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- Herausgeber: Booksell-Verlag
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
In "Too Clever by Half," John Lang delivers a masterful exploration of the complexities of human ego, folly, and the unintended consequences of intellectual pride. Set against a vividly drawn backdrop of late Victorian society, the narrative weaves together sharp wit and incisive social critique, illustrating the often absurd lengths to which individuals will go to assert their intelligence. Lang's prose is marked by a keen observational style and a talent for irony, providing the reader with not just entertainment but a thoughtful commentary on the nature of ingenuity and the hubris that can accompany it. John Lang was an astute observer of human nature, having been deeply influenced by the intellectual currents of his time, including the rise of rationalism and a burgeoning skepticism toward social norms. A novelist and playwright, his experiences in the criminal justice system as a lawyer undoubtedly shaped his views on morality and the follies of pride, themes that resonate throughout the fabric of this novel. His backgrounds as a professional and a writer lend a rich authenticity to his characters and their misadventures. "Too Clever by Half" is highly recommended for those intrigued by the interplay between intelligence and human folly. Lang's incisive humor and philosophical depth offer readers both laughter and reflection. This novel stands as a timeless reminder of the dangers of overestimating one's own cleverness, making it a compelling addition to the bookshelf of any discerning reader.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021
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Too Clever by Half
Table of Contents
THE HARROWAYS.
CHAPTER I.
SAMUEL FREEPORT was a younger son. His father made no provision for him beyond getting him a commission in one of his late Majesty's Regiments of Foot; for he was quite satisfied that Sam's propensities would induce him to squander every shilling. The old man, therefore, on leaving the world, recommended him to the care of his brothers, who were three in number.
Sam had been very lucky in promotion. At the age of twenty-four he had his company. He had given it out that he was to come in for an enormous fortune at his father's decease, and he was not a little disgusted when the melancholy truth was broken unto him—namely, that he was dependent on his elder brethren, with whom he had no sort of sympathy.
The only consolation that Freeport found in these circumstances was afforded by his vanity, which prompted him to think he might marry a dowager duchess, or some single heiress equally wealthy. Our hero was wrong in his opinion—that he was the handsomest man in the world. At the same time, he was what may be termed a very good looking fellow. He stood about five feet ten, had a fine open countenance, laughing blue eyes, and a small mouth, about which was ever playing a very winning smile. He was a favourite with most people, but a "pet" in his corps; for all the members, from the colonel to the junior ensign, loved him for his good temper, and excessively kind heart. Sam used frequently to draw largely on his imagination, but no one ever heard him say an ill-natured word against any man breathing. The sole object of his invention was the amusement of those who listened to his stories. In proportion to his warmth of heart he had a coolness of disposition; which in other men would have amounted to impudence; but in Sam Freeport it was wit.
At the time when he heard of his father's death, the corps was ordered to march from Huddersfield to York, and in the month of December entered that ancient city, at about four o'clock in the afternoon, the band playing vigorously:--
"Oh! they marched through the town, With their banners so gay."
Sam gave a boy sixpence to show him the way to the White Horse. He called for the landlord, and inquired whether the Earl of Dunburley was staying there. He was answered in the negative. Sam expressed his surprise, as he said his lordship told him he would certainly be there on the 18th. The landlord suggested that something might have interfered with his lordship's intentions. Sam said it was very likely, and then inquired if anything was going on in York.
"Why no, sir, nothing particular; and until the assize ball, I take it, we shall not have much gaiety. The Newshams give an evening party to-night, to which I believe everybody is invited."
"Who is Newsham?"
"Mr. Newsham, sir, is our leading attorney, and transacts the business of all the first men in the county."
"I wonder if he could give me any intelligence of my friend, Lord Dunburley?"
"It is not at all improbable, sir."
"Where does he live? Can I get a chaise here?"
"Certainly, sir."
A chaise was ordered, and Sam Freeport was conveyed to the house of Mr. Newsham, "the leading attorney."
