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SKETCHES 

IN  THE 

HUNTING   FIELD 


Webster  Family  Library  of  Veterinary  H/iodiclne 

iGufnmings  School  of  Veterinary  Medicine  at 

Tufts  University 

200  Westboro  Road  ^ 

North  Grafton,  MA  01 536 


SKETCHES 

IN 

THE    HUNTING    FIELD 

BY 

ALFRED   E.    T.    WATSON 


WITH  ILL  US  TR  A  TIOJVS  BY  JOHN  ST  URGE  SS 


LONDON 
CHAPMAN    AND    HALL,    Limited,     193,    PICCADHXY 

1880 


\erAD 


5 


LONDON : 

PRINTED    BY    VIRTUE    AND   CO.,    LIMITl'.D, 

CITV    ROAD. 


TO 

HIS  GRACE 

THE  DUKE  OF   BEAUFORT, 

K.G.,  ETC.,  ETC. 

WITH    GRATEFUL    REMEMBRANCES   OF 
PLEASANT   DAYS    IN    THE    BADMINTON    COUNTRY, 

IS     DEDICATED 

BY 

THE  AUTHOR. 


PREFACE. 


Some  of  the  "  Sketches "  which  follow  appear  for  the 
first  time ;  others  have  been  altered  and  amended  ;  but 
the  greater  portion  of  the  book  consists  of  reprint,  and 
for  the  issue  of  such  works  critics  have  taught  us  that 
explanations,  if  not  absolute  apologies,  are  required.  I 
proceed  therefore  to  offer  my  excuses. 

For  the  last  year  I  have  been  the  Editor  of  the  Illus- 
trated Sportmg  and  Dramatic  Ne7vSy  to  which  periodical, 
before  I  accepted  the  position,  several  of  the  "  Sketches  " 
had  been  contributed  under  the  signature  "  Rapier ; " 
and  after  I  had  undertaken  the  editorship,  a  pleasant 
feature  of  my  letter-box  consisted  of  correspondence 
from  kindly  readers  who  expressed  a  wish  to  see  more 
of  these  papers,  asked  whether  they  would  be  issued 
in  book  form,  and  offered  friendly  suggestions  and 
criticisms.  Slight  and  unpretentious  as  the  "Sketches" 
were,  it  was  agreeably  obvious  to  me  that  some  people 
had  been  amused  by  them;  and  when  that  admirable 
draughtsman,  Mr.  John  Sturgess,  told  me  he  should 
be  glad  to  depict  some  of  the  scenes  described  as  they 


viii  PREFACE. 

appeared  to  his  mind,  I  determined  on  sending  the 
papers  forth  in  a  book.  I  hope  that  some  of  their 
old  friends  will  welcome  them,  and  that  they  may 
meet  with  new  friends  in  their  new  shape. 

A  few  words  about  the  papers  themselves.  They  are 
for  the  most  part  sketches  from  life  with  embellish- 
ments ;  but  in  only  two  or  three  instances  do  the  names 
given  to  the  characters  point  in  the  slightest  degree  to 
their  real  identity.  Some  of  the  "Sketches"  are 
records  of  more  or  less  eventful  days  with  the  hounds. 
Most  of  the  anecdotes  related  are  matters  of  fact. 

I  have  to  return  thanks  to  the  Editor  of  the  Standard 
and  to  the  Proprietor  of  the  Illustrated  Sporting  and 
Dramatic  News^  for  permission  to  republish  what  has 
appeared  in  the  columns  of  their  journals. 

I  will  not  venture  to  say  that  I  trust  those  who  take 
up  this  volume  may  enjoy  reading,  as  much  as  I  have 
enjoyed  writing,  these  reminiscences.  I  will  only  hope 
that  they  may  now  and  then  in  imagination  be  suffi- 
ciently interested  to  gallop  over  a  few  fields  with  me, 
and  enjoy  the  fun. 

A.  E.  T.  W. 


CONTENTS. 


Page 

I.  The  M.F.H i 

II.  A  City  "Hunting  Man" lo 

III.  A  Young  Hunting  Lady 19 

IV.  An  English  Farmer 33 

V.  A  Straight  Rider 42 

VI.  An  Unlucky  Sportsman 52 

VII.  A  Social  Problem 63 

VIII.  A  "Swell" 73 

IX.  An  M.F.H.— Another  Variety        ....      82 

X.  A  Wrangler 92 

XI.  An  After-dinner  Sportsman loi 

XII.  The  Dealer •        .no 

XIII.  Thrown  Out 122 

XIV.  A  Gentlewoman 134 

XV.  A  Huntsman         .        .        .        .   '     .        .        .        .141 

XVI.  The  First  Meet  of  the  S Hounds        .        .     156 

XVII.  "  Seasonarle  Weather" 169 


X  CONTENTS. 

Page 

XVIII.  A  Scientific  Sportsman 176 

XIX.  HuNTiNGCROP  Hall  :    a    Tale  of  Triumphant 

Adventure 182 

XX.  Achates;  or,  Who  won  the  Kenilworth  Cup  197 

XXI.  Only  the  Mare 216 

XXII.  An  Eccentric  Chase 234 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS. 


The  road  to  the  meet  ( Vignette) 

"Up  the  lane  there,  past  the  straw-yard"  {Fro?itt'sp7'ece) 

Page 

Mr.  Checkley  well  up i8 

"I   CAN'T— stop!— WA-Y!—WH0-A  !  "    CRIED   POOR   KiTTY  .  25 

Kitty's  idea  of  helping  matters  forward    ...  32 

The  old  mare 4^ 

"  It  is  soon  evident  that  Wynnerly  can  sit  on  "     .  46 

Joining  the  stranger 5^ 

Where  are  they  ? 62 

Well  over,  with  something  to  spare     .       .       .       .  "jz 

"An  excellent  view  of  four  glittering  shoes"       .  81 

Trying  again 100 

"  Splendidly  DONE  !  " 116 

"  That's  yours— the  chestnut  mare  "     .       .       .       .123 

A  troublesome  lock 140 

First  over i75 

"  His  JOCKEY  was  trying  ABUSE  " 212 

"I   can't  STAY;   I   WISH   I   COULD" 249 

Tailpiece 256 


SKETCHES 

IN 

THE    HUNTING    FIELD 


I. 

THE    M.F.H. 


Since  the  days  of  Nimrod — very  likely  before,  if  we  only 
had  record  of  it — mankind  in  all  known  countries  has 
delighted  to  hunt.  The  earliest  Greek  figures  show  men 
sitting  so  well  down  on  their  horses  that  one  cannot 
doubt  the  Greek  equivalent  for  "  Gone  away ! "  has 
been  yelled  by  some  enthusiastic  sportsmen,  and  that 
the  artists  intended  to  represent  them  as  in  full  swing 
after  something  or  other.  The  "  oiled  and  curled  As- 
syrian bulls  " — if  any  poet  of  the  time  ventured  so  to 
speak  of  the  golden  youth  who  were  scandalised  at  the 
proceedings  of  Semiramis — assuredly  had  those  clumsy- 
looking  beards  of  theirs  blown  about  in  the  ardour  of  the 
chase ;  and  what  was  King  Arthur  doing  when  he  ought 
to  have  been  looking  after — 

"  bandit  earls  and  caitiff  knights, 
Assassins,  and  all  flyers  from  the  hand 
Of  Justice,  and  whatever  loathes  a  law  "  ? 

B 


2  SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIEID. 

We  know  where  he  was,  together  with  Prince  Geraint, 
who  also  had  pressing  calls  to  his  own  domains. 
They— 

"  listened  for  the  distant  hunt, 
And  chiefly  for  the  baying  of  Cavall, 
King  Arthur's  hound  of  deepest  mouth  ;  " 

and  Queen  Guinevere  knew  what  she  was  about,  and 
gave  Geraint  her  opinion  as  to  the  spot  where  the  pack 
was  most  likely  to  "  break  covert." 

Before  the  Lord  who  had  sport  with  old  Christopher 
Sly  the  tinker  thought  of  his  supper,  he  charged  his 
huntsman  to  "  tender  well  his  hounds  "  and  discussed 
their  qualities  at  length  ;  and  much  as  Theseus  was  in 
love,  even  just  before  his  marriage  he  could  not  forget 
his  hounds,  but  went  hunting,  and  grew  enthusiastic  in 
his  description  of  their  breed  and  excellence,  telling 
Hippolyta  how  they  were  "  crook-kneed  and  dew-lapped, 
like  Thessalian  bulls ;  slow  in  pursuit,"  he  admitted, 
"  but  matched  in  mouth  like  bells." 

Knowing  youths  of  the  present  day  may  hint  doubts 
as  to  whether  Nimrod  and  his  friends  would  have  held 
their  own  in  a  quick  twenty  minutes  over  Leicestershire 
pastures  ;  for  to  them  oxers  and  posts  and  rails  were  of 
course  unknown,  and  the  country  could  not  have  been 
much  enclosed. 

We  may  as  well  generously  give  them  the  benefit  of 
the  doubt,  however.  Probably  they  had  something  in 
the  nature  of  water-jumping  occasionally,  and  very  likely 
the  best  of  them  would  have  got  over  the  Whissendine 


THE  M.F.H.  3 

more  than  creditably.  So  the  name  of  the  mighty  hunter 
must  be  revered  by  all  those  who  love  the  turf,  both  the 
long  straight,  up  which  gaily  clad  jockeys  finish,  and 
the  fields  diversified  by  hedges  and  ditches  over  which 
we  show  the  way  when  circumstances  are  favourable 
and  all  is  going  well. 

For  "  since  all  in  Adam  first  began,"  as  Matt.  Prior 
sings,  a  good  many  must  have  continued  on  through 
Nimrod,  and  the  immortal  grandson  of  Ham  was  the 
archetype  of  several  illustrious  personages  who  live  and 
flourish  in  the  present  day.  vSuch  an  one  is  the  M.F.H. , 
whom'  we  will  call  the  Marquis  of  Wiltshire.  Here, 
however,  the  attempt  to  draw  exact  parallels  must  cease. 
That  Lord  Wiltshire  would  have  distinguished  himself 
in  any  position  or  capacity,  every  one  who  has  the 
pleasure  of  his  acquaintance  must  feel  convinced ;  and 
it  is  easy  to  suppose  that  his  predecessor  would  have 
become  equally  famous  had  he  been  born  so  many 
thousands  of  years  later  than  he  was. 

We  may  assume  that  Nimrod  would,  like  his  descend- 
ant, have  been  made  a  K.G.,  the  acknowledged  leader 
of  society  in  the  wide  district  over  which  his  influence 
extended,  and  the  bestower  of  a  hunt  "  button,"  to 
receive  which  would  have  been  at  once  a  recognition 
of  good-fellowship  and  of  skill  and  courage  in  the 
field. 

Such  an  one  is  the  Marquis.  Listened  to  with  respect 
and  attention  when  he  speaks  in  the  Upper  House  alike 
upon  political  or  agricultural  topics,  an  authority  upon 

B  2 


4  SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

artistic  questions,  a  causcur  who  adds  a  special  charm  to 
the  dinner-table  over  which  he  presides  with  such  genial 
hospitality,  his  Lordship  is  never  so  much  at  home,  so 
thoroughly  satisfied  with  himself  and  the  world  in 
general,  as  when  seated  in  his  saddle  listening  for  the 
repetition  of  the  note  which  proclaims  that  Wanton's 
suspicions  are  correct  and  that  Woldsman  heartily 
agrees  with  him. 

Lord  Wiltshire  first  came  to  hunt  in  the  same  way 
that  ducks  first  came  to  swim  or  swallows  to  fly — by  the 
promptings  of  nature  ;  and  as  an  inborn  knowledge  aids 
the  efforts  of  these  bipeds  to  make  their  own  way  in  the 
world,  so  did  it  enable  the  Marquis  to  make  his  way 
across  country  by  the  aid  of  his  pony.  His  sires  had 
done  the  same  before  him,  as  pictures  from  the  hands  of 
many  painters  of  various  periods  give  evidence  on  the 
walls  of  his  hall ;  and  with,  at  times,  remarkable 
success,  as  trophies  of  the  chase,  abnormally  huge  or 
curiously  coloured  masks,  a  splendid  dog-fox  and  a 
ferocious  wolf*  w^hich  have  found  their  last  homes  in 
plate-glass  cases,  together  with  other  emblems  of  trium- 
phant woodcraft,  abundantly  testify. 

In  those  early  days  his  contemporaries  protest — and 
grow  very  angry  with  you  if  you  don't  believe  it — that 
the  hounds  knew  the  brave  boy  who,  clad  in  his  little 
green,  gold-laced  coat,  sat  his  pony  so  firmly  and  easily, 
and,  by  some  mysterious  instinct,  recognised  in  him  the 
embryo  M.F.H.  who  would  cheer  on  their  descendants 

♦  The  result  of  a  visit  to  the  Pyrenean  district. 


THE  M.F.H.  5 

to  so  many  victories.  But  these  eulogists  take  no 
account  of  long  mornings  on  the  flags  when,  seated 
with  dangling  legs  on  his  chair,  and  armed  with  a 
miniature  hunting-crop,  the  hounds  were  introduced  to 
him,  and  he  was  taught  to  appreciate  their  points  ;  with 
a  success  now  to  be  traced  in  the  brilliant  pack  which 
represent  their  handsome  and  accomplished  parents. 

The  late  Lord  Fitzhardinge  cared  nothing  for  the  looks 
of  his  hounds  if  they  could  hunt,  and  complained  that 
"huntsmen  forget  to  breed  hounds  for  their  noses," 
declaring  that  he  only  wanted  "  a  pack  that  would  kill 
foxes."  But  the  aesthetic  side  of  the  question  was  never 
lost  sight  of  in  the  Wiltshire  kennels,  and  while  not 
forgetting  to  breed  hounds  for  their  noses,  the  authorities 
have  taken  care  that  external  good  qualities  were  not 
overlooked. 

Time  passed  on.  The  bright  little  pony  had  been 
exchanged  for  a  cob,  and  the  cob  in  turn  for  a  horse — 
you  may  see  his  picture  there  over  the  fireplace  in  the 
billiard-room — and  by  degrees  careful  observation  had 
taught  the  diligent  student  how  to  handle  hounds,  the 
best  way  to  aid  them  in  difficulties,  together  with  the 
no  less  important  lesson  when  to  leave  them  alone  to 
help  themselves  by  their  own  intelligence.  It  will 
be  generally  conceded  that  the  ideal  M.F.H.  should 
thoroughly  know  his  hounds  and  be  able  to  hunt  them 
on  an  emergency ;  for  we  have  all  heard  what  happened 
in  the  Handley  Cross  Hunt  when  the  committee  of 
management   which   preceded   Mr.   Jorrocks  had    dis- 


6  SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUN  UN  G  FIELD. 

charged  the  faithful  Peter  for  "  stealing  off  with  the 
hounds "  before  all  the  members  of  the  august  little 
body  had  been  duly  informed  of  the  circumstance  that 
the  fox  had  been  viewed  away,  and  were  quite  ready  to 
start  off  after  him. 

