go on circulating 
 tracts on drunkenness and gambling, directed against men 
 such as I have seen to-night. Now listen to me. My 
 friends and myself have been with those men — for players 
 or non-players they are cricketers to a man — at home and 
 in out matches, and there is not a man amongst them with 
 a tendency to drink. They hold their Saturday night club 
 at the Green Lion regularly from eight till half -past ten, 
 and as regularly they play penny cribbage and talk village 
 politics or cricket ; in fact, the match which I announcd to- 
 night will keep them going till it is time to go home. I 
 know all you say about putting the money by in the 
 savings-bank instead of going to the Green Lion, where 
 probably each man will pay sixpence or eightpence ; but do 
 you talk so to your richer neighbours, when you go to their 
 dinner-parties and get indigestible green peas and young 
 potatoes in early spring, which are mostly imported from 
 the south of France and Algeria, and all sorts of extrava- 
 gances and expensive wines, which are produced for show 
 and not for hospitality, and the money spent on which 
 might go to the poor ? You have no idea how readily these 
 Green Lion men would rally round you if you would give 
 them the chance, and showed them a little sympathy. 
 
 *' They don't feel unkindly towards you, as you think ; it 
 
150 I Preach to the Parson. 
 
 is just the other way, they don't understand you and you 
 don't understand them ; they give you credit for good 
 intentions, but they say they don't care about the Pope or 
 the missionaries, which are your two hobbies, and they 
 won'^b read the tracts ; and they won't come to your ser- 
 mons. To tell you the truth when the last grand garden 
 missionary party was held here, and the carriages were put 
 up at the Green Lion, the serious (?) coachmen and foot- 
 men, who were exhorted to band themselves together in 
 support of the poor negi^o, prefen^ed the cricket tent, and 
 turned out to be the most comical dogs, and spoke slight- 
 ingly of their black brother. Of course you say I ought to 
 have stopped the ridicule. Parson, I am only human, and 
 ridicule and the ' humorous ' are my weak points. I did 
 nob encourage them, but I died of laughter on the quiet ; 
 and so would you if you had heard a merry-eyed coachman 
 sj^eculate on his missus, an old maid in lavender silk that 
 would stand alone, marrying a nigger, and foreshadowing 
 the wedding festivities. 
 
 *' You know years ago the parson was generally one who 
 was bred and brought up in a country village, often a 
 country gentleman's youngest son, and would ride 
 and shoot and understand agriculture more or less^ 
 and without being n-ecessarily a sporting parson, he 
 took his day's shooting^ or fishing sometimes; had a 
 knowledge and a sort of kinship Avith men of all classes, 
 saints and sinners, who want a friend in trouble. 
 
 " Remember this : the \allage Benevolent Club dinneiv 
 was never perfect unless the parson went and said grace, 
 and more than often it was so at the cricket dinner too^ 
 and always so at the cricket supper, if — as was not unusual 
 — ^the vicar gave a haunch of mutton or a lamb to be played 
 for once a year ; i.e., the parson provided that much of the 
 east, and the losing side paid the extras. He just went in 
 
/ Freach to the Parson. 151 
 
 and of course was asked to take the chair, which he never 
 dreamt of doing, and which they never expected him to do, 
 but they liked passing the compliment ; and he remarked : 
 I've just come to say a grace for you, and am glad you 
 have had a good match, and hope you'll enjoy yourselves this 
 evening, and mind to put the " stopper on " in time ; ' and 
 then there was a good laugh, and with that word in season 
 the parson said grace and went off, and they gave him a 
 linging cheer. 
 
 " You must know, parson, I am older than you, and I 
 remember the E,eform riots which spread into the country 
 villages more or less, and the parsons, who knew and were 
 beloved by their parishioners, had great power and influence 
 for good. Now what I want to draw your attention to is 
 this ; that a very little goes a long way, and it is not too 
 late to draw my friends of the Green Lion Club to you. 
 Mind, what I tell you is true ; it is not so long ago when 
 you we -e walking across the cricket-green, when a match 
 was going on, that one of the rough fellows made a 
 shameful remark about you, and that a man, who is your 
 favourite aversion, because he once fought another man in 
 a roped ring for £10 and a barmaid,* punched his head on 
 the spot. Yes, Mrs. Vicar, you may laugh, but it is true ; 
 and come now, parson, with your snake head, and broad 
 shoulders and sturdy figure, weren't you a good one with 
 the gloves at Balliol ? Of course you won't say ' yes ' ; but 
 depend upon it, Mrs. Vicar, when he was twenty, if he had 
 taken to the Prize Ring, and had appeared with his hair 
 cut short and in fighting trim as a novice, every one would 
 
 * This is literally true. I had " the office," but was afraid to go 
 because of " Mrs. Grundy." The winner pocketed the ten pounds 
 and refused the lady. It was a dona fide lovers' quarrel, and the 
 lady was very respectable. The ten pounds were only the ransom 
 of the "knights' armour " 
 
152 / Preach to the Parson. 
 
 have backed him.'' [Here let me come in as chorus, and 
 say that the vicar and Mrs. Yicar and your humble servant 
 shrieked with laughing when I explained (what I believe), 
 that the vicar's head would have driven any man's knuckles 
 up.] " Now, if you will do what I ask it will make such a 
 difference, and it is simply this : The next time there is a 
 match, walk up to the tent and see how it is going, and say 
 * Good morning,' and that you hope they are enjoying 
 themselves ; you would be as welcome as flowers in May, 
 and I tell you what they would say : ' Now that vicar ain't 
 half a bad sort,' and that is just what I should like to hear 
 them say of you — and they iDoidd say the truth. They are 
 your enemies and mine who tell you that we let ourselves 
 down by going to the cricket suppers two or three times in 
 the year, and singing our songs at the Green Lion. You 
 never knew pei-haps, but it is no less true, that the gentle- 
 men who joined us in this move took this cricket up on one 
 condition, which was, that if any siager made a blackguard 
 of himself, we would never bring another eleven down ; and 
 the ladies, who at our request have come to the ladies' tent 
 will tell you that they never hear a rough word ; in fact 
 the people are their own police now, and the ladies' tent has 
 had a good effect. Now look here, parson, I tell you when 
 you missed a rare chance. If you remember when I brought 
 down the " Civil Service," who I told you they were mostly 
 old University men, and men of good family, and that they 
 were going to dine at two o'clock with our village eleven, 
 and I asked you to come and say grace, and to introduce 
 you to them, and at the last moment some one persuaded 
 you not to. It was a great chance, mind, but it is too late. 
 You see, parson, you were brought up amongst too good 
 people, and you have only seen one side of life. I know 
 and have studied roughs. Asa young man my delight was 
 10 mix in large crowds, and to study the rough as a brother- 
 
/ Preach to the Farson. 153 
 
 man 
 
 ...... I have known prize-fighters, navvies, long-shore men 
 
 by the Thames, men in night cellars, and what you call the 
 scum of the earth ; have smoked the friendly pipe with the 
 coster, and discussed burglary as a science with one of the 
 greatest burglars ever known in Newgate, and fished with 
 the late hangman, Mr. Calcraft — a good fisherman, 
 naturalist, and florist, who hated his calling— without his 
 having the remotest idea that I knew who he was. Jack 
 Ketch was fishing in Hertfordshire, and I did not know 
 who he was when our conversation commenced ; but when 
 I did know, though the situation was peculiar, I did not 
 see why I should shrink from him ; in fact, I was rather 
 pleased to think that he had an innocent amusement. I 
 have not gone as a missionary, but have sat down among 
 them as fellow-men. I have seen the most brilliant jewels 
 set in the roughest casket, and I have heard noble senti- 
 ments expressed, and seen deeds of charity done worthy of 
 the Good Samaritan, accompanied by language which would 
 make your hair stand on end ; and I will tell you a secret 
 —you may attract them all to you, but all the preaching at 
 them will not influence them the least, because the preaching 
 is not preceded by the kind word in season in private. That 
 is the antidote to the rough language. 
 
 " Now I want to get you on about these sports. You 
 say that you hear the fellows use bad language playing 
 quoits ; and the very name of skittles is an abomination. 
 Very true ; because all sports w^ere condemned by the 
 Puritans, and driven into low beershops. You want all 
 kind of amusements now, skittles — a manly game- 
 promoted and publicly played on the green, the same 
 as cricket, football, and parish organisation of all classes 
 for aU sports, and yourself as patron of all. We 
 don't want you to come; your friendly nod on 
 passing by will do it. When I was a boy at school, the 
 
154 I Preach to the Parson. 
 
 King of Second Masters, whose windows opened on to 
 ' Chamber Court/ sometimes heard ' tall talk/ which was 
 not intended for his ear, uttered in anger. How well I 
 pemember, days afterwards, in speaking on some school 
 matters, he would in the kindest way remind the offender 
 of what he had heard, and, prefacing his remarks with 
 * Mind, I am speaking to you as your friend and not as 
 your master,' he would say a few touching words to him 
 with his hand on the boy's shoulder. And, Yicar, I 
 often feel that hand on my shoulder,' as if he was with 
 me now sometimes. You must remember w^hen it was a 
 tight-fit Avith you, about three or four parish matters, when 
 those like yourself, who w^ere interested in cricket, got all 
 the cricketers' families, and all the people whom they could 
 influence, to back 3^ou ; and how the vestry had to be ad- 
 journed to the school-room, and all the ratepayers who, 
 to adopt the low expression, * used ' the parlour of the 
 Green Lion, and their friends, came and swamped your 
 foes. Let me talk to you like a man and a brother. They 
 did that because you subscribed a guinea to the cricket. 
 They all lament your apathy ; but the guinea was a living 
 proof. And see how injudicious some of you are, 'ram- 
 paging " about the iniquity of races, just in the race time? 
 when most of the congregation are going to them, or going 
 to have parties to see the people return, and every soul 
 in the parish hopes to turn a penny somehow or another. 
 Why, the dissenting linen-draper's shop is a blaze of green 
 and blue veils. I agree w4th you entirely, that it would 
 be no great loss to the parish if the Derby was abolished ^ 
 as the crowd has now become very rough and disorderly, 
 and a lot of our fellows get drunk and keep drunk— not 
 our cricketers, mind you — but so they would if w^e had a 
 Royal procession through the parish or any other public 
 show or holiday. Nine-tenths of your audience who go. 
 
I P reach to the Parson, 155 
 
 are going to see a good race or to enjoy a harmless pio- 
 nic, and ifc is H.9^ the racing wliich is iniquitous: it is the 
 contingent of London roughs who do the mischief. 
 
 '' What I am driving at all along, parson, is this : all 
 the parish want to put you at the head of all innocent 
 enjoyments, but unfortunately there are a clique whom you 
 allow to pull the strings for you; there always are a 
 puritanical set whom you are afraid of offending, who 
 neither care for art, nor music, nor fun, nor sports, and 
 who are muffs, and want to spoil sports in others ; who 
 will not allow their sons to play cricket with ' the vulgar 
 fellows' in the parish; and I am very glad they do not, 
 as they are muffs, and snobs into the bargam very often, 
 and who would faint if they sat down with the black- 
 smith and carpenter at a cricket supper. Why, when the 
 cricket was wholly in the hands of the public-houses, the 
 club-room windows used to be shut because the parishioners 
 complained of ribald songs which could be heard on the 
 green ; but now they insist on the wmdows being opened 
 that they may hear the songs, and often the audience on 
 the green carry an encore against ' the room.' They cannot 
 understand that men of that class never take a liberty with 
 gentlemen who mix with them occasionaUy ; and depend 
 upon this— when the struggle about the Chiu-ch comes, 
 which is not far off, the contingent brought in by those 
 who support the amusements of the parish, whether in the 
 cricket ground, at village concerts, or anything else, will do 
 you more good than all resolutions and speeches at public 
 meetings, and religious agitation. 
 
 " You see, English people are not like foreigners, who 
 have a wonderful knack of amusing themseves. Go to a 
 garden in the suburbs of a foreign town on a Sunday 
 afternoon— ah ! I forgot; the idea horrifies you about 
 Sunday; but please remember that foreigners keep their 
 
156 / Preach to the Parson, 
 
 vigil on Saturday, and thus Sunday practically is over at 
 twelve o'clock. On Sunday I said-well, I will add any 
 fete day-and then you will see them playing cards for some 
 wnie of the value of a sous a glass, perhaps, at dominoes or 
 nnie-pms, and dancing to a band without any rudeness or 
 vulgarity, or laughing at a punchinello or performing dogs; 
 and you hear shouts of merry laughter ; and the old people 
 sit by, the old men smoking their pipes, and their old wives 
 with them. Look at that country girl with her white cap 
 and long ear-rings, dancing with the man in the blue blouse. 
 My wigs ! what monkey-capers he cuts ! There is this 
 difference with us: a modest girl does not dare stand up 
 to dance in public in England without being insulted by 
 the insufferable 'Arrys, and so they fall to at kiss-in-the- 
 ring, and I grant you that is not a very elevating pastime. 
 '' You say that I want the continental Sunday in Eng- 
 land mc^ your ' Sabbath,' which I own is very sad, and 
 which I improve in my own way in my garden which 
 no one can see into, so I don't offend my neighbour. I 
 must tell you straight off, we play lawn tennis after the 
 early dinner, and the servants have perfect rest till 8 p.m. 
 I believe in Sunday rest from labour ; and I tell you the 
 actors would not act seven days a week, and people don't 
 want theatres and music-halls open— the idea goes against 
 the English grain And I would not bring out my viUage 
 eleven because it would make a crowd and annoy my 
 neighbours, but I do subscribe to a Sunday Cricket Club 
 of poor fellows who work all the week, and who get to an 
 out-of-the-way place and play cricket ; and their rules are 
 threepence fine for any bad language, and a shilliug for 
 bringing beer or spirits out, as they are honestly fighting 
 the question of ' harmless amusement v. public-house,' and 
 it is tJipAr battle captained and led by themselves without 
 interference. 
 
/ Preach to the Parson. 157 
 
 *' So_, parson, do loosen the strings a little ; don't pass your 
 little edicts against the gallery for joining in a chorus, if I 
 sing a homely song with a tally-ho refrain at a penny 
 reading. Don't get up and say, ' Silence, if you please.' 
 Let them sing it if they like. The chorus may be 
 noisy, but there is nothing immoral in a good ' coal- 
 box.' Don't be hard on the club at the Green Lion, 
 and don't invite the police to interfere. The landlord of 
 the Green Lion never had a word against his house, as you 
 know ; and if the cribbage is beyond the law, take my word 
 for it there is no perdition in ' one for his nob or two for 
 his heels ' (' eels,' as Mr. Bumble, the beadle, calls it) ; and 
 if you saw Mr. Bumble at the critical points of ' Hole and 
 Hole,' at the bottom of the second row, which he calls 
 ' level chalks,' putting down his pipe and wiping his face 
 with excitement, why, parson, you would burst out 
 laughing. You don't see it, parson, but I do, when I go in 
 to see them about cricket. The misfortune is that the 
 Green Lion Club cannot do what they would do if they 
 were foreigners. Mind, I am not one of those who go 
 abroad and abuse everything at home. Well, I say if they 
 were foreigners you would see half the club, in the summer, 
 sitting outside on the green playing that game of cribbage 
 boldly in the pubHc gaze, and you would see the \T.llage curey 
 with his umbrella under his arm, looking over Mr. Bumble's 
 cards, as interested as Mr. Bumble at the trjang ordeal of 
 ' level chalks ' and first player. You w^ould see the skittles 
 openly played. What do you get now instead ? The black- 
 guard cocoa-nut men, whose language j)ollutes the air, and 
 whom you ought to put the police upon. I will give you 
 all in that ' Society ' have made cards and billiards and 
 theatres (many of them), as now conducted, quicksands for 
 evil, and that local racing has come to a blackguard jDitch ; 
 but do take it from me that your parishioners who are fond 
 
158 I Preach to the Parson. 
 
 of sport and music and manly recreations want encouraging 
 by you, and if you would get a thorough gentlemen for 
 curate, who is a man of earnest purpose and a muscular 
 Christian, he would turn half the roughs in the place lound 
 his finger, and your church would not half hold the people. 
 Your feelings prejudice you. You are not friendly to old 
 Father Peter, the Roman Catholic priest ; he is an intimate 
 friend of mine, a dear old man, a rare scholar, a good 
 musician and florist. He has tried hard to convert me, and 
 only the other night I told him if there had been another 
 squeeze of potteen in the bottle, or a drop more hot water, 
 he could have done it. He offered to put the kettle on 
 again, but 1 preferred a return match and to begin de novo. 
 So I was within a glass of punch of being a Roman Catholic, 
 and of training an eleven of priests, as most certainly I 
 should have done. Ah ! yon say that you will give me as 
 ^ood a glass of mountain-dew as Father Peter, and I may 
 have a pipe ; done along of you, parson, and — no, Mrs. 
 Parson, I won't keep him up late, and we will keep good 
 hours, as my friends at the Green Lion doP 
 
PEE -RAILWAY LIFE IN 
 LONDON. 
 