After apologizing for calling at such an hour, Sam Freeport said he wished to consult Mr. Newsham on a matter of business; that he had some twenty thousand pounds in the funds, which he wished to draw out, and invest at a more profitable rate of interest—for instance, upon mortgage of landed property in Yorkshire.
Mr. Newsham remarked that the matter could be very easily effected, and Sam gave him the necessary instructions for a power of attorney. He then inquired after his friend the Earl of Dunburley, and affected a mysterious astonishment when informed that his lordship had gone upon the continent.
"Which is the first inn in York, Mr. Newsham?"
"The White Horse!"
"Thank you," returned Sam, looking at his watch. "I fear I am too late for mess, and must——"
"I am about to dine, and if you will give me the pleasure of your company, I shall be delighted!"
Sam said, "You are very kind; really—I—shall have much pleasure."
Mr. Newsham and Sam dined tête-à-tête. Mrs. Newsham and her four daughters had dined at half-past two, and had been hard at work since that hour in making preparations for the forthcoming gaiety. By eight o'clock Sam had disposed of more than one bottle of very superior Madeira, which had been presented to his host by a client of whom he was not a little proud.
It was a peculiarity of Freeport that he discarded all sorts of formality and stiffness on very short acquaintance, and when his host broke to him that they had a party at which he hoped Sam would be present, Sam replied, "My dear fellow, Newsham, it will delight me. I like your company and conversation, and I'd go to the other end of the world to serve you."
This, coming from a man who had twenty thousand pounds in the funds, and who was for investing it on mortgage, touched Newsham's heart, and made him respond in these words—"Captain Freeport, I not only respect you as the friend of Lord Dunburley, but I regard you with esteem for your inherent good qualities."
"Give me your hand," said Sam. (Newsham gave it.) "Never mind my good qualities and Dunburley; but if you love me, call me Captain Freeport no longer, but simply Sam."
A note, or rather a memorandum, came in to Mr. N. from his wife. It ran thus:—"It is now past nine, and there are you sitting, telling those stupid stories of yours, and never thinking that people are coming, and that room will be wanted for the coffee. When are we to expect you to leave that room?"
Newsham wrote in pencil,—"Don't be angry, love; I'll come presently. Captain Freeport, of the——Foot (a man of large fortune), is with me on business."
Sam saw there was a domestic screw loose, and proposed going home to dress. Newsham said, "Your quarters are at some distance. You will do very well as you are." But Sam was too vain to yield to this, and left his host for the purpose of attiring himself in his uniform.
Sam had a faithful servant, named Blew, who always awaited his master's coming, no matter at what hour. As soon as Sam's voice was heard, the candles were lighted, and everything in readiness. Orders were given to get out the articles of dress which Sam required; and while Blew was engaged in obeying the mandate, Sam pored over his MS. book of complimentary quotations, culled from the British poets of all times. He didn't know a soul of the party to which he was going, and therefore looked for something as general as possible. The following struck him as "very good," and he applied himself to commit it to memory:—
"Oh, were those eyes in heav'n They'd through the starry region shine so bright That birds would sing, and think it was the morn."
Sam had repeated these verses at least eighteen times; but as he pulled on his gloves, he thought it would be right to test his accuracy, and therefore called on Blew to take the book and hear him.
"Oh were those eyes in heaven, the birds would chirp and swear it's morning."
"Not exactly, sir," said Blew; "you've missed the middle line."
"What middle line?"
"They'd through the starry region shine so bright."
"What's the use of the starry region? They're much better without it."
"So I should say, sir; but it is here in the book."
"Oh, never mind that. What is it? 'O were the birds in heaven, they'd swear those eyes'—What is it?"
Blew repeated—
"Oh, were those eyes in heaven, The birds would sing, and think it was the morn."
"I've left out the middle line, sir."
"Let us have another look at the book," said Sam. "There, now I have it. Tell Mr. Harroway I have dined out, and gone to a ball."
