a monk's shaven crown. Notwithstanding this tendency to baldness, Jack
could not be more than thirty, though his looks were some five years in
advance. His face was one of those inexplicable countenances, which
appear to be proper to a peculiar class of men--a regular Newmarket
physiognomy--compounded chiefly of cunning and assurance; not low
cunning, nor vulgar assurance, but crafty sporting subtlety, careless as
to results, indifferent to obstacles, ever on the alert for the main
chance, game and turf all over, eager, yet easy, keen, yet quiet. He was
somewhat showily dressed, in such wise that he looked half like a fine
gentleman of that day, half like a jockey of our own. His nether man
appeared in well-fitting, well-worn buckskins, and boots with tops, not
unconscious of the saddle; while the airy extravagance of his
broad-skirted, sky-blue riding coat, the richness of his vest--the
pockets of which were beautifully exuberant, according to the mode of
1737--the smart luxuriance of his cravat, and a certain curious taste in
the size and style of his buttons, proclaimed that, in his own esteem at
least, his person did not appear altogether unworthy of decoration; nor,
in justice to Jack, can we allow that he was in error. He was a model
of a man for five feet ten; square, compact, capitally built in every
particular, excepting that his legs were slightly imbowed, which defect
probably arose from his being almost constantly on horseback; a sort of
exercise in which Jack greatly delighted, and was accounted a superb
rider. It was, indeed, his daring horsemanship, upon one particular
occasion, when he had outstripped a whole field, that had procured him
the honor of an invitation to Rookwood. Who he was, or whence he came,
was a question not easily answered--Jack, himself, evading all solution
to the inquiry. Sir Piers never troubled his head about the matter: he
was a "deuced good fellow--rode well, and stood on no sort of ceremony;"
that was enough for him. Nobody else knew anything about him, save that
he was a capital judge of horseflesh, kept a famous black mare, and
attended every hunt in the West Riding--that he could sing a good song,
was a choice companion, and could drink three bottles without feeling
the worse for them.

Sensible of the indecorum that might attach to his appearance, Dr. Small
had hastily laid down his pipe, and arranged his wig. But when he saw
who was the intruder, with a grunt of defiance he