 How shall I begin to describe " Life in London" at a period 
 between the early days of her present Majesty and the 
 railway mania ? After the model of Tom and Jerry, or of 
 Sir Mulberry Hawk, and Lord Yerisopht, those four dreary 
 snobs who never could have lived, or if they ever did, never 
 could have been in the society of any English gentlemen ? 
 Heaven forbid. Let me imagine myself standing, as I 
 often stand, in Westminster Abbey with reverent awe before 
 the statue of Joseph Addison, the busts of Macaulay and 
 Thackeray, my three favourite authors : and let me invoke 
 the shade of the second named to lend me a little of the fire 
 w^hich inspired him when he wrote the wonderful chapter 
 on the state of England in 1685. So here goes for the 
 Macaulayan veiu. 
 
 I purpose to write the history of London life from the 
 year 184:0 down to the year 1846 or thereabouts, a period 
 within the memory of all middle-aged men now living. 
 
 London of that period consisted of a large city sur- 
 rounded by numerous outlying villages and districts, and 
 not wholly shut in by houses as now. From Primrose Hill 
 to Highgate, Hampstead, or Hornsey, lay open tracts of 
 159 
 
160 Pre-Bailway Life in London, 
 
 fields and meadows interspersed with villa residences and 
 rural retreats. Piinlico and Chelsea were comparatively 
 small suburban towns — in fact tea gardens stood on the 
 site of the present Post Office outside Buckingham Palace, 
 and from Battersea Bridge to Wimbledon the foot-passenger 
 found himself amid corn-fields and market-gardens, where 
 now a network of railways and Clapham Junction Station 
 occupy the ground ; and the beautiful park of Battersea 
 was a large swampy district, where, in hard winters, the 
 sportsman would not ba surprised to find the plover, the 
 snipe, or even an occasional wild duck. The fashionable 
 quarter of London might be included within an area roughly 
 defined by imaginary lines drawn from Belgrave Square to 
 Portman S.][uare, thence eastward to Cavendish Square, 
 thence southward to Palace Yard, the base being a line 
 drawn from that point back to Belgravia. Almost the 
 whole of modern South Kensington w\is in the hands of 
 market gardeners, and in the Bayswater district beyond 
 Kensington Gardens Gate semi-rural places of entertain- 
 ment still existed, in Avhich on Sunday afternoons the cheap 
 dandy shop-boy would smoke his Cuba cigar and imbibe his 
 beer, whilst the faithful Anna Maria, his fiancee^ w^ould 
 consume her tea and shrimps. 
 
 For some reason or another the London season proper 
 never set in until after Easter, in consequence of a prejudice 
 against the fashionable world going to balls or operas, or 
 marrying or intermarrying in Lent; and "Society" being 
 more restricted than now, the dread of " what Mrs, Grundy 
 would say " prevented people from doing as they pleased to 
 a great extent. 
 
 Possibly at the period of which we write, which was 
 within a year or two of the commencement of the reign, 
 and the early married life of the present Queen, London 
 en fete ^vas a spe3tacle which it is dilfioult to realise now 
 
Pre-Bailway Life in London. 161 
 
 Beyond a few trunk lines of railway's between the metropolis 
 and Southampton, Birmingham, Brighton, and a few other 
 places, London was isolated from the world at large, except 
 to those who had time and money for long and expensive 
 road journeys, and the - gaiety of the season " was as much 
 a mystery to the majority of Her Z^Iajesty's subjects, as 
 now It is a commonplace treat to our country cousins, who, 
 at a little cost, can witness with their own eyes the 
 splendoLU" of the modern Babylon. 
 
 A Queen's birthday in the earlier portion of the fifth 
 decade of this century, was a day to be marked with a 
 white stone. There was not much romance about the 
 reigns of George IV. and William IV., but a young Queen, 
 who ascended the throne in her eighteenth year drew all 
 hearts to her. First, on the morning of the birthday, came 
 the early review of the Household Brigade, when the Queen 
 would arrive on the ground surrounded by a brilliant staff, 
 at the head of which would be the Iron Duke, accompanied 
 by the old Peninsula officers. There might be seen the 
 Marquis of Anglesea sitting on a charger, which required a 
 bold rider and a steady hand to manage, and Lord Fitzroy 
 Somerset and Viscount Combermere, the Marquis of 
 Londonderry, and Sir Henry Hardinge, and many others, 
 who had perilled life and limb in putting down the tyrant 
 of Europe, and estabUshing a peace which lasted for 'forty 
 years. Afterwards would come the drawing-room and the 
 grand show of rank and beauty, and of horses and equipa-es 
 which were unrivalled in Europe. Then came later on, 
 after the drawing-room, the display in the Park, when the 
 Royal party would appear, and receive the silent and 
 respectful homage of a brilliant crowd of the fashionable 
 world; and at night most probably the Queen would be 
 found as one of the audience at the Opern. 
 
 And what an opera it was. There being but one the 
 
162 Pre-Bailway Life in London. 
 
 managers were enabled to collect the finest talent in 
 Christendom. To the outside world, who were not 
 subscribers, going bo the opera required much care and fore- 
 thought. On a subscription night, with the exception of 
 the galleries and gallery stalls, and close, stuffy boxes high 
 up, where seeing and hearing were almost impossible, the 
 only refuge was the pit, the seats of which were not only 
 as uncomfortable as they could be, but were, from some 
 unknown cause, generally occupied before those who had 
 paid some four or five shillings beyond the nominal price of 
 eight shillings and sixpence, reached the much-coveted 
 destination ; and the ticket-holders thought themselves 
 fortunate if they could obtain standing room with their 
 backs to a wall or a column. No one could pass the doors 
 except in full evening dress, and woe be to the unlucky 
 wight who came in a black neck-cloth, as he would be 
 certain of refusal, in spite of all remonstrance. It was a 
 glorious sight on a birthday night to see the boxes crowded 
 with beautiful women wearing their Court plumes, and 
 jewels which vied with the flash of bright eyes, and it was 
 not difficult to know when the Royal party had arrived, as 
 without any commotion or bustle, faces were all turned 
 in the same direction, and the words "the Queen," 
 passed from lip to lip throughout the audience. 
 How fresh the scene all comes to one's mind now ; of old 
 Lablache in the supper scene in " Don Giovanni " singing, 
 and eating the macaroni from a side table the while ; of 
 Grisi in the poisoning scene of " Lucre tia Borgia," keeping 
 the door with outspread arms, and giving the antidote to 
 INIario. It is a well-authenticated fact that Grisi felt this 
 and many similar scenes so keenly, that frequently she came 
 oflf in a violent fit of hysterics, and required medical aid to 
 restore her. Again, one hears the grand " Suoni la tomba " 
 in " Puritani," the ghost chorus in *' Sonnambula," and the 
 
Fre-Bailivay Life in London. 163 
 
 noble quartette in the " Don ; " and reminiscences of the 
 great singers come back to the mind ; and the figures of the 
 dancers, Taglioni, Elsler, Cerito, Carlotta Grisi, and Lucille 
 Grahn, not forgetting Perot and St, Leon, flit across the 
 stage. People should have seen the old ojDera ballet of the 
 past to understand what ballet dancing was when the 
 danseuses had to tell a story in dumb show. When the old 
 basket-maker, who drank on the sly from a bottle concealed 
 under his chair, was found sitting outside his trellis-work 
 cottage at early morning, scolded in good-humoured dumb 
 show by his old wife, who was preparing an al fresco break- 
 fast of wooden loaves and indiarubber grapes, and paper 
 apples, and the audience saw impossible peasants, male and 
 female, coming down an impossible mountain, the males 
 with gold reaping-hooks, and atcired in striped stockings 
 and the girls with striped stockings too, and carrying 
 bouquets of paper and muslin flowers ; everybody knew 
 what would happen. The villagers would all come round 
 the old lady and shake hands, whilst the old gentleman had 
 another pull at the bottle, and would point to a lattice- 
 window with smiling expression, whilst the men clinked 
 their reaping-hooks and drank bumpers of nothing out of 
 gold cups, filled from a bottle the size of an imperial pint ; 
 and the girls danced for glee, and in dumb show offered 
 their tribute of flowers, whereon the old woman would enter 
 the cottage, obviously for the purpose of calling her 
 daughter — for of course nobody else could be upstaii's. And 
 when the villagers had danced themselves out, and retired 
 to rest on banks and seats, the daughter would come to 
 family prayers in the way that is common to the beauties of 
 Spain or Ttaly ; in fact, the reigning favourite woidd reach 
 the centre of the stage with two or three bounds, and turn 
 a pirouette, and drop into a curtsey to the crash of the 
 orchestra, and would receive an ovation which an emperor 
 M— 2 
 
164 Tre-'Railway Life in London. 
 
 might covet. Of course the old wounded soldier with a 
 wooden leg, who enters and tells the horrors of war in dumb 
 show, excites the compassion of all, and naturally enough 
 the old lady places him in a chair and provides another 
 banquet, and the villagers retire, and the old gentleman 
 goes to sleep ; and what more natural that the old soldier 
 should throw off his venerable locks, kick away his wooden 
 leg, and come out a brilliant young cavalier, and bound 
 about like a cork with the basket-maker's daughter ? And 
 of course no one but Perot or St. Leon could have done 
 this. 
 
 The ballet dancers required to be good actresses as well 
 as dancers. Without following the Paul Pry fashion of 
 describing great people at home, the writer of this records 
 that he heard, only a week or two since, from the lips of 
 possibly the most distinguished dancer ever known, now a 
 charming grey-headed lady, who was the 'premiere danseuse 
 in the celebrated j9as de quatre, her opinion of the modern 
 ballet dancing. I need hardly say the lady was Madame 
 Taglioni. 
 
 In answer to his question Avhether she had seen the 
 modern dancing, she said : '' Oh ! it is terrible ; to think 
 that women should so dress, and that ladies should go to 
 see them. No ! Taglioni," speaking of herself, '' never 
 danced so." It was very pleasant to bring all the old 
 puppets out and put them before her, in memory, again, 
 and to witness her dehght at having their names once more 
 presented to her mind, amongst others, that of a dis- 
 tinguished exile who was afterwards an emperor, and 
 long since dead. " Ah, poor Prince Louis Napoleon," she 
 exclaimed; "he had not much money then, but he was 
 very nice, and they never refused him a box." 
 
 The opera naturally brings us to the omnibus box and 
 Fops Alley, the rendezvous for the dandies and men of 
 
Pre-Bailway Life in London. 165 
 
 fashion in London, who had the entree behind the scenes 
 and paid their respects to the grand opera stars. The 
 London men of fashion mostly consisted of officers in the 
 Household Brigade and members of military clubs, elder 
 sons who were idle men, gay young members of either 
 House of Parliament, and cadets of noble families who 
 were in the Treasury or Foreign Office, or those who 
 fancied they were reading for the bar. They were always 
 well bred and weU dressed, and if there was a taste of 
 puppyism about some of them, it was only external and not 
 very unnatural in young men who had been spoilt from 
 childhood. There was no doubt about their pluck, as has 
 been proved from time immemorial, by the graves of many 
 a hard-fought battle-field, and they never were rude or 
 obtrusive in any way. They were scrupulously particular 
 about good breeding, and would never have dreamt of 
 appearing at the West End with a cigar in their mouths 
 after twelve o'clock in the day, or of nodding to Phryne or 
 Lais in the parks, unless they wished to receive the penalty 
 of ostracism by the dowagers who ruled society. They 
 were just as much at home by the ring side, or in a boxer's 
 sparring room, when they put on the gloves with Tom, or 
 Jack, or Harry, or any other rising novice, for what was 
 usually called a " bellyful," as they were in a drawing-room 
 or the opera. The crowd styled them the Corinthians, or 
 the Swells, and nothing pleased them better than seeing a 
 young lord riding his own horse in a steeple-chase in the 
 Harrow country, and coming in a winner one mass of mud 
 from head to foot. 
 
 The race-course was a great place for the swells. Their 
 well-appointed drag, not so common as now, attracted 
 general attention, and it was great fun to hear '' Jerry," 
 the king of the card-sellers and turf characters, attii^ed in a 
 cocked-hat and wearing an eye-glass, go up to a four-iu- 
 
166 Pre-Bailway Life in London. 
 
 hand, on the roof of which sat men of the highest rank, 
 and invite himself to some kmcheon and champagne — which 
 he was sure to have — and — regardless of rank — to hear him 
 remark to a well-known earl, " Ches, my boy, George (a 
 prince of the blood) looks a little peaky this morning ; and 
 ' Maidstone ' does not seem up to the mark, and handsome 
 Jamie looks as if he was crossed in love." The dandies of 
 those days were far different from the class who, on the 
 return from the races, drink champagne out of tankards by 
 the roadside in some country village to the admiration of 
 suburban snobs. 
 
 Some of them lost fortunes at hazard or on the turf, and 
 occasionally were locked up in a sponging-house for debt, 
 but many set manfully to work again, and in the colonies 
 or elsewhere made for themselves a name and position. 
 
 The ruffianism of London was supported by a class whose 
 natural history was written by Albert Smith under the 
 name of " The G-ent," and an odious class they were. For 
 them the Haymarket taverns and night saloons and supper 
 rooms were kept open all night ; and they were the last 
 supporters of Greenwich Fair, and the orgies of Yauxhall 
 masquerades, where, under a bright morning sun, Eichard 
 Coeur de Lion and a Troubadour might have been seen 
 engaged in a drunken fight, aided and abetted by their 
 companions who, as Mary Queen of Scots and a nun 
 respectively, backed their male companions with a volley of 
 oaths which exceeded the Billingsgate of the men. 
 
 The fact was that " complimentary " tickets for masquer- 
 ades were issued wholesale amongst the lowest of the low ; 
 as was proved by a young " lady " behind the bar of a very 
 flash drinking-shop in the Haymarket remarking to a 
 friend — " We are all going to the feet " (fete) " at Vauxhall, 
 dear, as shepherdesses ; and Mrs. B. (the landlady, a stout, 
 red-faced woman, with fingers like Cambridge sausages. 
 
Pre-Bailioay Life in London, 167 
 
 covered with large rings) " is going as DiAanner ; and she 
 looks very 'andsome in a blue and silver dress, with a bow 
 and arrers in her 'and, and a 'alf moon in her 'air." Most 
 men " did the rounds of London " once or twice, but that 
 was quite enough for anyone with a mind. 
 
 Weippart provided a band and a good ball-room for 
 gentlemen who wanted a little quiet dancing — at a tariff far 
 beyond the reach of "the Gent" — at which no one was 
 admitted except in full dress ; and, though the dancers were 
 mostly members of the corps de ballet of the Opera, of a 
 higher grade than the ordinary ballet gir\ of to-day, no one 
 would know, from their dress, manners, and appearance, that 
 (but for the fact of the paucity of chaperones) it was not a 
 private ball. Perhaps it was rather a bore to be constantly 
 asked by your partner to take a ticket for her own or her 
 sister's ball for the next week ; but the dancers, who were 
 many of them dancing mistresses, and probably received some 
 small payment for attending the balls, found the amusement, 
 and wanted the money, and it was hard to say " No." 
 
 One very funny scene occurred at one of these balls 
 many years ago. A young member of the legislature had 
 made his maiden speech in Parliament that night, and they 
 stood him on a table in the ball-room, and made him give it 
 all over again. 
 