The  dignity  of  M.F.H.  is  extremely  tempting  for 
many  reasons  to  many  men ;  but  it  is  only  in  the  eyes 
of  the  IMaster  himself  that  this  dignity  seems  to  be 
retained  when  he  is  sitting  on  his  horse  at  the  side  of  a 
covert  which  has  been  drawn  blank,  without  a  sugges- 
tion to  make  as  to  future  proceedings,  or  a  reason  to 
give  why  he  should  or  should  not  accept  the  advice 
proffered  by  his  huntsman. 

These  sketches  are  by  no  means  personal  portraits, 
albeit  the  outlines  may  at  times  be  taken  from  life ; 
and  it  is  necessary,  therefore,  to  be  careful  lest  accumu- 
lating details  should  mark  out  too  closely  the  identity 
of  more  or  less  familiar  characters.  Many  readers, 
however,  will  call  to  mind  cases  in  which  wealth, 
vanity,  and  ambition  have  been  the  sole  qualifications 
possessed  by  a  M.F.H.  Too  ignorant  of  the  whole 
subject  of  hunting  to  help  himself,  and  too  conceited  to 
appear  to  be  at  the  mercy  of  his  huntsman  by  accepting 
his  views,  the  prominent  members  of  the  hunt,  friends 
of  the  Master,  seize  every  opportunity  of  expressing 
their  several  and  diverse  opinions. 

The  men,  therefore,  pass  the  time  in  wrangling  and 
snubbing  each  other  instead  of  in  trying  to  kill  foxes  ; 
and  the  hounds  sit  on  their  sterns,  with  upturned  faces, 


THE  M.F.H.  7 

strongly  expressive  of  canine  contempt,  ardently  long- 
ing to  be  drafted  off  to  a  country  where  things  are 
differently  managed. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  in  the  Marquis  of  Wilt- 
shire's country  nothing  of  this  sort  has  been  heard  of 
from  time  immemorial.  The  hunt  know  that  a  perfect 
knowledge  of  woodcraft,  together  with  an  absolute 
genius  for  the  "noble  science,"  direct  the  governance  of 
the  chase,  and  they  are  too  good  sportsmen  not  to 
comprehend  their  luck ;  to  say  nothing  of  personal 
esteem  and  regard  for  their  leader, 

A  long  time  has  passed  since  Lord  Wiltshire  was 
called  upon  to  give  proof  of  the  good  account  to  which 
he  had  turned  the  lessons  learnt  on  the  backs  of  the 
pony  and  the  cob.  One  day,  for  reasons  which  it  is  not 
necessary  to  detail,  the  well- mounted  field  found  them- 
selves with  an  excellent  pack,  three  efficient  whips,  a 
master,  and  no  huntsman  ;  and  the  question  arose,  who 
is  going  to  hunt  the  hounds  ?  "  I  will,"  exclaimed  the 
Marquis  :  and  the  patience,  skill,  and  cunning  with 
which  a  wily  fox  was  killed  close  upon  three  hours 
afterwards  established  for  his  Lordship  a  reputation 
which  has  ever  since  continued  to  increase. 

This  was  long  ago.  Since  then  many  years  have  fled 
to  what  the  versifier,  eagerly  searching  for  some  sport- 
ing metaphor,  has  called 

"  The  stables  where  Time's  steeds  are  stalled 
When  they  have  run  their  races  ; 
Whence  never  one  was  e'er  recall'd — 
Eheu  !  antti  ftigaces  P^ 


8  SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

The  weight  of  many  hunting  seasons,  and  twinges  of 
an  hereditary  complaint  which  sometimes  keeps  him 
fretting  from  the  saddle,  prevent  the  noble  M.F.H.  from 
leading  the  van,  slipping  over  those  awkward  stone 
walls  which  occur  so  frequently  in  some  parts  of  his 
country,  and  charging  those  big  black  bullfinches  which 
diminish  fields  so  materially  in  others,  as  he  did  in  the 
brave  days  of  yore.  But  if  any  one  wants  to  see  a  run 
he  cannot  do  better  than— cannot  do  haH"  so  well  as  to 
— keep  one  eye  on  the  Marquis  of  AViltshire,  and  note 
where  his  splendid  weight-carrier  is  bearing  him  ;  for  if 
the  fox  had  sketched  out  a  little  plan  of  his  intentions, 
and  laid  it  on  the  ]\Iaster's  plate  at  breakfast-time,  he 
could  hardly  be  more  fully  cognizant  of  what  the  little 
beast  was  doing  at  any  given  time,  and  was  going  to 
do  next. 

Now  and  then,  of  course,  a  difficulty  has  to  be  sur- 
mounted and  a  fence  jumped,  on  which  occasions 
Lord  Wiltshire  still  invariably  arrives  on  the  other 
side  with  punctuality  and  dispatch.  Nor  has  his  early 
ao-ility  altogether  departed,  and  it  is  probably  with 
something  in  the  nature  of  a  mild  malediction  on  his 
own  awkwardness  that  a  young  gentleman  recalls  a 
little  incident  that  happened  last  season — how,  coming 
to  a  gate  with  an  obstinate  lock  which  necessitated 
dismounting,  he  bungled  about  stopping  his  horse,  and 
suffered  the  Marquis  to  slide  from  his  saddle  and  per- 
form a  task  which  assuredly  devolved  upon  the  younger 
cavalier ;  a  proof,  however,  of  the  ready  kindness  and 


THE  M.F.H.  9 

courtesy  which  mark  Lord  Wiltshire  in  all  relations  of 
life. 

The  greeting  which  comes  from  all  assembled  as  the 
M.F.H.  drives  up  and  bestrides  the  noble  beast  ap- 
pointed for  first  horse,  shows  the  stranger  unmistake- 
ably  in  what  estimation  he  is  held,  and  that  it  is  not 
rank  nor  wealth,  but  personal  regard  which  draws 
forth  the  smile  of  welcome.  For  all,  too,  he  has  a 
cheery  word ;  and  that  in  every  respect,  servants, 
stables,  and  kennels,  something  very  nearly  approach- 
ing to  perfection  is  attained  by  the  care  and  unrivalled 
experience  of  the  M.F.H.,  will  readily  be  understood. 
So  the  Marquis  of  Wiltshire's  Hunt  remains  a  social 
institution  of  weight  and  influence,  and  a  model  of  how 
English  sport  should  be  pursued.  To  his  Lordship  we 
may  gaily  drink  "  Floreat  Scientia,"  with  a  sure  know- 
ledge that  in  his  district,  at  any  rate,  the  aspiration  is, 
and  will  be,  thoroughly  fulfilled. 


II. 

A   CITY   "HUNTING   MAN." 

By  far  the  most  horsey  and  stabley  man  with  whom  I 
have  the  pleasure  of  an  acquaintance  is  Mr.  Thomas 
Checkley,  the  junior  partner  in  the  old-established  firm 
of  Countington,  Checkley,  &  Company,  who  are  de- 
scribed by  admiring  friends  as  the  "eminent  haber- 
dashers "  of  Cannon  Street. 

Everything  connected  with  Checkley's  personal  de- 
coration and  immediate  surroundings  is  of  the  horse, 
horsey.  His  watch-chain  is  a  model  in  steel  and  gold 
of  a  patent  bit,  and  if  his  pin  is  not  a  horse-shoe,  it  is  a 
jockey's  cap  and  whip,  a  spur,  or  a  miniature  copy  of 
some  article  from  a  saddler's  shop.  His  house  in  Bays- 
w^ater,  whither  I  penetrated  on  one  occasion  to  make 
inquiries  about  a  horse  he  wanted  to  sell,  w^as  furnished, 
so  far  as  it  came  under  my  ken,  with  suggestions  of  the 
stable  and  the  chase. 

His  inkstand  is  a  horse's  shoe ;  a  pair  of  stirrup  irons 
forms  his  pen-rack,  his  paper-weight  is  a  fallen  horse, 
in  bronze,  with  the  jockey  standing  by  him ;  and  a 
silver-mounted  shoe,  this  time  inverted,  forms  a  recep- 
tacle for  his  cigar-ash.     A  regular  trophy  of  whips  and 


A    CITY  '' HUNTING  MANr  w 

spurs — nearly  enough  to  supply  the  whole  hunt  of  which 
he  is  a  member — is  arranged  over  his  mantelpiece ; 
catalogues  of  sales  of  various  kinds  of  horses,  with,  in 
many  cases,  the  sums  they  fetched  written  against  their 
names  in  pencils,  strew  his  study ;  and  in  a  prominent 
place  is  an  ivory  tablet  with  a  blank  space  in  the 
middle  surrounded  by  highly  coloured  pictures  of  the 
covert  side,  horses,  men,  and  hounds,  and  with  the  days 
of  the  week  neatly  printed,  against  which  in  the  hunting 
season  Checkley  never  fails  to  write  down  the  list  of 
impending  meets. 

It  need  hardly  be  said  that  sporting  pictures  cover 
the  walls  of  his  rooms,  and  the  passages  leading  thereto, 
and  that  sketches  of  many  men  on  many  horses  jump- 
ing many  fences  may  be  noted  in  perspective  up  the 
staircase  by  the  observant  visitor.  He  himself,  always 
in  boots  and  breeches  and  mounted  on  various  steeds, 
is  a  favourite  subject  in  oil,  water-colours,  and  photo- 
graphs— large  ones. 

The  only  poet  for  whose  works  he  cares  a  straw  is 
Somerville,  excepting  indeed  Major  Whyte-Melville, 
from  whom  he  has  taken  his  favourite  quotation. 

"  Down  in  the  hollow  there,  shiggish  and  idle 

Runs  the  dark  stream  where  the  willow-trecs  grow  ; 
Harden  your  heart,  and  catch  hold  of  your  bridle. — 
Steady  him — rouse  him — and  over  we  go  !  " 

run  the  lines  wdiich  he  considers  the  finest  in  the 
language,  and  which  indeed  have  a  dash  and  swing 
about  them  that  may  commend  the  verse  to  the  man 


12         SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

who    has    been    in    the    position    of    the     imaginary 
hero. 

Beckford  has  of  course  a  place  on  his  shelves  ;  all  the 
"Druid's"  books  are  there,  together  with  the  "Science 
of  Fox-hunting  "  by  Scrutator,  "  Horses  and  Hounds  " 
and  "Recollections  of  a  Fox-hunter"  by  the  same 
author,  Cecil's  "Hunting  Tours,",^  and  well-nigh  in- 
numerable "  Hints  on  Breeding  and  Training,"  "  Horse- 
keepers'  Guides,"  and  other  manuals  of  similar  cha- 
racter. "  Handley  Cross,"  "  Mr.  Sponge's  Sporting 
Tour,"  "  Mr.  Romford's  Hounds,"  and  the  rest  of 
Mr.  Surtees'  books  are  the  only  novels  allowed  a  place 
in  his  library,  with  the  exception  of  a  couple  of  volumes 
by  the  gallant  writer  whose  verse  is  quoted  above, 
and  a  collection  of  sketches  by  the  "  Gentleman  in 
Black." 

Little  need  be  said  about  the  cut  of  Checkley's  coat 
and  trousers,  for  everybody  will  at  once  understand  that 
the  former  is  modelled  after  the  severest  order  of  hunt- 
ing men's  attire,  and  that  the  latter  garments  are  cord 
in  material  and  tight  in  fit.  Piles  of  Bell's  Life  con- 
tinue to  accumulate  in  the  corner  of  his  study,  and  of 
illustrated  papers  the  Sporting  and  Dramatic  News  is  in 
his  estimation  without  a  rival,  the  only  weakness  about 
it  being  a  tendency  to  give  undue  prominence  to  the 
drama  at  the  expense  of  sport.  He  wants,  for  instance, 
more  details  of  particular  packs,  and  thinks  that  if 
members  of  various  hunts  could  be  persuaded  to  send  in 
accounts  of  runs  the  journal  would  be  perfect. 


A    CITY  '' HUNTING  MAN r  13 

A  slight  literary  achievement  describing  a  run  with 
the  South  Wessex,  detailing  how  "  among  those  well 
up  throughout,  despite  the  awkward  line  of  country- 
traversed,  we  recognised  Mr.  Thomas  Checkley  on  his 
gallant  bay,  Pytchley,"  &c.,  did  not  find  its  way  to  the 
dignity  of  print,  and  perhaps  this  may  account  for 
Checkley's  complaint.  The  "Member  of  the  Hunt" 
by  whom  the  account  was  written  omitted  to  send  his 
name,  and  possibly  the  suspicion  which  points  to  the 
rider  of  the  gallant  bay  itself  may  be  unfounded. 

All  things  about  him,  indeed,  proclaim  Checkley  to  be 
a  hunting  man,  and  so  he  is ;  but,  as  everyone  knows 
who  has  been  with  hounds  five  minutes  after  they  have 
got  well  away  on  a  hot  scent,  the  verb  to  hunt  is 
wonderfully  elastic,  and  of  wide  significance  ;  and  the 
one  place  where  Checkley's  enthusiasm  wanes,  and,  like 
Bob  Acres'  courage,  oozes  out,  is  when  mounted  on  his 
gallant  bay,  Pytchley,  or  any  other  of  his  stud,  and 
landed  in  a  field  with  a  locked  gate  on  the  side  beyond 
which  hounds  are  running. 

Theoretically,  Checkley  is  a  superb  rider.  Over 
timber  he  is  especially  hard  to  beat — in  the  smoking- 
room  after  dinner — and  it  is  quite  a  treat  to  hear  him 
dilate  upon  the  ease  with  which  the  highest  posts  and 
rails  may  be  crossed  if  you  only  sit  well  back  and  hold 
your  horse  together  before  his  effort  and  after  he  has 
landed  on  the  other  side. 

Water  bothers  him  sometimes — even  in  the  aforesaid 
smoking-room.     This  he  confesses ;    hinting,  however, 


14         SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

that  the  fault  is  generally  with  the  horse,  for  he  rides 
animals  which  he  believes  to  be  as  nearly  as  possible 
thoroughbred,  and  quotes  Dick  Christian,  to  the  effect 
that  thoroughbred  horses  are  nearly  always  frightened 
of  water,  though  they  jump  it  beautifully  when  they  get 
used  to  it. 

His  stud  has  never  got  quite  used  to  it  yet. 

