FullReads

See! there is a young fellow drinking soda-water and brandy already. He puts down his glass with a gasp of satisfaction. It is evident that he had need of that fortifier and refresher. He puts down the beaker and says, “How are you, Titmarsh? I was SO cut last night. My eyes, wasn’t I! Not in the least: that’s all.”

It is the youthful descendant and heir of an ancient line: the noble Earl of Grimsby’s son, Viscount Talboys. He is travelling with the Rev. Baring Leader, his tutor; who, having a great natural turn and liking towards the aristocracy, and having inspected Lady Kicklebury’s cards on her trunks, has introduced himself to her ladyship already, and has inquired after Sir Thomas Kicklebury, whom he remembers perfectly, and whom he had often the happiness of meeting when Sir Thomas was an undergraduate at Oxford. There are few characters more amiable, and delightful to watch and contemplate, than some of those middle-aged Oxford bucks who hang about the university and live with the young tufts. Leader can talk racing and boating with the fastest young Christchurch gentleman. Leader occasionally rides to cover with Lord Talboys; is a good shot, and seldom walks out without a setter or a spaniel at his heels. Leader knows the “Peerage” and the “Racing Calendar” as well as the Oxford cram-books. Leader comes up to town and dines with Lord Grimsby. Leader goes to Court every two years. He is the greatest swell in his common-room. He drinks claret, and can’t stand port-wine any longer; and the old fellows of his college admire him, and pet him, and get all their knowledge of the world and the aristocracy from him. I admire those kind old dons when they appear affable and jaunty, men of the world, members of the “Camford and Oxbridge Club,” upon the London pavement. I like to see them over the Morning Post in the common-room; with a “Ha, I see Lady Rackstraw has another daughter.” “Poppleton there has been at another party at X—- House, and YOU weren’t asked, my boy.”–“Lord Coverdale has got a large party staying at Coverdale. Did you know him at Christchurch? He was a very handsome man before he broke his nose fighting the bargeman at Iffly: a light weight, but a beautiful sparrer,” etc. Let me add that Leader, although he does love a tuft, has a kind heart: as his mother and sisters in Yorkshire know; as all the village knows too–which is proud of his position in the great world, and welcomes him very kindly when he comes down and takes the duty at Christmas, and preaches to them one or two of “the very sermons which Lord Grimsby was good enough to like, when I delivered them at Talboys.”

“You are not acquainted with Lord Talboys?” Leader asks, with a degage air. “I shall have much pleasure in introducing you to him. Talboys, let me introduce you to Lady Kicklebury. Sir Thomas Kicklebury was not at Christchurch in your time; but you have heard of him, I dare say. Your son has left a reputation at Oxford.”

“I should think I have, too. He walked a hundred miles in a hundred hours. They said he bet that he’d drink a hundred pints of beer in a hundred hours: but I don’t think he could do it–not strong beer; don’t think any man could. The beer here isn’t worth a–“

“My dear Talboys,” says Leader, with a winning smile, “I suppose Lady Kicklebury is not a judge of beer–and what an unromantic subject of conversation here, under the castled crag immortalized by Byron.”

“What the deuce does it mean about peasant-girls with dark blue eyes, and hands that offer corn and wine?” asks Talboys. “I’VE never seen any peasant-girls, except the–ugliest set of women I ever looked at.”

“The poet’s license. I see, Miliken, you are making a charming sketch. You used to draw when you were at Brasenose, Milliken; and play–yes, you played the violoncello.”