 Whether the story is accurately true in all its details or 
 not matters little, as tales of this kind, which were freely 
 circulated and believed at the time, show the spirit of the 
 age, as Macaulay says. On a certain occasion one of those 
 underbred fellows who poison every rill and stream of 
 innocent pleasure, and miike it impossible to have dancing 
 in public as they do abroad, obtained an entree to one of 
 Wieppart's ballet balls, and being much enamoured of a fair 
 danseuse, invited her to a Richmond dinner on the following 
 Sunday. The fair dcmseuse said she would not come alone, 
 
168 Pre-Railway Life in London. 
 
 but must bring a friend. The offer was gladly accepted, 
 and arrangements were made that the beau should bring a 
 friend also. A boon companion readily agreed to share the 
 dinner and the expense, and a private room was engaged at 
 the Star and Garter, and a banquet, regardless of cost, was 
 ordered, with bouquets for the ladies. The two amorous 
 swains arrived and heard that the ladies were before them. 
 With rapture the founder of the feast beheld his fair partner, 
 wearing a charming bonnet which he had sent her, waiting 
 for him in the garden, and accompanied her into the hotel 
 for the purpose of introducing his brother Lothario to the 
 other lady. On entering the room the young lady intro- 
 duced a stout, middle-aged woman with a squint (who in 
 private life kept a greengrocer's shop), temporarily occupied 
 pending the dinner hour with a glass of rum and water, 
 strongly flavoured with sugar and lemon, as '^ her mamma." 
 And before the hour of departure arrived that middle-aged 
 lady, who displayed a wonderful power of digestion and 
 thirst, somewhat sharply wanted to know the young man's 
 intentions towards her " darter," whom she took home under 
 her own wing. 
 
 As regards the sports of the period they were quieter 
 than those of the present day. The Oxford and Cambridge 
 boat race which was rowed before the days of outriggers 
 from Westminster to Putney attracted a few thousand 
 spectators who were interested in rowing or belonged to 
 either university, and there was plenty of room for all to 
 see or for equestrians to ride along the banks. The Public 
 School matches at Lord's — which were stopped through the 
 pig-headed obstinacy of a few dons — attracted a goodly 
 assemblage of relatives and friends of the boys, without any 
 extravagant crowds. Lord's was then, as now, the head 
 centre of cricket, and crowds such as are seen now never 
 assembled, except when Kent v. England, or Gentleman v. 
 
Pre-Baihvay Life in London. 169 
 
 Players was the match, at either of which the best talent, 
 amateur and professional, were sure to be present. 
 
 In the autumn, gentlemen shot over dogs, and never 
 dreamt of selling their game, and they were the masters, 
 and the keepers were their servants. In the newspaper 
 world only a few morning papers and evening papers were 
 published in London. " Bell's Life " was almost the only 
 sporting paper. One or two scurrilous Sunday papers came 
 out, especially " The Satirist," edited by a very talented man 
 named Barnard Gregory, who was hooted off the stage, on 
 his attempt to play Hamlet, through the instigation of 
 ^' Stunning Joe Banks," of the Rookery, who kept a very 
 ^' rowdy " public-house in St. Giles's, a favourite resort for a 
 well-known Irish marquis and his companions when they 
 were out for a night's '' devilry." It was alleged tliat Mr. 
 Banks was hired by a foreign Duke to pack the gallery and 
 drive Mr. Gregory off the stage, and an action for conspiracy 
 was brought against the Duke and another, in which Mr. 
 Banks was examined, and swore that he packed the gallery 
 at his own expense in the interest of morality ! The judge 
 w^ho tried the case, and who lived in the parish of St. 
 George's, Bloomsbary, in summing up, told the jury that if 
 they believed the witness he should congratulate himself in 
 having such a moral neighbour as Mr. Banks! In 1846 
 came the railway mania, and then came chaos. All the 
 countr}^ towns were brought to London, and all England 
 gambled and went mad, and hundreds were ruined. 
 Millionaires arose, and not only took possession of the 
 world of fashion in London, but also of many of the country 
 seats, and classes got so mixed that it was difficult to un- 
 ravel the skein. A new description of people came into the 
 Legislature and the Government. Railways sprang up 
 ev^ery where, since which period telegraphs and telephones 
 have been introduced, and we boast almost of omnipresence 
 
170 Pre'Baihoay Life in London, 
 
 and omnipotence. The Atlantic is only a ferry now, and 
 people think no more of going to India, or South America, 
 or Australia, or New Zealand for a trip than they used to 
 think of going to Scotland or Ireland forty years 
 ago. It is hard to say when H's were first commonly drop- 
 ped in conversation in Belgravia, and when peas were first 
 carried with the knife to the mouth ; but these eccentri- 
 cities are of minor importance compared with the intemper- 
 ance in language and in writing which have cropped up 
 within the last few years amongst people who have had the 
 advantage of good education and the society of ladies and 
 gentlemen ; but it is certain that in the so-called darker 
 age of which the paper treats, the flatly denying a gentle- 
 man's word, and throwing imputation on his honour would 
 have occasioned the burning of powder at Wimbledon Com- 
 mon or Chalk Farm. 
 
 It must not be forgotten that in 1841 " Punch " was 
 inaugurated, and within a few years of its commencement 
 possibly the finest staff of caricaturists with pen and pencil 
 ever known were brought together, and it is astonishing 
 that after nearly forty years the artists can find so much 
 novel wealth for amusement, and it is a matter of wonder 
 that even now sometimes the gossip runs through the clubs 
 that some careful reader has found a joke in the letterpress. 
 
 Few people would like to go back to the old days en- 
 tirely, and, but for the inexhaustible power of jaw displayed 
 inside and outside of the House of Commons, the world goes 
 on pretty comfortably, though it is hard for quiet citizens 
 to rest at a time when, from mere greed of power, so-called 
 " public men," are forgetting the boundaries of truth and 
 honour, and in bidding for the support of the lower orders 
 are utterly reckless of drifting into Communism, and the 
 link between the Swells of Society and the lower orders if 
 not actually broken is strained beyond recovery. 
 
THE OLD DOVEE EOAD. 
 
 The sudden change from an isolated rural village in the- 
 Wiltshire downs, which was nine miles from any town, 
 and which could not even support a carrier, to a new home, 
 situate halfway between London and Dover, natm^ally 
 made no slight impression on the mind of a little boy, as I 
 was at the time of my removal, just half a century ago, and, 
 with your leave, good reader, I will set down a few memo- 
 randa. In busy times at least a hundred pubHc convey- 
 ances, including travelling carriages with post horses, would 
 pass our gate in a day ; and Sittingbourne and Eochester, 
 a few miles on either side of my home, being great posting 
 places, with ample hotel accommodation, I saw a great deal 
 of the pre-railway travelling in the olden tune. It was a 
 great treat to me to watch the rows of postboys sitting m 
 front of the principal inns, attiied in long white smock- 
 frocks, the yellow-white hat peculiar to their class, ready 
 booted and spurred, lazily smoking their pipes until sum- 
 moned. They sprang into action quickly enough at 
 the cry of " first and second turn out ! " and ran up the 
 inn-yard, and reappeared in their smart red jackets, striped 
 waistcoats, and white neckcloths ; and sometimes two, or 
 even three, carriages would arrive together, requiiing twelve 
 horses and six postboys, and I have seen the row of smock- 
 171 
 
172 The Old Dover Road. 
 
 frocks reduced to a very small company in a short time, 
 when there was an exodus from London to the continent, or 
 vice versa. Then the argus-eyed ostler, whose duty seemed 
 to be to drink with every traveller, and whose notice nothing 
 escaped, would catch sight of a little feather-weight ex- 
 press-boy, on a long-legged, lean old thorougbred, galloping 
 up, and the cry would be heard, " Express boy on ! " and 
 another little feather-weight boy, attired in red jacket, blue 
 waistcoat bound with gold braid, gold band round his hat, a 
 cockade,and diminutive breeches and boots, would bring out 
 anotherlong-leggedjlean old thoroughbred,and would take the 
 despatch-bag, with the simple instructions," Government," 
 '' Rothschilds," or " Press," as the case might be, and start off 
 at a hand gallop, and be as much bespattered with mud in 
 a few minutes as the little jockey who had just delivered his 
 budget of news, having ridden the eleven-mile stage in forty- 
 five minutes, and who had just dismounted and undone the 
 saddle-girths, turning his panting steed, which was in a 
 regular lather, with his head to the wind. 
 
 But landlords and landladies most rejoiced when the 
 courier, swinging himself off the rumble, would run up the 
 steps of the hotel with much importance, with an order for 
 " two sitting-rooms and eight bedrooms for the Duke of 
 Blank's, or Lord and Lady Dash's party." And wasn't the 
 order repeated loud enough ? and didn't all the bells ring ? 
 and didn't we all stare ?— that's all. And didn't the land- 
 lord and landlady come and hand them out, and give them 
 their titles? " Yes, your Grace," and "No, your Grace." 
 There were no pot-hats and ulsters then ; and Her Grace or 
 my Lady Countess wore an enormous big bonnet, with her 
 long curls full of dust, and her noble husband had on an 
 uncomfortable hat, very broad at the top, with shirt-collar 
 up to his eyes, and the collar of his greatcoat — which was 
 made with two buttons in the small of his back — up to his 
 
The Old Dover Boad. 173 
 
 ears, and impossible outside pockets on his hips, which were 
 so tight that nothing could be got in or out of them. 
 
 Verily our dress has improved now — in proof whereof 
 we have set the fashion to all Europe — and so has our 
 social comfort as regards airy bedrooms, vice swell over- 
 furnished dungeons, lighted at night by a rushlight in a 
 horrible perforated bucket-like apparatus, w^hich made 
 ghost-eyes all over the room ; baths, and rough towels, and 
 brown Windsor, vice the small basin and jug, and hard 
 white soap which smelt like tallow and never lathered, and 
 soft towels like napkins ; iron spring beds and hau* mat- 
 tresses, vice enormous feather-beds and four-posters, shut in 
 with curtains and every kind of device which could produce 
 gout, apoplexy and indigestion. And then in winter they 
 warmed the bed with coals, and left a fine flavour of 
 Vesuvius for a niohtmare. 
 
 And you may be sure that the landlady herself showed 
 her noble guests into their rooms ; and if the weather was 
 cold, there was a fire ready burning in the bedrooms. And 
 you may be sure the landlord took in the first dish at dinner, 
 and called his Grace's attention to the fact that he had 
 ventured to add to the dinner some Rochester smelts, fresh 
 caught that morning, or — according to season — that the 
 Kentish filberts were from a celebrated orchard ; or the 
 Kentish cherries had only just been picked for his Grace's 
 dessert, and that the oysters came from the Milton beds 
 close by. Ah me ! native oysters were carried about the 
 villages then three for a penny. Why didn't I eat more ? 
 Dr. Johnson, when he was dying, said he had never had as 
 much wall-fruit as he could eat ; I expect the present 
 generation will say, when theii' time comes, they never had 
 enough oysters. 
 
 Our stage-coaches, with " the team all harnessed to start, 
 glittering in brass and in leather," and piled with luggage, 
 
174 The Old Dover Eoad, 
 
 made a brave show, but they only promoted a brandy-and- 
 water and glass of beer trade by the way, as coaches seldom 
 stayed anywhere on our road, as the opposition was very 
 great, and the competition in rapid change of horses very 
 keen. I can see the foreigners now, all over dust in summer, 
 and miserable if it rained. They didn't enjoy their travelling 
 much, as I suppose the bitterness against England had not 
 worn out, and coachmen said it was a miracle to get a 
 shilling out of them, and some of them, when understanding 
 that a tip was expected of them, would bring out a few 
 sous, with " Ah, je comprends; c'est pour boire, monsieur ! " 
 And what pleasant music the horn, and the tramp of the 
 horses, and the rattling of the harness made, on a clear 
 frosty night, when we were all snug under the clothes ; and 
 how it cheered watchers by sick-beds to hear for a moment 
 the stir of life outside. 
 
 There were little amenities in those days which we miss 
 now. If a commercial traveller gave one a lift, or a visitor 
 was coming or going from the house, or the coachman had 
 to leave a basket of fish from London, a glass of sherry or 
 cherry brandy, or a bouquet of flowers, or a basket of 
 strawberries cost nothing, and were thought a great deal of. 
 Never shall I forget the astonishment of one of the coach- 
 men who ran in to have a glance at the garden, and a hasty 
 view from the drawing-room windows and a glass of wine. 
 " Good heavens ! " he exclaimed, " to think that I have 
 driven past this door for twenty years, and never knew of 
 this ! " As it is a sample of dozens of views equally beautiful 
 between London and Dover, I will try and sketch it. Take 
 for the immediate foreground a beautiful lawn like an 
 emerald cloth, dot it here and there with borders full of 
 American shrubs, plant some fine mountain ash, silver birch 
 and acacia trees, and surround it with thick shrubbery on 
 either side, and a high hedge at the end of the garden 
 
The Old Dover Eoacl. 175 
 
 which makes a line of sight, beyond which are orchards, 
 and a sea of golden corn between the garden and the 
 Medway, which is a mile or so off. In the corn fields throw 
 in figures of harvesters and waggons. On the extreme left 
 don't forget a tract of green marsh land terminating with a 
 picturesque hill ; and on the right centre a broken line of 
 quays and wharves, and lazy barges with red and brown 
 sails going in and out ; intersperse the surface of the 
 Medway with any number of fishing boats with white sails, 
 and beyond the river in the distance paint the hundred of 
 Hoo and a long stretch of mainland, and beyond the main- 
 land a<yainst the horizon put in the Thames covered with 
 shippino-, and the Essex coast and Southend, and through 
 a vista between some splendid elms at the end of the garden 
 on the extreme right, and also in the horizon, is the Nore, 
 ten miles off, with the men-of-war standing out against 
 the clear atmosphere, and the shipping, and the dockyard 
 sheds with their skylights all ablaze in the evening sun. 
 
 Charles Dickens's story, incidentally mentioned in 
 "Pickwick" about the two brothers, one of whom drove 
 the up, and the other the down-coach on the Dover road 
 for many years, and who had no communication with each 
 other except the coachman's salute in passing, is quite true. 
 I remember the two brothers well, and no doubt Dickens's 
 story, that when one died the other pined, is correct. And 
 what nice fellows the coachmen were, many of them quite 
 gentlemen in their manners, though we had no " swell " 
 coachmen on that road. 
 
 The iron horse was ruin to many good men, some of 
 whom came to absolute beggary, and others had to drive a 
 'bus and luorh their sixteen miles on the stones in London. 
 The guards were all right enough, as they were sent with 
 the mail bags by railway. I met one of them at a railway 
 station some time after the Dover day mail was stopped, and 
 
176 The Old Lover Boach 
 
 was horrified with his republicanism, as he pleaded guilty to 
 preferring a covered carriage sheltered from weather, and 
 his home every night, to the bitter drive in the dead of 
 winter, and his return home only three nights a week. 
 
 It must have been terrible work for coachmen and guards 
 in very heavy snow. The old pictures of digging out the 
 coach and sending for farm horses to pull it out are not at 
 all exaggerated ; and guards who wished for promotion for 
 extra zeal performed feats which were incredible almost, 
 such as taking the bags and mounting one of the horses, 
 m.aking their way at night across country through the snow. 
 
 Another kind of traffic, long since superseded by Act of 
 Parliament, may be found recorded in some of Seymour's 
 old caricatures of dog-carts. Fruit and fish, crockery and 
 light wares, were hawked in small carts drawn by dogs, as 
 they now are in Belgium. Bull-dogs and large S23aniels, if 
 I remember right, prevailed, and often you would see a 
 great hulking lubber riding in the cart, and the poor dogs 
 with their tongues out regularly beaten. Belgian dogs are 
 of a peculiar breed, and seem as well calculated for the work 
 as the Esquimaux dogs, the great diflference between the 
 English and Belgians being that dog-cart men treated their 
 dogs cruelly sometimes, but in Belgium my experience was 
 quite the reverse. The travelling circulated a great deal of 
 money naturally. The Rose at Sittingbourne had the 
 credit of making up sixty beds, and having twenty pairs of 
 horses on call in the stables ; and the George, another good 
 inn opposite of smaller dimensions, did a good trade too, as 
 did the Bull, and Wright's at Rochester. Head chamber- 
 maids and head waiters of long service became hotel keepers 
 very often, and numbers of people who made a good mark 
 in the world sprang from the local towns which were the 
 centres of travelling. If the truth was really told, there 
 was a great deal of smuggling, too, behind the scenes, both 
 
The Old Dover Boad. Ill 
 
 by land and water, and I know one excellent gentleman, 
 now, whose bill I should like to hold for £100,000 for dis- 
 count in Lombard Street, who commenced life by hawking 
 fruit and fish, and who attributes his success in the world 
 to having earned something every day, and only spending 
 sixpence out of every shilling. '' How did you manage,^ 
 asked an old friend, ''when you were in Maidstone gaoffor 
 smuggling ? you could not earn money then." " Yes, I 
 did," he answered, '' for the barber was ill, and I contracted 
 to shave the prisoners at a halfpenny a head." Smuggling 
 went on to a great extent, as, independently of the sea''- 
 board, there were many villages on the Medway in which 
 ilHcit trade was carried on. The undertakers, whether 
 innocently or not, once assisted in a large smuggKng trans- 
 action. An announcement appeared in the papers that an 
 English lady, the wife of some celebrated foreigner, had 
 died abroad, and the body was to be sent home for burial. 
 The time of its arrival was communicated by the undertaker 
 to the clergyman in each village through which the body 
 was to pass, and a guinea was sent for having the bell tolled, 
 which was duly done. The hearse and six, and two mourn- 
 ing coaches and four, with black velvet trappings and 
 feathers, made a grand show, and the foreigners who 
 accompanied the body as mourners received mucl^ attention 
 where they stopped for refreshment. The Custom House 
 officers knew that a large cargo of lace had been landed, and 
 searched all suspected coaches and carriages, and racked 
 their brains to trace the smuggled goods in vain, but they 
 never suspected " their dear departed sister," in the shape 
 of a cargo of lace, packed in a very large coffin, was taken 
 to London and buried, and dug up again. Let us hope 
 that the beautiful service for the dead was not read over 
 it ; but smugglers were not over particular. 
 
