age, free from the ambition, the avarice, and the anxieties that fret Londoners into thread-papers; his smallclothes of greyish drab, loose at the thigh and tight at the knee, were made by Brummell’s own breeches-maker, and the gaiters to match (thrust half-way down the calf) had a manly dandyism that would have done honour to the beau-ideal of a county member. The profession of this gentleman’s companion was unmistakable—the shovel-hat, the clerical cut of the coat, the neckcloth without collar, that seemed made for its accessory—the band, and something very decorous, yet very mild, in the whole mien of this personage, all spoke of one who was every inch the gentleman and the parson. “No,” said the portlier of these two persons—“no, I can’t say I like Frank’s looks at all. There’s certainly something on his mind. However, I suppose it will be all out this evening.” “He dines with you at your hotel, Squire? Well, you must be kind to him. We can’t put old heads upon young shoulders.” “I don’t object to his head being young,” returned the Squire; “but I wish he had a little of Randal Leslie’s good sense in it. I see how it will end: I must take him back into the country; and if he wants occupation, why, he shall keep the hounds, and I’ll put him into Brooksby farm.” “As for the hounds,” replied the Parson, “hounds necessitate horses; and I think more mischief comes to a young man of spirit, from the stables, than from any other place in the world. They ought to be exposed from the pulpit, those stables!” added Mr Dale thoughtfully; “see what they entailed upon Nimrod! But agriculture is a healthful and noble pursuit, honoured by sacred nations, and cherished by the greatest men in classical times. For instance, the Athenians were—” “Bother the Athenians!” cried the Squire irreverently; “you need not go so far back for an example. It is enough for a Hazeldean that his father and his grandfather and his great-grandfather all farmed before him; and a devilish deal better, I take it, than any of those musty old Athenians—no offence to them. But I’ll tell you one thing, Parson—a man, to farm well, and live in the country, should have a wife; it is half the battle.” “As to a battle, a man who is married is pretty sure of half, though not always the better half, of it,” answered the Parson, who seemed peculiarly facetious that day. “Ah, Squire, I wish I could think Mrs Hazeldean right in her conjecture!—you would have the prettiest daughter-in-law in the three kingdoms. And I think, if I could have a good talk with the young lady apart from her father, we could remove the only objection I know to the marriage. Those Popish errors—”