to time in a proud and
coarse manner, and occasionally thundered out some question, the tone
of which alarmed Barnaby so much that he could find no answer, and, as
a matter of course, could make him no reply. On one of these occasions,
when the gentleman appeared disposed to exercise his horsewhip, the
widow ventured to inform him in a low voice and with tears in her eyes,
that her son was of weak mind.

'An idiot, eh?' said the gentleman, looking at Barnaby as he spoke. 'And
how long hast thou been an idiot?'

'She knows,' was Barnaby's timid answer, pointing to his
mother--'I--always, I believe.'

'From his birth,' said the widow.

'I don't believe it,' cried the gentleman, 'not a bit of it. It's an
excuse not to work. There's nothing like flogging to cure that disorder.
I'd make a difference in him in ten minutes, I'll be bound.'

'Heaven has made none in more than twice ten years, sir,' said the widow
mildly.

'Then why don't you shut him up? we pay enough for county institutions,
damn 'em. But thou'd rather drag him about to excite charity--of course.
Ay, I know thee.'

Now, this gentleman had various endearing appellations among his
intimate friends. By some he was called 'a country gentleman of the true
school,' by some 'a fine old country gentleman,' by some 'a sporting
gentleman,' by some 'a thorough-bred Englishman,' by some 'a genuine
John Bull;' but they all agreed in one respect, and that was, that it
was a pity there were not more like him, and that because there were
not, the country was going to rack and ruin every day. He was in the
commission of the peace, and could write his name almost legibly; but
his greatest qualifications were, that he was more severe with poachers,
was a better shot, a harder rider, had better horses, kept better dogs,
could eat more solid food, drink more strong wine, go to bed every night
more drunk and get up every morning more sober, than any man in the
county. In knowledge of horseflesh he was almost equal to a farrier, in
stable learning he surpassed his own head groom, and in gluttony not
a pig on his estate was a match for him. He had no seat in Parliament
himself, but he was extremely patriotic, and usually drove his voters
up to the poll with his own hands. He was warmly attached to church
and state, and never appointed to the living in his gift any but a
three-bottle man and a first-rate fox-hunter. He mistrusted the honesty
of all poor people who could read