CHAPTER II. 



THE FOGGY DAY HIS GRACE OF HAUGHTYSHIRE. 



The late Mr. G. P. E. James was wont, as we all know, to 

 begin some of his excellent romances with the statement that 

 ' a solitary horseman might have been observed, at eventide, 

 riding across a range of hills,' or emerging from some 

 picturesque valley or other. We might begin this chapter by 

 observing that a solitary horseman could have been seen 

 emerging from a morning fog, as dense as the English mid- 

 lands can produce, in the month of December. But the 

 parallel travels no further ; for whereas the famous romancist 

 would garb his rider in mediaeval costume, with lovelocks 

 hanging down upon his shoulders, and put into his mouth 

 some such old-world quaintness as ' S'death ! I have ridden 

 far and fast this day,' or ' By'r Lady! but the light faileth 

 me,' our own commonplace horseman merely coughs the 

 damp, reeking atmosphere out of his throat and lungs, and 

 ejaculates a word which we regret to know is even more 

 commonplace than this particular equestrian was himself ; he 

 simply grunts out ' D — n ! ' 



For Mr. Walter Sanders, who holds the highly honourable, 

 if not very lucrative, appointment of second horseman to His 

 Grace of Haughtyshire, has been sent on to the meet this 

 morning, greatly against his own inclination — a pipe by the 



