William Waggleton. 119 



champagne. I know where they get it, and what they pay 

 for it. Thirty-six shillings a dozen, and dear at the price. 

 Sherry, worse, if possible. I'm up to trap though. I don't 

 drink it. Not /. Don't you believe it. No, I bring 

 some claret in a medicine-bottle, and, what is more, 

 drink it under Furzefield's very nose — under my lady's 

 nose — and under the Dowager's (who's the best of the lot) 

 nose, too. The late lord was a screw — so was his father ; 

 but the present one beats 'em all. Wouldn't have come 

 this year, but wanted to hunt this morning. None of the 

 other fellows are up. Poor devils ! hot coppers. What ? 

 Bye, bye. Meet again." And, so saying, this extraordinary 

 personage, who has quite taken my breath away, walks 

 off, and I presently view him from the window, crossing 

 the stable-yard, evidently on a visit to his hunter, his airy 

 attire apparently causing great delight to the servants of 

 the house. 



Lord Furzefield gives every year a grand ball at Furze- 

 field House, to the elite of the county, and having been 

 honoured with an invitation for the first time (for we had 

 not long taken up our abode in the Harkaway country) 

 we had come to the Furzefield Arms for the double 

 purpose of attending the ball, and going with Lord Daisy- 

 field's Hounds the next morning, there being a lawn meet 

 at Furzefield House. We presently remembered noticing 

 the eccentric personage who had just left the room, at the 

 ball, he having attracted our attention the more particu- 

 larly from the fact that he was attired in a scarlet dress- 

 coat — the only garment of that colour there was in 

 the room. 



" What is that gentleman's name, waiter ? " we ask, as 

 that worthy enters with our breakfast. "The gentleman, 