How  Checkley  came  to  be  so  well  up  on  his  gallant 
bay,  Pytchley,  on  the  occasion  of  the  famous  run  of  the 
South  Wessex  just  referred  to,  is  a  mystery  to  those 
who  have  watched  his  mode  of  progression  in  the  field. 
The  line  of  country  traversed  that  day  had  certainly 
been  a  stiff  one,  and  few  lived  to  the  end  of  it.  The 
tongue  of  malice  and  uncharitableness,  of  course,  sug- 
gests that  it  was  an  accident ;  that  Checkley,  having 
ridden  boldly  through  a  gate  into  a  field  with  a  gapless 
fence  on  the  far  side,  had,  after  carefully  inspecting  the 
formidable  obstacle,  turned  his  horse's  head  and  ridden 
boldly  through  the  gate  out  of  the  field  again  ;  had 
taken  to  the  road,  and  was  quietly  trotting  home  when 
he  came  upon  the  hounds,  which  had  been  running  in  a 
semi-circle  along  the  base  of  which  he  had  ridden ;  so 
that  all  Checkley  and  the  gallant  bay  did  was  to  trot 
through  a  gate,  and  join  in  with  the  half-dozen  or  so 
who  had  ridden  the  line,  and  who,  jumping  their  last 
fence,  found  Checkley  already  on  the  spot. 

There  he  was,  however,  and  after  all  that  is  the  great 
thing.  Perhaps  it  was  his  superior  knowledge  of  wood- 
craft that    enabled  him  to  se©  the   finish  on  that   ex:- 


A    CITY  '' HUNTING  MANr  15 

citing  day ;  for  woodcraft,  a  comprehensive  knowledge 
of  the  laws  which  govern  scent  (how  few  of  us  really 
know  anything  at  all  about  it,  and  how  often  our  the- 
ories are  upset!),  together  with  an  instinctive  feeling  of 
certainty  as  to  what  the  fox  will  do,  are,  Checkley  be- 
lieves, among  his  strongest  points. 

Thus,  when  a  whiff  of  the  scent  has  drawn  a  faint  cry 
from  Tuneable,  when  the  rest  of  the  pack  have  gradu- 
ally joined  in  the  acknowledgment  till  the  covert  rings 
with  melody,  when  at  last  the  twanging  horn  and  a 
delighted  yell  of  "  Gorn  awa-a-a-ay !  "  has  merged  into 
a  chorus  of  "For-ard  !  for-ard  !  Tally-ho  !  "  when  eager 
spirits  have  charged  the  first  fence  and  got  well  on  to 
the  second,  Checkley's  instinctive  feeling  usually  comes 
to  the  surface  with  considerable  force. 

Steeple-chasing  is  capital  fun  in  its  way,  he  admits, 
but  it  isn't  hunting  as  the  Duke  of  Beaufort  and  Lord 
Wilton  understand  the  word.  Oddly  enough,  too,  at 
this  moment  the  subject  on  which  he  is  usually  so 
eloquent,  the  pleasure  of  seeing  hounds  work,  suddenly 
loses  its  interest.  All  his  thoughts  are  now  bent  on  dis- 
covering the  line  the  fox  is  going  to  take ;  and  it  is  a 
very  remarkable  circumstance  that  he  never  can  be  per- 
suaded that  the  fox  is  likely  to  take  a  line  which  leads 
him  over  a  jump. 

Wherever  the  coast  is  clear  of  obstacles,  and  gates  are 
common  objects  of  the  landscape,  will  assuredly  bring 
him,  Checkley  feels  sure,  to  the  spot  for  which  the  fox  is 
pointing. 


i6  SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

What  humbugs  we  are,  some  of  us — many  of  us — most 
of  us,  probably,  about  something  or  other,  all  of  us  I 
fear,  occasionally  !  In  spite  of  being  constantly  thrown 
out  by  taking  Checkley's  lead,  and  heeding  his  pro- 
phetic utterances  and  opinions,  a  little  knot  of  men  will 
always  be  found  to  follow  him  through  the  paths  of 
peace  where  a  line  of  gates  conducts  to  safety,  and  if  a 
fence  has  to  be  crossed,  it  is  at  a  gentle  pace  through  a 
gap,  and  not  with  a  rush,  over  a  stiff  binder  or  two. 

This  latter  style  of  jumping  Checkley  enjoys  in  his 
pictures,  vicariously,  and  rigorously  abstains  from 
practising.  "  Paid  sixpence  for  catching  my  horsej" 
would  never  form  an  item  in  his  table  of  expenditure,  if 
he  kept  one,  as  it  did  so  frequently  in  the  list  of  the 
immortal  Mr.  Jorrocks'  disbursements,  for  he  never 
ventures  to  cross  anything  that  can  possibly  bring 
about  a  spill. 

A  broken-down  hurdle,  which  the  horse  can  walk 
through,  if  he  doesn't  care  about  jumping  it,  is  the  limit 
of  his  daring,  and  when  such  a  "  fence  "  has  been  sur- 
mounted, it  is  grand  to  note  the  manner  in  which  he 
looks  back  to  his  friends,  as  his  horse  canters  along-, 
and  shouts,  "  Come  on — it's  all  right ! "  as  if  he  had 
burst  his  way  through  a  thick  black  bullfinch,  and 
wished  to  let  other  adventurous  spirits  know  that  it  was 
negotiable. 

And  it  is  just  as  well  that  Checkley  does  not  tempt 
fate  in  the  matter  of  fences.  Theoretically,  again,  no 
one  knows  the  points  of  a  hunter  better  than  he.     His 


A    CITY  "HUNTING  HIANr  17 

eloquence  on  the  subject  of  good  shoulders,  of  the 
absolute  necessity  for  shoulder  action  as  opposed  to 
knee  action,  and  the  impossibility  of  a  horse  staying 
over  a  deep  country,  unless  his  shoulders  are  so  placed 
that  the  weight  of  his  foreparts  are  thrown  upon  the 
hind  limbs,  &c.,  &c.,  &c.,  is  untiring.  He  has  views — 
very  strong  ones — on  the  question  of  a  hunter's  feet, 
even  to  the  number  of  nails  that  should  be  put  into  his 
shoes ;  and  on  wide  hips,  muscular  quarters,  straight, 
clean,  flat  legs,  he  is  oracular. 

Yet  with  all  this  wisdom  on  the  matter,  the  fact 
remains  that  his  steeds  are,  for  the  most  part,  the  veriest 
crocks,  and  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  some  cunning 
dealer  must  have  found  out  the  many  weak  places  in 
poor  Checkley's  superficial  knowledge  of  horse-flesh,  and, 
by  fooling  his  customer  to  the  top  of  his  bent,  is  able  to 
palm  off  upon  him  for  good  prices  screws  which  are 
unsaleable  elsewhere. 

There  can  be  little  doubt,  in  fact,  that  Checkley  is  in  a 
mortal  "funk"  when  he  gets  on  ahorse.  Even  when 
he  sees  his  way  safely  out  of  a  field  by  an  open  gate,  or 
a  very  flat  gap,  he  always  finds  something  to  cause  him 
uneasiness.  In  grass  land  there  may  be  rabbit  holes  ; 
in  plough,  there  are  flints  to  get  in  his  horse's  feet ;  he 
constantly  fears  that  he  has  cast  a  shoe,  or  that  some- 
thing or  other  is  somewhere  wrong,  and  threatens  im- 
mediate danger. 

Why  then,  it  may  be  asked,  does  he  hunt  ?  He  does 
not  enjoy  it;  his  doctors  do  not  specially  recommend  it; 

C 


SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 


his  partners  disapprove  of  it;  his  wife  dreads  the 
casualties  which  seem  so  likely  to  occur  when  her  lord 
is — as  she  imagines— flying  recklessly  over  gates  and 
hedges,  with  now  and  then  a  casual  haystack  or  so. 
He  does  not  seek  for  "  gibbey  sticks,"  like  Mr.  Joggle- 
bury  Crowdley ;  and,  in  short,  the  question  is  extremely 
difficult  to  answer. 

I  suppose  it  amuses  him  and  gratifies  some  small 
vanity  to  pose  as  a  hunting  man ;  and  as,  with  muddy 
boots  and  splashed  breeches,  he  leans  back  in  his  seat  in 
the  train  which  takes  him  to  Charing  Cross,  looking  as 
much  as  possible  as  though  he  had  been  performing 
feats  which  an  admiring  country  would  not  willingly  let 
die,  he  is  for  the  time — at  least  he  looks — perfectly 
happy. 


III. 

A  YOUNG  HUNTING  LADY. 

If  Kitty  Trewson  were  to  express  her  candid  and  de- 
cided opinion,  supposing  that  modesty  did  not  stand  in 
the  way  of  frankness,  she  would  admit  that  she  con- 
siders her  presence  at  the  covert-side  one  of  the  great 
attractions  which  give  distinction  to  the  Meadowmere 
Hounds ;  that  the  day  she  first  came  out  hunting  will 
ever  be  held  as  blessed  in  the  annals  of  the  chase,  and 
that  when  from  any  unavoidable  cause  she  is  absent 
from  the  meet,  a  gloom  falls  upon  the  assembly,  and  the 
business  of  the  day  is  entered  upon  with  a  feeling  of 
grave  depression. 

This  is  Miss  Kitty's  view  of  the  subject,  I  am  con- 
vinced, but  it  is  not  very  generally  entertained  by 
members  of  the  hunt  at  large ;  in  fact,  it  is  hardly  tea 
much  to  say  that  Miss  Kitty  is  regarded  as  an  unmiti- 
gated nuisance ;  and  on  those  occasions  when  she  is 
hung  up  in  a  thick  fence,  or  dropped  gently  into  an 
oozy  ditch,  an  unholy  smile  lights  up  the  countenances 
of  those  cavaliers  who,  without  appearing  rude  or 
neglectful,  can  escape  the  task  of  rescuing  her  from  her 
distressing  predicament. 

C  2 


20  SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

This  will  seem  very  ungallant,  perhaps  very  selfish, 
to  those  who  have  not  suffered  at  Miss  Kitty's  hands  ; 
but,  having  chosen  her  for  the  subject  of  this  sketch,  the 
truth  must  be  written  about  her — for  truth  is  great  and 
will  prevail,  and  if  we  said  we  were  delighted  to  see 
Miss  Kitty  come  out  hunting  it  would  simply  be  en- 
couraging Satan. 

Old  Trewson — "  Squire  "  Trewson — is  not  by  any 
means  a  bad  old  fellow.  He  votes  blue,  generally 
manages  to  have  a  fox  in  his  coverts^  is  liberal  in  his 
subscriptions  to  deserving  objects,  and  entertains  the 
young  soldiers  from  the  nearest  garrison  even  to  the 
extent  of  finding  a  mount  for  them.  When  he  does 
those  things  which  he  ought  not  to  do,  the  slips  are 
unintentional ;  for  Trewson  is  new  to  the  part  of 
"  Squire  "  which  it  now  delights  him  to  adopt,  and  his 
growth  hardly  favours  his  present  development. 

Trewson  sprung  from  the  City,  was  bedded  out  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Russell  Square,  transplanted  to  the 
Bayswater  district,  and  only  bloomed  and  flowered  as 
"  Squire  "  late  in  life.  What  induced  him  to  come  and 
live  in  the  country,  and  stud}^  the  part  of  a  country 
gentleman,  it  would  be  difficult  to  say.  The  facts  that 
he  did  so,  and  does  so,  remain ;  and  hence  Miss  Kitty's 
introduction  to  JMeadowmere. 

Her  early  studies  in  horse-flesh  must  have  been  drawn 
from  the  beasts  that  dragged  omnibuses  past  her 
father's  shop ;  and  her  knowledge  of  pace  can  only 
have  been  gained  from  the  speed  of  the  animal  in  the 


A   YOUNG  HUNTING  LADY.  21 

"growler"  which  took  her  occasionally  to  the  play.  A 
jobbed  brougham  marked  the  latter  part  of  Russell- 
square  neighbourhood  experiences,  but  at  Bayswater 
papa  kept  his  own  carriage  horses,  and  Kitty — a  high- 
spirited  and  courageous  girl,  to  give  her  what  is  her 
due — studied  the  equestrian  art  upon  the  back  of  one  of 
these. 

The  Englishman's  natural  love  of  horses  is  no  doubt 
equally  implanted  in  the  breasts  of  Englishwomen,  and 
soon  comes  into  prominence  when  the  disposition  is 
sufficiently  bold  to  give  it  way.  It  is  easy,  therefore,  to 
imagine  how  Miss  Kitty  must  have  felt  when,  watching 
from  her  window  which  commands  a  byway  leading  to 
the  high  road,  she  saw  the  first  symptoms  of  a  hunting 
day :  a  man  in  pink  trotting-  along,  and  playfully  tap- 
ping his  horse's  shoulder  with  his  hunting-crop,  w^hereat 
the  animal,  quite  entering  into  his  rider's  feelings, 
affects  to  be  indignant  and  alarmed ;  item,  a  couple  of 
grooms  with  led  horses,  the  stirrup  irons  pulled  up  to 
the  top  of  the  leather ;  item,  three  jolly  farmers  jogging 
on  together  and  chatting  cheerily ;  item,  a  well-mounted 
man  in  black,  riding  to  overtake  a  couple  more  pink 
coats  ;  item,  three  more  pinks,  well  stained  and 
weather-worn,  on  stout,  serviceable  hunters,  in  charge 
of  eighteen  couple  of  hounds  and  a  little  white  fox- 
terrier. 

"  Oh,  papa,  do  come  and  look  at  these  dear  dogs !  " 
cried  Miss  Kitty.     "  Can't  we  get  some  ? " 

"We'll  see,  my  dear,"  her  indulgent  father  replied, 


2  2  SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

for  he  would  have  given  his  daughter  a  slice  of  the 
moon  had  he  been  able  to  procure  it  for  money ;  and 
from  that  time  forth  there  was  no  peace  until  she  was 
permitted  to  make  the  dear  dogs'  closer  acquaintance. 

Old  Trewson  had  never  been  on  a  horse  in  his  life, 
and  did  not  propose  to  begin  galloping  about  the 
country  at  his  age  and  with  his  figure.  But  money  can 
do  most  things.  A  steady-going  old  hunter  was  pro- 
cured for  Miss  Kitty,  and  she  was  allowed  to  go  out 
under  the  charge  of  an  amiable  neighbour,  an  old 
gentleman  who  hunted  because  his  doctor  ordered  it — 
hunting,  as  he  understood,  or  at  any  rate  practised  it, 
consisting  of  jogging  to  the  meet  on  a  sleepy  cob, 
eating  sandwiches  and  drinking  sherry  until  the  hounds 
got  away,  cantering  slowly  along  at  the  extreme  end  of 
the  ruck,  after  having  carefully  folded  up  the  remaining 
sandwiches,  screwed  on  the  top  of  the  flask,  and  stowed 
his  luncheon  away. 

The  cob  was  never  in  a  hurry  to  start,  and  apparently 
regarded  the  horses  and  hounds,  his  companions  of  the 
chase,  with  feelings  of  supreme  indifference,  faintly 
tinged  with  contempt. 

