We were now, as it seemed, the most deplorable objects in creation:  without friends and without a gig, wet through, shelterless, amidst a crowd of drunken, loathsome outcasts of society, with only one solitary comfort between us—­a pipe, which Charley enjoyed and I loathed.  Drink is always quarrelsome or affectionate, generally the one first and the other after.  When the tears dry, oaths begin, and we soon found that the quarrelsome stage of the company had been reached.

Amidst all this excitement we had not forgotten that this little matter of the prize-fight was but an incident on our journey to Newmarket.  We knew full well that our present appearance would have found no recognition in the Mall.  But we cared nothing for the Mall, as we were not known by the fashion in the racing world; and as for the others, we should like to avoid them in any world.

You will wonder in these circumstances what we did.  We waited where we were through the whole of that wet afternoon, and then, on a couple of hacks—­how we obtained them I don’t know; I never asked Charley, and nothing of any importance turns upon them—­we arrived at our comfortable Royston quarters about eight o’clock, tired to death.

We were received with a hearty welcome by my uncle, who was much entertained with our day’s adventures.  He liked my description of the fight, especially when I told him how Brassy “drew Caunt’s claret,” and showed such other knowledge of the scientific practice that no one could possibly have learnt had he not read up carefully Bell’s Life for the current week.

I am sure my uncle thought I was one of the best of nephews, and I considered him in reality “my only uncle.”  Long, thought I, may he prove to be; and yet I never borrowed a penny from him in my life.

On the next day, fully equipped, and with all that was necessary for our distinguished position, we set out for Newmarket Heath, even now the glory of the racing world, not forgetting Goodwood, which is more or less a private business and fashionable picnic.

I shall not attempt to describe Newmarket.  No one can describe, the indescribable.  I will only say it was not the Newmarket which our later generation knows.  It was then in its crude state of original simplicity.  There were no stands save “the Duke’s,” at the top of the town, and one other, somewhat smaller and nearer to the present grand stand.  Those who could afford to do so rode on horseback about the Heath; those who could not walked if they felt disposed, or sat down on the turf—­the best enjoyment of all if you are tired.  We did all three:  we rode, walked, and sat down.  At last, after a thoroughly enjoyable outing, such as the Bar knows nothing of in these respectable times, we returned to our business quarters in the Temple.

CHAPTER VII.

AN EPISODE AT HERTFORD QUARTER SESSIONS.

Hearsay is not, as a rule, evidence in a court of justice.  There are one or two exceptions which I need not mention.  If you want, therefore, to say what Smith said, you cannot say it, but must call Smith himself, and probably he will swear he never said anything of the sort.