Now it happened very fortunately for the trusty Oliver, and for his master too, that when the latter had finished his meditations, and was entering the shop of his gunsmith, he should meet there his worthy friend Sir Andrew Featherstone. The greeting was cordial; for the meeting was agreeable on both sides. Sir Andrew Featherstone was a baronet of very ancient family:—that rendered him acceptable to the Hon. Philip Martindale. But he had other recommendations—he was the best-tempered man in the world. There are myriads of this description. He kept a most excellent table, had a capital pack of hounds, and two very beautiful daughters, whom we shall have great pleasure in introducing to our readers in due course of time. The families of the Featherstones and the Martindales had been intimate time out of mind; and it was the wish of Sir Andrew to marry one of his daughters to the Hon. Philip Martindale. But the young gentleman himself had never given the subject a single thought. By one of those remarkable coincidences which are happening every day, Sir Andrew mentioned the archery-meeting, and expressed a wish that Philip would honor it with his presence. The young gentleman found this reality as great a relief to his mind, as his trusty Oliver had found the invention a relief to his mind; and he immediately dispatched a note to his venerable relative, stating his engagement, and fixing the day of his return to Brigland.
CHAPTER VIII.
“A was an archer, and shot at a frog.”
Anon.
The residence of Sir Andrew Featherstone was called Hovenden Lodge; why it was called a lodge we cannot say. It was a large plain house, situated in a small level park. The hand of improvement had been very busy with it, but the genius of propriety had not presided over the improvements. Several different styles of architecture had been introduced, and to very ill effect; for the very square broad-sided form of the building rendered it unsusceptible of decoration. But Sir Andrew cared nothing about it—he left all those matters to the ladies, who gave directions according to their own taste or lack of taste; and all the return which he made for their architectural diligence and their skilful improvements was to laugh at what he called their absurdities. The usual order was quite reversed at Hovenden Lodge; for while Lady Featherstone and her two daughters, Lucy and Isabella, were drawing plans, or marching about the park, and pointing out to the architect the improvements which they thought desirable, Sir Andrew was standing by the kitchen fire and lecturing the cook, or translating aloud recipes from his favorite French cookery-book, which was the only book that he had ever purchased; and very highly did he value it, fancying that few persons in this kingdom were aware of its existence. He often however had, or we should more properly say, might have had, the mortification of finding that he had been translating from French into English that which had been previously translated from English into French; for whenever his knowing lady reminded him that any recipe was already in the English cookery-books, he would always contend for or discover some delicate variation which gave the French the advantage. He thought, too, that there was a peculiar piquancy in the French terms, and that there was a particular relish in foreign names, which he always took care to utter, but which his obstinately English organs of speech rendered mightily amusing in their utterance.
The greatest evil of the archery-meeting in Sir Andrew’s opinion was, that it must be attended only with a cold collation, and that must be in a marquee. It had been discussed repeatedly, but as frequently decided against him, that it was absolutely impossible to have a hot dinner. He did not like it, but he bore it very good-temperedly; and was brimful of jokes, ready to let fly with every arrow.
Lady Featherstone, who was never so happy as when she was patronising, was delighted with the thought of the long table under the marquee, and her own self smiling, nodding, and bowing most gracefully to every body: she could undergo a cold dinner every day of her life, for the happiness of thinking that every body said, “What a charming woman is Lady Featherstone!”
The young ladies were in proud and confident expectation of winning the prize; but in still more proud and more confident expectation of exhibiting their elegant selves to an admiring multitude. This, indeed, is the great beauty of archery; it is an elegant exercise, or in other words, it gives an opportunity to young ladies to exhibit themselves in elegant or attractive attitudes; and many a young woman who would have scarcely any chance of a display, hereby acquires a right to be stared at most perseveringly and inveterately. She may be as long as she pleases taking her aim; and if she fears that she shall not hit the target, she may take an aim elsewhere.