If  hounds  ran  straight  they  were  soon  out  of  sight, 
and  the  cob  turned  his  head  towards  home  with  any- 
thing but  reluctance ;  if  they  did  not  disappear  speedily 
the  noble  sportsman  cantered  or  trotted  after  them  until 
he  came  to  an  obstacle  through  which  the  cob  could  not 
walk  without  making  some  sort  of  effort  in  the  nature  of 
a  jump,  when  the  day's  run  was  voted  over,  and  they 


A   YOUNG  HUNTING  LADY.  23 

returned  by  the  path  they  had  come,  stopping  by  the 
way  to  empty  the  flask  and  finish  the  sandwiches. 

Whether  the  old  gentleman  derived  much  benefit 
from  his  sporting  expeditions  need  not  be  considered  in 
the  present  sketch,  but  even  to  Miss  Kitty's  unsophisti- 
cated nature  it  soon  became  evident  that  this  was  not 
the  genuine  thing. 

Kitty,  I  may  take  this  opportunity  of  remarking,  is 
by  no  means  an  unattractive  girl,  and  looks  especially 
neat  when  her  figure  is  displayed  by  a  fairly  well-fitting 
habit,  while  her  cheeks  are  rosy  and  her  eyes  bright 
from  the  effects  of  exercise,  and  her  abundant  black- 
brown  hair  is  bundled  up  so  as  to  tilt  her  hat  rather 
over  her  forehead,  whereby  an  aspect  of  considerable 
knowingness  is  imparted  to  her;  for  every  observant 
man  is  aware  that  the  widest  variation  of  expression 
may  be  obtained  by  different  methods  of  wearing  a  hat. 
It  is  difficult,  to  the  verge  of  impossibility,  to  look  fierce, 
dignified,  or  wise,  with  the  hat  on  the  back  of  the  head 
at  an  acute  angle  with  the  line  of  the  nose,  and  far  from 
easy  to  avoid  an  appearance  of  rakishness  if  the  head- 
gear be  put  on  so  as  to  slant  over  the  ear.  Probably 
Miss  Kitty  was  not  unacquainted  with  these  scientific 
facts,  and  acted  accordingly. 

Her  riding  is  not  now  all  that  it  might  be  as  regards 
seat,  albeit  much  better  than  it  was  in  that  not  unim- 
portant condition  of  equestrianism — remaining  in  the 
saddle;  but  as  regards  hands,  so  far  as  riding  goes, 
Kitty  has  none.     In  these  early  days,  however,  we  were 


24         SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

rather  glad  to  have  Kitty  with  us,  for  a  pretty  girl 
cantering  along  the  grass  by  the  roadside  contributes 
a  pleasant  feature  to  that  essentially  English  scene, 
the  "Way  to  the  Meet,"  and  adds  greatly,  moreover, 
to  the  spectacle  of  the  covert-side,  always  supposing 
that  her  nose  does  not  become  too  red  nor  her  cheeks 
too  blue  from  the  effects  of  an  unflattering  northerly 
wind. 

One  day,  however,  when  Kitty,  with  her  guide, 
philosopher,  and  friend,  was  scouring  the  plain  in  a 
very  gentle  and  unambitious  manner,  and  when  he, 
indeed,  was  trotting  gently  down  the  fence  to  look  for 
the  gate,  young  Scatterly  on  one  of  the  big  Irish  horses 
with  which  he  is  always  going  to  win  a  steeplechase 
came  thundering  past,  straight  to  the  comfortable  jump 
before  him,  a  thinnish  moderate-sized  hedge,  with  a 
ditch  on  the  landing-side. 

Kitty  certainly  did  not  mean  to  go,  but  her  old 
hunter  did.  Fired  by  the  spirit  of  emulation,  and  re- 
membering old  days  when  he  was  not  condemned  to 
the  society  of  an  obese  cob,  but  kept  his  place  not  far 
from  the  best  of  them,  his  usual  placability  of  tempera- 
ment was  for  the  moment  upset ;  so,  wheeling  round,  he 
jumped  to  the  side  of  Scatterly's  horse,  and  galloped  on 
with  him. 

"My  dear!  my  dear!  stop  him!"  her  temporary 
guardian  cried  out,  while  his  cob  looked  on  with  wonder 
and  disdain  at  his  late  companion's  evident  desire  to 
make  quite  unnecessary  exertions  for  his  own  private 


A    YOUNG  HUNTING  LADY.  25 

amusement  and  satisfaction.  Kitty  desired  nothing 
better  than  to  "  stop  him,"  but  this  was  easier  said  than 
done,  and  he  clearly  proposed  to  have  his  jump. 

"  I  can't — stop ! — wa-y ! — who-a  !  "  cried  poor  Kitty, 
tugging  hard  at  the  reins  as  her  steed  put  down  his 
head,  and  galloped  on. 

"  It's  all  right,  pray  don't  be  frightened ;  give  him 
his  head,  and  sit  well  back,"  were  Scatterly's  rapidly 
spoken  injunctions,  and,  though  very  likely  Kitty  did 
not  give  him  his  head  (feeling  too  much  the  comfort  of 
something  to  hold  on  by,  and  not  reflecting  to  what 
extent  she  inconvenienced  her  animal),  she  sat  back 
and  set  her  lips  tightly  as  her  experienced  mount 
slackened  his  pace  and  prepared  for  his  effort. 

Scatterly's  big  horse  took  the  obstacle  almost  in  his 
stride.  At  the  same  moment  over  came  Kitty  with  a 
crash,  and,  though  landing  well  on  her  horse's  neck, 
got  back  into  her  saddle,  and  succeeded  in  stopping  in 
the  middle  of  the  field — a  deep  plough.  Scatterly,  too, 
reined  in  to  express  his  fears  that  he  had  startled  her 
horse,  and  to  compliment  her  on  her  courage  and  judg- 
ment, a  check  which  occurred  at  this  moment  enabling 
him  to  perform  this  act  of  grace  without  the  suffering 
he  would  have  experienced  had  he  lost  his  place. 

Up  came  also  the  cob,  snorting  indignantly,  for  his 
usually  patient  owner,  in  terror  lest  evil  might  befall 
his  charge,  had  hurried  him  over  the  plough  by  means 
of  the  dog-whip  he  always  carried  but  rarely  used ;  and 
up  came  also  Miss  Kitty's  groom,  who  had  been  dis- 


26         SKETCHES  IN  'THE  HUNTING  FIEID. 

porting  himself  in  another  direction.  Two  or  three 
men  who  knew  the  Trewsons  likewise  approached  to 
hear  the  story  and  offer  congratulations  on  her  escape 
from  the  danger,  whatever  it  might  have  been,  and 
compliments  on  her  riding,  which  were  especially  wel- 
come to  their  recipient. 

Altogether  Miss  Kitty  was  decidedly  pleased  with 
the  adventure.  She  had  made  her  way  over  a  decent- 
sized  jump,  and  had  found  the  operation  a  great  deal 
easier  than  she  had  imagined.  Wi^h  the  convenient 
crutch  to  a  saddle  a  fence  is  in  fact  infinitely  easier  to 
the  wearer  of  the  habit  than  to  him  who  grasps  a  saddle 
— or  tries  to — with  boots  and  breeches ;  and  Kitty,  per- 
suaded with  much  facility  that  she  had  done  something 
wonderful,  was  so  little  alarmed  that  she  determined  to 
have  another  try — at  rather  a  smaller  fence  next  time, 
perhaps — when  an  occasion  offered. 

Such  occasions  will  offer  in  the  hunting  field  it  a 
person  seeks  for  them,  and  not  unfrequently  if  he  or  she 
does  not. 

Satisfied  with  the  laurels  she  had  won  on  the  day 
marked  by  these  exciting  occurrences,  Miss  Kitty  re- 
signed herself  contentedly  again  to  the  companionship 
of  the  cob,  whose  owner  cast  many  glances  at  the 
"  nasty  vicious  brute,"  which  had  now  relapsed  into 
perfect  placidity,  and  expressed  his  intention  of  urging 
upon  Trewson  the  necessity  of  getting  rid  of  such  a 
"  dangerous  animal." 

But  this  parting  was  not  brought  about,  and  the  very 


A   YOUNG  HUNTING  LADY.  27 

next  time  was  the  last  that  Miss  Kitty  accompanied  her 
quondam  guide. 

We  did  not  get  away  on  this  morning,  or  rather  on 
this  afternoon,  until  after  a  tedious  delay  and  a  weari- 
some journey  through  several  coverts  with  correspond- 
ing waits  outside,  and  soon  after  the  welcome  "  Tally- 
ho  !  "  was  heard  the  pair  found  themselves  in  a  large 
field  with  no  perceptible  way  out.  They  had  come  in 
by  means  of  a  very  flat  gap,  which  seemed  to  have 
vanished,  and  the  easiest  apparent  outlet  was  over  a 
hurdle.  The  cob  and  his  master  alike  regarded  as  ridi- 
culous such  a  proceeding  as  jumping ;  but  those  seduc- 
tive pink  coats  were  still  in  sight.  Miss  Kitty's  horse, 
though  tractable,  gave  symptoms  of  impatience,  and, 
disdaining  to  ride  round  the  field  again  in  search  of  the 
gap,  she  proclaimed  her  inclination  to  try  the  hurdle. 

Her  old  friend  was  somewhat  apt  to  be  didactic,  as 
Miss  Kitty  was  to  be  impatient,  and  before  he  could 
formulate  the  reasons  which  induced  him  to  caution  her 
against  such  a  proceeding,  and  adduce  examples  of 
persons  who  had  shattered  themselves  in  divers  ways  by 
such  rash  exploits.  Miss  Kitty  affected  to  assume  that 
he  was  coming,  and  with  an  *'  I'll  go  first,  shall  I  ?  " 
negotiated  the  hurdle  with  considerable  ease. 

She  did  not  knock  her  nose  this  time,  and  only  de- 
ranged the  position  of  her  hat  sufiiciently  to  convince 
her  of  the  wisdom  of  Scatterly's  injunction  to  "sit  well 
back ;  "  and  now  felt  justified  in  taking  her  place  in  the 
ruck  which  forms  the  main  body  of  most  hunting  fields. 


2  8         SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

So  for  the  rest  of  that  day  she  waited  her  turn,  and 
when  it  came,  followed  some  twenty  other  people,  and 
was  followed  by  as  many  more. 

After  this,  of  course,  Miss  Kitty  became  more  and 
more  enamoured  of  hunting,  and  if  there  were  anything 
she  liked  better  than  to  hunt  it  was  to  talk  about  it.  So 
far  from  the  old  hunter  being  sold,  a  younger  comrade, 
a  well-bred  little  bay,  was  added  to  her  stable,  and  it  is 
only  when  he  is  unusually  fresh  and  she  is,  to  put  it 
plainly,  rather  afraid  of  him,  that  the  Kitty  of  to-day  is 
to  be  recognised  as  the  pleasant,  amiable  girl  of  yore. 

She  is  horsey  without  the  slightest  knowledge  of 
horses,  for  practice  has  brought  experience,  experience 
confidence,  and  confidence  only  presumption.  On  the 
strength  of  an  ability  to  sit  on  her  steed  over  a  light 
jump,  Miss  Kitty  has  subsided  into  a  disagreeable 
imitation  of  Lady  Gay  Spanker ;  and  the  worst  of  it  is 
that  the  misguided  girl  regards  herself  as  the  pride  and 
glory  of  the  hunt,  believing  that  foxes  and  hounds  are 
simply  accessories  to  the  dis]play  of  her  grace,  courag'e, 
and  skill. 

A  short  account  of  IVIiss  Kitty's  proceedings  the  last 
time  she  favoured  us  with  her  company  will  make  clear 
why  it  is  that  we  love  her  so  much  better  when  she  is 
at  home. 

The  meet  is  a.t  Spinnington  Gorse,  and  business  is 
just  beginning,  when  up  canters  Kitty  on  her  new  horse 
Sultan,  a  yelp  from  Rattler,  as  she  boldly  gallops  over 
him,  announcing  that  he  has  either  been  kicked  or  very 


A   YOUNG  HUNTING  LADY.  29 

near  it.  "  I'm  afraid  I'm  late  ? "  she  says  apologetically, 
and  proceeds  to  greet  her  friends  ;  Sultan,  who  had  been 
sent  along  at  a  good  pace,  blowing  hard  to  get  his 
wind. 

Kitty  surveys  the  scene,  and  perceives  a  big  covert, 
bounded  on  one  side  by  road,  on  another  by  farm  build- 
ings, on  the  side  where  we  have  taken  up  our 
stand  by  ploughed  fields,  and  to  the  south  by  a  wide 
expanse  of  park-like  common  leading  across  a  splendid 
line  of  country  over  which  a  wiry  fox  has  taken  us  more 
than  once,  and  on  which  side  it  is  more  than  probable 
he  will  break  again.  Kitty  marks  the  turf.  "  Did  he 
want  a  nice  gallop,  a  poor  little  horse  ? "  she  murmurs 
caressingly.  "  Did  he  want  to  go  very  much  ?  So  he 
shall,  then." 

Sultan  does  not  want  to  go,  having  been  well  blown 
already,  but  a  kick  from  his  mistress's  spur  sends  him 
along;  and  when  she  has  gone  some  three  hundred 
yards  the  fox  bounds  out  of  covert  just  before  her  horse's 
nose,  and  as  speedily  bounds  in  again,  his  retreat  being 
expedited  by  a  cut  aimed  at  him  by  Miss  Kitty's  whip. 
We  look  into  each  other's  faces,  thoughts  too  deep  for 
utterance  checking  expression.     Kitty  is  delighted. 

"  I've  seen  the  fox  !  "  she  gleefully  cries  as  she  returns 
to  us.  "  Oh,  Sir  Henry  " — to  the  Master — "  I've  seen 
the  fox ;  such  a  beauty !  He  was  just  coming  out,  and 
I  drove  him  back  again.  Oh  !  he  was  such  a  splendid 
fellow !  " 

Sir  Henry   is   the  pink  of  politeness,  and  feels   the 


30  SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

utter  impossibility  of  giving  vent  to  his  feelings  ;  but 
his  face  is  a  study  as  he  replies,  "  I'm  afraid  you  have 
scarcely  assisted  us  very  much,  then,  Miss  Trewson," 
and  rides  off. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  Sir  Henry  ?  he  doesn't 
seem  at  all  nice  this  morning,"  Kitty  innocently  asks 
an  acquaintance. 

"  You  headed  the  fox,  didn't  you  ? "  he  answers, 
hoping  that  the  amiably  spoken  query  will  convey  a 
reproof. 

"Yes  ;  and  I  suppose  he's  vexed  because  he  didn't  see 
it  ?  "  she  surmises. 

