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Save such ludicrous hunts as they
might have seen on their brown jugs, we do not believe either of them had
any acquaintance whatever with the chase. Old Puffington was, however, what
a wise heir esteems a great deal more--an excellent man of business, and
amassed mountains of money. To see his establishment at Stepney, one would
think the whole world was going to be starched. Enormous dock-tailed
dray-horses emerged with ponderous waggons heaped up to the very skies,
while others would come rumbling in, laden with wheat, potatoes, and other
starch-making ingredients. Puffington's blue roans were well known about
town, and were considered the handsomest horses of the day; quite equal to
Barclay and Perkin's piebalds.
Old Puffington was not like a sportsman. He was a little, soft, rosy,
roundabout man, with stiff resolute legs that did not look as if they could
be bent to a saddle. He was great, however, in a gig, and slouched like a
sack.
Mrs. Puffington, _nee_ Smith, was a tall handsome woman, who thought a good
deal of herself.


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