62 Captain Dahber. 



under her able management everything was soon in apple- 

 pie order, and our friend the Captain found himself 

 enabled to set up as a country gentleman forthwith. He 

 farmed a little, shot a little, hunted a good deal, and went 

 to church as regularly as clockwork. He was church- 

 warden for a time (fancy that !), in which capacity he was 

 most energetic — rather too much so, indeed, for the vicar, 

 with whom he nearly came to blows one fine day in the 

 vestry. 



One personage there is in the county who, as he says, 

 can't abide the sight of him, and that no other than the 

 noble M.F.H., Lord Daisyfield to wit, who never tires of 

 relating how that horrid ^' Mister Dabber," as he calls 

 him, served him out that time at the county races some 

 few years back. Now be it known that Lord Daisyfield 

 in his younger days, when he was the Honourable Regi- 

 nald Cowslip, was one of the most accomplished gentlemen 

 riders of his time. Croxton Park would not have been 

 itself had not the Honourable won a race or two each day. 

 In fact in every race eligible for the gentleman rider there 

 was his name to be found amongst the performers. However, 

 when he succeeded to the title he thought it more becoming 

 his station to relinquish his favourite pursuit, and the 

 only occasion he now thought fit to appear in silk was 

 once a year at the race meeting held in his lordship's 

 own Park at Wortlebury. Great was the cheering when 

 Lord Daisyfield, got up to perfection (''Sich a neckcloth 

 and sich smart boots I never did see, surelie," remarked 

 Farmer Butterboy on one occasion), would carry off the 

 Hunt Cup. Well, about the second year after Captain 

 Dabber had settled down to live quietly at Ivy Lodge, 

 the races came round as usual, and on the numbers going 



