elder, not a better, man than the rest--a handsome,
saturnine man--who had just left Oxford, and was already known on the
turf.

"Anything you please," said Arthur, making his horse curvet.

Oh, Mr. Robert Beaufort! Mr. Robert Beaufort! could your prudent,
scheming, worldly heart but feel what devil's tricks your wealth was
playing with a son who if poor had been the pride of the Beauforts!
On one side of our pieces of old we see the saint trampling down the
dragon. False emblem! Reverse it on the coin! In the real use of the
gold, it is the dragon who tramples down the saint! But on--on! the day
is bright and your companions merry; make the best of your green years,
Arthur Beaufort!

The young men had just entered the suburb of H---, and were spurring
on four abreast at a canter. At that time an old man, feeling his
way before him with a stick,--for though not quite blind, he saw
imperfectly,--was crossing the road. Arthur and his friends, in loud
converse, did not observe the poor passenger. He stopped abruptly,
for his ear caught the sound of danger--it was too late: Mr. Marsden's
horse, hard-mouthed, and high-stepping, came full against him. Mr.
Marsden looked down:

"Hang these old men! always in the way," said he, plaintively, and in
the tone of a much-injured person, and, with that, Mr. Marsden rode on.
But the others, who were younger--who were not gamblers--who were not
yet grinded down into stone by the world's wheels--the others halted.
Arthur Beaufort leaped from his horse, and the old man was already
in his arms; but he was severely hurt. The blood trickled from his
forehead; he complained of pains in his side and limbs.

"Lean on me, my poor fellow! Do you live far off? I will take you home."

"Not many yards. This would not have happened if I had had my dog. Never
mind, sir, go your way. It is only an old man--what of that? I wish I
had my dog."

"I will join you," said Arthur to his friends; "my groom has the
direction. I will just take the poor old man home, and send for a
surgeon. I shall not be long."

"So like you, Beaufort: the best fellow in the world!" said Mr. Watson,
with some emotion. "And there's Marsden positively, dismounted,
and looking at his horse's knees as if they could be hurt! Here's a
sovereign for you, my man."

"And here's another," said Sir Harry; "so that's settled. Well, you will
join us, Beaufort? You see the yard yonder. We'll wait twenty minutes
for you. Come on,