The air had had some effect upon Freeport, and he felt as though some of Mr. Newsham's Madeira had got into the heels of his boots: not that he was intoxicated, or thereto approaching. His capacity for wine was enormous, and he had tested it too frequently to admit of his yielding to the strongest of grape juice. With his mental faculties quite clear, and his body perfectly erect, he experienced merely a slight to-and-fro movement from the knees downwards.
Mr. Newsham stood near the door of the dancing-room to receive his warm-hearted acquaintance. Freeport was now introduced to the lady of the house and her daughters—four very good looking girls, who were all dressed exactly alike.
There was a rich and comfortable look about the abode of the leading attorney, and Sam suddenly made up his mind to be on very good terms with the family, as long as the corps was quartered in York.
The girls were not handsome, nor were they what is termed "highly accomplished." But they were famed for feats of horsewomanship, and their manners were somewhat masculine, and strikingly in contrast with their graceful and very feminine appearance. Their conversation, too, was peculiar. It partook so much of out-door matters.
It was Anne Newsham's birth-day. Anne was the youngest but one. Freeport solicited her to dance with him. She rose abruptly from the ottoman, and took his arm.
"How do you like York?" said Anne, beginning the conversation.
"I have hardly had an opportunity of judging yet: but the little I have seen has made a very favourable impression," replied Sam, sweetly.
"That's all gammon and spinach," observed his partner, with an honest laugh.
"I assure you it is a fact," urged Sam, not a little taken aback.
"Do you intend to join the hunt, Captain Freeport?"
"Oh, certainly."
"That's right, and get all your friends to do the like. We shall have a noble meeting this year, I hope."
"Do you take much interest in these matters?"
"Did not the governor tell you that we girls have been in at the death of every fox that has been killed near this for the last four years?"
"No!"
"Then that's a wonder; for he tells every one."
It was impossible to know, and not to like the Misses Newsham, albeit they were such very bold girls and said such very odd things. Sam was charmed with Anne, and when the dance was over he lingered by her chair, and talked about "the chase."
Before Sam left her he took an opportunity of getting rid of his quotation,
"Oh were those eyes in heaven, The birds would sing, and think it was the morn."
"More fools they," said Anne, looking him full in the face, and squinting hideously. "The birds of the air are not green enough for that, Captain Freeport."
Sam laughed loudly, and when Anne looked straight again, he felt a decided affection for her.
"I'm afraid you will find York a very dull place, Captain Freeport," observed the hostess.
"Were it ever so dull," said Sam, "your contribution to the society would enliven it."
"The girls are very lively, certainly," conceded Mrs. Newsham. "But the place itself—I suspect you will not like the place. It is so fearfully quiet—too much so for young people."
"I shall like it all the better for that," replied Sam, readily. "I am very fond of sociality, but I cannot say I enjoy much gaiety and racket."
"Well," said Mrs. Newsham, "that's just what I feel. A few friends and a merry laugh: but the racket of continual parties is to me past all endurance."
"You are quite right," quoth Freeport. "If you know people, know 'em well; and if you can't know 'em well, why don't know 'em at all. That's my principle."
"And so it is mine," said Mrs. Newsham.
"And if that principle were acted up to," added Sam, "there would no longer be any truth in the saying, that 'you may have a church full of acquaintances, but the pulpit will hold all your friends.'"
Mrs. Newsham was approached by a very important personage, of about forty-five.
Freeport took the opportunity of getting away, and making up to Newsham, who had just heard, so he said, of a splendid opportunity of investing capital. By the time this little matter was talked over, it was twelve o'clock, and supper was announced to be on table.
Before Freeport left the house, Mrs. Newsham asked Sam to take luncheon with them on the following day. The reader will readily imagine he did not refuse.
CHAPTER II.
"WHERE were you last night, Sam?" asked Mr. Harroway.
"At an evening party," was the reply. "Managed it beautifully."
"But where were you?"