 On another occasion a quantity of lace was known to 
 
178 The Old Bomr Boad, 
 
 have been landed, and the scent was lost. A special order 
 had been received at Dover for post-horses to be in waiting 
 for a very expeditious journey, and a rumour was carefully 
 circulated that it was for the smugglers, as the money for 
 the horses was paid in advance. A carriage was to go to a 
 place a little on the other side of Dover and pick up a gen" 
 tleman, who got in without any luggage but a portmanteau, 
 and the postboys, according to private orders, dashed 
 through Dover to Canterbury as hard as they could go. 
 The officers, who suspected that the passenger was going to 
 pick the cargo up at some of the notorious places for 
 depositing smuggled goods, ordered a carriage in pursuit. 
 They arrived at Canterbury a few minutes after the sus- 
 pected vehicle, hurried on with four horses, at any price, to 
 catch the runaway, followed just at the heels of the other 
 carriage through Faversham, Sittingbourne, Rochester, and 
 Gravesend, where they found the old return heavy night 
 coach — an extra, which carried the newspapers and the 
 bulky part of the foreign mails once a week to Dover, and 
 took its own time going back, pretty much at its own pace. 
 '' Did you see a chaise and four, at full gallop, pass you ? " 
 they asked of the old coachman, a kind of half superan- 
 nuated whip. ''Yes," was the reply, "and I think one 
 horse of their last change was lame, so if anything is wrong 
 you may catch them yet." Away went the custom-house 
 men, and caught the carriage at Dartfoid, where it was 
 waiting for fresh horses, whilst the passenger had his 
 supper. They walked straight into the traveller's room, 
 and found a gentlemanly stranger, who asked their busi- 
 ness. " We shall search your carriage in the King's name," 
 
 was the reply. " Search, and be ," was the answer. 
 
 There was nothing in the carriage but a portmanteau, and 
 the only thing for the officers to do was to apologise, and 
 the matter was at an end. And where was the lace ? In 
 
The Old Lover Boad. 179 
 
 the old heavy mail, the driver of which who was generally a 
 superannuated crack whip, had been '^ squared," and he 
 doddled along at his leisure without suspicion, dropping his 
 Vtduable contraband goods in one of the suburbs of London 
 on the way. The guard of the old Dover day mail told me 
 this. 
 
 The most uncomfortable vehicle was the postchaise, 
 generally painted a bright yellow — made to run light and 
 carry two. The bumping of those carriages, the draughty 
 doors and rattling windows, and damp straw at the bottom, 
 haunt me now. The best horses were always kept for 
 private carriages, and two screws and a half -drunken post- 
 boy often fell to the lot of the postchaise traveller. 
 
 But those coachmen, and guards, and postboys, and inn- 
 keepers, and smugglers, and dog-cart men, and express boys 
 have become things of the past, and the bulk of them 
 probably have gone to the happy hunting grounds long ago, 
 with some of the animals, too, if poor Whyte-Melville's 
 wishes come true, when he sings — 
 
 " There are men both good and wise who hold that in a future 
 state, 
 Dumb animals we have cherished here below, 
 yhall give us joyous gieeiing as we pass the golden gate ; 
 Is it folly that I hope it may be so 1 " 
 
 Well ! T shouldn't mind meeting my old donkey ' " Pug " 
 some day, and an old cat called " Mother Bunch," and all 
 my favourite dogs, though I fear that " Jerry," whose life 
 was one warfare, would have a turn-up with Cerberus off- 
 hand, and disturb the harmony of the meeting. 
 
 And what strange wayfarers we had ! One day a car- 
 riage broke down and an old gentleman was stranded at the 
 village inn opposite, who refused to come in, and who turned 
 out to be Rowland Hill, the great preacher. Surely he 
 could not have been such a bigot as to be afraid to enter 
 the vicarage ! Then we entertained an angel unawares in 
 N— 2 
 
180 The Old Dover Eoad, 
 
 the shape of a very polished foreign lady, the wheels of 
 whose carriage caught fire, who was very diffident about 
 coming into " the priest's house," as she called it in French* 
 and was no less a person than Taglioni, and who made her- 
 self most charming, and was enraptured wdth the garden 
 and the flowers and the scenery. Another day we had a 
 Pole, very shabby and travel-worn, evidently a gentleman* 
 and the old governor had him in to luncheon (which he 
 ate like a famished man), and lent him — for the man would 
 not take the money as a gift — five shillings. How he was 
 chaffed about lending the foreigner the '' five bob," and 
 especially about his credulity in thinking that he would 
 ever see it again; and didn't he turn the tables on the 
 scoffers when three months afterwards he received a letter 
 from Constantinople, all cut and slashed and perfumed as a 
 disinfectant from plague, with the money returned, and a 
 letter, which was worth its weight in thousand pound notes, 
 saying that the loan enabled him to reach London and saved 
 him from starving, and that he had atained a good berth. 
 
 Then we had a black man in the runaway slave business, 
 if I remember rightly, who was on the tramp and said he 
 was very ill. My mother, who, a la parson's wife, physicked 
 the whole parish, fully believed him, and said, *' I am sure 
 he is bilious by the look of his eyes ; " and she made him a 
 strong dose of rhubarb and jalap, which Mr. Snowball took 
 on trust, thinking it was something good, and put it down 
 at a gulp. If any " corner " man in an Ethiopian band 
 could make the face that nigger did, and fly to the pump as 
 that man did, it would make his fortune. A great hunch 
 of bread and bacon to cheer him up, when he got better, 
 consoled him ; but we never had another nigger to beg. 
 
 Then we had a coach upset, and a member of a poor 
 French family was seriously injured. The Frenchman's 
 purse was very nearly empty, and the luggage was almost 
 
The Old Dover Eoacl. 181 
 
 of a phantom description ; but the people at the inn trusted 
 to Providence and took them all in, and the villagers made 
 the family's misfortune their own during their sojourn. 
 The gratitude of the head of the family was only equalled 
 by his surprise at English sympathy, and his farewell was 
 very characteristic of his nation, " I thought English were 
 cruel people, but they are angels." I suppose the poor 
 fellow only knew us formerly as natural enemies to France, 
 and expected to find us all with fixed bayonets and drawn 
 swords. If the good Samaritan had lived in our time he 
 would have found his hands pretty full on the old Dover Road, 
 and it is a pleasure to think that he had many successors. 
 
 As a variety we had the rick-burning riots and the 
 Reform riots, and the yeomanry were constantly trotting 
 about with jingling spurs and clattering sabres. And we 
 became notorious, owing to the Bosenden Wood riots in 
 1837. A madman, by the name of Thoms, who called 
 himself Sir William Courtney, Knight of Malta, and who 
 said he was the Messiah, and invulnerable, raised the county 
 about Canterbury and Faversham, and shot a constable who 
 went to apprehend him for riot ; in retaliation wherefore a 
 company of the -i^th Regiment was sent after him, and 
 Thoms and eight of his merry men were shot dead, an(i several 
 wounded, one fine May morning ; unfortunately not before 
 the ringleader murdered Lieutenant Bennett, the officer in 
 command, who, in hopes of stopping bloodshed, asked him 
 to surrender. Everybody who saw Thoms said he was a 
 magnificent man, with a fine beard and moustache, and in 
 face much resembling the sacred portraits. This sudden 
 rising showed what could be done by road in those days, as 
 the magistrate who sent for the troops to Canterbury, 
 sixteen miles oflf [i.e., thirty-two miles there and back), 
 received an answer in two hours and a half that a compmy 
 of soldiers were starting in carriages for Faversham. Kent 
 
182 The Old Dover Boad. 
 
 was a riotous county if the people once rose, and prompt 
 measures were requisite. I had these facts from an old 
 cousin of my own, the magistrate who sent for, and went 
 with, the soldiers, and read the Kiot Act. 
 
 Then we had all the migratory world en route to and 
 from London ; buy-a-broom girls, and Italian boys, and 
 dancing dogs, and dancing bears, and monkeys, and Punch 
 and Judy, and thimble-rig men (who always got " a month '' 
 as rogues and vagabonds if caught), and strapping big 
 Irishmen with linen from Belfast, and gypsies and 
 harvesters, whose bivouacs illuminated our lanes of a nighty 
 and beasts in transitu to the Paris Zoological Gardens : on 
 one occasion an enormous elephant with a young one march- 
 ing through, and on another occasion some camels and 
 zebras. And we constantly had regiments on the march, 
 and detachments billeted en route, and they made a brave 
 show in church on Sundays, though I am afraid the officers^ 
 credc an old maiden aunt of mine deceased, stared at the 
 girls all through the service. A.t racing times we saw the 
 racehorses travelling by road, and heard a great deal of 
 strong talk. Then one would meet absurd little men, 
 wrapped up in flannels and greatcoats in the dog-days, and 
 carrying theii^ saddles and bridles, and walking four miles 
 an hour, " wasting " by the way. Nothing surprised us in 
 that busy thoroughfare — which is now almost a desert. 
 
 I often wonder that people with plenty of money don't 
 take a carriage and drive down the Kentish roads. 
 
 In spring, when the orchards are in bloom, Kent is 
 exceedingly beautiful, and so it is in the hop- picking season, 
 and there being only one level mile — and that on the top 
 of Chatham Hill — between Shooter's Hill and the outskirts 
 of Dover, the scenery is remarkably striking from the high 
 ground, and the drive very pleasant. The views all over 
 the county from Boughton Hill, and of Canterbury and the 
 
The Old Dover Boad. 183 
 
 valley of the Stoiir from Harbledown, and of Dover Castle 
 and the French coast from Lyddon Hill, and the Maidstone 
 valley from Boxley or Blue Bell Hill, are as beautiful as 
 anything of the kind in England, mostly within fifty, and 
 all within seventy miles of London. Few people ever go 
 and see Rochester Castle, and the west gate of the 
 cathedral, and the dockyard, and fortifications, and Cobham 
 Hall (Lord Darnley's seat), and the Medway, though they 
 are all worth a visit, with plenty of reminiscences of Gad's 
 Hill and Falstaff and other old memories historical and 
 Pickwickian, and young men with good thighs and sinews 
 who have no carriages, would find a walk from London to 
 Dover a very pleasant change. 
 
 So there is a long yarn about nothing but happy 
 memories, which so much infatuated me that I made a 
 pilgrimage last week to scenes of my boyhood which I left 
 behind me nearly forty years ago. The lads of the village 
 little thought that the stranger who had some refreshment 
 was peopling the old village inn — the Lion Hotel, once the 
 " Green Lion " — which used to be painted standing on one 
 claw and sparring with the whole world — with ghosts of 
 those who have long since joined the majority, and was 
 chuckling with inward delight to see that the same old 
 clock, of unknown age, was ticking away in its own corner. 
 I was in dreamland, and, in fancy, saw the coach draw np 
 to take me back, as a little boy, to the hardships of a public 
 school, and I was fighting hard to " die game " on leaving 
 home. If I saw with a sigh that houses and brick-fields 
 and cement works had supplanted orchards and cornfields 
 here and there, and that the old cricket field was built over, 
 it was a comfort to think that heaven is not built with 
 hands, and that no builder or contractor can desecrate it 
 with staring cottages with green doois and brass knockers, 
 and a violent red-brick Ebenezer. 
 
BANKRUPTCY IN 
 AECADIA. 
 
 It is the nature of man always to talk of the " good old 
 times," and so it will be, I suppose, to the end of the world. 
 Goldsmith, in his " Deserted Village," sings the same tune, 
 and Nyren, in his immortal " Cricketer's Guide," deplores 
 the glorious times of the old Hambledon Club, contrasts the 
 superiority of the ales and the punch then with those of 
 the day on which he writes, and the superior excitement in 
 the matches of the past compared with those of his own 
 time. I am by no means sure that the name of laudator 
 temporis acti is not more a term of honour than of reproach, 
 as being convicted of the failing of looking back on the 
 happy days long since past simply proves that those to 
 whom it is applied enjoyed their boyhood and their youth. 
 I hope I am thankful for those halcyon days which bring 
 back pleasant memories of great events, such as a pair of 
 shoe-stirrups for my donkey-pad for learning the multipli- 
 cation table ; my first watch, my first pony, my first gun, 
 my first match, and, in looking back on the dear old 
 governor's judgment, I now see how just and wise he was 
 In not letting me go up to Lord's when I was first in the 
 eleven, keeping me back for another year, as an inducement 
 184 
 
Bankni])tGy in Arcadia. 185 
 
 to be a better boy. And I must tell a story of the old 
 governor, to show how I inherited my old Tory notions. 
 The evidence lies before me now in the shape of a child's 
 book called '' Scenes in England," in which book is an 
 account of the Cornish wreckers, who, as the writer says, 
 were brought to a better state of mind and humanity 
 through the exertions of an excellent body of men called 
 " The Wesleyan Methodists." But the stout old English 
 parson li^ould have history written his own w^ay, and struck 
 out " Wesleyan Methodists " with a broad pen and inserted 
 in good round text "The Clergy of the Established Church 
 of England." 
 
 As a matter of course, railways, telegraphs, and the 
 enormous increase of the Press, have been the cause of our 
 living much more in public in the present day than formerly. 
 The spread of education and public agitation have disturbed 
 the rustic simplicity of our village homes. Mr. Arch, the 
 agricultural labourers' champion, has invaded Arcadia, and 
 made our Meliboei and Tityri strike against Pan and Ceres 
 and Flora and Pomona, and the squire and the farmers are 
 in no little trepidation about labour in the event of an 
 abundant harvest. Our Titp-us is smoking his pipe now 
 in a beershop brewing treason, and Meliboeus is " picketing 
 knobsticks " who are ready to do a fair day's work for a fair 
 day's wage. In fact, the tie between master and man is 
 loosened to everyone's loss. 
 
 The day is gone by for restrictions as to servants' dress, 
 and you may see now in a country village church a parody 
 of the latest London fashions in the dress of the rural 
 population; the village louts wear flash, ill-cut, shoddy 
 " swell" clothes, and the time will arrive ere long when a 
 smock-frock will be kept in the British Museum as a record 
 of the costume of the English peasant in the so-called 
 comparatively " dark ages." 
 
186 Bankruptcy in Arcadia. 
 
 The change which has so much aiFectecl the lower order 
 of rustics has grown out of the change which has been 
 going on in those above them. Anyone who reads the late 
 Miss Mitford's " Tales of our Village," will see how a 
 village used to be self-supporting for its interests and 
 amusements, and how the humbler classes who followed 
 sport, or every-day duties, were distinct characters who 
 stood out individually. 
 
 We read in her charming book of the rat-catcher, the 
 bird-catcher, the mole-catcher, records of the country fair, 
 haymaking, harvest homes, and the many minor incidents 
 and events which made up the little history of a country 
 village. And above all, don't let us forget her account of 
 the "village cricket match." I verily believe that had 
 Miss Mitford lived for ever, and had been ubiquitous, and 
 had reported cricket, that *' Bell's Life " would have put 
 up his shutters during the summer, and the " Sportsman " 
 would have been going about trying to borrow half a-crown 
 of the " Sporting Life." 
 
 Cricketers of England ! I beseech you, take down Miss 
 Mitford's tales and read the account of the Sunday evening's 
 practice before the match. Mark you the Sunday evening's 
 practice, when villagers all went to church like '' Christian 
 men," also played cricket in the evening under the same 
 name. And I will back Miss Mitford's evidence as regards 
 real Christianity against the field. 
 
