86 A VIRGINIAN. 



" I'm agreed — but I don't care mucli about lun- 

 cheon." 



" We don't dine till eight, remember, and Cheshire's 

 eight is very certain to be nine." 



"Well, as far as some oysters and a glass of Cha- 

 blis, I don't mind." 



The bell was speedily rung, the breakfast things re- 

 moved, and the natives on the shell, with no condi- 

 ment save simple lemon juice, and the ice-pail, with 

 the long-neck protruding, took their place. 



Meantime, the friends retired to complete their rig, 

 and in ten minutes made their appearance again be- 

 low ; Fairfax having replaced his dressing-gown with 

 a most elaborate French black frock, with a glossy hat 

 of the most extreme ton, lemon kid gloves, and a cane 

 with a great emerald at the top of it. Matuschevitz, 

 more au fait to the Melton style, wore a dark brown 

 Newmarket coat with Good-wood club buttons, shep- 

 herd's plaid trousers, and a shawl waistcoat, with a 

 blue bird's eye round his neck, doeskin gloves on his 

 hands, and a heavy jockey-whip under his arm. 



At any time an English country town or village is 

 a pleasing or interesting sight, but Melton Mowbray 

 is much more than this, it is a curious, a singular, an 

 unique sight, for Melton Mowbray is a capital; yes, 

 gentle reader, as distinctly a capital as London or 

 Paris, Washington or St. Petersburgh ; Melton Mow- 

 bray and New Market, two purely English, siii generis, 

 capitals ; the one of fox-hunting, the other of racing 

 — each with its ministry, officials, senate, representa- 

 tives, its every article, point, device, which constitutes 

 an imperium in imperio. Time was, until James and 

 Charles the First, the one of evil, and the other of 

 unhappy memory, betook themselves to deer-hunting 

 and racing. New Market was but a petty village in the 

 midst of Chalky Wolds, distinguished only by the 

 dykes and ditches — since nicknamed of the devil 