"That's another matter. By and bye I'll introduce you, if you behave yourself. Very nice family indeed. Hospitable father,—sensible mother,—and the jolliest girls I ever met in the whole course of my life, and no brother. By the bye, Harroway, as I told one of the girls I had the best stud in the kingdom, I wish you would let me act as owner of one or two of your best animals—the chesnut and the grey for instance."
"Very well," said Harroway; "but don't forget they are mine—don't in an enthusiastic moment make a present of them, as you did by Jemmy Linton's family teapot."
"Never fear!" said Sam. "I'll buy a brace of good beasts as soon as my credit is well-established in this place; but in the meantime I must show myself off on yours; and if it would not make any great difference to you, I should like to own your Stanhope."
"Very well, Sam; anything you like."
"I'll introduce you the day after to-morrow. I can't do so before then, because I am establishing a little affair, and you might be in the way. Do you see, Harroway? Fine girl—noble spirit—and money doubtless."
Harroway laughed, and Sam donned a very becoming "Mufty," in spite of a positive order that no officer should appear in public, except in uniform. The colonel was a very tight hand; but he had grown tired of talking to Freeport about regimental matters, and in consequence, Sam enjoyed a much envied impunity. It was generally said of Freeport that he was the best fellow, but the worst officer in the British army.
With a complacent smile, Sam Freeport mounted the valuable grey of his obliging chum, Lieut. Harroway, who was worth some six thousand a year. Harroway's groom followed Sam on the chesnut, to the door of Mr. Newsham's house, where our hero dismounted. The girls, from the drawing-room windows, admired the beautiful creatures in the street, as they were led up and down by the groom.
Mr. Newsham had risen very early and prepared the power of attorney; but Sam said he had received letters from London, which would delay the execution till somebody or other's formal consent was obtained to his selling out his property in the stocks. The girls seemed glad to see Sam, and their mother greeted him very warmly. At the suggestion of Anne, the horses were sent round to the stable.
The time passed rapidly away, and it was now three o'clock. The girls were going to ride that evening, and Sam offered to escort them. His offer was accepted, and at four the cavalcade moved out of the old city. Anne Newsham, at Sam's special request, rode the grey, and he took the chesnut. As soon as they were outside the walls, Anne Newsham called out to her eldest sister, "Jessie, lead the way across country."
"Come along!" cried Jessie, and putting her horse at a ditch, she cleared it, and galloped across a long field, towards a five-barred gate in the corner. Jessie was followed by Jane and Maria. Anne wished to ride in company with Freeport, and "waited" on him. Sam was an extremely bad horseman in a field, and he funked the ditch; but he was ashamed to show his fear, and dashed at the leap like a man. The chesnut took it, but Sam came on the animal's shoulder. Anne "lifted" the grey over, and patted him on the neck as soon as the leap was cleared.
"Here's a pretty business," said Sam to himself as they approached the five-barred gate, and saw the other girls topping it. Anne again reined in to wait on Freeport. Sam curbed up the chesnut, and wouldn't let him take the gate; at the same time he called him "an obstinate rascal" for not doing so.
"He will follow me," cried Anne, and she put the grey over the gate with the most perfect ease imaginable.
"If I break my neck, here goes," muttered Sam. He gave the eager steed his head, and was in the next field instanter. Sam was very nearly off: but he explained this by saying that "the brute bucked it."
"I love a Buck Jumper," cried Anne, her cheeks glowing, and her eyes sparkling with excitement, as they galloped side by side—towards a hedge, which the other girls were making for.
"I'm blowed if I like any jumper at all," thought Sam, "and if I get safe out of this, you'll not catch me coming cross-country again."
The hedge was a teazer, and Anne wished to show Sam her style of riding. "Yohicks!" she cried, as the grey leapt with his light burden, and cleared it gallantly. The chesnut followed, Sam holding like grim death; but he was thrown, and with difficulty clung to the reins, and prevented the chesnut leaving him to walk. Anne Newsham roared with laughter, while she observed, "you are not much hurt."