 But it is no good crying over spilt milk, and our losses 
 are much counterbalanced by our gains. It is twenty times 
 better to have Mr. Arch stirring up strife, and Tityrus in 
 the beer-shop, and Melibceus " picketing," than to have the 
 ricks all ablaze — as I well remember — threshing-machine 
 riots, and the military firing into the mob, hang-fair after 
 the assizes, putrid fever from overcrowded cottages, and 
 many other evils which were things of course forty or fifty 
 
BanJcnqjtcy in Arcadia. 187 
 
 years ago. The professional agitators are the lowest 
 scoundrels outside a certain place which is not usually 
 mentioned in polite society ; but you cannot, except when 
 life is threatened, put a Martini-Henry bullet through a 
 poor devil of an agricultural labourer who has been misled 
 by some cold-blooded outside body in London, who don't 
 know a cucumber from a vegetable-marrow, and whose sole 
 object is to fatten on strife. 
 
 But there are things we do miss. The village cricket 
 match is one of these. The downfall of this old institution 
 is easily accounted for— because there are very few cricket 
 fields, as land is too valuable and people are too busy, and 
 the consumption of country produce in London since the 
 railway days is so great, that everything which can be made 
 to grow by scientific farming and otherwise must grow : 
 and the farmer has become a man of business who puts his 
 capital into the soil, and probably attends three markets a 
 week, whereas in days gone by he would only attend one. 
 The leisure is gone ; and as regards the young gentleman 
 class, their ideas are of a higher order now, and they belong 
 to some club within hail, and aspire to be matched against 
 the Zingari, or the Civil Service, or. Incogniti, or the 
 Garrison, and prefer a " dress cricket match," with crowds 
 of ladies, champagne, and a dance in the evening to the 
 sound of a military band, to the homely village match and 
 the half-crown dinner at the Cricketers. 
 
 Then as regards our country races, where are they? 
 Numbered with the past pretty much. Take the Wye races, 
 for instance, on the punch-bowl course, between Canterbury 
 and Ashford. I remember them when they were very 
 insignificant races, attended by the farmers, the rural 
 population, and the officers from Canterbury. The stakes 
 were very small, and it was sometimes difficult to make a 
 field ; I don't suppose any bets above a sovereign were often 
 
188 BanJcru])tGy in Arcadia. 
 
 made, ^w the Wye races are placarded aU about London, 
 and special trains are run, and it is a real meeting. Should 
 anyone be fortunate enough to go to Wye races on a fine 
 day, he will see racing in a natural amphitheatre and some 
 of the most beautiful scenery in England, though our Wye 
 primitive races are gone ; and to betting men it is a business 
 meeting, far more attractive than the Canterbury races ever 
 were to the London world; although it is only about a 
 century ago since the Canterbury races on Harbledown were 
 preceded by a public breakfast, and were commemorated 
 also by a public dinner, with a wind-up of a '' grand main 
 of cocks " in the evening, under the patronage of the mayor 
 and corporation of the city. 
 
 Then there were our old local hunt steeplechases, open to 
 the members of the hunt only, for horses which were ridden 
 during the year over a hondfide hunting country which had 
 been the scene of a run during the season, artificial fences 
 being barred. Those are dead and gone too. The last of 
 these which I saw was in Kent, in 1845 or thereabouts, 
 when the prizes were ten pounds for the first horse, a new 
 bridle and saddle for the second, and a silver-mounted whip 
 for the third. I know nothing about steeplechasing, but I 
 remember it was rare fun. It was purely a local meet of 
 the neighbouring farmers, and one big suttling booth 
 sufficed for all comers. 
 
 It was a place for cordial meeting. Everybody knew 
 everbody, and a great many who entered merely did so for 
 the fun and the gallop, without any idea of winning ; and 
 it was a genuine hearty day's amusement without gambling, 
 and possibly 500 people only were present. A real local 
 sport of this kind being discontinued is a great loss, for it 
 made young fellows ambitious to acquire the noble art of 
 horsemanship, which was within their power. The sport 
 was good enough to incite a youngster to try and ride across 
 
Banhnij^tcy in Arcadia. 189 
 
 country, and was not so appalling as to dissuade him from 
 the attempt to do as well as Mr. A., or Mr. B., or friend C.^ 
 all of whom he knew and had seen dozens of times with the 
 hounds, or going to or returning from covert. It was all 
 fair riding without roping or besting. 
 
 Even the flower shows are almost impossible to keep up, 
 and there is " roping " in these pure arcadian amusements. 
 Unless the prizes are large enough gardeners won't exhibit, 
 and even then there is a great deal of " squaring " amongst 
 them, and private agreement about dividing the schedule, 
 so that a few only shall compete for each class, and thereby 
 secure prizes for all. And in the cottagers' department it 
 is necessary to have the gardens inspected many weeks 
 before the show, to insure competitors not buying fruit or 
 flowers and exhibiting them as of their own growth. Even 
 the village children who show wild flowers and grasses have 
 to be severely cross-examined sometimes as to whether the 
 collection is really their own. The auri sacra fames is 
 eating us up, and Astrsea herself could not in these days 
 satisfy the disappointed. 
 
 The village bell-ringing, too, is now purely a matter of 
 money, and the inter-village contests for a supper do not 
 exist. Eingers want now a guaranteed sum per annum, 
 and expect a subscription for a summer excursion, and a 
 heavy honorarium in the winter ; and in many places they 
 think a crown somewhat shabby, and half a sovereign by 
 no means too much. 
 
 The country fair is becoming another thing of the past. 
 The manufacturers of colossal gingerbread cocks with gilded 
 sides must have a poor trade of it now ; the fat lady, the 
 John Bull dwarf in top-boots, the little old w^oman of seventy 
 years of age (who was shown to the audience, and who was 
 probably " doubled " in her part by the showman's child), 
 who was put in a small barrel and rang a hand-bell through 
 
190 Bankruptcy in Arcadia. 
 
 the bunghole, are no more ; the man who drew a dozen 
 yards of tape out of his mouth, and *' Middleton's Fan- 
 toccini," and the Hottentot Venus, who carried a cavalry 
 soldier on her panier, and pitched him over her head, would 
 find no audience now, as the fair would be stormed by the 
 scum of the earth from some neighbouring town, and a 
 dozen police would be required vice the parish beadle, who 
 was man enough to keep order, and who was wont to take 
 the exceptional wrong-doers — who had their ten days for 
 rioting and drunkenness — handcuffed in a cart to the county 
 ^aol next morning ; the keeper and prisoners being on the 
 best terms, and refreshing themselves on the way, and 
 probably talking over the fair. 
 
 I miss the rat-hunt in the barn too. The old barns of 
 unknown age are replaced by substantial buildings, bricked 
 and slated, and comj^aratively rat-proof. The old flail is a 
 thing of the past, and so are the piles of golden gi^ain in 
 the corner of the barn ; and there is now no necessity for 
 farmer Broadbean's rat-hunt, where every boy and every 
 dog in the parish were welcome, and there was as much 
 dog fighting as rat-hunting. The corn is carried, threshed 
 by machinery, and packed off before the rats can get at it. 
 In fact, I complain of the abolition of " the rat which ate 
 the malt," (fee, who acquired, if possible, additional immor- 
 tality through the agency of Mr. Caldecott's inimitable 
 drawings in his little Christmas book, " The House that 
 Jack built." Some of the sheep-shearing and harvest 
 suppers, and village revels under no control, are not much 
 loss, as bucolical youths, overloaded with beef and beer and 
 pudding, were not nice specimens of humanity, and often- 
 times were remarkably objectionable, and showed dis- 
 positions little less than savage and brutal. 
 
 What is most missed now is the sociability which existed 
 when neighbours in a county were at home mostly all the 
 
Bankruj^tci) in Arcadia. 191 
 
 year round, and all our little excitements made fun for all, 
 and we were dependent on one another for amusements. 
 Near friends then made a little holiday occasionally at very 
 .small expense, and got up a little archery and cricket, and 
 the grand old game of bowls on a summer afternoon, with- 
 out any fuss or ceremony, with a syllabub and cold supper 
 at dark ; and the guests were not afraid to walk home three 
 or four miles afterwards, if they did not keep a carriage. 
 I wonder if a syllabub is ever made now, and if any one 
 knows how to make it ? Or, again, in the winter, someone 
 would have a rabbit-shooting, or small coursing meeting of 
 a few friends, who Avould be content with luncheon, con- 
 sisting of a colossal piece of hunter's beef, and other farm 
 produce, plenty of home-brewed ale, and home-made cherry 
 brandy. This was before the days of champagne, a wine 
 which I never saw or tasted until I was eighteen years of 
 age, and which I drank as cyder, to my cost, in happy 
 ignorance, and tried to persuade myself that a soft corner 
 of a by-lane was a comfortable place to sleep in, and found 
 it so until a good Samaritan, whose opinions differed from 
 mine, picked me up and kept me until I was fit to enter 
 polite society once more. 
 
 Then we had our three subscription county balls in the 
 winter, and our pic-nics in the summer, and in all ou^ 
 amusements we were dependent on one another. 
 
 The fact is, the country has become Londonised to a 
 great extent, and we have lost our simplicity thereby. The 
 mania for foreign travel has made people comparatively 
 regardless of the old home pleasures, and they look to 
 taking their excitement anywhere except at home. Even 
 lawn-tennis, the most charming amusement and exercise for 
 young ladies as well as gentlemen, is getting demoralized 
 by fashionable toilettes, and champagne cup and competition 
 matches, and prize rackets, and is becoming a business more 
 
192 Bankruj^tcy in Arcadia. 
 
 than a pleasure, too often. The soi-disant match-player is 
 the greatest nuisance imaginable on a country lawn — 
 rushing about playing with both hands (which I believe to 
 be a prostitution of the game of rackets, the essence of 
 which is the back-handed play), and taking every ball, and 
 spoiling everyone else's amusement. It is the old, old 
 story — self -aggrandisement ! I don't think our grand- 
 mothers, as girls, would have competed in public before a 
 crowd, the qualifications for whose admission was only by 
 paying a shilling at the gate. 
 
 Poker, blind hookey, and " Nap," are ousting the solemn 
 old rubber at silver threepennies, and it is not too much to 
 say that a large majority who touch a card now play for 
 money, and not for the amusement. Give me a game of 
 six-card cribbage with a Deal boatman, on a cribbage-board 
 punctuated on an old oak table, with gigantic pegs, against 
 all the modern card-playing of to-day. The solemn silence 
 of the spectators, which is only broken by a muttered 
 "Jack," or "heels," as the knave may turn up, shows the 
 undying interest in the game ; the beer remains it/itasted, 
 the quid w^iturned, the cavendish ?«/idrawn at the critical 
 moment when it is " hole and hole " within five of the 
 game, and the only chance of the dealer is playing out. It 
 is a match for glory and fame of "The Saucy Nancy" 
 against the London stranger, for twopence a game and 
 sixpence on the rub, with the " Saucy Nancy's " crew 
 looking on. The Bank of England and Barclay and 
 Perkins's Brewery wouldn't square the Deal boatmen. This 
 is real sport. 
 
 I confess to more than a sneaking liking for the Deal 
 boatmen, as I like the company of men who will go out on 
 a night when sky and sea are a roaring chaos to save life, 
 without any salvage money, too often at the loss of their own. 
 I don't believe in all the virtues belonging to conventional 
 
BanTcru^tcy in Arcadia, 193 
 
 life. Now this is an impertinent intrusion on my part, 
 for it has nothing to do with Arcadia, but I am reasoning 
 by analogy, on the charms of simple amusement amongst 
 simple people who play for pleasure. 
 
 The real matter of fact is, that money now has got into 
 the hands of a few, and the world is going too fast, and 
 the confession of poverty is almost a crime. Luxury and 
 show have supplanted comfort and simple recreations. The 
 University boat race, and cricket match, and the Eton and 
 Harrow match, have become almost a nuisance owing to 
 sensational excitement, and the French are not far wrong 
 when they say '' we take om- pleasure sadly." 
 
 Thanks to Lord Harris the old Kent eleven has been 
 restored ; but there is no doubt that until he revived its 
 glories, by searching the county through for players, the 
 previous downfall of Kent was attributable to all interest 
 almost in cricket having been centred in the Canterbury 
 week. Now other towns in England are having a cricket 
 week and all the Saturnalia, in imitation of Canterbury, 
 and they may depend upon it, it will do their home cricket 
 no good, as centralising a game for a short period spoils the 
 taste for home cricket. The effect of this is seen in the 
 county of Surrey. The Oval is doubtless one of the best 
 cricket theatres in England, and being within reach of most 
 of the old cricket centres, people make a day at the Oval, 
 and neglect theii^ village greens. Every youngster of 
 twenty years of age, who can bowl a decent ball, fancies 
 himself a player, and won't play without being paid ; the 
 young gentlemen aspii-e to the county eleven, or to a 
 travelling eleven of "Bounding Britons," or "Flvino- 
 Cherubims," or some such name, and all the money goes 
 out of the parish, instead of being spent in it ; and the 
 stay at-home fogeys button up their pockets and won't 
 subscribe to home clubs which produce no cricketers, and 
 
194 Bankruptcy in Arcadia. 
 
 the county eleven (?) is recruited from strangers imported 
 into Surrey ; and country elevens are not encouraged. 
 
 Fishing has by no means escaped the sensation mania, 
 Pot-hunting for club-prizes, and the " testimonial mania." 
 the '^ keeping dark " a good stretch of water for the pur- 
 pose of " wiping your neighbour's eye," would not have 
 been approved by old Izaak Walton, who told his " Scholar " 
 all he knew, as they sat under the sycamore tree, and he 
 said his simple grace before their homely meal. Wliat 
 would I not have given to have been out with that good old 
 man, and have been his companion at an honest ale-house, 
 where the sheets smelt of lavender and there were plenty of 
 ballads on the walls ? 
 
 When one does find a primitive village where old fashions 
 prevail it is necessary to keep the information very dark 
 for fear of invasion. I know two or three of such in tlie 
 heart of Surrey, at the foot of some of the hills, where eggs 
 and bacon and home-brewed ale are not unknown ; whei'e, 
 for the sum of one shilling, excellent tea and home-made 
 bread and butter can be obtained, in a brick-floored kitchen 
 with a chimney-corner ; and where samplers and ballads 
 yet hang on the walls, and where people are as simple as 
 they were in my boyhood ; where each of the umpires take 
 a bat in a match, and. where the smock-f rocked crowd sit 
 round. In many of such places as these, late in the season, 
 there is a wind-up match, in which all comers are welcome, 
 and there are generally some very good players on either 
 side, and some real " yokels ; " the winning or losing being 
 of no importance, as the object of the meeting is a day's 
 fun and a supper. I played in one of these matches, some 
 forty miles from London, last October. A gamekeeper 
 six feet high, without the remotest idea of science, 
 holding his bat at the end of the handle, threshed away 
 with wonderful success, in a style and manner which Mr. 
 
Baiikruj^tcy in Arcadia. 195 
 
 C. J. Thornton might have admired ; and the better the 
 bowling the harder he hit, to the great delight of a beery- 
 patriarch (the only beery man there), who kept on shout- 
 ing " Well be-ay-ved " (behaved), and who in his excite- 
 ment tried to clap his hands and missed them, and pitched 
 on his head off a form. One of the umpires, who was a 
 regular villager, would not give 'anyone "out "unless he 
 was bowled. In the evening I asked him : Q . " Were you 
 ever umpire before?" A. " JSToa," he answered. Q. "Did 
 you ever read the laws of cricket ? " ^. " Noa ; never lie'erd 
 on 'em." Q. "Then why did you stand umpire?" A. 
 " Because they offered I half-a-crown and a soopper, and I 
 never guv nobody out, and then I couldn't offend nobody." 
 This is literally true, and occurred on October 1, 1878. 
 
 I cannot help my old-fashioned notions, and shall die as I 
 have lived in them ; as, though the simplicity of our home 
 amusement has practically died out, the love of that 
 simplicity exists amongst " many men now alive," as Lord 
 Macaulay would have said. I say to those who may outlive me, 
 please do)it let them burn me — that is treating a Christian 
 like a Hampshire bacon-pig — but I have no objection to 
 being stuffed and put in the British Museum as " the last 
 of the Fogeys." 
 
 O— 2 
 
WHEN WE OLD FOGEYS 
 WEEE BOYS. 
 
