properly kept up. Then he sat down, and Mr. Jawstock rose to his
legs.

Mr. Jawstock was a gentleman well known in the Runnymede country,
who had himself been instrumental in bringing Major Tifto into these
parts. There is often someone in a hunting country who never becomes
a Master of hounds himself, but who has almost as much to say about
the business as the Master himself. Sometimes at hunt meetings he is
rather unpopular, as he is always inclined to talk. But there are
occasions on which his services are felt to be valuable,--as were Mr.
Jawstock's at present. He was about forty-five years of age, was not
much given to riding, owned no coverts himself, and was not a man of
wealth; but he understood the nature of hunting, knew all its laws,
and was a judge of horses, of hounds,--and of men; and could say a
thing when he had to say it.

Mr. Jawstock sat on the right hand of Mr. Topps, and a place was left
for the Master opposite. The task to be performed was neither easy
nor pleasant. It was necessary that the orator should accuse the
gentleman opposite to him,--a man with whom he himself had been very
intimate,--of iniquity so gross and so mean, that nothing worse can
be conceived. "You are a swindler, a cheat, a rascal of the very
deepest dye;--a rogue so mean that it is revolting to be in the same
room with you!" That was what Mr. Jawstock had to say. And he said
it. Looking round the room, occasionally appealing to Mr. Topps,
who on these occasions would lift up his hands in horror, but never
letting his eye fall for a moment on the Major, Mr. Jawstock told his
story. "I did not see it done," said he. "I know nothing about it. I
never was at Doncaster in my life. But you have evidence of what the
Jockey Club thinks. The Master of our Hunt has been banished from
racecourses." Here there was considerable opposition, and a few short
but excited little dialogues were maintained;--throughout all which
Tifto restrained himself like a Spartan. "At any rate he has been
thoroughly disgraced," continued Mr. Jawstock, "as a sporting man. He
has been driven out of the Beargarden Club." "He resigned in disgust
at their treatment," said a friend of the Major's. "Then let him
resign in disgust at ours," said Mr. Jawstock, "for we won't have him
here. Caesar wouldn't keep a wife who was suspected of infidelity, nor
will the Runnymede country endure a Master of Hounds who is supposed
to have driven a nail into a horse's foot."