"Yes I am though," responded Sam. "He stamped upon me." (This was not true, but Sam had had enough of jumping, and didn't feel inclined for any more.)
"Let us take to the road," suggested Sam.
"Very well," said Anne. "Get up—I'll show you the way."
Freeport got up, and they jogged on together. There was something very captivating about Anne Newsham's voice; and she was a great talker.
"I envy you this dear horse," said Anne, as she leapt him out of the field she had just leapt him into.
"Do you?" said Sam; "then he is yours."
"No, no, Captain Freeport. I would not deprive you of him."
"But you shall," urged Sam—"you shall give me yours in exchange."
"My horse is not so valuable a creature as this, but a very good one, and I love him dearly. No, no, Captain Freeport—keep your grey. If I should ask you to lend him to me for the next stag hunt I know you wont refuse."
"Refuse!" exclaimed Sam. "If you asked me to cut the throats of the pair of 'em I'd do it this moment."
"Are you sincere?" asked Anne.
"Sincere!" replied Sam. "Just pull up, and I'll get off and go down on my knees and swear it."
The other girls had left Sam and Anne a long way behind, and reached home half an hour before them. Sam made out that he was very much bruised, and set up all sorts of wry faces when he got into the house. He contrived, however, to eat a very hearty dinner, and to enjoy the walnuts which Anne cracked for him when they all drew their chairs round the fire, and Newsham filled the glasses with the choice Madeira.
Sam became warmed with the wine, he felt determined to effect an exchange by giving Anne the grey for her own riding horse. She declined hearing of such a thing at first, but inasmuch as he became importunate, she observed, "Well, Captain Freeport, as you insist on a swap, of course I can't hold out any longer. I'll send you Mazeppa to-morrow morning."
"Mazeppa! Why, that's the name of the grey," said Sam.
"How very odd!" ejaculated Anne and all her sisters.
Now, the horse's name was not Mazeppa, but Gaffer Grey; and under that name he had won several steeple chases; but it pleased Sam to have a coincidence at the sacrifice of fact.
It was nearly eleven o'clock before Sam Freeport returned to his quarters. Harroway was not there, and Sam smoked a solitary cheroot, and talked to Anne Newsham, in his imagination, preparatory to turning in for the night.
"I say, Sam—here's a very nice bit of horseflesh come here for you," said Harroway, next morning, shaking by the shoulder the sleeping Sam. "Where did you pick him up?"
"Bit of what?" said Sam, rubbing his eyes with his forefinger knuckles.
"Horseflesh."
"Oh, it's some mistake; it is not for me. What a fellow you are, to come and cruelly disturb a man in the middle of a delightful dream."
"How could I tell what you were dreaming about? By the bye, is it true that you put a lassie upon the grey yesterday, and that the grey bolted with her?"
This brought to Sam's recollection that the "bit of horseflesh" was intended for him. He looked Harroway full in the face, and then roared with laughter at his own thoughts.
"Is it a very nice animal that has come for me?" inquired Sam.
"Yes," replied Harroway; "a very nice animal indeed."
"What's his colour?"
"Bay, with black points."
"What's his height? Is he equal to my weight?"
"Yes. But you don't mean to say you have been such a fool as to buy a horse without seeing him—especially in Yorkshire?"
"I bought him on description."
"Then you deserve to be taken in."
"What's the animal worth?"
"Prom £85 to £100. What did you give for him?"
"More than that. By Jove! George, I am afraid we have been done."
"Don't say 'we,' Sam, for you can't call that horse a regimental purchase, you know."
"No," laughed Sam. "It's a regular individual stick, George. It can't be helped. There's no use in crying over spilt milk, is there?"
"No!—but what did you pay for him?"
"You say he is not worth more than £100."
"Not a stiver more."
"Then, by Jove, George, I am ashamed to tell you."
"Why?"
