He grew popular with the set. His courteous
manners, his affable address, his gay humour, and the facility with
which he adopted their tone and temper, joined with his rank and wealth,
subdued the most rugged and the coldest hearts. Even the jockeys were
civil to him, and welcomed him with a sweet smile and gracious nod,
instead of the sour grin and malicious wink with which those characters
generally greet a stranger; those mysterious characters who, in their
influence over their superiors, and their total want of sympathy with
their species, are our only match for the oriental eunuch.
He grew, we say, popular with the set. They were glad to see among them
a young nobleman of spirit. He became a member of the Jockey Club, and
talked of taking a place in the neighbourhood. All recommended the
step, and assured him of their readiness to dine with him as often as
he pleased. He was a universal favourite; and even Chuck Farthing,
the gentleman jockey, with a cock-eye and a knowing shake of his head,
squeaked out, in a sporting treble, one of his monstrous fudges about
the Prince in days of yore, and swore that, like his Royal Highness, the
young Duke made the Market all alive.
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