would step into the breakfast-room. Tom followed this portly
personage through the large handsome hall, on the walls of which
hung a buff-coat or two and some old-fashioned arms, and large
paintings of dead game and fruit--through a drawing room, the
furniture of which was all covered up in melancholy cases--into
the breakfast parlor, where the owner of the mansion was seated
at table in a lounging jacket. He was a man of forty or
thereabouts, who would have been handsome, but for the animal
look about his face. His cheeks were beginning to fall into
chaps, his full lips had a liquorish look about them, and bags
were beginning to form under his light blue eyes. His hands were
very white and delicate, and shook a little as he poured out his
tea; and he was full and stout in body, with small shoulders, and
thin arms and legs; in short, the last man whom Tom would have
chosen as bow in a pair oar. The only part of him which showed
strength were his dark whiskers, which were abundant, and
elaborately oiled and curled. The room was light and pleasant,
with two windows looking over the park, and furnished
luxuriously, in the most modern style, with all manner of easy
chairs and sofas. A glazed case or two of well bound books,
showed that some former owner had cared for such things; but the
doors had, probably, never been opened in the present reign. The
master and his usual visitors found sufficient food for the mind
in the _Racing Calendar_, "Boxiana," "The Adventures of
Corinthian Tom," and _Bell's Life_, which lay on a side table; or
in the pictures and prints of racers, opera dancers, and
steeple-chases, which hung in profusion on the walls. The
breakfast table was beautifully appointed in the matter of china
and plate; and delicate little rolls, neat pats of butter in ice,
two silver hot dishes containing curry and broiled salmon, and a
plate of fruit, piled in tempting profusion, appealed, apparently
in vain, to the appetite of the lord of the feast.

"Mr. Brown, sir," said the butler, ushering in our hero to his
master's presence.

"Ah, Brown, I'm very glad to see you here," said Mr. Wurley,
standing up and holding out his hand. "Have any breakfast?"

"Thank you, no, I have breakfasted," said Tom, somewhat
astonished at the intimacy of the greeting; but it was his cue to
do the friendly thing,--so he took the proffered hand, which felt
very limp, and sat down by the table, looking pleasant.

"Ridden from home t