UNDER TWO FLAGS.



CHAPTER I.

"BEAUTY OF THE BRIGADES."

"I don't say but what he's difficult to please with his Tops," said Mr.
Rake, factotum to the Hon. Bertie Cecil, of the 1st Life Guards, with
that article of hunting toggery suspended in his right hand as
he paused, before going upstairs, to deliver his opinions with
characteristic weight and vivacity to the stud-groom, "he is uncommon
particular about 'em; and if his leathers aint as white as snow he'll
never touch 'em, tho' as soon as the pack come nigh him at Royallieu,
the leathers might just as well never have been cleaned, them hounds
jump about him so; old Champion's at his saddle before you can say
Davy Jones. Tops are trials, I aint denying that, specially when you've
jacks, and moccasins, and moor boots, and Russia-leather crickets, and
turf backs, and Hythe boots, and waterproofs, and all manner of varnish
things for dress, that none of the boys will do right unless you look
after 'em yourself. But is it likely that he should know what a worry a
Top's complexion is, and how hard it is to come right with all the Fast
Brown polishing in the world? How should he guess what a piece of work
it is to get 'em all of a color, and how like they are to come mottled,
and how a'most sure they'll ten to one go off dark just as they're
growing yellow, and put you to shame, let you do what you will to make
'em cut a shine over the country? How should he know? I don't complain
of that; bless you, he never thinks. It's 'do this, Rake,' 'do that';
and he never remembers 'tisn't done by magic. But he's a true gentleman,