September came, and brought some relief to those who were suffering in
the inferno of provincial ennui; but this is only the purgatory to the
Paradise of _battues_. Yet September has its days of slaughter; and
the young Duke gained some laurels, with the aid of friend Egg, friend
Purdy, and Manton. And the Premier galloped down sixty miles in one
morning. He sacked his cover, made a light bet with St. James on the
favourite, lunched standing, and was off before night; for he had only
three days' holiday, and had to visit Lord Protest, Lord Content, and
Lord Proxy. So, having knocked off four of his crack peers, he galloped
back to London to flog up his secretaries.
And the young Duke was off too. He had promised to spend a week with
Charles Annesley and Lord Squib, who had taken some Norfolk Baronet's
seat for the autumn, and while he was at Spa were thinning his
preserves. It was a week! What fantastic dissipation! One day, the
brains of three hundred hares made a _pate_ for Charles Annesley.
Oh, Heliogabalus! you gained eternal fame for what is now 'done in a
corner!'
CHAPTER II.
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