XIII.

A BRIGHTON ODDITY.

SEVERAL gentlemen, at Boodle's, appeared one evening to be greatly amused by the writer's description of an eccentric character, who re sides in the neighbourhood of Brighton, named Buckhorse.

This man, by successful traffic in horses for many years, had amassed together a considerable sum of money. His riches, however, imparted to him none of that amenity and good manners which they generally do on men of, even slender, education. He has always remained perfectly illiterate; and is, consequently, at this day, as coarse and saucy in his habits and conversation, as when he commenced his career as

a stable-boy. Notwithstanding this, however, he fancies that wealth entitles him to a rank in society which birth and education, only, can confer; and he is ever on the qui vive to imitate the manners of the great, and the language of the learned,-to the infinite amusement of the inhabitants and visitors of Brighton, who occasionally associate with him, in order to draw him out and laugh at his eccentricities.

From the continual blunders which he makes in attempting to express himself in highly sounding language, it might be supposed that Buckhorse is a stupid ignoramus in every thing which does not regard the condition of a horse : not so, however; for, though able only to make his mark, he is feelingly alive to the prospect of gain, from whatever source it may arise; and he can calculate that gain, by a sort of intuitive or mental arithmetic, even to the utmost farthing. He is, moreover, a perfect Master of Arts in all that professional cunning which is so characteristic of the knights of the stall and the corn-bin; as will be fully exemplified in some of the following anecdotes.

A few years ago, Buckhorse was severely attacked by rheumatism; and, after trying a variety of remedies, was at last persuaded by the writer, who had some dealings with him at the time, to undergo ashampooing.-On inquiring what was the cause of his disorder, Buckhorse replied as follows:

Vy, ye see, Sir, I vent on a 'quatic execution on the hocean, wi' my vife and some other ladies and gen❜lemen, and it blew the tremendyusest gale as never was seen; so, ve vere obliged to use our hoars; and I thinks, that from prespiring and fartigue, I took cold in my lines; but my Missus says as how the rheumatise comed by catching cold from being scroudged in the pit, to see Kean hact the Merchant o' Wenus, and being afterwards hexposed to the veather and the helements, on our road 'ome."

"But have you done nothing to get rid of this rheumatism ?" inquired the writer.

"Oh, yes!" replied Buckhorse, "I've took lots o' potecary's stuff, and 'ave been on a

coolin' regiment this fortnight; for I'aven't drank no wynd nor any spiritual and fomented liquors whatsomever : but it's no use, bless you, for I'm worn to a shador,-a mere skelinton,— and the rheumatise is as bad as ever; so, I thinks I'm a goin' to the regency (regions) below, as fast as I can."

"Pooh! nonsense!" said the writer, "you must get shampooed; that is the proper method of getting rid of your complaint.”

Buckhorse promised to follow this friendly advice without delay.

Meeting him a few days afterwards, the writer inquired how his health was, and whether he had found benefit from the vapour baths.

Buckhorse replied: "Lord bless you, Sir, them 'ere baths are no good: I got quite pieboiled by that black fellow,-that savage Hingeon, Molly-nooks, who squeedged and kneaded me about, like a lump o' biscuit-baker's dough. I couldn't a-bear it no longer; so, I disgarded him."

"But has Molyneux done you no good ?"

"Lord bless you, Sir! no more than nothin' at all."

"But you ought to go to Mahommed'; he has cured many persons, and is well known as a clever man."

"Lord bless you, my dear Sir, I can't a-bear them 'ere Hingeon canibals. I made such a diskivery about 'em, that I vonder as how the King lets 'em live in a Christian coun. try."

"What!" observed the writer, laughing heartily, "you are surely not afraid of being killed and eaten ?"

"An't I though!-vy, the landlord o' the Ship told me in a great secret, the day afore yesterday, as how them 'ere 'Ottenpot chaps, Mollynooks and Mahometan, knocked their customers about, and byld 'em alive in steam, in order to make their flesh tender: and that ven the poor devils kicked the bucket, the insurrection fellows brought 'em back to these here Hingeons to be cut up for German saasages; and to be byled over again, bones and all, to make merry-go-tawney soup, to be sent abroad to