CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE SICK HORSE AND THE SICK MASTER.
CHAPTER XXXIX. MR. PRINGLE SUDDENLY BECOMES A MEMBER OF THE H. H. H.
CHAPTER XLI. THE HUNT TEA.—BUSHEY HEATH AND BARE ACRES.
CHAPTER XLII. MR. GEORDEY GALLON.
CHAPTER XLIII. SIR MOSES PERPLEXED—THE RENDEZVOUS FOR THE RACE.
CHAPTER XLIV. THE RACE ITSELF.
CHAPTER XLV. HENEREY BROWN & CO. AGAIN.
CHAPTER XLVI. THE PRINGLE CORRESPONDENCE.
CHAPTER XLVII. A CATASTROPHE.—A TÊTE-À-TÊTE DINNER
CHAPTER XLVIII. ROUGIER’S MYSTERIOUS LODGINGS—THE GIFT HORSE.
HIT-IM AND HOLD-IM SHIRE HUNT BALL.
CHAPTER LI. MONEY AND MATRIMONY.
CHAPTER LIII. MASTER ANTHONY THOM.
CHAPTER LIV. MR. WOTHERSPOON’S DÉJEUNER À LA FOURCHETTE.
CHAPTER LV. THE COUNCIL OF WAR.—POOR PUSS AGAIN!
CHAPTER LVI. A FINE RUN!—THE MAINCHANCE CORRESPONDENCE.
CHAPTER LVII. THE ANTHONY THOM TRAP.
CHAPTER LVIII. THE ANTHONY THOM TAKE.
CHAPTER LIX. ANOTHER COUNCIL OF WAR.—MR. GALLON AT HOME.
CHAPTER LX. MR. CARROTY KEBBEL.
CHAPTER LXI. THE HUNT BALL.—MISS DE GLANCEY’S REFLECTIONS.
CHAPTER LXII. LOVE AT SECOND SIGHT.—CUPID’S SETTLING DAY.
CHAPTER LXIII. A STARTLING ANNOUNCEMENT.
PREFACE TO THE ORIGINAL EDITION.
IT may be a recommendation to the lover of light literature to be told, that the following story does not involve the complication of a plot. It is a mere continuous narrative of an almost everyday exaggeration, interspersed with sporting scenes and excellent illustrations by Leech.
March 31, 1858.
CHAPTER I.
OUR HERO AND CO.—A SLEEPING PARTNER.
ONSIDERING that Billy Pringle, or Fine Billy, as his good-natured friends called him, was only an underbred chap, he was as good an imitation of a Swell as ever we saw. He had all the airy dreaminess of an hereditary high flyer, while his big talk and off-hand manner strengthened the delusion.
It was only when you came to close quarters with him, and found that though he talked in pounds he acted in pence, and marked his fine dictionary words and laboured expletives, that you came to the conclusion that he was “painfully gentlemanly.” So few people, however, agree upon what a gentleman is, that Billy was well calculated to pass muster with the million. Fine shirts, fine ties, fine talk, fine trinkets, go a long way towards furnishing the character with many. Billy was liberal, not to say prodigal, in all these. The only infallible rule we know is, that the man who is always talking about being a gentleman never is one. Just as the man who is always talking about honour, morality, fine feeling, and so on never knows anything of these qualities but the name.
Nature had favoured Billy’s pretensions in the lady-killing way. In person he was above the middle height, five feet eleven or so, slim and well-proportioned, with a finely-shaped head and face, fair complexion, light brown hair, laughing blue eyes, with long lashes, good eyebrows, regular pearly teeth and delicately pencilled moustache. Whiskers he did not aspire to. Nor did Billy abuse the gifts of Nature by disguising himself in any of the vulgar groomy gamekeepery style of dress, that so effectually reduce all mankind to the level of the labourer, nor adopt any of the “loud” patterns that have lately figured so conspicuously in our streets. On the contrary, he studied the quiet unobtrusive order of costume, and the harmony of colours, with a view of producing a perfectly elegant general effect. Neatly-fitting frock or dress coats, instead of baggy sacks, with trouser legs for sleeves, quiet-patterned vests and equally quiet-patterned trousers. If he could only have been easy in them he would have done extremely well, but there was always a nervous twitching, and jerking, and feeling, as if he was wondering what people were thinking or saying of him.
In the dress department