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ON HIS WAY THROUGH THE WORLD 631
"A fellow who does not ask his lawyer to dinner!" remarks
one of the company ; perhaps the reader's very humble servant.
"But what an imprudent lawyer he has chosen—a lawyer who
speaks his mind."
" I have spoken my mind to his betters, and be hanged to him !
Do you think I am going to be afraid of him ? " bawls the irascible
solicitor.
" Contempsi Catilinœ gladios—do you remember the old quotation
at school, Philip?" And here there was a break in our
conversation, for, chancing to look at friend J. J.'s sketch-book, we
saw that he had made a wonderful little drawing, representing
Woolcomb and Woolcomb's wife, grooms, phaeton, and chestnut
mares, as they were to be seen any afternoon in Hyde Park, during
the London season. •
Admirable ! Capital ! Everybody at once knew the likeness
of the dusky charioteer. Iracundus himself smiled and sniggered
over it. " Unless you behave yourself, Mr. Bradgate, Ridley will
make a picture of you" says Philip. Bradgate made a comical face,
and retreated into his box, of which he pretended to draw the curtain.
But the sociable little man did not long remain in his retirement ;
he emerged from it in a short time, his wine decanter in his hand,
and joined our little party ; and then we fell to talking of old times ;
and we all remembered a famous drawing by H. B. of the late Earl
of Ringwood, in the old-fashioned swallow-tailed coat and tight
trousers, on the old-fashioned horse, with the old-fashioned groom
behind him, as he used to be seen pounding along Rotten Row.
" I speak my mind, do I ?" says Mr. Bradgate, presently. " I
know somebody who spoke his mind to that old man, and who
would have been better off if he had held his tongue."
"Come, tell me, Bradgate," cried Philip. "It is all over and
past now. Had Lord Ringwood left me something? I declare I
thought at one time that he intended to do so."
" Nay, has not your friend here been rebuking me for speaking
my mind? I am going to be as mum as a mouse. Let us talk
about the election." And the provoking lawyer would say no more
on a subject possessing a dismal interest for poor Phil.
" I have no more right to repine," said that philosopher, " than
a man would have who drew number x in the lottery, when the
winning ticket was number y. Let us talk, as you say, about the
election. Who is to oppose Mr. Woolcomb ?"
Mr. Bradgate believed a neighbouring squire, Mr. Hornblow, was
to be the candidate put forward against the Ringwood nominee.
"Hornblow ! what, Hornblow of Grey Friars?" cries Philip.
" A better fellow never lived. In this case he shall have our vote