CHAPTER I.

Carew of Crompton.

Had you lived in Breakneckshire twenty years ago, or even any where in the Midlands, it would be superfluous to tell you of Carew of Crompton.  Every body thereabout was acquainted with him either personally or by hearsay.  You must almost certainly have known somebody who had had an adventure with that eccentric personage—­one who had been ridden down by him, for that mighty hunter never turned to the right hand nor to the left for any man, nor paid attention to any rule of road; or one who, more fortunate, had been “cleared” by him on his famous black horse Trebizond, an animal only second to his master in the popular esteem.  There are as many highly colored pictures of his performance of this flying feat in existence as there are of “Dick Turpin clearing the Turnpikegate.”  Sometimes it is a small tradesman cowering down in his cart among the calves, while the gallant Squire hurtles over him with a “Stoop your head, butcher.”  Sometimes it is a wagoner, reminding one of Commodore Trunnion’s involuntary deed of “derring-do,” who, between two high banks, perceives with marked astonishment this portent flying over himself and convoy.  But, at all events, the thing was done; perhaps on more than one occasion, and was allowed on all hands not only as a fact, but as characteristic of their sporting idol.  It was “Carew all over,” or “Just like Carew.”

This phrase was also applied to many other heroic actions.  The idea of “keel-hauling,” for instance, adapted from the nautical code, was said to be practically enforced in the case of duns, attorneys, and other objectionable persons, in the lake at Crompton; while the administration of pommelings to poachers and agriculturists generally, by the athletic Squire, was the theme of every tongue.  These punishments, though severe, were much sought after by a certain class, the same to which the purchased free and independent voter belongs, for the clenched fist invariably became an open hand after it had done its work—­a golden ointment, that is, was always applied after these inflictions, such as healed all wounds.

Carew of Crompton might at one time have been member for the county, if he had pleased; but he desired no seat except in the saddle, or on the driving-box.  He showed such skill in riding, and with “the ribbons,” that some persons supposed that his talents must be very considerable in other matters, and affected to regret their misuse; there were reports that he knew Latin better than his own chaplain; and was, or had been, so diligent a student of Holy Writ, that he could give you chapter and verse for every thing.  But it must be allowed that others were not wanting to whisper that these traits of scholarship were greatly exaggerated, and that all the wonder lay in the fact that the Squire knew any thing of such matters at all; nay, a few even ventured to express