Mr. Dale arrived without further adventure at Lansmere. He put up at the
principal inn, refreshed himself by a general ablution, and sat down with
good appetite to his beefsteak and pint of port.

The parson was a better judge of the physiognomy of man than that of the
horse; and after a satisfactory glance at the civil smirking landlord,
who removed the cover and set on the wine, he ventured on an attempt at
conversation. "Is my Lord at the Park?"

LANDLORD (still more civilly than before).--"No, sir, his Lordship and my
Lady have gone to town to meet Lord L'Estrange!"

"Lord L'Estrange! He is in England, then?"

"Why, so I heard," replied the landlord, "but we never see him here now.
I remember him a very pretty young man. Every one was fond of him and
proud of him. But what pranks be did play when he was a lad! We hoped
he would come in for our boro' some of these days, but he has taken to
foren parts,--more 's the pity. I am a reg'lar Blue, sir, as I ought to
be. The Blue candidate always does me the honour to come to the Lansmere
Arms. 'T is only the low party puts up with the Boar," added the
landlord, with a look of ineffable disgust. "I hope you like the wine,
sir?"

"Very good, and seems old."

"Bottled these eighteen years, sir. I had in the cask for the great
election of Dashmore and Egerton. I have little left of it, and I never
give it but to old friends like,--for, I think, Sir, though you be grown