if some evil influence were over the
place. The best-tempered have become cross; the good-natured have grown
uncharitable; and even the shrewd fellows that at least know life and
manners have actually exhibited themselves as totally deficient in the
commonest elements of judgment. Just think of Rutledge,--who, if not a
very clever fellow, should, at all events, have picked up some share of
luck by his position,--just fancy what he has done: he has actually had
the folly--I might well give it a worse name--to go to Curtis and ask
him to make some kind of apology to the Duke for his rude refusal of
leave to shoot over his estate,--a piece of impertinence that Curtis
has never ceased to glory in and boast of; a refusal that the old fellow
has, so to say, lived on ever since,--to ask him to retract and excuse
it! I have no exact knowledge of what passed between them,--indeed, I
only know what his Grace himself told me,--but Curtis's manner must have
been little short of outrage; and the only answer Rutledge could obtain
from him was: 'Did your master send you with this message to me?'--a
question, I fancy, the other was not disposed to answer. The upshot,
however, was, that as the Duke was taking his walk this morning, after
breakfast, he suddenly came upon Curtis, who was evidently waiting for
him. If the Duke did not give me very exact details of the interview, I
am left to conjecture from his manner that it must have been one of no
common kind. 'Your friend,' said his Grace, 'was pleased to tell me what
he called some home truths; he took a rapid survey of the acts of the
Government, accompanying it with a commentary as little flattering
as may be; he called us all by very hard names, and did not spare our
private characters. In fact, as he himself assured me, fearing so good
an opportunity might not readily present itself of telling me a piece
of his mind, he left very little unsaid on any topic that he could
think of, concluding with a most meaning intimation that although he had
refused me the shooting of his woodcocks, he would be charmed to afford
me the opportunity of another kind of sport,--I suppose he meant a
better mark for me to aim at; and so he left me.' Though nothing could
possibly be in better taste or temper than the Duke's recital of the
scene, it was easy to see that he was sorely pained and offended by it.
Indeed, he wound up by regretting that a very urgent necessity would
recall him at once to town, a