This worthy old lady took a fancy to Rawdon Crawley when a boy, sent

him to Cambridge (in opposition to his brother at Oxford), and, when

the young man was requested by the authorities of the first-named

University to quit after a residence of two years, she bought him his

commission in the Life Guards Green.

A perfect and celebrated "blood," or dandy about town, was this young

officer. Boxing, rat-hunting, the fives court, and four-in-hand

driving were then the fashion of our British aristocracy; and he was an

adept in all these noble sciences. And though he belonged to the

household troops, who, as it was their duty to rally round the Prince

Regent, had not shown their valour in foreign service yet, Rawdon

Crawley had already (apropos of play, of which he was immoderately

fond) fought three bloody duels, in which he gave ample proofs of his

contempt for death.

"And for what follows after death," would Mr. Crawley observe, throwing

his gooseberry-coloured eyes up to the ceiling. He was always thinking

of his brother's soul, or of the souls of those who differed with him

in opinion: it is a sort of comfort which many of the serious give

themselves.

Silly, romantic Miss Crawley, far from being horrified at the courage

of her favourite, always used to pay his debts after his duels; and

would not listen to a word that was whispered against his morality.

"He will sow his wild oats," she would say, "and is worth far more than

that puling hypocrite of a brother of his."




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