“You shall hear,” said the jockey; “but I have one thing to beg of you, which is, that when I have once begun my history you will not interrupt me with questions, I don’t like them, they stops one, and puts one out of one’s tale, and are not wanted; for anything which I think can’t be understood, I should myself explain, without being asked.  My grandfather reduced or shortened the coin of this country by three processes.  By aquafortis, by clipping, and by filing.  Filing and clipping he employed in reducing all sorts of coin, whether gold or silver; but aquafortis he used merely in reducing gold coin, whether guineas, jacobuses, or Portugal pieces, otherwise called moidores, which were at one time as current as guineas.  By laying a guinea in aquafortis for twelve hours, he could filch from it to the value of ninepence, and by letting it remain there for twenty-four to the value of eighteenpence, the aquafortis eating the gold away, and leaving it like a sediment in the vessel.  He was generally satisfied with taking the value of ninepence from a guinea, of eighteenpence from a jacobus or moidore, or half-a-crown from a broad Spanish piece, whether he reduced them by aquafortis, filing, or clipping.  From a five-shilling piece, which is called a bull in Latin because it is round like a bull’s head, he would file or clip to the value of fivepence, and from lesser coin in proportion.  He was connected with a numerous gang, or set, of people, who had given up their minds and talents entirely to shortening.”

Here I interrupted the jockey.  “How singular,” said I, “is the fall and debasement of words; you talk of a gang, or set, of shorters; you are, perhaps, not aware that gang and set were, a thousand years ago, only connected with the great and Divine; they are ancient Norse words, which may be found in the heroic poems of the north, and in the Edda, a collection of mythologic and heroic songs.  In these poems we read that such and such a king invaded Norway with a gang of heroes; or so and so, for example, Erik Bloodaxe, was admitted to the set of gods; but at present gang and set are merely applied to the vilest of the vile, and the lowest of the low,—­we say a gang of thieves and shorters, or a set of authors.  How touching is this debasement of words in the course of time; it puts me in mind of the decay of old houses and names.  I have known a Mortimer who was a hedger and ditcher, a Berners who was born in a workhouse, and a descendant of the De Burghs, who bore the falcon, mending old kettles, and making horse and pony shoes in a dingle.”

“Odd enough,” said the jockey; “but you were saying you knew one Berners—­man or woman?  I would ask.”

“A woman,” said I.

“What might her Christian name be?” said the jockey.

“It is not to be mentioned lightly,” said I, with a sigh.

“I shouldn’t wonder if it were Isopel,” said the jockey with an arch glance of his one brilliant eye.