 DoiSr'T let us ask how many years ago it was, but we fogeys 
 of the present once were boys ; were flogged, learnt impo- 
 sitions, went through the rugged channels of grammar- 
 navigation, had hopes and fears, fights and friendships — 
 and, strange to say, those friendships at intervals of many 
 decades grow again stronger than ever when old school- 
 fellows meet. Many sketches of school-life have been 
 written with more or less exaggeration and colour, occa- 
 sionally with no little cant and goody-goody stories, in all 
 of which the preponderance of good on the one side, and of 
 evil on the other, are quite out of proportion to the balance 
 of character in real life ; just as in our nursery-books the 
 wicked boy who went out sliding on a Sunday was always 
 drowned, and his companions whom he tempted to the 
 awful crime of Sabbath-breaking were rescued by the good 
 boy, who appeared to have been a combination of the 
 Beckwith family. Captain "Webb, an otter, a Royal Humane 
 Society man, a Hercules, and a Low Church parson, all in 
 one. 
 
 Public schools proper were very few and far between in 
 196 
 
When ive Old Fogeys were Boys. 197 
 
 the earlier half of this century, though in these days, since 
 railways and enlightenment in all parts of England, great 
 schools have risen up where the very best education, and 
 everything which is manly and noble, can be acquired in 
 small worlds of boyhood ; and the class lists at the Univer- 
 sities, and results of contests in the cricket-field, athletics, 
 and competitive examinations, show that all the virtues and 
 talent do not by any means lie amongst the old schools* 
 Now I am not going to write a history of Winchester, but 
 simply mean to put forward a few tableaux of boys as they 
 were in College some forty years ago. The full complement 
 of the school was seventy College boys — supposed to repre- 
 sent the seventy disciples, though I fear the representatives 
 hardly came up to the example — and 130 Commoners, who 
 were the same as Oppidans at Eton, except that they lived 
 in one large building, under the Head Master, and not 
 with dames or tutors. I may state at once that everything 
 is altered now, and the school, under the Public Schools 
 Act, is very like the Irishman's knife with four new blades 
 and a new handle. The College boys, I think, were not 
 poor scholars, as William of Wykeham intended, but were 
 elected by the wardens of New College and Winchester, 
 the head masters, and two examiners, who were called 
 " posers," and the result was the College to a great extent 
 became a family party, consisting of gentlemen's sons^ many 
 of whom had rich fathers, and the same names in many in 
 stances appeared for generations. College boys, contrary to 
 the status of Foundation boys generally, had rather the best 
 of things as a rule, as Commoners were dependent on them 
 for the schoolroom and the chapel, and, in public matches 
 in which all joined against an aggressive foe, for a cricket 
 ground also. Moreover, the head College boy was com 
 mander-in-chief and autocrat over the whole school when- 
 ever Commoners were inside our walls, or the school as a 
 
198 When we Old Fogeys were Boys. 
 
 whole when outside College walls; whereas Commoner 
 prefects had no power over College boys. No anecdotes 
 about bullying. A bully was a bully ; and many a good 
 fellow who was not competent for the extraordinary power 
 entrusted to him in boyhood, in after life has expressed his 
 regret for hard things done in his youth. 
 
 Fancy the following state of things for public school boys 
 of this present day ! — I am only speaking now of College. 
 
 The discipline was Spartan. Imagine yourself a junior 
 in a chamber, and at six o'clock, on a winter morning, being 
 aroused by a shoeblack shouting your name into the 
 chamber, hearing which, you had to arise and let him in, 
 call all the chamber, put on a faggot and light the fire, go 
 into the quadrangle and fill all the prefects' washing basins 
 at the open conduit (for no one except prefects and seniors 
 in chambers were allowed to perform their ablutions in- 
 doors), and perform your own toilet there also with the 
 snow on the ground, with the thermometer anywhere ; see 
 that everybody got up ; watch for the master's coming at 
 *' bells down," and be in your place in chapel to answer 
 your name. After chapel, you had to run to every prefect 
 who called ''Junior!" and you had to do anything he 
 wanted — send for cofiee into the town, brush his clothes 
 (but never black his boots — that was menial work), and be 
 obliged generally to fag till school time ; your next duty 
 was to air your eye at a keyhole and watch for the second 
 master's arrival, and give the " hiss " to warn the school of 
 his approach ; then you went up to your lessons till break- 
 fast time, 8.30, probably never having had half time to 
 leain them. At breakfast time you were washing butter 
 and baking toast for your master, and waiting on him, and 
 possibly after breakfast would have to pick up balls at fives 
 until 9.30, having managed to get a mouthful of breakfast 
 yourself or not, as the case might be ; you then aii^ed your 
 
When we Old Fogeys were Boys, 199 
 
 eye at a keyhole again, waiting for the head master, and 
 you were in school for two hours and a half — possibly with 
 a little bye-fagging, such as going round to borrow a book, 
 or, in summer, you would be made to " shiik out " to go 
 long-stop to some fellows who were having an unlawful 
 game of cricket. In the summer you fagged at cricket 
 from 12 till 2 (and on holidays all day, more or less), and 
 in the winter you would be fagging at football, kicking in 
 the ball. At 2 o'clock you would air your eye at a key- 
 hole for the third time to watch for a master, and then 
 there were four hours of school before you, out of which 
 you would be up with your class twice ; and in these four 
 hours a junior had time to learn something, especially if he 
 had a good boy-tutor. At six o'clock you would be carrying 
 things into chambers for prefects; be fagging all dinner- 
 time from 6 o'clock till 6.30; get something to eat how and 
 when you could,^and be in chambers at 6.30 to put on the 
 faggot — for we had blazing fires ; light the candles, sweep 
 up the chamber, put things in order, and do everything 
 that you vvere told till 7. Then would ensue a blessed 
 interval of rest and quiet till 8.30, whilst the boys did their 
 work for next day, unless you were in some bullying 
 chambers, where fellows played cards, in Avhich case you 
 had to watch for a master ; then chapel ; then bed. I 
 remember that card-playing and drinking had not many 
 followers, and prefects who did it were not in the best set. 
 Your chamber was like a little parish of its own, with two 
 or three prefects in it, as the case might be, and if you had 
 a kind fellow for head prefect, it was a very happy home, 
 provided you were good-tempered and willing ; and many 
 kindnesses were shown, the memories of which are pleasant 
 to record. In a boy's second year a junior's position was 
 materially improved, as he would have a lot of boys under 
 him, and he would be promoted to fielding out at cricket. 
 
200 When ive Old Fogeys ivere Boys. 
 
 instead of being semper long-stop, be allowed to go off 
 fagging if he made a catch, and if a good field, he would 
 be chosen as a regular fag in single-wicket matches, and 
 would probably pass into the junior eleven, which corres- 
 ponded with " Sixpenny " at Eton, and if he really stuck to 
 the game, he had a prospect in view of eventually passing 
 into the second eleven, with visions of some day being in 
 the "Lord's eleven," tlie ambition of all. Anyhow, a fag 
 who made the best of matters, and tried all he could, would 
 become popular with prefects and would not have half a bad 
 time of it. 
 
 In his social life also he would have a definite status, and 
 become valet to one of the prefects in his chamber, looking 
 after his cricket and football things, and always in attend- 
 ance on him before and after all sports ; and better still, 
 in hall and in chambers he would be initiated into the 
 mysteries of cooking, frying kidneys, potatoes, chops, 
 making coffee, and coming in for the debris, for good 
 fellows always had enough for their fags, as well as them- 
 selves, and the slavery was divested of many of its hard- 
 ships. So a boy had three natural protectors— his boy- 
 tutor who was assigned to him, the prefect to whom he was 
 valet, and also the prefect to whom he was breakfast fag ; 
 and when in trouble he could go to one or all, and they 
 always took his part, and not unfrequently the boy who 
 bullied the little junior got a good licking on the spot, with 
 a promise of double allowance if he did it again. 
 
 There always was a class, mostly muffs, who, when 
 prefects, would have six fellows to watch out at cricket, 
 when three only were wanted, and who thrashed little 
 boys for missing balls which they could not have stopped 
 themselves ; who would call " Junior " for the sake of 
 hearing their own voice, to bring them a book which was 
 six yards off; just the same kind of fellows who in after 
 
JVhen IV e Old Fogeys to ere Boys. 201 
 
 life make the lives of club servants unbearable, and who 
 are a terror to those under them, in whatever station of 
 life they may be, and make servants, clerks, governesses, 
 and sometimes, if parsons, even curates tremble before 
 them. These were the kind of boys who had three fags 
 to wait on them at breakfast ; that meal consisting of 
 College rations and a pot of jam from home, which was tied 
 down and lasted a week; who were always finding a speck 
 of dirt on a knife or on a cloth, for which they thrashed the 
 unfortunate junior. Juniors delighted to be one of a 
 number of fags who waited on a breakfast mess of three 
 good fellows — good at football and cricket — who had a dish 
 of kidneys, a dozen eggs, fried potatoes and chops for 
 breakfast, with endless toast and coffee. A fag might get 
 a flea in his ear sometimes for clumsiness or carelessness, 
 but masters and fags formed a little family party of their 
 own. 
 
 Then as regards the inmates of the school generally. 
 Winchester being one of the capitals of the West was easy 
 of access to West of England men, many of whose sons 
 came there ; and the advantage of having a boy under the 
 discipline of one of the oldest public schools w^as thought 
 more of in many cases than education, and sons of many 
 country gentlemen would go there, and be perfectly content 
 to remain in the lower forms until they left at seventeen or 
 eighteen years of age. So much w^as this the case that one 
 year an eleven from the three lowest forms played all 
 Commoners at cricket and beat them. It looked funny to 
 see big fellows in tail coats and more than incipient whiskers 
 standing up by the side of little fellows of twelve years old, 
 in an awful fog over an easy passage in Ovid, which, though 
 easy to the youngsters, was a terrible stumbling-block to 
 them; but so it was. On the other hand, it was for 
 nobody's good when a very young fellow with immense 
 
202 When we Old Fogeys ivere Boys. 
 
 ability ran rapidly up the school, and became a prefect 
 without any long apprenticeship to fagging, and possibly 
 physically weak and practically inexperienced. These were 
 the class who, immediately they got off fagging, abandoned 
 every sport and took to " constitutionals " in the summer 
 and fire-side coteries in the winter ; and by these fire-side 
 coteries much bullying was brewed, in the absence of manly 
 fellows who were engaged in athletics. 
 
 Now as regards our sports : cricket and football were of 
 course the chief, and as we had no professional we learned 
 our cricket by ourselves ; and to show that we must have 
 learnt it pretty well, Harrow beat us for the first time in 
 1837 on their own ground, though they collared and headed 
 us in after years, the school matches having commenced in 
 1825. We held our own too, well, against Eton. Fielding 
 and hard hitting were our proclivities, and the Winchester 
 barter, the half -volley — named after Warden Barter, who 
 was a giant in strength and stature — is not unknown. 
 
 To show what coaching will do, old Lillywhite in 1851 — 2 
 the first professional ever engaged — cetat 59, trained the 
 eleven in that and in the following year, and the Winchester 
 boys won both matches at Lord's two years running, in 
 1851-2, after losing both matches for five years. Oh ! why 
 did the Dons ever stop those glorious matches at Lord's ? 
 
 We had one great drawback at Lord's, which was, that 
 not more than six or seven of our real eleven were ever up 
 there, as the school broke up a fortnight before the matches. 
 And we made one vital mistake, which was, not to make 
 long stop, as it is now, one of the most important places in 
 the field; and boys who had been excellent as juniors gave 
 it up as drudgery when they got into the eleven, and the 
 consequence is that our list of byes at Lord's looks very bad 
 now, as does that of other schools of that era. 
 
 In the winter badger-hunting was a favourite sport, and 
 
Wheji lue Old Fogeys zvere Boys. 203 
 
 we always kept a badger and a huntsman, who provided 
 two terriers and a bull-dog daring the winter. It was a 
 sporting school, as Hampshire was a very sporting county, 
 added to which a large number of the boys were sons of 
 fox-hunting country gentlemen, and many of their boys 
 hunted in the holidays. 
 
 Perhaps it would astonish the dons now to see boys going 
 on to St. Catherine's Hill (part of the Portsmouth Downs 
 range) in white cord breeches, brown cloth leggings, tight 
 at the knee and falling loose over the boots, green cut-away 
 coats and gilt basket buttons, coming out of College on a 
 holiday morning : but such was the usual dress of many 
 Commoners on holidays, and the big College fellows high up 
 in the school, who wore gowns, adopted the cords and 
 gaiters. The badger-hunting was excellent fun, though I 
 suppose we should be fined five pounds by the magistrates 
 now for following the sport. The badger was turned out 
 of the sack and started up the downs, and it was a good 
 fine breather, running four or five miles, mostly uphill, on a 
 winter's morning. When we had had enough the bull-dog 
 was let go to pin the badger, and after a stiffish tussle some- 
 times the badger went into the sack to live to fight another 
 day. Not a few boys kept guns, and many a stray hare and 
 partridge came to hand, and I have known such a thing 
 as a duck or goose turn up, but it did not much matter, as,, 
 when old Warden Barter was king, farmers got paid for 
 College damages. Foot steeplechasing from the top of the 
 downs to St. Cross, across two rivers and the water- 
 meadows, was also a favourite amusement for a change. 
 Then there was the sporting fraternity, who took in Bell'^ 
 Life, got up lotteries, and had a small Tattersall's of their 
 own, and made shilling books, and paid up too ; but I 
 never knew little boys urged to subsci-ibe or anything of 
 that sort, as recorded in '' Tom Brown." Any boy trying 
 
204 When we Old Fogeys were Boys. 
 
 on such a game would have been sent to Coventry by the 
 whole school, and I fancy the betting was a very small 
 matter. 
 
 Sometimes prisoners get restless and break out into 
 insubordination, and it is the case too in lunatic asylums 
 and occasionally in schools. I never can understand to this 
 day why or wherefore a large number of boys, seventy or 
 eighty at least, suddenly took a violent dislike to half a load 
 of hay which was left on a canal bridge. The waggon had 
 been overloaded, and the farmer had carted half away, and 
 the waggon was waiting for the return of the horses. 
 Someone suggested "Let us pitch this waggon into the 
 river." Now the farmer was a popular man, as he never 
 split upon us if we did any mischief, and he winked at the 
 fellows shooting in the water-meadows and on his farm. 
 No doubt, being a tenant of the College, he took care of 
 himself when he paid his rent. Somehow the demon of 
 mischief was abroad, and in a few minutes the waggon, 
 under the influence of many hands and a lever or two 
 toppled grandly sideways ; there was a crash, the side of 
 the bridge disappeared, and nothing was visible but four 
 waggon wheels in the air, above the water, to the great as- 
 tonishment of some bargees who were coming with a barge 
 quick round the corner, and who, with great difficulty stopped 
 her " way " before the barge charged the waggon, for which 
 event we were anxiously looking. Again, one window of 
 new Commoners — an ugly, workhouse-like building, which 
 looked into the school quadrangle — being accidentally 
 broken, the boys suddenly hated all the windows and 
 smashed the lot, just as they did with the new slates of 
 College Mill, the colours of which they disapproved. The 
 curious part of their eccentric proceedings was, that all the 
 school seemed seized with the same madness, and the steady 
 fellows who never fell into scrapes hardly, broke out the 
 
Wke7i we Old Fogeys ivere Boys. 205 
 
 worst. We never heard anything about that waggon-load 
 of hay, directly, though an uncle of one of the boys who 
 was staying with the warden let the cat out of the bag^ 
 and told his nephew that the wiirden laughed heartily 
 about it. I suppose the truth was that it was a second crop 
 of water-meadow hay of little value, or the waggon was not 
 hurt, and it went into the tenant's bill. 
 
 Ah, the dear old warden ! he was the king of men, the 
 greatest athlete of his day at Oxford, and the hardest hitter 
 ever known at cricket, and the Winchester " Barter hit,'^ 
 the half volley, was named after him. He was as big as 
 Alfred Mynn, and the kindest-hearted man in the world, 
 though very impetuous. When in a scrape it was always 
 best to receive his fire and let him pass sentence of death 
 on you unheard. It was usually the same thing : you were 
 ruining your prospects for life, were bringing do^vn your 
 father's grey hair with sorrow to the grave, &c., etc. And 
 when he had quite done, the thing was to ask to be heard, 
 and to tell him the whole truth right out, and say you were 
 very sorry. He was ready enough to help you over the 
 stile, and it usually ended with a few kind words, for any 
 condonable offence, and a parting word, " If you are 
 writing to your father, will you remember me very kindly 
 to him ? — good bye. Now remember what I say." 
 
