My Uncle, who had gone to sleep over his paper and was still in the land of dreams, astonished us all by saying: "No more, thanks; not a drop more. Excellent claret, but no more, thank you." However, the roar of laughter thoroughly awoke him, and he proceeded to tell us off to our respective mounts. Of course it fell to my lot to ride the "new horse." Ventnor had brought his nags with him. Jack and his sister were to ride The Drake and Topthorn, two of the best hunters in the country, while Grace had her own mare Kitty, Uncle John reserving to himself his favourite animal Corkscrew, so called from his ability to bore through any bullfinch in the world. Having arranged these matters, candles were lighted and we all retired--the ladies to bed and the men to the land of tobacco and long tumblers. "Are you nearly ready, Ned? It's a a lovely day," said Jack, as he rushed into my room on the following morning to borrow a razor (Jack had a way of borrowing razors, and a most inconvenient habit of forgetting to return them). "Tell you what it is, if I were you I should take plenty of sticking-plaster in my pocket, and, if you have any, a bandage or two, for James (the footman) has been gratifying me with an account of your mount for to-day. He says no one can ride the beast if it takes it into its head to be obstinate, and that it has nearly reduced one of the helpers to a wafer by going down with him at exercise and rolling over with him." "Well," I replied, "you are a nice sort of Job's comforter. Here, drop it," as Jack seized my razor. "Do, for goodness' sake, go and get one of Ventnor's." But he turned a deaf ear, and, making good his retreat, left me to struggle into my boots, and reflect on the pleasures of the chase before me. When I arrived downstairs I found everyone assembled at breakfast in full hunting fig, and Uncle John sticking up for his new purchase, utterly refusing to believe Jack's history of the brute's manners. "Ah Ned," said he, as I entered the room, "they are all trying to put me out of conceit with my nag, but you will show them a different story; even if he is a little awkward--which, mind you, boy, I don't believe--he will find his master to-day, eh?" "Ladies and gentlemen," said the incorrigible Jack, rising, "I venture to propose a toast, with which I am sure you will all agree--ahem! The toast is that of my esteemed friend Mr. Edward Milford, who is about to be created Master of the Rolls." Shouts of laughter greeted this sally from all except Grace, who remarked: "I think it is a great shame to chaff my cousin, and if there is any accident you will all be sorry." I thanked the dear girl by a look, and turned my attention to pigeon-pie, ignoring Ventnor's question as to "Whether I did not feel too nervous to eat?"