The Amateur Gentleman

"Sir," said his Lordship, after they had gone some way in silence,

"you are thoughtful, not to say, devilish grave!"

"And you," retorted Barnabas, "have sighed--three times."

"No, did I though?--why then, to be candid,--I detest saying

'Good-by!'--and I have been devoutly wishing for two pair of muffles,

for, sir, I have taken a prodigious liking to you--but--"

"But?" inquired Barnabas.

"Some time since you mentioned the names of two men--champions

both--ornaments of the 'Fancy'--great fighters of unblemished

reputation."

"You mean my--er--that is, Natty Bell and John Barty."

"Precisely!--you claim to have--boxed with them, sir?"

"Every day!" nodded Barnabas.

"With both of them,--I understand?"

"With both of them."

"Hum!"

"Sir," said Barnabas, growing suddenly polite, "do you doubt my word?"

"Well," answered his Lordship, with his whimsical look, "I'll admit

I could have taken it easier had you named only one, for surely, sir,

you must be aware that these were Masters of the Fist--the greatest

since the days of Jack Broughton and Mendoza."

"I know each had been champion--but it would almost seem that I have

entertained angels unawares!--and I boxed with both because they

happened to live together."

"Then, sir," said the Viscount, extending his hand in his frank,

impetuous manner, "you are blest of the gods. I congratulate you and,

incidentally, my desire for muffles grows apace,--you must

positively put 'em on with me at the first opportunity."

"Right willingly, sir," said Barnabas.

"But deuce take me!" exclaimed the Viscount, "if we are to become

friends, which I sincerely hope, we ought at least to know each

other's name. Mine, sir, is Bellasis, Horatio Bellasis; I was named

Horatio after Lord Nelson, consequently my friends generally call me

Tom, Dick, or Harry, for with all due respect to his Lordship,

Horatio is a very devil of a name, now isn't it? Pray what's yours?"

"Barnabas--Beverley. At your service."

"Barnabas--hum! Yours isn't much better. Egad! I think 't is about

as bad. Barnabas!--No, I'll call you Bev, on condition that you make

mine Dick; what d' ye say, my dear Bev?"

"Agreed, Dick," answered Barnabas, smiling, whereupon they stopped,

and having very solemnly shaken hands, went on again, merrier than

ever.

"Now what," inquired the Viscount, suddenly, "what do you think of

marriage, my dear Bev?"

"Marriage?" repeated Barnabas, staring.

"Marriage!" nodded his Lordship, airily, "matrimony, Bev,--wedlock,

my dear fellow?"

"I--indeed I have never had occasion to think of it."

"Fortunate fellow!" sighed his companion.

"Until--this morning!" added Barnabas, as his fingers encountered a

small, soft, lacy bundle in his pocket.

"Un-fortunate fellow!" sighed the Viscount, shaking his head.

"So you are haunted by the grim spectre, are you? Well, that should

be an added bond between us. Not that I quarrel with matrimony, mark

you, Bev; in the abstract it is a very excellent institution,

though--mark me again!--when a man begins to think of marriage it is

generally the beginning of the end. Ah, my dear fellow! many a

bright and promising career has been blighted--sapped--snapped

off--and--er--ruthlessly devoured by the ravenous maw of marriage.

There was young Egerton with a natural gift for boxing, and one of

the best whips I ever knew--we raced our coaches to Brighton and

back for a thousand a side and he beat me by six yards--a splendid

all round sportsman--ruined by matrimony! He's buried somewhere in

the country and passing his days in the humdrum pursuit of being

husband and father. Oh, bruise and blister me! it's all very pitiful,

and yet"--here the Viscount sighed again--"I do not quarrel with

the state, for marriage has often proved a--er--very present help in

the time of trouble, Bev."