He
edified us greatly, on one occasion, by meeting his justly offended
father with a stern politeness, declining to hold any communication with
him by word or letter till he (the sire) "could express himself in a
more Christian spirit."
Then there was Barlowe, the pearl of gentlemen riders, the very apple of
Charles Symond's eye; unspoiled by a hundred triumphs, and never
degenerating into the professional, though I believe his idea of earthly
felicity was,
A match for L50, 10 st. 7 lb. each. Owners up. Over 4 miles of a fair
hunting country.
I see him, too, with his pleasant face, round, rosy, and beardless as a
child-cherub of Rubens, tempting pale men with splitting heads to throw
boots at him in the bitterness of their envy as he entered their rooms
on the morning after a heavy drink, his eyes so clear and guileless that
you would never guess how sharp they could be at times when a dangerous
horse was coming up on his quarter. A strange compound his character was
of cool calculation and sentimental simplicity. The most astute of
trainers never got the better of him in making a match; and I am sure,
to this day, he believes in ----'s poetry, and in the immutability of
feminine affection.
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