"Perhaps  that  was  it,"  he  drily  rejoins ;  whereupon 
Kitty,  with  a  dim  perception,  it  may  be,  that  she  ought 
not  to  have  had  the  fox  all  to  herself,  grows  energetic. 
We  are  now  in  a  ride  in  the  covert.  Old  Ranger,  the 
well-beloved  hero  of  a  clever  pack,  puts  his  wise  old 
nose  to  the  underwood,  ponderingly  and  suspicious. 

"  Go  and  hunt,  bad  dog  !  "  cries  Kitty,  "  landing  " 
him  one  with  her  restless  whip,  to  the  infinite  surprise 
of  Ranger,  who  looks  up  wondering  what  he  has  done 
to  be  beaten,  and  runs  for  an  explanation  to  Bill  Heigh, 
his  friend  and  huntsman.  "  Please  not  to  flog  the 
hounds,  Miss,"  he  says,  as  he  rides  past,  to  Kitty,  who 
looks  very  angry,  and  vows  that  he  is  an  "  ill-tempered, 
rude  old  thing." 

In  spite  of  Kitty,  however,  the  fox  is  viewed  away  on 
his  former  line,  and  young  Heathfield,  who  happens  to 
be  by  her  side,  is  just  turning  his  horse's  head  towards 


A   YOUNG  HUNTING  LADY.  31 

the  fence  out  of  the  covert  when  Kitty's  voice  sounds  in 
his  ears :  "  Oh,  Mr.  Heathfield,  I'm  so  sorry  to  trouble 
you,  but  would  you  please  fasten  my  girths  a  little 
tighter  for  me  ?  It's  so  good  of  you,  but  my  groom  is 
so  stupid.  Will  that  do  ?  Are  you  sure  it's  fast  now  ? 
Oh,  thank  you  so  much  !  " 

It  doesn't  take  poor  Heathfield  long  to  get  on  his 
horse  and  set  him  going  ;  but  everybody  else  who  rides 
is  well  away  over  the  next  field,  and  it  is  not  a  benedic- 
tion on  Miss  Kitty  that  the  breeze  wafts  back  as  he 
gallops  on.  Kitty  finds  her  way  over  somehow,  and 
manages  to  reach  a  gate,  which  enables  us  to  avoid  an 
ugly  trap,  before  most  of  us,  whereat  there  is  a 
lengthened  pause  until  this  clumsy  Diana  has  quite 
convinced  herself  that  she  cannot  open  it.  On  we  go, 
Kitty's  screw,  who  has  had  one  or  two  sharp  bursts, 
already  losing  ground,  when  Scatterly,  who  has  been 
rather  thrown  out  by  extra  cleverness,  comes  up  in  a 
desperate  hurry,  but  draws  rein,  for  the  hounds  are 
hesitating  a  little  and  bending  to  the  right. 

*'Oh,  Mr.  Scatterly,"  cries  Kitty,  "I'm  so  glad  you 
are  here  !  I'm  sure  we  could  jump  that  fence  if  you 
would  pick  out  that  nasty  stick  for  me.  Do  you  mind  ? 
I  do  so  want  to  try  !  " 

Scatterly,  as  courteous  as  all  shy  men  are  who  are  not 
used  to  ladies'  society,  dismounts,  and  is  struggling  to 
pick  out  a  stiff  binder,  when,  with  a  loud  cry,  away  go 
the  pack  with  one  consent.  By  the  time  he  has  com- 
pleted his  task  the  hunt  is  a  good  half-mile  away,  for 


32 


SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 


the  Sultan  refuses,  and  Scatterly,  with  extreme  good 
nature,  waits  to  see  her  scramble  over  in  a  second 
attempt. 

About  half-way  through  the  run  Kitty  finished  in  a 
pond,  I  don't  know  who  fished  her  out,  or  which  of  the 
two  it  was  who  rode  home  with  her ;  but  altogether  it 
will  scarcely  be  a  matter  for  surprise  that  we  do  not 
hail  Miss  Kitty's  appearance  with  absolute  enthusiasm. 


IV. 
AN   ENGLISH   FARMER. 

As  Tom  ]\Iaizeley  sits  by  the  covert-side,  talking  with 
a  respectful  deference  which  has  nothing  of  servility  in 
it  to  his  landlord,  Sir  Henry  Akerton,  he  would  feel 
extremely  uncomfortable  if  he  had  the  faintest  idea  that 
he  was  being  included  in  a  series  of  sketches  designed 
for  the  amusement  of  known  and  unknown  friends,  who 
are  united  by  a  common  interest  in  the  chase. 

Tom  would  laugh  at  the  notion  of  being  put  in  print ; 
and  when  he  does  laugh  it  is  not  the  mild  spasm  of 
hilarity,  compounded  of  a  smile  and  snigger,  which 
sometimes  does  duty  for  laughter,  but  a  peal  which 
leaves  you  no  room  for  doubt  as  to  the  integrity  and 
power  of  his  lungs. 

Having  so  done  justice  to  the  novelty  of  the  proceed- 
ing, Tom  would,  I  suspect,  feel  awkward,  and  protest 
that  there  was  nothing  to  say  about  a  plain  chap  like 
him.  Nor,  perhaps,  is  Tom  altogether  wrong.  There 
is  nothing  particular  about  him.  He  is  only  a  steady- 
going,  hard-headed,  soft-hearted  English  farmer ;  but 
he  is  an  excellent  type  of  a  class,  and  in  a  series  of 
sketches  of  an  English  hunting  field  must  necessarily 

D 


3  [  SKETCHES  IX  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

occupy  a  very  prominent  place,  if  such  sketches  are  to 
be  fairly  comprehensive. 

My  opinion  of  Tom  is  by  no  means  a  universal 
one,  and  the  very  progressive  Radical  member,  Mr. 
Marmaduke  Jenks,  who  sits  for  the  market-town  where 
you  may  meet  Tom  any  Friday  morning,  regards  him 
as  an  ignorant  boor,  dissipated  and  dangerous;  while 
Tom,  on  his  side,  stigmatises  his  friend  as  a  "rum  'un." 

Tom's  creed  is,  in  fact,  very  simple. 

He  is  only  anxious  to  do  the  best  by  the  land  he  holds, 
to  train  up  his  son  to  follow  in  his  grandfather's  foot- 
steps, to  make  his  daughters  fit  wives  for  the  young 
farmers,  his  son's  contemporaries,  to  keep  his  depend- 
ants honest  and  comfortable,  and,  in  short — the  idea 
seems  absurd  in  this  grasping,  discontented  age — to  do 
his  duty  in  that  station  of  life  to  which  it  has  pleased 
God  to  call  him. 

Tom's  ignorance  revealed  itself  conspicuously  when 
he  was  invited  to  become  a  member  of  a  Two  Hundred 
who  were  to  have  the  privilege  of  selecting  ]\Ir.  Jenks  as 
a  fit  and  proper  person  to  represent  the  agricultural 
interest  in  the  House  of  Commons,  an  honour  which 
Tom  refused  in  terms  unmistakeably  decisive. 

To  his  besotted  mind,  his  landlord  is  his  natural 
representative,  and  he  looks  on  the  sudden  arrival  of  a 
stranger  who  does  not  own  an  acre  in  the  county,  and 
whose  only  claim  to  consideration  is  that  he  has  edited 
a  manual  of  political  economy,  as  an  impudent  intrusion. 
He  has  heard  Mr.  Jenks  hold  forth  on  the  tyranny  of  the 


AX  EXGLISII  FARMER.  35 

governing  classes,  the  immorality  of  landowners,  and 
has  been  promised  that,  if  he  will  only  support  Mr.  Jenks 
and  urge  his  brother  farmers  to  join  with  him,  the 
tyrants  will  be  made  to  tremble  before  the  eloquence  of 
Jenks,  who  has  draughted  a  bill  which  will  enable  every 
farmer  to  become  possessed,  on  easy  terms — for  next 
to  nothing  in  fact — of  the  land  he  tills. 

But  all  this  fails  to  move  sturdy  Tom  Maizeley.  He 
doesn't  want  to  make  any  one  tremble,  least  of  all  his 
landlord,  for  whom  he  entertains  a  warm  regard. 

*'He  lets  me  the  land  for  a  fair  rent,  and  I  pay  it 
when  it  comes  due.  The  game  isn't  in  my  lease,  and  I 
don't  want  what  doesn't  belong  to  me." 

Such  is  Tom's  artless  philosophy,  and  he  has  conse- 
quently been  set  down  as  an  incorrigible  dullard. 

"  I  daresay  he  knows  a  lot,"  Tom  said  to  a  neighbour, 
as  they  jogged  home  after  a  lecture  they  had  been 
induced  to  attend,  wherein  Mr.  Jenks  and  some  friends 
from  London  had  painted  their  wretched  condition  to 
them,  and  after  which  he  had  distributed  copies  of  his 
handbook,  that  they  might  refresh  their  minds  when 
they  got  home.  "  I  daresay  he  knows  a  lot ;  but  it 
doesn't  seem  to  make  him  very  happy ;  and  I  reckon 
them  that's  most  contented  has  the  best  sort  of  politics!" 

How  can  you  possibly  reason  with  a  man  like  this — a 
creature  who  deliberately  refuses  to  understand  that  he 
ought  to  be  miserable  and  dissatisfied  ?  Jenks  has 
given  him  up,  and  herein  I  think  Jenks  has  done 
wisely. 

D  2 


36  SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

As  aforesaid,  Tom  is  now  talking  to  the  oppressor ; 
and  though  the  most  elastic  definitions  of  beauty  will 
not  include  his  face  or  figure,  he  is  far  from  a  disagree- 
able object  to  contemplate. 

He  is  now  nearer  fifty  than  forty,  though  not  much. 
His  thick  brown  hair  has  only  just  the  faintest  tinge  of 
grey  here  and  there,  and  his  whiskers  are  as  yet  free 
from  that  slight  indication  that  he  is  not  as  young  as  he 
was  :  a  fact  of  which  he  would  be  well-nigh  unconscious 
were  it  not  that  his  horses  seem  to  labour  rather  more 
towards  the  end  of  the  day  than  they  used  to  do,  and 
this  sets  their  master  thinking  that  the  girth  of  his  waist 
may  have  some  influence  on  the  peculiarity. 

He  wears  brown  tops,  of  course,  and,  equally  of 
course,  cord  breeches,  a  dark  tweed  shooting  jacket,  and 
rough,  low  chimney-pot  hat ;  and  these  garments,  with 
what  they  contain,  together  with  a  comfortable  saddle, 
approach  in  weight  almost  as  near  to  fifteen  stone  as 
they  do  to  fourteen. 

Tom,  however,  never  had  the  slightest  pretensions  to 
being  a  brilliant  rider.  He  does  not  jump  if  he  can 
avoid  it,  and  an  extensive  knowledge  of  the  Meadow- 
mere  country  enables  him  to  find  his  way  from  point 
to  point  without  bumping  much  in  his  substantial 
saddle. 

He  and  his  horses  perfectly  understand  each  other, 
and  if  Tom  has  to  take  his  place  with  the  main  body  of 
the  field,  who  follow  each  other  over  a  moderate  jump, 
the    business    is    managed    without    any    unnecessary 


AN  ENGLISH  FARMER.  37 

exertion  on  either  side.  There  is,  fortunately  for  many 
of  us,  a  way  through,  as  well  as  over,  most  fences  ;  and 
Tom  does  not  disdain  to  wait,  in  the  case  of  timber, 
until  some  ambitious  spirit  has  broken  the  top  rail, 
which — again  fortunately  for  many  of  us — some  ambi- 
tious spirit  generally  contrives  to  do,  either  at  or  with- 
out the  expense  of  a  cropper. 

So  it  happens  that  he  avoids  those  moving  accidents 
by  flood  and  field  which  are  irritating  to  the  man  who  is 
not  used  to  them  ;  and  that  he  often  comes  up  smiling 
with  a  comparatively  fresh  horse,  while  less  wary 
sportsmen,  who  have  been  conscientiously  riding  the 
line,  are  beginning  to  wonder  whether  they  have  not  had 
nearly  enough  of  it,  and  to  feel  certain  that  their  horses 
have  quite. 

When  fourteen  stone  odd  falls,  it  falls  heavy ;  and,  as 
many  even  lighter  weights  know,  the  sensation  of  rising 
from  the  ground  wondering  what  has  been  happening 
to  you,  how  you  came  to  be  sitting  about  in  a  damp 
field,  and  why  you  have  not  a  more  satisfactory  grasp 
of  reins  which  are  lumped  up  in  your  hand,  or  dangling 
about  the  fore-legs  of  a  beast  which  is  gaily  careering 
away  in  the  next  field,  is  calculated  to  destroy  the 
equanimity  of  the  best  tempered  of  men. 

I  like  Tom  IMaizeley  so  much  that  I  should  prefer  to 
depict. him  going  as  Dick  Christian  did  in  his  best  day, 
and  taking  what  came  in  his  way  without  fear  or 
favour ;  but  a  regard  for  fact  has  taken  the  point  out  of 
many  a  spirited   story,  albeit  there  are  a  good  many 


33  SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

current  anecdotes  which  have  not  been  detrimentally 
influenced  by  such  a  consideration. 

And  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  only  men  who 
sell  horses  are  those  who  ride  straight.  A  steady-going 
nag  is  of  more  value  to  many  than  a  steeplechaser  of 
the  highest  character,  and  when  Tom  has  ridden  a 
horse  for  the  season  he  has  not  to  look  far  for  a 
purchaser  who  will  give  what  is  comparatively  a  long 
price.  In  respect  to  riding,  it  must  be  admitted  that 
Tom,  junior,  does  more  than  his  father  ever  did,  and 
were  it  not  for  the  faith  the  elder  man  has  in  his  son's 
common  sense,  he  would  be  a  little  uneasy  now  and 
then  at  Tom's  intimacy  with  young  Brookley,  the 
steeplechase  jockey,  and  son  of  the  trainer  whose 
stables  are  near  the  kennels  of  the  JMeadowmere 
hounds. 

Young  Tom  likes  nothing  better  than  a  mount  on  one 
of  Brookley's  horses  as  it  takes  its  morning  gallop  on 
the  Downs,  or  perhaps  goes  for  a  turn  over  the  jumps 
laid  out  on  Coverton  Common ;  and  last  year  he  turned 
his  experience  to  good  account  by  winning  the  Farmers' 
Plate  at  the  Meadowmere  Meeting,  and  selling  the 
horse  at  a  very  decent  figure.  But  Tom,  junior,  is  not 
likely  to  ruin  himself  on  the  turf  (nor,  for  the  matter  of 
that,  is  Brookley  the  sort  of  man  to  lead  him  astray), 
and  already  has  shown  his  ability  to  lend  a  useful  hand 
and  a  shrewd  head  to  the  management  of  affairs  at  the 
farm. 

