There are some who profess to attach importance to
the goose-billed mouthings and vapourings of the butter-brained crew
who follow in the wake of the most notorious professor of humbugging
pomposity that even this age, rich as it is in putty-faced impostors,
has ever produced. Well, let them. For my own part I follow the advice
of the French King to the beautiful Marquise DE CENTAMOURS. "_Sire_,"
the _Marquise_ is reported to have said, "_quelle heure est-il?_" To
which the witty monarch at once replied, "_Madame, si vous avez besoin
de savoir l'heure, allez done la demander au premier gendarme?_" The
story may be found with others in the lately published memoirs of
Madame DE SANSFACON. In a similar spirit I answer those who pester me
about horses.
I understand that _Barrister Bill_, _Sidesplitter_, and _Fiery Harry_,
showed up excellently at Newmarket last week. I have always prophesied
well of these three splendid animals, who take their feeds as
regularly, and with as much gusto as they gallop a mile on heather
when the barometer points to set fair. At the same time I consider
that only a papoose, made of string and sawdust, would give more than
L10,000 for any one of them.
Complaints have reached me that some of my remarks have given pain in
an exalted quarter.
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