He has two great objects in life, in both of which unfortunately he appears bound to be frustrated. The first is to be what is known as "a popular sportsman," and the second to be considered somebody of importance. With regard to number one--beyond having made a gorse and keeping the most expensive cattle, which, needless to say, he cannot ride himself--his ideas are limited; while, in the second instance, he has a deadly rival, before whom he sinks into insignificance, and whose word he has learnt to look on as law. This individual is neither more nor less than his Head-keeper, "Mr. James," who (in his own estimation) combines all the virtues under the sun, and speaks in the most grandiloquent way of "our shooting," "our woods," "our coverts," "our foxes," "our parties," and "our" Heaven knows what. Mr. James will inform you that he is a most ardent fox-hunter, that it is "our pride always to have foxes for Sir John. In fact, I told Mr. Betteridge that it must be when we first agreed on the shooting," etc. Yet, strange to say, there is a scarcity of the commodity in the Medemere Woods that does not tally with these high-sounding assertions. Certainly the gorse generally contains one or two, but that is quite on the outsides, and near nothing in the pheasant interest. Betteridge himself would pay anything, do anything (except adopt the only proper method), to have foxes, and has many a time and oft remonstrated with "Mr. James" on the subject. But he is invariably snubbed and subdued by this mighty potentate, and made to wish he had not spoken. It is unfortunate that "Mr. James" should have lived, before he condescended to "assist" Mr. Betteridge, with the Earl of Upcroft, for the "Hearl" is his great rallying-point; and whenever there is anything that his present employer does not quite like, and ventures to suggest alterations upon, it is always: "When I lived with the 'Hearl' we never did in no way different to what we are a-doing now, and the 'Hearl,' he used to say as how, thanks to me--'I puts it all down to you, James,' was his very words--'heverything works just like clockwork.' Of course if so be as you wants it different, why it can be done, but depend hon it the 'Hearl' knowed what was what." After this "Cottonopolis" has nothing to say, and James and the "Hearl" carry it. Give him his due as a Keeper, he is excellent; for getting up a head of game his equal is not to be found, nor can his method of beating the covers or showing his birds be surpassed. But in his heart, notwithstanding his outward professions, he is a vulpecide, and his satellites are too well trained and hold him in too much awe to say anything. Sir John Lappington distrusts him; indeed, he has gone so far as to speak to Betteridge on the subject, and old Tom is perfectly convinced on the point; but James and his "Hearl" have hitherto been more than they can manage.