ordered their servants to beat him with sticks, to change
the course of his ideas. Others "hit the lion"--that is, they gaily
stopped a passenger, broke his nose with a blow of the fist, and then
shoved both thumbs into his eyes. If his eyes were gouged out, he was
paid for them.

Such were, towards the beginning of the eighteenth century, the pastimes
of the rich idlers of London. The idlers of Paris had theirs. M. de
Charolais was firing his gun at a citizen standing on his own threshold.
In all times youth has had its amusements.

Lord David Dirry-Moir brought into all these institutions his
magnificent and liberal spirit. Just like any one else, he would gaily
set fire to a cot of woodwork and thatch, and just scorch those within;
but he would rebuild their houses in stone. He insulted two ladies. One
was unmarried--he gave her a portion; the other was married--he had her
husband appointed chaplain.

Cockfighting owed him some praiseworthy improvements. It was marvellous
to see Lord David dress a cock for the pit. Cocks lay hold of each other
by the feathers, as men by the hair. Lord David, therefore, made his
cock as bald as possible. With a pair of scissors he cut off all the
feathers from the tail and from the head to the shoulders, and all those
on the neck. So much less for the enemy's beak, he used to say. Then he
extended the cock's wings, and cut each feather, one after another, to a
point, and thus the wings were furnished with darts. So much for the
enemy's eyes, he would say. Then he scraped its claws with a penknife,
sharpened its nails, fitted it with spurs of sharp steel, spat on its
head, spat on its neck, anointed it with spittle, as they used to rub
oil over athletes; then set it down in the pit, a redoubtable champion,
exclaiming, "That's how to make a cock an eagle, and a bird of the
poultry yard a bird of the mountain."

Lord David attended prize-fights, and was their living law. On occasions
of great performances it was he who had the stakes driven in and ropes
stretched, and who fixed the number of feet for the ring. When he was a
second, he followed his man step by step, a bottle in one hand, a sponge
in the other, crying out to him to _hit hard_, suggesting stratagems,
advising him as he fought, wiping away the blood, raising him when
overthrown, placing him on his knee, putting the mouth of the bottle
between his teeth, and from his own mouth, filled with water, blowing a
fine rain into