If  you  want  to  please  Tom  Maizele}-,  son.e  c\'y  whtn 


AN  ENGLISH  FARMER.  39 

jogging  home  from  a  good  run,  you  pass  his  door, 
accept  his  hearty  offer  of  a  rest  and  a  glass  of  his  sound 
ale.  Up  the  lane  there,  past  the  straw  yard,  where 
probably  a  foal  and  a  couple  of  colts  are  plodding 
about  in  the  deep  litter,  and  put  up  your  horse  in  the 
stable,  where  in  the  loose  box  lives  the  good  old  brood 
mare  that  would  have  won  the  Grand  National  but  for 
a  series  of  misfortunes  which  Tom  will  detail  to  you, 
and  which  are  perfectly  convincing  beyond  all  question, 
to  him  at  any  rate. 

Your  beast  may  safely  be  committed  to  the  charge  of 
the  old  labourer  who  does  duty  as  a  groom,  a  type  of 
sturdy  agriculturist  that  is  not  to  be  beguiled  by  the 
winsome  tongue  of  any  agitator. 

One  of  Tom's  men  was  tempted  to  join  a  branch  of 
Mr.  Arch's  institution  some  years  ago,  but  grew  tired 
of  paying  shillings  for  the  benefit  of  gentry  unknown, 
and  at  last  the  fact  leaked  out  to  the  no  small  satisfac- 
tion of  his  companions,  whose  faculty  for  producing 
jokes  is  small,  and  who  are  thus  provided  with  a  jest 
for  life.  Wlien  any  pecuniary  matter  is  under  dis- 
cussion, it  is  the  fashion  to  refer  to  this  honest  yokel  as 
a  millionaire  who  had  so  many  shillings  that  he  did 
not  know  what  to  do  with  them  ;  and  to  make  similar 
little  jokes  which  go  a  wonderfully  long  way,  and  cause 
a  wholly  disproportionate  amount  of  laughter  as  the 
men  sit  on  the  ale-house  bench,  or  stow  away  their 
provisions  in  Tom's  servants'  kitchen. 

It  is  into  the  other  kitchen  that  Tom  will  conduct 


40  SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIEID. 

you,  and  make  you  comfortable  in  a  chair  by  the  side  of 
the  capacious  fireplace,  where  the  flames  of  a  roaring 
fire  gleam  on  various  incidents  of  Scripture  history 
delineated  in  blue  and  white  tiles.  Tom  has  no 
drawing-room  or  dining-room,  and  sits  here  when  he 
is  not  in  his  business  room,  somewhat  laboriously  con- 
ducting his  correspondence,  or  making  up  his  accounts. 
The  girls  have  their  sitting-room  upstairs,  inside  the 
lattice-window  with  diamond  panes,  about  which 
creepers  cluster  so  richly  in  the  summer ;  but  they  will 
come  down  to  do  honour  to  their  father's  guest. 

Declining  port  and  sherry,  for  Tom's  taste  runs 
rather  in  the  direction  of  heady  beverages,  and  ex- 
plaining the  impossibility  of  consuming  roast  beef,  a 
quantity  of  turkey,  and  a  small  mountain  of  brawn, 
when  you  are  going  to  dine  in  a  couple  of  hours,  you 
will  do  well  to  accept,  even  in  preference  to  the  ale,  a 
cup  of  tea  with  the  rich  cream,  the  originators  of  which 
are  lowing  as  they  pass  through  the  farmyard.  Such 
bread  and  butter,  too,  as  Bessie  Maizeley  cuts  for  you  is 
not  to  be  had  every  day  of  the  year. 

Then,  while  a  substantial  meal  is  in  course  of  pre- 
paration for  Tom  and  his  son,  who  has  followed  in  after 
seeing  to  the  horses,  you  have  just  time  for  a  cigarette 
while  Tom  has  a  whiff  at  his  churchwarden,  the  only 
way  in  which  he  can  take  his  tobacco  with  a  relish,  and 
he  will  explain  to  you  once  more  how  it  came  that  the 
old  mare — a  present,  by  the  way,  from  Sir  Henry 
Akerton,  his  tyrannical  landlord — just  failed  to  win  the 


AN  EiXGLISH  FARMER. 


41 


Grand  National,  and  indeed  to  obtain  a  place  in  that 
remarkable  contest. 

So  with  a  cordial  invitation  from  Tom  to  look  in  any 
time  you're  his  way,  a  compliment  to  INIrs.  Maizeley  on 
her  tea,  and  to  the  girls  on  their  butter,  a  nod  to  young 
Brookley,  who  has  called  in  passing',  as  you  suspect  for 
the  sake  of  a  word  with  Bessie,  you  take  your  leave. 

Tom's  hand  is  not  a  model  for  a  sculptor,  and, 
naturally,  it  is  often  in  sad  need  of  soap  and  water; 
but  it  is  a  pleasant  hand  to  shake  for  all  that,  and  its 
hearty  grasp  somehow  or  other  seems  to  do  you  good 
as  you  trot  away  into  the  high-road  towards  home. 


V. 

A   STRAIGHT   RIDER. 

The  Dowager  Lady  Hortington,  sitting  in  her  barouche 
at  the  Cross  Roads  on  the  occasion  of  a  meet  at  that 
likely  centre,  and  holding  her  gold-framed  eye-glasses 
to  her  aquiline  nose,  surveys  us  with  the  sort  of  expres- 
sion she  might  be  expected  to  assume  on  suddenly 
coming  upon  a  herd  of  harmless  but  eccentric  animals ; 
and  presently  her  ladyship  desires  to  be  informed  who 
is  the  boy  on  the  large  brown  horse. 

Sir  Henry  Akerton,  who  is  on  his  horse  at  the  side  ot 
the  Hortington  barouche,  talking  to  its  occupant,  looks 
in  the  direction  indicated. 

Seated  on  a  great  raking  thoroughbred  bay — it  is  not 
a  brown,  but  the  dowager  scorns  details — is  a  youth 
with  mild  blue  eyes  set  in  a  smooth,  rosy,  and  guileless 
countenance,  decorated  only  by  a  faint  and  downy 
moustache,  and  now  w^earing  such  a  weary  and  melan- 
choly aspect  that  we  who  know  him  well  understand 
that  he  is  peculiarly  happy  and  alert  this  morning. 

Kitty  Trewson,  dashing  up  in  her  most  approved 
style,  passes  immediately  behind  the  bay's  tail — a 
proceeding  which  he  accepts  as  an  insult,  and  a  furious 


A   STRAIGHT  RIDER.  43 

plunge  is  the  consequence.  But  you  need  not  be 
anxious  for  the  youth's  safety ;  he  seems  to  be  sitting 
carelessly  enough,  but  his  seat  is  a  good  deal  tighter 
than  it  looks,  and  a  tug  at  the  bridle,  accompanied  by  a 
touch  of  the  spur,  convinces  the  big  bay  that  he  will  do 
well  to  behave  himself. 

"I  know  his  face,"  Lady  Hortington  continues,  as 
she  gazes  at  this  performance. 

"Very  likely;  you've  met  him  in  town,  no  doubt. 
It's  young  Wynnerly,  of  the  —  Guards,"  Sir  Henry 
answers,  making  his  adieux,  and  giving  a  signal  to 
his  huntsman,  which  is  sjoeedily  communicated  to  the 
pack,  and  responded  to  by  an  eager  dash  into  the 
covert. 

The  youth  is  indeed  that  gallant  warrior,  Captain 
Wynnerly,  whose  fame  as  a  gentleman-rider  is  Euro- 
pean, and  who,  though  one  of  the  best  fellows  in  the 
world,  is  by  no  manner  of  means  the  artless  creature 
you  would  take  him  for  if  you  were  inclined  to  dis- 
regard the  proverb  which  points  out  the  folly  of  judging 
from  appearances. 

And  that  this  folly  is  sometimes  very  expensive 
young  Downing  found  to  his  cost  on  the  occasion  of 
Wynnerly's  dchiit  as  a  steeplechase  rider  in  our 
countr}^ 

Sir  Henry  Akerton  had  picked  up  in  Ireland,  for  a 
small  sum,  an  enormous  chestnut  horse  which  no  one 
could  manage  to  do  anything  with — except  fall  off,  an 
operation  that  was  performed  with  remarkable  punctu- 


44  SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

ality  and  dispatch  by  those  who  found  themselves  in 
the  altitude  of  his  saddle.  Wonderful  stories  had  been 
told  of  what  Fireworks,  as  he  was  called,  could  do  when 
he  liked ;  but  the  prospect  of  verifying  these  anecdotes 
seemed  small,  as  his  proceedings  were  generally  limited 
to  bucking,  with  an  ability  which  the  most  experienced 
Australian  waler  might  env}^,  and  to  stopping  dead  at 
his  fences  just  at  the  moment  when  his  rider  had  con- 
cluded that  he  certainly  meant  going  this  time. 

The  second  whij^,  who  usually  rode  Sir  Henry's 
horses,  had  been  put  down  so  regularly  that  his  con- 
fidence— to  say  nothing  of  his  mortal  frame — was 
severely  shaken,  and  odds  of  three  to  one  that  whoever 
appeared  on  his  back  would  not  remain  in  that  pre- 
carious situation  till  the  end  of  the  day  were  always  to 
be  obtained  by  the  rashly  speculative. 

We  heard,  however,  just  before  the  INIeadowmere 
Race  IMeeting,  a  couple  of  years  ago,  that  a  jockey  was 
coming  down  who  had  won  on  Fireworks  before, 
against  very  good  horses;  and  not  knowing  Wynnerly 
in  those  days  we  were  astonished  at  his  arrival,  on  the 
morning  of  the  races,  to  go  round  and  inspect  the 
course,  with  a  couple  of  other  strangers ;  he  looked  go 
young  and  tender  and  artless  that  none  of  us  could 
believe  he  was  able  to  ride  Fireworks. 

Downing,  whose  chief  characteristic  is  the  perfect 
satisfaction  with  which  he  regards  himself,  his  opinions, 
his  horses,  and  in  fact  all  that  is  his — men  who  do  not 
like  him  call  him  a  supercilious  ass — was  a  steward  of 


A   STRAIGHT  RIDER.  45 

the  meeting,  and  took  the  new-comers  to  show  them 
the  way ;  seeming  greatly  amused  at  Wynnerly's  ap- 
parent dismay  when  they  came  to  the  brook. 

"  Over  this  river  ? "  Wynnerly  inquired  with  seeming 
anxiety  and  apprehension. 

*'  Oh,  yes !  over  here,  sir.  We  call  it  the  brook, 
though,"  Downing  replied,  with  a  rather  contemptuous 
smile. 

"  Horrid  great  place  !  Isn't  there  a  bridge  or  a  way 
round?"  he  inquired,  with  an  aspect  of  perfect  sincerity, 
so  far  as  could  be  seen,  devoid  of  the  faintest  symptom 
of  chaff.  At  all  times  it  was  undoubtedly  a  big  jump, 
and  rain  had  lately  filled  it  and  overflowed  the  banks. 

"No,  sir.  Must  go  over  between  the  flags — or  in," 
the  guide  explained. 

"  Yes.  I  shall  have  to  take  it  in  two,  I  expect.  Is  it 
very  deep  ? "  Wynnerly  asked. 

"  We'll  see  that  you  are  not  drowned,  sir,"  Downing 
responded  as  they  crossed  the  plank  footbridge,  to  go 
and  look  at  the  posts  and  rails  which,  as  Downing  plea- 
santly anticipated,  inspired  fresh  terrors  in  the  infantile 
jockey's  bosom  ;  or  so,  at  least.  Downing  imagined. 

Downing  had  entered  a  horse  for  the  steeplechase, 
and  though  I  am  certain  Wynnerly  never  dreamed  of 
influencing  the  betting  by  his  demeanour  while  inspect- 
ing the  course,  the  steward  had  satisfied  himself  that, 
with  such  a  rider.  Fireworks  must  be  out  of  the  hunt ; 
and  he  not  only  laid  the  odds  against  that  ill-disposed 
animal,  but  backed  his  own  beast  freely. 


46  SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

"You'll  see  some  fun  when  that  young  gentleman 
gets  on  old  Fireworks,"  Downing  confided  to  his 
friends.  "  He's  in  the  bluest  funk  you  ever  saw  out  of 
a  paint-box ;  and  look  at  the  old  horse  kicking  up 
behind  and  before  !  " 

The  old  horse  was  indeed  indulging  himself  in  these 
and  other  vagaries,  and  generally  making  more  of  a 
beast  of  himself  than  nature  had  made  already ;  but 
now  that  it  had  come  to  the  point,  Wynnerly  stood  by 
superintending  the  process  of  saddling  with  equa- 
nimity. 

"  Cruel  bad  temper  he's  in  to-day  !  Why,  it's  twenty 
to  one  he  doesn't  get  over  the  first  two  fences  !  "  Down- 
ing exclaims  in  high  good  humour,  which  is  but  faintly 
checked  when  Sir  Henry  quietly  rejoins,,- — 

"  I  shouldn't  make  the  odds  about  that  too  long,  if  I 
were  you,  Downing;  and  if  he  can  win,  you  may 
depend  upon  it  his  rider  will  make  him  do  it  to-day." 

It  is  soon  evident  that  Wynnerly  can  sit  on,  at  any 
rate.  The  moment  he  touches  the  saddle.  Fireworks 
forms  himself  into  a  species  of  Gothic  arch,  his  saddle 
being  the  apex,  and  then  sets  off  to  kick  viciously, 
wriggling  his  body  at  the  same  time  in  an  apparent 
attempt  to  see  how  his  hind-legs  look  during  the  opera- 
tion. 

This  is  the  strategical  movement  which  usually  dis- 
poses of  his  riders ;  but  it  has  not  this  effect  on  Wyn- 
nerly, who,  seeing  that  the  question  who  is  master  had 
better  be  promptly  decided,  uses  his  cutting  whip  with 


A   STRAIGHT  RIDER.  47 

such  effective  vigour  that  the  horse  absolutely  stands 
still  for  a  moment,  tries  another  buck,  which  is  followed 
by  three  sounding  rib-binders,  then  gallops  down  the 
course  sideways,  and  jumps  the  hurdle  with  about 
eighteen  inches  to  spare. 

The  folly  of  attempting  to  refuse  the  '^ river"  was 
distinctly  impressed  upon  him  when  an  early  symptom 
of  insubordination  displayed  itself;  and  instead  of  being 
drowned,  Wynnerly,  to  the  open-mouthed  amazement 
of  Downing  and  his  intimates,  cantered  in  an  easy 
winner,  by  many  lengths,  from  the  two  competitors  who 
had  survived  the  course  out  of  a  field  of  seven.  Down- 
ing paid  up  with  a  rather  rueful  face,  but  the  lesson  he 
learnt  was  worth  a  good  deal  of  the  money  his  experi- 
ence cost  him. 

