The American Senator | Page 3

supposed to be coeval with the house. The best Ribston pippins,--some
people say the only real Ribston pippins,--in all Rufford are to be found
here, and its Burgundy pears and walnuts are almost equally celebrated.
There are rumours also that its roses beat everything in the way of roses
for ten miles round. But in these days very few strangers are admitted
to see the Hoppet Hall roses. The pears and apples do make their way
out, and are distributed either by Mrs. Masters, the attorney's wife, or
Mr. Runciman, the innkeeper. The present occupier of the house is a
certain Mr. Reginald Morton, with whom we shall also be much

concerned in these pages, but whose introduction to the reader shall be
postponed for awhile.
The land around Dillsborough is chiefly owned by two landlords, of
whom the greatest and richest is Lord Rufford. He, however, does not
live near the town, but away at the other side of the county, and is not
much seen in these parts unless when the hounds bring him here, or
when, with two or three friends, he will sometimes stay for a few days
at the Bush Inn for the sake of shooting the coverts. He is much liked
by all sporting men, but is not otherwise very popular with the people
round Dillsborough. A landlord if he wishes to be popular should be
seen frequently. If he lives among his farmers they will swear by him,
even though he raises his rental every ten or twelve years and never
puts a new roof to a barn for them. Lord Rufford is a rich man who
thinks of nothing but sport in all its various shapes, from
pigeon-shooting at Hurlingham to the slaughter of elephants in Africa;
and though he is lenient in all his dealings, is not much thought of in
the Dillsborough side of the county, except by those who go out with
the hounds. At Rufford, where he generally has a full house for three
months in the year and spends a vast amount of money, he is more
highly considered.
The other extensive landlord is Mr. John Morton, a young man, who, in
spite of his position as squire of Bragton, owner of Bragton Park, and
landlord of the entire parishes of Bragton and Mallingham, the latter of
which comes close up to the confines of Dillsborough,--was at the time
at which our story begins, Secretary of Legation at Washington. As he
had been an absentee since he came of age, soon after which time he
inherited the property, he had been almost less liked in the
neighbourhood than the lord. Indeed, no one in Dillsborough knew
much about him, although Bragton Hall was but four miles from the
town, and the Mortons had possessed the property and lived on it for
the last three centuries. But there had been extravagance, as will
hereafter have to be told, and there had been no continuous residence at
Bragton since the death of old Reginald Morton, who had been the best
known and the best loved of all the squires in Rufford, and had for
many years been master of the Rufford hounds. He had lived to a very

great age, and, though the great-grandfather of the present man, had not
been dead above twenty years. He was the man of whom the older
inhabitants of Dillsborough and the neighbourhood still thought and
still spoke when they gave vent to their feelings in favour of gentlemen.
And yet the old squire in his latter days had been able to do little or
nothing for them,--being sometimes backward as to the payment of
money he owed among them. But he had lived all his days at Bragton
Park, and his figure had been familiar to all eyes in the High Street of
Dillsborough and at the front entrance of the Bush. People still spoke of
old Mr. Reginald Morton as though his death had been a sore loss to
the neighbourhood.
And there were in the country round sundry yeomen, as they ought to
be called,--gentlemen-farmers as they now like to style
themselves,--men who owned some acres of land, and farmed these
acres themselves. Of these we may specially mention Mr. Lawrence
Twentyman, who was quite the gentleman-farmer. He possessed over
three hundred acres of land, on which his father had built an excellent
house. The present Mr. Twentyman, Lawrence Twentyman, Esquire, as
he was called by everybody, was by no means unpopular in the
neighbourhood. He not only rode well to hounds but paid twenty-five
pounds annually to the hunt, which entitled him to feel quite at home in
his red coat. He generally owned a racing colt or two, and attended
meetings; but was supposed to know what he was about,