"Because you'll repeat it, and I'll get laughed at. I'll impart it in confidence, if you like,—on your giving me your word and honour as a gentleman you will never mention the transaction to a soul breathing."
"On my word and honour, Sam, I never will."
"Then, my dear George, for that little bit of horseflesh I swapped your grey to a girl——"
"The devil you did!" exclaimed Harroway, fearfully put out, for the horse had several engagements, and his sporting owner was very proud of him—"Then I'll be hanged, Sam, if I allow him to go."
"Oh; you must, George. Consider, my dear sub, your captain's honour is at stake. Would you have me ruined for the sake of a horse?"
"I declare, Freeport," said Harroway, emphatically, "that you are, without exception, the greatest fool in the kingdom, where women are concerned."
"It's all very true, George. But what can a man do—when a nice girl admires your horse, and pats it on the neck, and calls it a sweet creature."
"Why, let her admire it."
"But suppose you happen to know, she admires you, as well as the horse?"
"Never mind—stick to your property."
"But I can't, George."
"Then I wish to heaven you'd stick to other people's."
Freeport roared with laughter, and Harroway, in supreme disgust, walked up and down the room, muttering, "It serves me right!"
"What a flinty-hearted fellow you are, to be sure!" said Sam. "I don't think you know what a pleasing sensibility means! Come now, say candidly, had you ever a single tender emotion?"
The question made Harroway laugh, notwithstanding he was very much provoked.
"Look here!" said Sam, stretching forth his hand. "Put down the value of the grey against me in your pocket-book—value him at what you like. I shall marry an heiress one of these days, and then I'll pay you the amount, and you shall have interest at 8 per cent, out of my pay. You have got lots of money, and are always beating your brains to now how to invest it. You ought to look on this as a deuced lucky transaction. You never got such a high rate of interest in your life."
"Can't you get off the swap?"
"Wouldn't ask such a thing for the world—I'd rather pay you a thousand pounds for the horse."
"I hope the chesnut is safe," said Harroway, in a doubting tone.
"Quite. Let me see—yes—I stuck to the chesnut—that is to say——"
"What?"
"I didn't dispose of him, or swap him."
"Then you don't take him out any more—recollect that."
"No—I'll never trust myself again, George—I shall tell the girls I have sold you the chesnut because he bucked the hedge and spilt me."
"What do you mean, Sam?"
"Why the fact of the matter is this," began Sam—and he detailed all that took place on the day previous. Harroway, on hearing of his fall, was convulsed with laughter, and by the time Sam had finished, his sub's chagrin at losing Gaffer Grey was almost extinct. "Now then," ejaculated Sam; "I'll get up, have breakfast—and about half after twelve we will go together and visit the girls, George."
CHAPTER III.
GEORGE HARROWAY, was duly presented to Mrs. Newsham and her daughters, by Sam Freeport. The exchange of horses that had taken place between Anne and Sam was soon brought in as a topic of conversation.
"Don't you think Captain Freeport was rather green, Mr. Harroway?" asked Anne.
"That's a charming little animal of yours which my friend now possesses," replied Harroway.
"I would not part with him for all the horses in the county," said Sam; "I never rode such an easy graceful creature in the whole course of my existence."
"Why, you have never been upon his back yet," observed Harroway.
There was a general laugh against Freeport, in which he could not help joining.
"You are fond of the chase, I understand?" said Harroway to Anne.
"Yes, we are all fond of it," she replied.
"I am rejoiced to hear that; as we shall meet in the field. Captain Freeport has been good enough to sell me his chesnut, and he is almost as good as your grey."
"We shall see in a day or two," said Anne. "The hounds meet on Thursday. Captain Freeport, I hope to see you on Mazeppa."
"Most assuredly," said Sam. "Who'd be absent?"
* * * * * * * * *
"Are they not jolly girls, George?" inquired Freeport, when they got into the street.
"Very," was the laconic reply. "Anne is a remarkably fine girl."