Until  I  saw  Wynnerly  go  I  had  never  thought  that 
there  was  much  in  the  recipe  to  make  a  good  timber- 
jumper — "take  him  out  and  give  him  two  or  three 
heavy  falls  " — because  I  had  imagined  that  one  partner 
to  the  operation  would  never  have  cared  about  trying 
it.  But  Wynnerly  tumbles  about  with  a  perfect  good 
temper  quite  charming  to  behold — when  you  are  the 
right  side  of  an  awkward  obstacle.  He  is  a  living  con- 
tradiction to  the  cogency  of  the  complaint  urged  to  me 
the  other  day,  that  when  a  man  has  learnt  how  to  fall, 
he  has  generally  learnt  how  to  avoid  falling ;  and  so 
nearly  half  his  studies  are  useless. 

A  short  time  ago,  a  stranger  turned  up  at  the  meet, 
and   soon    after  we   got   away,  comfortably  cleared   a 


48  SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

nasty  square-railed  white  gate,  a  great  deal  more 
creditable,  as  it  seemed  to  many  of  us,  to  the  carpenter 
who  made  it  than  to  the  farmer  who  put  it  up  in  a  hunt- 
ing country  and  left  it  fastened. 

The  business  was  accomplished  in  such  an  easy,  un- 
obtrusive manner,  that  the  exceptional  ability  of  the 
performer  was  past  all  question,  and  we  wondered 
whether  anything  would  stop  him.  The  swollen  banks 
of  the  Swirl  towards  which  we  presently  approached 
seemed  to  answer  our  query  in  the  affirmative;  but  we 
were  wrong. 

This  river  is,  as  we  have  all  supposed,  impracticable 
at  the  best  of  times  ;  but  the  stranger  thought  it  worth 
trying,  and  went  at  it  with  a  will.  For  once  the  old 
proverb  was  falsified ;  or  at  least,  though  there  was  a 
"way,"  it  was  simply  in,  and  not  over.  Man  and  horse 
disappeared,  and  as  their  heads  rose  to  the  surface  up 
came  Wynnerly,  who  had  not  been  near  when  the  gate 
was  negotiated,  but  had  since  noted  the  way  in  which 
the  new-comer  had  been  going. 

"We  oughtn't  to  let  the  stranger  have  it  all  to  him- 
self!" Wynnerly  said,  and  putting  on  as  much  steam 
as  was  obtainable,  galloped  to  the  bank,  and,  as  was 
inevitable,  landed  about  two-thirds  of  the  journey 
across,  disappeared  in  turn,  but  hitting  on  an  easier 
way  up  the  opposite  bank,  was  ashore  in  time  to  give 
the  stranger  a  hand  to  help  him  out. 

A  very  stupid  proceeding,  the  wise  will  say,  with 
more  than  an  appearance  of  truth ;  but  there  is  some- 


A   STRAIGHT  RIDER.  49 

thing  in  the  reckless  spirit  of  the  deed  which,  whatever 
it  may  show  about  Wynnerly's  head,  at  least  proves 
that  his  heart  is  in  the  right  place.* 

In  spite  of  his  success  in  the  saddle,  Wynnerly  has 
not  more  money  than  he  knows  what  to  do  with,  and  if 
he  had  a  good  deal  more,  he  would  doubtless  find  means 
of  application  for  it  without  mental  exhaustion.  The 
source  of  his  gratification  to-day  is  that  he  has  picked 
up  what  Lady  Hortington  calls  the  large  brown  horse 
for  such  an  amount  as  is  indefinitely  spoken  of  as  "  an 
old  song  "  because  the  brute — probably  a  connection  by 
birth  of  Fireworks  aforesaid — has  x^roved  incorrigible  in 
very  skilful  hands. 

Encouragement — in  which  kindness  has  a  part,  as 
well  as  hands  and  heels — seems  effective  to-day,  how- 
ever, and  very  likely  his  late  owners  forgot  the  former 
half  of  this  compound,  and  lost  sight  of  the  fact  that  a 
cheer}^,  coaxing  word  or  two  sometimes  has  more  in- 
fluence than  a  cutting  whip  or  polished  spur. 

A  horse  not  unfrequently  has  a  reputation  for  bad 
temper,  and  it  very  often  fails  to  strike  its  owner  that 
the  temper  may  have  been  made  bad,  and  can  be  cured, 
without  being  violently  broken  ;  an  attempt  to  do  which 
latter  very  often  fails,  by  the  way.  Wynnerly  can  be 
firm  enough,  and  can  hit  hard  enough,  when  occasion 
demands  that  form  of  argument ;  but  he  also  knows  the 

*  It  may  be  that  some  readers,  who  do  not  live  in  that  part  of  the  country 
where  Wiltshire  and  Gloucestershire  unite,  will  protest  against  this  anecdote 
as  overdone.     In  its  main  incident  it  is  stiictlv  true. 


50  SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIEID. 

effect  of  a  gentle  word  and  a  friendly  pat  on  the  neck. 
From  the  manner  in  which  the  two  are  getting  on  to- 
gether to-day,  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  they -have 
arrived  at  that  mutual  understanding  which,  as  before 
said  in  the  course  of  these  sketches,  is  indispensable  to 
safe  and  pleasant  journeys  across  country. 

Let  us  see  how  the  hunt  generally  get  over  this  fence 
— a  tolerably  big  flight  of  rails,  with  a  ditch  on  the 
landing  side. 

Here  they  are !  Up  comes  Sir  Henry  in  that  sort  of 
rocking-horse  canter  which  his  animals  generally  affect, 
and  he  gets  over  quietly.  Tom  Maizeley  does  not  like 
the  look  of  it,  and  unaffectedly  pulls  up.  Here  is 
Scatterly,  on  a  pulling  chestnut  mare,  which  rushes  at 
the  rails  and  smashes  the  top  one  to  splinters,  making 
a  way  for  a  little  batch  of  followers,  among  whom  is 
Kitty  Trewson,  who  means  to  have  it  if  possible ;  but 
Sultan  is  rather  blown,  and,  dropping  his  hind-legs  in 
the  ditch,  looks  like  rolling  over  and  giving  Aliss  Kitty 
a  nasty  fall,  luckily  recovering  just  in  time  to  avert  the 
catastrophe.  Scratton,  the  dealer,  on  another  young 
one,  gets  over  neatly,  and  his  groom  does  the  same  with 
little  exertion.  Checkley  gallantly  looks  at  the  broken 
rail,  and  boldly  rides  away. 

Here  comes  Wynnerly  :  rather  too  fast,  and  heading 
for  a  place  where  the  rail  is  high  and  heavy.  The  pace 
is  hardly  of  his  choosing,  and  they  come  whizzing  down 
at  a  speed  which  must  take  them  over  or  through.  Over 
it  is,  and  rather  too  much  so,  for  the  big  horse,  over- 


A   STRAIGHT  RIDER. 


SI 


jumping  himself,  goes  a  couple  of  strides  and  blunders 
on  his  head ;  but  Wynnerly,  sitting  well  back,  pulls 
him  together  again,  cleverly  saves  the  cropper,  and 
goes  on  as  gaily  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

I  think  he  will  make  something  of  that  horse  yet :  if 
he  doesn't  the  chances  assuredly  are  that  no  one  will. 


E  2 


VI. 

AN  UNLUCKY  SPORTSMAN. 

Fortune  is  said  to  be  capricious.  In  her  treatment  of 
poor  Chansett,  however,  she  is  certainly  consistent 
enough — too  consistent  a  good  deal  for  him — for  it  is 
his  peculiarity  that  something  always  seems  to  happen 
to  spoil  his  fun  whenever  he  attempts  to  pursue  his 
favourite  sport. 

It  is  not  that  he  always  comes  to  grief  when  out  with 
the  hounds.  He  rides  fairly  well;  and,  considering 
that  for  some  years  past  fate  has  put  him  on  hired  or 
borrowed  horses,  he  has  not  very  much  to  complain  of 
in  this  respect.  If  there  be  a  rabbit  hole  in  a  field,  a 
loosely  fiUed-in  drain,  or  any  other  sort  of  trap,  it  is  not 
improbable  that  he  will  be  caught  in  it ;  and  when  he 
takes  his  own  line  at  a  fence  there  is  not  unlikely  to  be 
deep  and  treacherous  ground  on  the  other  side.  More 
than  once  he  has  been  turned  over  by  a  tough  binder  in 
a  rotten-looking  hurdle ;  and,  in  fact,  he  has  rather 
more  than  his  share  of  bad  luck,  having  regard  to  his 
undeniably  respectable  judgment. 

But,  somehow  or  other,  things  usually  go  badly  with 
him.      When    anticipation    looks   rosiest   there    is    an 


AN  UNLUCKY  SPORTSMAN.  53 

impending  shadow,  and  that  slip  between  the  cup  and 
the  lip  of  which  we  have  all  heard  is  a  familiar  accident 
with  poor  Chansett.  Among  his  friends  at  the  Mutton 
Chop  Club  the  question  "  Is  there  going  to  be  a  frost  ?" 
is  generally  answered  by  another  quer}^  "  Is  Chansett 
going  to  hunt  r"  If  so,  hard  weather  is  accepted  as 
inevitable.  Should  a  man's  horse  go  lame,  the  inference 
is  that  Chansett  had  been  invited  to  ride  it,  or  that  he 
was  on  the  point  of  setting  out  on  its  back  when  the 
injury  was  discovered. 

One  evening  last  season  Chansett  turned  up  at  the 
Club  in  a  state  of  considerable  cheeriness,  ballasted 
somewhat  by  the  suspicion  that  the  demon  of  ill-luck 
which  so  steadily  followed  him  might  be  lurking  for  him 
as  usual  in  an  unexpected  place.  Chansett  was  going 
to  hunt  with  the  North  Wessex.  A  friend  of  his,  a 
member  of  the  Hunt,  who  had  a  couple  of  horses  down 
in  that  neighbourhood,  was  away  for  a  time,  and  had 
generously  told  Chansett  that  he  might  go  down  any 
time  he  chose,  and  a  horse  would  be  sent  to  the  station 
to  meet  him  if  he  gave  notice  the  day  before.  Chansett 
knew  both  horses,  and  selected  the  one  he  liked  best ; 
and  when  the  train  pulled  up — he  looked  out  of  the 
window  rather  nervously,  though  he  had  sent  both  letter 
and  telegram  to  make  sure — there  was  the  animal  being 
led  to  and  fro. 

For  once  all  seemed  well.  Chansett  divested  himself 
of  his  great-coat  and  swung  himself  into  the  saddle, 
adjusted  his  stirrups,  pressed  on  his  hat,  and  felt  that 


54  SKETCHES  LV  THE  HUNTIXG  FIELD. 

there  was  no  mistake  about  it  this  time,  at  any  rate.  At 
the  bottom  of  the  descent  from  the  station  was  a  sign- 
post with  "  Whorley  Bridge  "  on  it,  and  this  was  the  spot 
fixed  for  the  meet. 

"I've  got  time,  I  suppose?"  Chansett  asked  the 
man. 

"Yes,  sir;  hounds  meet  at  eleven  and  it's  just  about 
four  miles.  You  can't  miss  it,  sir.  There's  sign-posts 
all  the  way  and  the  road's  as  nigh  straight  as  may 
be." 

It  was  about  half-past  ten  when  Chansett,  with  a  last 
glance  at  the  arm  of  the  sign-post,  to  make  sure  that 
the  affair  was  not  dodging  him  and  that  it  was  all  right, 
put  his  horse  to  a  trot  and  jogged  off  in  the  highest 
spirits.  He  reached  some  cross  roads,  but  the  faithful 
post  was  there  and  "  Whorley  Bridge"  stood  out  in 
newly  painted  letters.  Now  a  sign-post  is  the  best  of 
all  possible  guides,  when  you  know  where  to  look  for 
it ;  but,  though  Chansett  felt  sure  he  had  scrupulously 
obeyed  the  directions  of  his  dumb  friends,  he  suddenly 
found  the  road  grow  into  a  green  lane,  and  following  on 
discovered  that  he  was  a  solitary  figure  on  some  wide- 
spreading  Downs.  This  was  a  little  confusing ;  still  he 
had  noticed  the  position  of  the  sun,  and  by  this  guide 
could  continue  something  like  the  line  of  the  road  by 
which  he  had  come. 

He  was  just  beginning  to  feel  an  uncomfortable  sen- 
sation in  the  nature  of  a  doubt  when  about  half  a  mile 
away  he  caught  sight  of  a  man  on  horseback,  bearing 


AN  UNLUCKY  SPORTSMAN.  55 

away  towards  the  right  and  going  at  a  reaching  gallop 
■ — ^just  about  as  fast  as  a  wise  man  dares  to  go  at  the 
beginning  of  what  may  be  the  run  of  the  season,  keep- 
ing something  in  hand  and  yet  not  pulling  so  as  to 
make  his  horse  tire  itself  by  fighting  for  the  bit.  The 
tag  end  of  the  hunt,  evidently,  and  hounds  are  off  on  a 
hot  scent,  Chansett  thought,  as  he  took  his  horse  by  the 
head  and  set  off  after  his  fleeting  friend.  He  was  a 
good  deal  behind,  for,  so  far  as  Chansett  could  see,  there 
was  no  one  else  between  them  and  the  spot  where  the 
Downs  merged  into  woodland.  He  had  not  misjudged 
the  good  horse  under  him,  which  slipped  over  the 
ground  at  racing  pace,  rather  faster  than  Chansett 
would  have  cared  to  go,  but  that  he  found  he  did  not 
diminish  the  gap  between  himself  and  the  man  ahead. 
If,  in  fact,  hounds  were  running  straight  away  from  them, 
the  chances  of  catching  them  seemed  problematical, 
though  of  course  one  never  knows  how  or  when  hounds 
may  turn.  At  the  top  of  the  Downs  where  the  wood 
began,  there  might  be  something  more  to  see ;  and 
Chansett  pictured  to  himself  the  hunt  below  him, 
hounds  coming  rather  towards  him  than  otherwise,  so 
that  he  could  breathe  his  horse,  trot  down  gently  and 
join  in,  well  ahead  with  an  animal  under  him  fresher 
than  any  in  the  field — though  the  pace  for  the  last  mile 
had  been  fast.  The  horse  he  was  on  could  jump,  and 
he  guessed  the  sort  of  fences  there  would  be  in  the  vale. 
Fortune  owed  him  a  turn  ;  clearly  his  luck  had  changed, 
and  on  he  galloped  merrily. 


56  SKETCHES  EV  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

But  what  was  his  friend  ahead  doing  r  As  he  neared 
the  wood,  the  broad  ride  through  which  Chansett  could 
now  see,  his  leader  stopped  to  a  trot,  pulled  up,  turned 
right  round  facing  his  pursuer,  and  having  so  stood  for 
a  few  seconds,  began  to  walk  back,  the  rider  checking 
attempts  at  a  trot. 