 When Freeman, the American giant, a prizefighter, came 
 over here with Gaunt from New York and fought the Tipton 
 Slasher, after a short London career his health broke down, 
 and he was taken in at Winchester hospital. He stood 
 nearer seven than six feet, and weighed twenty-one stone 
 when in health ; but the poor fellow was sadly wasted, and 
 his brother giant, the warden, took care of him, and bap- 
 tized him himself, and watched him daily through his last 
 illness, and attended him when dying. 
 
 When the Eton boys went to Winchester to play their 
 
206 When we Old Fogeys ivere Boys. 
 
 matcli, the warden entertained the two elevens and all kind 
 of Eton dons royally at dinner, and when the warden died, 
 and the Provost of Eton preached on him in Eton chapel, 
 and alluded to the cricket and the warden's hospitality to 
 the eleven, there was not a dry eye amongst the Eton boys. 
 
 We had a little world of our own, and never recorded 
 our sports, except our cricket scores. Fighting, except 
 amongst the little boys, was not much cultivated, as boys 
 who had been juniors together and fellow sufferers in early 
 hardships grew up pretty much knowing their own powers ; 
 but occasionally there would be a real fight, with the cogni- 
 sance and full concurrence of the prefects, and that was 
 when two big fellows had a deadly feud and neither would 
 apologise. I remember two very memorable fights, in one 
 of which two inferiors — i.^"., not prefects — of eighteen years 
 of age, who were high up in the school, and both of them 
 in the football team, fought. They were larking with two 
 switches, and one hit the other accidentally in the face, 
 which was immediately returned by a left-hander. They 
 were separated, but they both determined to fight, and fight 
 they did at twelve o'clock in Commoners, and I went in to 
 see it. There was little science, but awful slogging, and 
 one was clean knocked out of time in twenty minutes, and 
 the doctor had a hard job to get him round, as there was 
 much threatening of blood to the brain. He had to go 
 home after a few days. His opponent, who was a very good 
 fellow was in great distress about the effect of his own 
 handiwork, and was constantly with his former foe ; and 
 they both agreed they had been a couple of fools, and 
 nothing but the dread of being considered cowards prevented 
 them from shaking hands without fighting. 
 
 Another fight between a College and Commoner inferior, 
 mtat each about seventeen, was an equally bloodthirsty 
 affair ; and the vanquished had to be put to bed and kept in 
 
When we Old Fogeys ivere JBoys. 207 
 
 a dark room for a considerable time. No doubt these are 
 things of the past ; but boys of that age, who have a keen 
 sense of injured honour, and reckless as regards conse- 
 quences, and without science, ought never to have been 
 allowed to fight. It was downright dangerous. According 
 to the legends of the prize-ring fatal accidents were not 
 commoner than those in the hunting-field or steeplechase, 
 and many other sports ; but then the men were trained and 
 scientific, and, moreover, the seconds interfered in cases of 
 danger. 
 
 In 1824 the Hon. Mr. Ashley, brother of Lord Shaftes- 
 bury, I presume, fought two hours and a half, and was 
 killed, at Ebon ; but then both boys were plied with brandy, 
 as was admitted on the inquest. 
 
 I had only one fight of any consequence, and that was 
 when sixteen years old. A practical joke was played on Die 
 by another boy of as nearly my own age and size as possible. 
 I hit him straight in the face just before chapel on Sunday, 
 and we were separated; and although mutual friends tried 
 to pacify us, fight we would, as we hated one another, being 
 about equals in school position and everything else, and we 
 felt one must be master. My antagonist was, when at the 
 Bar, the author of the " Log of the Water Lily," and was 
 the pioneer who, in 1850, went up the Rhine in a four-oared 
 boat. He was seconded by his cousin, who now is Rector 
 of Rew in Devonshire. We fought in the schoolroom on 
 Monday morning forty-eight rounds in an hour and a 
 quarter, and were interrupted by school-time, and agreed to 
 go on again at twelve o'clock. The prefects then interfered 
 and made us shake hands, which we did most willingly, as 
 being thrown on an oak floor was no joke, and we were both 
 of us very stiff and tired and a good deal punished ; and 
 from that day forward he and I and his second messed 
 together, and were firm friends as long as we remained in 
 
208 When we Old Fogeys ivere Boys, 
 
 the school; and, curiously enough, the Eector of Rew, 
 whom I had not seen for years, came and stayed with me 
 during the last Australian match at the Oval, by his own 
 invitation ; and my former foe, whom I had not seen for 
 twenty years, walked into my chambers most unexpectedly 
 as I was luriting this very article. 
 
 It was a curio as life in past days, as boys were mostly left 
 to form their own characters ; and in those days Commoners 
 remained at school till nineteen very often, and College boys 
 who were of the founder's kin and waited for a New Collef^e 
 vacancy sometimes remained till twenty, and in known 
 instances one or even two years longer. One well-known 
 cricketer was at Lord's from the year 1839 till 1843, both 
 inclusive, and was captain for three years, and he had cut 
 all his teeth, as he was of the '' Founder's kin," over twenty- 
 two years of age, and was waiting for a fellowship at 
 Oxford. Every Wykehamist of that era will remember 
 that captain Villiers Chernocke Smith, the immortal 
 " Podder," so named after one of the champions in the All 
 Muggleton and Dingley Dell match. On reference to the 
 
 list of men in Church and State, I think our ''output" 
 
 to use a mining term— was equal to that of most schools. 
 The principle was self-government without masters' espion- 
 age. When not in school or chapel the whole discipline 
 was left to the boys themselves. There were eighteen 
 perfects in College and a few subordinates with limited 
 power, and the management was very much assimilated to 
 that of a regiment. Two things were certain — which was, 
 that the governors and the governed amongst the boys 
 knew what their powers and duties were, and the governed 
 knew that what had to be done must be done, and they soon 
 learned that willingness and good-humour saved them a 
 great deal of trouble and annoyance, and, without knowino- 
 it, they acquired habits of obedience and discipline which 
 
When IV e Old Fogeys ivere Boys. 209 
 
 lasted them for life. Correspondents who know nothmg 
 about the value of school discipline write a lot of rubbish to 
 the papers about " the lads having ushers." Tf instead of 
 writing they would go down and address the boys on the 
 subject, and the river was handy, what then ? In every 
 place, and at all hours of the day and night some prefect 
 w^as answerable for what was going on, and if he neglected 
 his duty and countenanced things which he ought not, his 
 power would be taken away at once^ and he would prac- 
 tically be reduced to the ranks ; and great was the downfall 
 of that boy. In cases of this kind came out the real boy- 
 character, and if the deposed prefect was a bully all the 
 juniors would rejoice in his fall and not move a hand for 
 hiui, but if he was a good fellow every junior would antici- 
 pate his wishes and volunteer to do everything for him as 
 if he had the power to fag them. As regards discipline and 
 tunding — tunding by prefects' court-martial was a great 
 institution properly used — abused it was positively infernal. 
 Big fellows, tribunes of the people, were the victims gener- 
 ally ; and if they chose to be guilty of breaches of discipline 
 and loould play cards, or get in spirits, or go into the town 
 out of bounds, and a prefect who was answerable for dis- 
 cipline caught them, they had their choice of a dozen or so 
 with a ground ash across their shoulders before the school^ 
 or go before the authorities. In nineteen cases out of 
 twenty the culprits took the tunding. It was soon over ; 
 all the boys knew what it was for, and if the offence was 
 uncontaminated by anything low or sneaking or dishonour- 
 able, no one thought the worse of the prefect who did it or 
 the boy who suffered the punishment ; and you would some- 
 times see tunder and tundee playing in the same match at 
 football or cricket as if nothing had happened, just as I 
 once saw a second master who had flogged a boy in school at 
 12 o'clock, caught out by the culprit at 12.30 in a match 
 
210 When we Old Fogeys were Boys. 
 
 It is needless to say that both " smoled a smile." As I said 
 before, bullying prefects belonged to the fireside coteries, 
 who wore rings and used bear's grease, never dirtied their 
 boots or rujffled their hair or neckcloths, and asked one 
 another little riddles, ergo, milksops. 
 
 And now, perhaps, you will ask, what good did this kind 
 of discipline ever do to me ? I will tell you. It taught me 
 a kind of rough-and-ready code of laws of fair play and 
 honour, and stamped out false pride ; and if I had to bring 
 a brown paper parcel to you, and could not afford a cab, I 
 would walk through London with it under my arm and 
 would not be ashamed to do it. And, secondly, if you and 
 I were in the wilds and we came across any eatable animal, 
 I believe I could cut him up and cook him in a way which 
 would make your mouth water, cook a pudding in a pot-lid, 
 and could do hundreds of things for you and me which I 
 should never be able to do but for my boyhood's apprentice- 
 ship. Why, if the Prince of Wales sent word that he 
 would come and breakfast with me — how could I do him 
 most honour ? Would I send for a professed cook from 
 London ? Never ! I would write to my old schoolfellow 
 and former breakfast-fag, Frank Buckland, the best cook 
 and coffee-maker in the world when a boy, and would say, 
 " Frank, my boy, do your best ! " And I will venture to 
 say that H.R.H. would remark, " My mother would like to 
 knight your cook." The manly feeling generated in the 
 little world of a public school has made it an impossibility 
 to me ever to offer three fingers of my left hand to a man 
 who is supposed to be below me in life ; for that is the 
 special privilege of the purse-proud snob, whom I should 
 remarkably like to have for a fag now, and I would do 
 what I was not fond of doing as a boy, and lick him within 
 an inch of his life. 
 
 One word about the biof idle fellows. Hear what General 
 
When ive Old Fogeys ivere Boys, 211 
 
 Shute, V.O., an ardent Wykehamite, said at the 'Wykehamist 
 dinner some few years back in the presence of Wardens, 
 Masters, Judges, and Bishops. The general was returning 
 thanks for the army, and claimed Winchester as his first 
 teacher in military matters, as he was there grounded in 
 punctuality, discipline, and obedien'3e ; and he added, almost 
 in these words : '^ And if you would think less of the 
 competitive examinations for the army, and let us have your 
 strong, idle football-players and cricketers who cannot learn 
 much Latin and Greek, and send them to us at seventeen 
 years old, any good colonel or adjutant will either make 
 good soldiers of them in twelve months, or return them on 
 your hands, Queen's hard bargains." General Shute was quite 
 right; for out of the idle division of my day, many 
 left their bones in the Crimea, India, and other foreign 
 countries, and many, fortunately, are either good and 
 gallant soldiers or useful in other walks of life, and would 
 be very handy now to bring Shere Ali (whom for the con- 
 venience of memory has been christened Mr. Shire Lane) 
 out of Cabul. How much twaddle have we not heard at 
 school dinners about ^' our gallant brothers who sleep in 
 the Crimea and India," not spoken by men who rode in the 
 six hundred, or who relieved Lucknow, but by after-dinner 
 table-thumpers, who are the very men who support the 
 head masters in their hobby of keeping out manly back- 
 ward boys who want teaching, and to whom the school 
 discipline would be advantageous — and who used to b3 
 the material from which ''our gallant brothers" came — 
 in favour of competitive examinationers, who come in vvitli 
 a supply of grammar ready laid on and thereby save the 
 masters a deal of trouble. 
 
 The late Lord Herbert, when Mr. Sidney Herbert, Secre- 
 tary at War, said, in the House of Commons, that the 
 qualifications for a staff-officer were: 1. Knowledge of 
 P— 2 
 
212 When we Old Fogeys were Boys. 
 
 French or German. 2. A quick eye for a line of country^ 
 with power to make an intelligible sketch of it. 3. To be 
 able to ride well across it — which last qualification, he said, 
 was most important of all. And I am not singular in 
 believing that Lord Herbert was right. I am not preaching 
 that our discipline and manners and customs were perfect 
 by any means, but I believe that, as boys, we had to cut our 
 own way pretty much by ourselves, and I don't think that 
 boys of the present day would be much hurt if some of 
 their luxuries and expenses were curtailed. 
 
 One thing is quite certain, which is that masters of large 
 schools have now run up the costs as high as possible, and 
 if their predecessors, the Consuls of our boyhood, buttered 
 their bread on one side, a good many of the present masters 
 and school authorities take precious good care to butter it 
 on both sides, and I think headmasters' conferences would 
 be more valuable if paterfamilias had his hearing at them. 
 
DE SENECTUTE. 
 
 If we are allowed to see the ancient writers in the next 
 world I hope to have the pleasure of punching the heads of 
 Livy and Tacitus, my two favourite aversions, of thanking 
 Publius Virgilius Maro, Esq., for writing pretty rural 
 sketches in the Eclogues, the shipwreck of ^neas, quite as 
 good as " Robinson Crusoe," the visit of ^neas to Lady 
 Dido — on which occasion Pater ^neas did not prove his 
 p iety — and the description of the sports in the ^meid, 
 especially the mill between Dares and Entellus, quite equal 
 to " Bell's Life." At the same time I should make my 
 lowest obeisance to Marcus Tullius Cicero for his writing 
 his two works, " De Amicitia " and " De Senectute," which 
 used to be, and I hope still are, the first strong food in 
 Latin prose, which schoolboys learnt. I suppose the scheme 
 of introducing two old fogeys Lselius and Scsevola walking 
 and talking in their garden gave a reality to the first work. 
 At any rate, under a good master who thoroughly appre- 
 ciated the authors, Cicero and Virgil always went with a 
 stamp and a go, and I never grudged the time and trouble 
 of learning a good deal of both by heart. And one word 
 about that master. He was an old Harrovian, now Bishop 
 of St. Andrew's, and a splendid athlete, and could beat any 
 boy in the school at running, jumping, swimming, rackets, 
 213 
 
214 ^'De Senectufer 
 
 and rowing, and played with the straightest bat I ever saw. 
 I never shall forget his horror when a boy in the hunting 
 scene in ^n. lY. (when, by-the-bye, Mr. ^neas changed 
 his quarry and found himself with Lady Dido in the 
 summer-house), in which the boy Ascanius is described on 
 his pony cracking his whip, construed '' insonuitque flagelW 
 " played on his pipe," taking a shot ixtflacjello as " flageolet.'' 
 I forget what was the eventuality, but I hope that boy was 
 flogged for not using his dictionary, and for the awful" 
 murder of Mr. Virgil his poem. 
 
 It is about a green old age that I am talking now, and 
 the question is, who are the men who attain it as a rule ? 
 I believe the athlete and the active man of business have 
 the best chance, provided that they lead a sober life. We 
 all know that, as a rule, the old shepherds on the downs 
 are like the donkeys and never die. This question of old 
 age was discussed in some of the papers when Mr. Budd 
 the cricketer and sportsman, died a few years ^ince, aged 
 ninety, also when Lord Lyndhurst died at a very gr'eat 
 age ; and the average age of the old " B eleven " (an Eleven of 
 cricketers, em-olled by Lord Frederick Beauclerck), whose 
 names began with B, of which Mr. Budd was one, added up 
 after theii- deaths, came to over eighty years each. We 
 all remember the jaunty way in which Lord Palmerston 
 jogged down to the Derby, and the light quick step with 
 which the late Lord Campbell and the late Lord Chelmsford 
 used to walk down to the court of a morning, and, by-the- 
 bye, the present Lord Chief Justice of England is not the 
 slowest man on his feet. And we remember how Arch- 
 bishop Sumner, when an octogenarian, as upright as a 
 dart stepped out on his way to the House of Lords; that 
 grand old man who, in his old age, wrote seven volumes on 
 the Epistles, and at his death- sent a presentation copy to 
 every incumbent in his diocese ; working on the quiet to 
 
"Be Senectuter 215 
 
 the last. Parson Russell, we know, was a living example of 
 an iron constitution, and so was Wenman, the old Kent 
 Avicket keeper ; and although feeble in limbs, at ninety, the 
 late Lord Lyndhurst made a celebrated speech in the 
 House of Lords, every word of which was as clear as a bell. 
 
 I tell you what I believe, good reader, and it is this. We 
 go upon wheels more than we ought, and we travel too 
 much and too quick ; it is all railway and hansom now, and 
 we are always running a race against time, and we have 
 our heads in the manger too much, and it is too much 
 refreshment bar wherever we are. Except on Sundays, 
 perhaps, when there is nothing to do, we hardly ever do 
 what was the custom when we were boys, when we used to 
 take an eight or ten mile walk to the races or a cricket 
 match, or a good stretch to a meet of the hounds and a run 
 with them afterwards. An athlete who leads a life of 
 indolence after he has laid aside his weapons, whether 
 cricket bat, the coestus, the oar, or what not, and indulges 
 in dissipation is a sure victim for the undertaker, in proof 
 whereof I can quote Pierce Egan's lecture on self-defence, 
 delivered in 1845, which contains the history and career of 
 all the great prize-fighters from the earliest period till the 
 date of the lecture ; and it is melancholy to see how many 
 died of drink ; and unfortunately in our own experience 
 how many of our best athletes have done the same on their 
 retirement ; whereas, on the other hand, fortunately, we see 
 how tough some are. 
 