"And she's gone, sir!"
"How do you mean, gone?"
"Why, she's head over ears in love with me, sir. The governor is a wealthy man, I fancy; but then there are four of 'em, and people have a dislike to divide their property during lifetime. I am afraid I can't afford to marry her, George: I wish I could. No, sir, I must have an heiress. Nothing short of an heiress will do for a man in my circumstances."
At this moment a brass plate bearing the words, "BLINK, SURGEON," in large letters, met Freeport's eye. "What a queer name?" he exclaimed. "I wonder what sort of a fellow Blink is, George? Blink! Blink! I have a curiosity to see Blink. I'll bet you a crown I will describe Blink nearer than you do."
"Done!" cried Harroway.
"How are we to decide it?" asked Harroway.
"That's easily done," said Sam. "I can be sick, and go to consult him. Come along!"
Freeport told Harroway to rap at the door, and keep from laughing.
Blink was a good looking, well made young man, who had just commenced practice. He was politeness itself: and he listened to Sam's symptoms with a very patient ear.
"When did the pain first come on?" said Blink.
"About a week ago," said the patient, in a feeble voice. "Our doctor pronounced it to be liver; but I am certain it is no such thing."
"Decidedly not liver," said Blink—"Have you any difficulty of breathing!"
"Very considerable." (Sam gasped.)
"How is the appetite?"
"None at all. Can't touch a thing. I sicken at the sight of food."
"Have you any depression of spirits?"
"Yes—especially as the evening approaches." (Sam looked wretchedly sorrowful.)
Blink promised to send Sam a draught that would do him good; and to call upon him next day. Sam then informed George Harroway, in a broken tone of voice—loud enough for Blink to hear him—that he had forgotten his purse, and George must give Blink a guinea.
Harroway felt compelled to pay Blink, and having done so, he led Sam Freeport out of the room, at a snail's pace.
"That's a drawn bet, George," said Sam, as soon as they got a short distance from Blink's door.
"And I suppose I may say the same of my one pound one? You are the most, expensive companion that ever lived, Sam"
"I never knew a fellow who cared so much about money. What's the use of your wealth to you, if you don't enjoy it?"
"Now then, you have saddled yourself with a doctor—I'm not going to pay him any more."
"How 'saddled?' Can't I say his one dose cured me, and I feel as well as ever I did in my life?"
Blink thought it a very great compliment, that an officer, who had two doctors in his regiment, ready to give advice gratis, should come to consult him in a case of difficulty. He looked upon this as a good sign; and in order that it might be made the most of, Blink paid a round of visits, and incidentally introduced the circumstance to every one whom he saw. Amongst other friends, on whom Blink called, were the Newshams. He did not see the ladies, but he mentioned Freeport's name to Newsham, and the dreadful state of health—in short, precarious condition in which he then was. Newsham was astounded, as well he might be. The inquiries made, and the replies given, placed it beyond all doubt that Sam was Blink's Freeport, even if there were another in the regiment of that name.
When Mrs. Newsham returned, her husband said, "You will be very sorry to hear that Captain Freeport is in a very precarious condition."
"What?" exclaimed Anne, loudly.
"How do you mean?" said Mrs. Newsham.
"He was here not an hour ago," said Jessie.
"And seemed very well," added Jane.
"No accident, I hope!" said Maria.
"When you have done conjecturing," said Newsham, "I'll enlighten you. But with so many people all talking at once, it is quite impossible to make oneself heard."
Newsham then narrated the particulars of his interview with Blink.
"If he is in Blink's hands," said Anne, "he certainly is in a very precarious state. What could have induced him to go to Blink?"
"Blink is not very bright," remarked Newsham.
"Bright?" said Mrs. Newsham. "No, I should think he was not?"
"I wonder," said Newsham, "if he has made a will, and arranged all his affairs?"
Anne was horrified at the idea. And she ran up stairs, and wrote to Freeport:—
