"No, thank you," said Barnabas, laying aside hat and cane.
"No, sir? Very good, sir! Certainly not, sir! A cut o' b'iled beef
might suit, p'raps,--with carrots? or shall we say--"
"Neither, thank you, but you can bring me a bottle of Burgundy and
the Gazette."
"Burgundy, sir--Gazette? Certainly, sir--"
"And--I'm expecting a gentleman here of the name of Smivvle--"
"Certainly, sir! Burgundy, Gazette, Gent name of Sniffle, yessir!
Hanythink else, sir?"
"Yes, I should like pens and ink and paper."
"Yessir--himmediately, sir." Hereupon, and with many and divers bows
and flicks of the napkin, the waiter proceeded to set out the
articles in question, which done, he flicked himself out of the room.
But he was back again almost immediately, and had uncorked the
bottle and filled the glass with a flourish, a dexterity, a
promptness, accorded only to garments of the very best and most
ultra-fashionable cut. Then, with a bow that took in bestarched
cravat, betasselled Hessians, and all garments between, the waiter
fluttered away. So, in a while, Barnabas took pen and paper, and
began the following letter: * * * * * MY DEAR FATHER AND NATTY BELL,--Since writing
my last letter to you, I have bought a house near St.
James's, and set up an establishment second to none. I
will confess that I find myself like to be overawed by my
retinue of servants, and their grave and decorous politeness;
I also admit that dinner is an ordeal of courses,--
each of which, I find, requires a different method of attack;
for indeed, in the Polite World, it seems that eating is
cherished as one of its most important functions, hence,
dining is an art whereof the proper manipulation of the
necessary tools is an exact science. However, by treating
my servants with a dignified disregard, and by dint of
using my eyes while at table, I have committed no great
solecism so far, I trust, and am rapidly gaining in knowledge
and confidence.
I am happy to tell you that I have the good fortune
to be entered for the Gentlemen's Steeplechase, a most
exclusive affair, which is to be brought off at Eltham on
the fifteenth of next month. From all accounts it will
be a punishing Race, with plenty of rough going,--
plough, fallow, hedge and ditch, walls, stake-fences and
water. The walls and water-jump are, I hear, the worst.
Now, although I shall be riding against some of the
best horsemen in England, still I venture to think I
can win, and this for three reasons. First, because I intend
to try to the uttermost--with hand and heel and head.
Secondly, because I have bought a horse--such a horse
as I have only dreamed of ever possessing,--all fire and
courage, with a long powerful action--Oh, Natty Bell,
if you could but see him! Rising six, he is, with tushes
well through,--even your keen eye could find no flaw in
him, though he is, perhaps, a shade long in the cannon.
And, thirdly, I am hopeful to win because I was taught
horse-craft by that best, wisest of riders, Natty Bell.
Very often, I remember, you have told me, Natty Bell,
that races are won more by judgment of the rider than by
the speed of the horse, nor shall I forget this. Thus
then, sure of my horse, sure of myself, and that kind
Destiny which has brought me successfully thus far, I
shall ride light-hearted and confident.