 I came across two specimens of the old school lately, such 
 as one seldom sees, one of whom broke the King's peace as 
 often as most men, and the other had helped to preserve the 
 peace of Europe, early in this century ; the first named is 
 aged seventy-nine on Christmas-day next and the second 
 eighty-eight, and both of them are as hale and hearty as 
 any two men in England. I met the first some two or 
 
216 "Be Senectute:' 
 
 three years ago at a benefic in Cambridge Hall, Newman 
 S!:r33t, at which it wa3 announced th3 best men in London 
 would appear, and that the non-commissioned officers in the 
 Household Brigade would contend with single-sticks and 
 broadsword and the gloves. It was a high-priced benefit, 
 and the bill was an arrant sell, and the only thing which I 
 gained was sitting next to a bright, lively, elderly man who 
 evidently had been a frequenter of the ring and a performer 
 also, as, on speaking of Crib's final benefit a short time 
 before his death, which occurred somewhat over thirty years 
 ago, he said to me, " I put on the gloves with Tom Spring 
 that night." " Then who are you ? " I asked. " Jem Ward," 
 he replied. Accident threw me in his way the other day, 
 and I spent a couple of hours with him, and it seemed hardly 
 possible that I was talking to a man who received the 
 champion belt from Spring in 1831 at the Fives' Court, and 
 who had been in the ring as early as 1816, and had fought 
 White headed Bob, Tom Cannon, and men who seem to me 
 to have lived before the Christian era. He fought over 
 twenty battles and has led a regular active life from youth 
 upwards, and there he is now, one of nature's gentlemen, 
 just as poor Tom Spring was, in manner, fit to sit at 
 anyone's table, f uU of information, with innumerable anec- 
 dotes of days and people and things long past, and as he 
 is going to put his recollections on paper shortly, he will 
 tell his own story much better than I could. He is now an 
 inmate of the Licensed Victuallers' Asylum at Peckham, a 
 most admirable home, where he has his comfortable quarters 
 and goes on with his painting, which has been the hobby 
 of his life. He leads an active life in his seventy-ninth 
 year, holding a place of trust at suburban race meetings. 
 It is needless to say that he is abstemious in living, and his 
 great delight is a good cigar of an evening. He looks much 
 more like a retired country gentleman than what people of 
 
"Be Senectuter 217 
 
 strong imaginations paint as a prize-fighter of the past, but 
 then he belongs to the old school, when prize-fighters were 
 supported by the greatest and noblest in the land, and 
 their followers acquired the manners of their associates. 
 
 Turning to legitimate warfare, let us look for a moment 
 at another sample of old English stuff in the shape of an 
 old soldier cetat 88, a hale, hearty, bright-eyed, cheerful old 
 man, from whom now I should be very sorry to receive a 
 cut from the soft end of an oak stick, let alone a sw-ord. 
 Let us imagine that it is a fine Sunday afternoon, and that 
 we are sitting in a comfortable little house in a Surrey upland 
 at Carshalton, near Sutton, and that round the walls of the 
 room hang pictures, and on the tables are books about 
 Napoleon, the Duke, and Waterloo, &c., and that there is a 
 cavalry sword hanging up against the w^all of one room, 
 faced by an old Russian musket opposite. Let us carry our 
 imagination a little further, and that we have refused the 
 ofier of sherry or grog, and that a handy maid has pro- 
 duced some beer after our w^alk. On the table lies a very 
 excellent plan of Waterloo (which I took him over), copied 
 from an official plan which I am fortunate enough to 
 possess, prepared in 1815 by order of the Duke of York, 
 Avhich the writer of this has travelled over again and again 
 and compared with other French and Enghsh plans against 
 the Duke's dispatches, " Gleig's Waterloo," and most known 
 books on the subject, besides having on several occasions, 
 when in Belgium, surveyed the ground itself ; and imagine 
 that, for once in his life, the writer is listening and not 
 talking. 
 
 Room, if you please, for Mr. James Simmonds, formerly 
 of the 7 th Hussars. " In answ^er to your question why I 
 became a soldier, it was thus : My father was a farmer and 
 market gardener, well to do, on Mitcham Common, holding 
 what is now Watney's farm. I was drawn for the Militia 
 
218 "De Seneduter 
 
 in 1812, and was always being wanted to go to Tooting 
 Common and Clapham Common, and was bothered to death 
 by a sergeant who kept me with old Brown Bess at ' present 
 arms,' recover arms,' till my own arms were fit to drop off, 
 and I said to myself, ' I'll do the regular thing sooner than 
 this,' and went off and enlisted in the 7th Hussars at 
 Mitcham, along with a neighbour, Bichard Alfrey, who was 
 in that Begiment in 1813. I was with the depot, first at 
 Guildford and then at Arundel, and afterwards the Begi- 
 ment had come home and we lay at Brighton under Lord 
 Uxbridge as colonel. We had been wanted once or twice in 
 London for bread riots, and lay at the King's Mews, where 
 Trafalgar Square now is. The news came in 1815, that 
 Napoleon had escaped, and we were ordered to the Low 
 Countries, and marched to Dover and embarked for Ostend, 
 we carrying our saddles and kit on board ship, and waiting 
 at Ostend for our horses, which were shipped separate. 
 When we got our horses we marched first fifteen miles from 
 Ostend, and then went into cantonments, and subsequently 
 marched across to the scene of the three great battles, on 
 the 15th of June being in the neighbourhood of Quatre 
 Bras and Genappe. On that day we were ordered to 
 sharpen our swords and prepare for active service, and to 
 draw double rations on the morning of the 1 6th ; but at 
 3 o'clock a.m., the trumpet sounded, and officers and ser- 
 geants were rushing about calling the men to turn out at 
 once, so we went without rations ; and from that moment 
 until after the battle of Waterloo on the 18th, we had no 
 rations, and were never off duty. The horses had a glorious 
 time of it, as they ate as much standing corn as they 
 pleased everywhere, but as for us, beyond a chance piece of 
 bread and biscuit which we sometimes came across, and 
 some bad spirits which we bought from sutlers, who hung 
 about, we went without. But then you know w^e were too 
 
"Be Senectute:' 219 
 
 busy to think, we were doing picket and patrol duty all 
 during the battle of Quatre Bras, and all night, and next 
 day we had to clear the road, which was blocked with carts 
 and waggons and guns, on the 17th, for the army to retire 
 on Waterloo, and our regiment protected the rear for the 
 passage of the army at Genappe. There was a ford there, 
 and the way was very narrow, and we were attacked by 
 French cavah-y and were ordered to charge them. They 
 were Lancers, but only one troop of ours could get at them 
 at a time, and we could not move them ; and I can see and 
 hear Lord TJxbridge now and could swear to what he said, 
 ' Get back, 7th, for God's sake ! — threes about ; ' and we 
 were re-formed, though we lost our major (Hodge) and 
 adjutant (Mears), and as we were clear, we let the 1st Life 
 Guards through, and saw them go at the French cavalry ; 
 and they regularly crashed into them with sheer weio-ht 
 and having once broken them they cut them to pieces, or 
 took them prisoners. The Life Guards went aU fresh and 
 excited as they saw us driven back, and they went at them 
 like madmen. Most of the French soldiers were drunk, as 
 they had sacked the liquor stores at Genappe. Well, to go 
 on to the Battle of Waterloo. We we on the Mont St. 
 Jean side of Hougoumont on the morning, but we had 
 been mostly on patrol duty and picket at night, as there 
 were so few light cavalry, and the Belgians did not do 
 what was expected of them, and we had to snatch a bit of 
 sleep and get a bit of bread and biscuit and a drop of 
 spirits as we could. The first shot, which reached us on 
 the 18th, was a round shot, and I can see her now ; mv 
 next man was a tailor, and a good soldier too, and he 
 laughed and said, ' What do you think of that, Jim ? ' but 
 the next shot took Sergeant Haslop's horse and thigh, and 
 I asked him, ' What do you think of that, then ? ' As you 
 know we did our bit that day, protecting the guns and 
 
220 "Be Senectuter 
 
 supporting the first line, and when we made the last charge 
 my horse was shot under me, and I caught a French horse 
 and charged with the 18th Hussars, having lost my regi- 
 ment, and we rested for that night near Belle Alhance, on 
 the position the French held in the morning ; and we got 
 our first real meal early on the 19th. We afterwards 
 moved on to Cambray and saw the reduction of the town, 
 and then our fighting was over, and we marched on to 
 Paris." 
 
 The rest of the old gentleman's narrative contained the 
 incidents of the occupation of Paris, the grand review by 
 the Duke of Wellington, and Mr. Simmonds' subsequent 
 service when the regiment came home. At St. Omer he 
 was soldier-servant to three different officers, from time to 
 time, and his anecdotes are very amusing. It is no use 
 mentioning names and particulars, as the families of the 
 officers might not like it, but they may depend upon it that 
 their forefathers did not lead anchorite lives when peace 
 came, and 1 expect they were pretty much what the old 
 soldier described them, " the most dare-devil lot in the 
 world, sj)lendid officers under whom no man would be 
 afraid, but by no means ' a regular family.' " He stuck to 
 the regiment till it came home, the last which landed, and 
 on being offered his discharge after seven years' service 
 accepted it, the fighting being over ; and, like Oincinnatus, 
 returned to the farm and did the early Covent Garden 
 business for his father. On the sale of some of the horses 
 he bought one, which had a bullet in the thigh, called 
 *'■ Button Stick Joe " — so called because his rider lost his 
 kit and everything except his sword, his horse, and his 
 button-stick — and having made his purchase, he rode the 
 horse home to his father's house on Mitcham Common, and 
 made not a little sensation in his hussar jacket and cap, 
 which are now under a glass case at the museum at 
 
''Be Senectuter 221 
 
 Waterloo, which he visited two years since, on the "Waterloo- 
 day, and had a special dinner of his friends at the inn, 
 where the museum is ; and which he would visit again had 
 he not been crippled for life owing to an accident 
 on the South- Western Railway in getting out of a 
 carriage on his way home from Aldershot, two years since, 
 for which he had the pleasure of paying over £100 in costs 
 in an action which he lost, against the company. That 
 action is a little sore point, though, soldier-like, he says, 
 "If I could have got those d— d lawyers of mine in the 
 wigs out of the way, and told the judge my own story, I 
 should have won." 
 
 Don't make any mistake, the old gentleman is no brag- 
 gart, and very truthful, with a real soldier's heart in him, 
 in his green old age ; and he says, " If I wasn't a cripple I 
 should like to go again now, though it would be my turn to 
 go as officer, I think." He is no laudator temporis acti, but 
 I believe what he says, which is that England was saved 
 by the sheer pluck of every individual who fought those 
 battles, and the campaign, short as it was, was decided, as 
 regards the hand-to-hand work, by English physique and 
 English horses. 
 
 One question I asked him, which was about army flogging. 
 He is dead against it, and says, " If a soldier deserves to be 
 flogged, kick him out and let him starve, and no one will 
 pity him ; if he has the making of a good soldier flogging 
 would ruin him ; if he is a bad one it will make him a 
 thorouijh blackguard." 
 
 When an admirable article appeared in Baihjs Magazine 
 on Owen Swift, one of the London press was good enough 
 to say it was vulgar : a little bird at the asylum whispered 
 to me that the writer was very kind to the dying pugilist in 
 his latter days. I have no doubt but that the Priest and 
 the Levite said the good Samaritan's twopence was a plant 
 
222 ''I)e Senectuter 
 
 for his own benefit. Chacun a son gout. The writer of the 
 article forgot that all the London papers made a pretty- 
 penny out of Sayers and Heenan within the last twenty- 
 years, and would do so again to-morrow if they had the 
 chance. Now for old Jem Ward. My humble creed is that 
 men who have lived, like Jem Ward, in a rough and ready 
 world, and have followed a calling which abounded with 
 rascality and swindling, and have come out with clean hands, 
 are an honour to their country and an example for us all ; 
 for let us remember how carefully we were brought up and 
 how crooked has been our course in many cases. I remem- 
 ber — reverting to school days — a boy who is now a dignitary 
 of the Church, reading out in Prefect's library, amidst 
 much applause. Deaf Burke's speech on returning from 
 America, in which (exhibiting an American bowie knife) he 
 informed his audience that he would sooner be hung in this 
 world, and —omitting the Deaf un's words, which were un- 
 Shakesperian — would go to everlasting perdition in the 
 next, than see such a weapon in the hands of an English- 
 man. The Deaf un was not much of a preacher, and fell 
 into the Slough of Despond in his latter days, but I say 
 that those words have a wholesome moral ; and I only wish 
 I was a magistrate, or a judge, and had the power of in- 
 flicting punishment on every knifing ruffian. 
 
 On the first occasion of my being in a criminal court I 
 heard old Baron Gurney, at Maidstone, give a jury a 
 tremendous wigging for insisting on a verdict of man- 
 slaughter, when he summed up for murder, in a case where 
 a sweep had quarrelled with a man and had gone away for 
 some time and had got a knife and sliarpened it, and came 
 back and stabbed his enemy; and some years afterwards I 
 read an account of a trial at which Baron Alderson, the 
 kindest and best of men, gave a man a heavy sentence for 
 using a knife, to the best of my recollection in these very 
 
"Be Senectuter 223 
 
 words : *' If men will quarrel and fight, nature has provided 
 them, with the proper weapons ; and, prisoner, you have no 
 excuse." 
 
 Looking back to an old school roll I picked out the 
 names of a few fellows older than myself, who really were 
 good at boxing when I was a little boy. Every one of 
 them was kind to me and never bullied ; two are very 
 known clergymen, one of whom is immortalised by his 
 fighting and beating the town bully named Jupe, in 
 1836, who was a man of five and twenty, in five 
 rounds, at Twyford cross-roads. I held his clothes and 
 saw it. The fight is recorded in Adams' " Wykehamica.'' 
 For a wonder the boys were in the right, as the roughs, of 
 v>'hom Jupe was one, had cruelly beaten some little college 
 boys. To do the roughs justice, they kept a fair ring, and 
 their man fought fair, and was knocked clean out of time. 
 Another bowled in Gentlemen v. Players when a boy at 
 school ; another is a very distinguished retired cavalry 
 oflicer, a fifth is a well-known church architect, who pulled 
 in the Cambiidge boat, and the sixth was a fine steeple- 
 chase rider and rare good officer, who fell by the colom\s 
 of the 23rd at the Alma in 1854. The best man I ever 
 knew in London died last year : he was one of young Reed's 
 best pupils (ranking with Billy Duff and Thomas Knox 
 Holmes, and amateurs of that stamp), as was each of his four 
 sons. His theory was that all boys should swim like otters, 
 and be igorant of fear, and from the time they were little 
 boys his sons learned the noble art thoroughly. The 
 eldest was in the army, and died after the West African 
 campaign ; the second passed an admirable staflT examina- 
 tion, and now is on active service ; the third has a high civil 
 appointment in India, and the fourth is in an irregular 
 cavalry regiment now. One son received a medal from the 
 Eoyal Humane fSociety for swimming out in a heavy sea 
 
224 ''De Senectuter 
 
 and saving life at Ramsgate, and the father's body, on its 
 way to Highgate cemetery, was carried across a canal bridge, 
 off which he jumped, in 1849, at twelve o'clock in a ter- 
 rifically stormy night in November, and saved a woman who 
 was drowning in the basin. He had left my chambers that 
 evening, when a regular tempest was raging, and refused to 
 take a bed, as he said that " he enjoyed a walk in a storm ; "" 
 and, on reaching the canal bridge, in Camden Town, h& 
 found an excited mob shouting, but doing nothing practi- 
 cally, to help the drowning woman. The bridge is close to 
 Grafton Street East, and the woman was close to the lock- 
 gate, a considerable distance from the bridge. 
 
 The late warden of Winchester was an astonishing athlete, 
 and at Oxford was champion of the University. When a tutor 
 at New College he constantly walked from Oxford to London 
 and vice versa ; and on one occasion, when a passenger on the 
 coach w^as using very blasphemous language and declined to 
 desist, he seized him and held him over the side of the 
 coach, and threatened to drop him in the road unless he 
 promised to behave better. Lsfc it be remembered also that 
 he attended Freeman the American giant's death-bed all 
 through his last illness. 
 
 So there is something in muscle after all. 
 
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