Chansett  approached  him,  and  detected  a  lad,  in 
cords  and  butcher  boots,  a  pot  hat  and  tweed  coat. 

"Don't  you  see  anything  of  the  hounds?"  Chansett 
asked. 

"  Hounds  ?  No,  sir.  They  ain't  come  this  way.  They 
was  at  Whorley  Bridge  this  morning.  I  passed  'em  on 
the  road  as  I  come  along,"  the  guide  answered. 

"  I  thought  you  were  riding  after  them  !  "  poor  Chan- 
sett said. 

"  No,  sir.  I  come  up  here  to  give  the  mare  a  gallop," 
was  the  response. 

"  And  Where's  Whorley  Bridge  ? "  Chansett  inquired, 
looking  at  his  watch.  It  was  only  a  few  minutes  past 
eleven  now. 

"  Whorley  Bridge,  sir  ?  You've  been  coming  right 
away  from  it,"  the  stable  boy  replied.  "  It's  nigh  upon 
four  mile  from  here,"  and  he  explained  the  route ;  but 
by  the  time  that  Chansett  reached  the  spot  there  was  no 
sign  of  horse  or  hound.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but 
to  go  home  and  reflect  on  the  folly  of  jumping  at  con- 
clusions. Because  a  man  happened  to  be  galloping  it 
did  not  follow  that  he  was  after  hounds,  as  Chansett 
now  saw  distinctly. 


AN  UNLUCKY  SPORTSMAN.  57 

Chansett's  latest  exploits  with  the  Meadshire  are 
decidedly  curious. 

"  I  wish  I  could  lend  you  a  horse,  old  man,  but  I 
can't,  because  I've  only  got  two  that  can  go  at  all  now, 
and  one  was  out  yesterday  for  a  hard  day,"  Flutterton 
said  one  Tuesday  afternoon  at  the  IMutton  Chops ;  "  but 
I'll  tell  you  what  you  can  do.  Write  to  Gates,  and  tell 
him  to  send  on  something  decent  for  you  on  Thursday, 
and  come  and  dine  and  sleep  at  my  place.  We  meet  at 
the  Cross  Roads,  and  I'll  drive  you  over.  We'll  make 
up  for  it !  " 

The  thing  that  had  to  be  made  up  for  was  a  cub- 
hunting  expedition  of  Chansett's.  He  had  been  looking 
for  the  hounds  in  a  strange  country,  and  after  following 
various  intricate  directions  had  found  himself  on  the 
banks  of  a  stream  in  which  a  number  of  nondescript 
animals  were  searching  for  an  otter  whose  existence 
had  been  reported — falsely  to  all  appearances. 

At  any  rate  with  Flutterton  he  was  certain  to  find 
the  hounds,  and  we  knew  that  the  good-natured  little 
man  would  do  his  best  to  insure  Chansett  a  day's  sport. 

"  Don't  trust  to  a  letter.  Telegraph  to  Gates,  and 
ask  him  if  he  can  send  a  horse  for  you  to  the  Cross 
Roads,  on  Thursday.  Pay  the  answer,  and  say  you're 
going  to  hunt  with  me.  Cross  Roads  mind,  with  the 
Meadshire  hounds,  on  Thursday.  There  can't  be  a 
mistake  about  that,  though  you  are  such  an  unlucky 
beggar  when  you  get  on  a  horse." 

Thus  Flutterton  gave  directions.     Chansett  wrote  the 


58  SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

telegram  out,  and  in  the  course  of  a  couple  of  hours 
back  came  the  answer.  "  Good  horse  shall  be  sent  as 
ordered.     Cross  Roads,  Thursday." 

"  Well !  Unless  the  brute  he  sends  falls  down  and 
breaks  something  on  the  way,  I  should  think  you  are  all 
right  this  time  !  "  Flutterton  said,  as  he  went  off  to 
catch  the  train,  after  giving  the  most  elaborate  direc- 
tions how  Chansett  was  to  travel  next  day. 

The  luckless  man  arrived  at  Flutterton's  station  in 
due  course,  was  driven  to  the  house,  dined — comfortably, 
I  have  no  doubt,  from  pleasant  experiences — and  ap- 
peared next  morning  at  breakfast  in  boots  and  breeches, 
resolved  to  do  justice  to  his  good  luck.  The  dog-cart 
came  round  in  plenty  of  time,  and  Flutterton's  mother 
and  sisters  waved  a  cheery  adieu  from  the  dining-room 
window  as  the  horse  trotted  down  the  avenue,  out  of  the 
lodge  gates,  and  along  the  way  to  the  Cross  Roads. 
Through  the  market-town  they  clattered,  passing  on 
the  way  many  mounted  men  with  coats  of  all  colours,  a 
plentiful  supply  of  pinks  among  the  number. 

''There's  one  of  Gates'  horses,"  Flutterton  said, 
pointing  with  his  whip  as  a  horse  and  rider  emerged 
from  the  arch  leading  from  the  principal  inn.  "  Not  a 
bad-looking  one." 

*'  That's  probably  the  one  he's  sent  for  me,  I  should 
think,  and  that  fellow's  got  him  by  mistake.  That 
would  be  just  my  luck,"  Chansett  exclaimed. 

"No,  but  it  isn't.  The  man  who's  on  it  has  it  regu- 
larly.    You're  all  right  for  once  !  " 


AN  UNLUCKY  SPORTSMAN.  59 

"Then  there'll  be  no  scent  or  no  foxes,"  Chansett 
replied,  not  half  meaning  it  though,  this  time. 

"  There'll  be  both,  you  bet ! "  Flutterton  answered,  and 
they  drove  on,  horsemen  being  now  numerous,  and 
horsewomen  adding  pleasant  variety  to  the  scene. 
Flutterton  was  nodding  welcomes,  and  taking  off  his 
hat  busily,  as  they  neared  the  meet ;  and  presently  he 
descried  his  horse  in  the  distance,  being  led  up  and 
down  a  byway. 

"  There's  Miss  Earle,  with  Wynnerly  singeing  his 
wings,  and  there's  old  Crookton  swearing  at  something 
or  other.  I  see  my  horse,  but  where's  yours,  I  wonder  ? 
I  told  my  servant  to  look  out  for  Gates'  man." 

A  hasty  glance  and  a  careful  survey  were  equally  in 
vain.  Gates'  man  was  not  visible.  Chansett  looked  at 
his  watch.  It  was  eleven  within  three  minutes.  The 
faces  of  the  friends  grew  long,  nor  were  they  shortened 
when  Flutterton's  groom  reported  that  he  had  seen 
nothing  of  Gates's  man.  But  stay!  There  is  Gates 
himself,  in  a  cart. 

*'  Where's  my  friend's  horse,  Gates  r "  Flutterton 
asked. 

"That's  just  exactly  what  I  can't  make  out,  sir.  I 
sent  him,  saw  him  start  myself,  sir,  before  I  harnessed 
the  cob.  Strangest  thing  I  ever  knew,  for  I  told  the 
man  to  walk  him  quietly,  and  he  was  a  good  steady 
horse,"  Gates  returned. 

By  this  time  a  move  was  being  made,  and  the  animal 
was    still    invisible.       Of    course    Flutterton     pressed 


6o  SKETCHES  EV  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

Chansett  to  take  his  horse,  and  of  course  Chansett 
emphatically  declined,  alleging  with  some  truth  that  he 
was  too  heavy  for  the  light-weight  hunter  that  carried 
little  Flutterton.  Equally,  of  course,  Chansett  refused 
to  listen  to  his  friend's  determination  not  to  hunt,  to  go 
back  and  have  a  look  for  some  birds,  &c.  At  length 
Flutterton  was  reluctantly  persuaded  to  set  off  after  the 
now  rapidly  retreating  hunt,  and  in  a  few  moments 
Chansett  somewhat  sadly  took  the  reins  and  started  in 
the  dog-cart  for  the  town — his  things  had  been  sent 
to  the  railway  station,  for  he  was  due  in  London  at 
night. 

There  was  no  train  for  a  couple  of  hours  or  so,  and 
while  lunch  was  preparing  Chansett  strolled  round  the 
inn  stables.  Some  rough- coated  farmers'  horses,  an  old 
poster  or  two,  and  a  very  good-looking  hunter  occupied 
the  stalls.  The  latter  struck  Chansett  by  his  promising 
appearance.  If  he  had  only  had  a  creature  like  that 
what  fun  it  would  have  been  ! 

"Whose  is  that?"  Chansett  asked  of  a  man  standing- 
near,  who  had  been  curiously  examining  the  gentleman's 
legs. 

"One  of  Mr.  Gates'  'osses,  sir,"  the  man  replied, 
touching  his  hat. 

"What's  he  doing  here  ?"  he  continued. 

"  Gentleman  wrote  for  it  from  London,  sir,  and  never 
come.     Missed  the  train,  I  'spect,  he  did." 

"  /  wrote  to  Mr.  Gates,  or  rather  I  telegraphed  for  a 
horse  to-day,  and  it  never  came.     I  am  Mr.  Chansett." 


AN  UNLUCKY  SPORTSjMAN.  6i 

The  man  gazed  blankly. 

"  That's  the  name,  sir,  that  I  was  to  bring  the  horse 
to,  and  here  I  was,  wasn't  I,  Jim  ? "  and  he  appealed 
to  an  ostler  who  had  strolled  up  to  hear  the  colloquy. 

"You  was,  'Arry,"  Jim  answered. 

"  Master  says  to  me,  you  walk  her  down  gently  to  the 
Cross  Keys  for  the  gentleman,  he  says." 

"  To  the  Cross  Roads,"  Chansett  interrupted.  "  I 
drove  to  the  meet  and  expected  to  find  the  horse 
there." 

"  Cross  Keys,  master  says.  That's  the  way  we 
always  does.  Hunting  gentlemen  come  down  by  the 
8.15  express  and  their  'osses  is  waiting  for  'em  'ere 
when  they  come.     That's  always  the  rule." 

Chansett  looked  up  and  saw  the  sign-board,  two 
huge  keys  crossed  over  each  other,  swinging  above  his 
head. 

Whether  the  master  had  made  a  slip,  or  whether  the 
man,  accustomed  to  a  certain  routine,  had  let  the  order 
fall  upon  unheeding  ears  and  done  as  he  was  used  to 
doing,  did  not  appear.  It  was  twelve  o'clock,  there  was 
the  horse,  there  was  poor  Chansett ;  where  the  hounds 
might  be  v.^as  more  than  doubtful. 

"  My  usual  luck  !  "  he  muttered,  and,  I  fear,  added 
something  rude  about  the  innocent  Cross  Keys,  creaking 
slowly  above. 

When,  therefore,  Chansett  tells  us  that  he  is  going  to 
hunt,  light-hearted  young  men  ask  him  what  are  the  odds 
about  it,  advise  him  not  to  say  where  he  is  going  till  he 


62 


SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 


gets  there,  and  bait  him  with  much  simple  chaff.  But 
when  the  day  does  come,  and,  getting  a  good  start,  he 
cuts  down  the  field  and  covers  himself  with  glory,  every 
one  will  heartily  pat  him  on  the  back  and  none  will  envy 
his  good  fortune. 


VII. 

A   SOCIAL  PROBLEM. 

"That's  a  rare  good-looking  one.  Whose  is  it?" 
Scatterly  inquires  one  day,  as  he  rides  up  to  join  a  little 
group  of  us  at  a  meet  at  the  Kennels,  and  gazes  at  a 
model  of  a  light-weight  bay  hunter,  which  is  being  led 
to  and  fro  by  a  groom  of  peculiarly  sporting  aspect, 
mounted  himself  on  a  very  likely-looking  chestnut 
mare. 

"Don't  know  the  man  or  the  horse  either.  They 
don't  live  in  these  parts,"  Downing  answers  ;  but  Wyn- 
nerly  is  better  informed,  and,  coming  up  in  time  to  hear 
the  last  remark,  enlightens  us. 

"  That's  Arthur  Crossley's  man ;  and  I  suppose  he's 
coming  to  hunt  with  us  to-day,"  he  observes.  And  his 
opinion  is  speedily  verified,  for  the  moment  afterwards 
Crossley  appears  at  the  other  end  of  the  road,  cantering 
on  the  grass  by  the  wayside,  his  neat  hack  well 
splashed  with  mud,  as  is  natural  after  a  twelve-mile 
journey  along  miry  roads,  with  an  occasional  cut  across 
country. 

"Why  the  deuce  does  he  come  here  when  the  Fallow- 
field  meet  at  the  Hall,  I  wonder?"  Scatterly  mutters, 


64  SKIlTCHES  in  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

as  Crossley  approaches  and  exchanges  his  hack  for  the 
bay. 

But  this  is  one  of  the  many  things  connected  with 
Crossley  concerning  which  we  are  ignorant.  Crossley 
is  down  hunting  with  the  famous  pack  upon  whose 
country  our  humbler  hunt  borders.  They  are  at  one  of 
their  best  meets  to-day,  while  we  rarely  do  much  from 
the  Kennels,  at  any  rate  until  after  a  good  deal  of  use- 
less knocking  about ;  yet  Crossley  takes  the  trouble  to 
send  on  his  horses  and  make  a  long  journey  himself  for 
the  sake  of  coming  to  us. 

Crossley  is,  in  fact,  a  mystery,  and,  it  may  be,  a  very 
unfortunate  man. 

I  know  nothing  against  him,  nor,  so  far  as  I  can 
gather,  does  anyone  else — nothing,  that  is  to  say,  defi- 
nite ;  but  his  name  has  an  ill  savour  about  it,  and  if  he 
is  perfectly  straight,  he  is  very  unlucky  in  the  place  he 
holds  in  general  estimation. 

Crossley  was  at  Eton,  and  left  prematurely.  He  went 
into  a  Lancer  regiment,  from  which  after  a  couple  of 
years  he  sold  out,  having  by  this  time  entirely  dissipated 
his  patrimony,  and  successfully  run  up  debts  to  an 
amount  which  the  sale  of  his  commission  would  have 
done  little  to  discharge  had  he  applied  the  money  to- 
wards such  a  purpose. 

The  fact  that  of  the  two  chargers  with  which  he  then 
obliged  little  Flutterton,  at  a  high  figure,  one  proved  to 
be  glandered,  and  the  other  went  very  lame,  is  another 
of    Crossley's    misfortunes,     perhaps.      Symptoms     of 


A   SOCIAL   PROBLEM.  65 

glanders  are  often  not  discovered  for  a  considerable 
while  after  the  disease  has  affected  a  horse,  and  an 
animal  may  go  lame  at  any  time  :  so  possibly  Crossley 
was  innocent  of  any  knowledge  of  his  horse's  condition, 
and  certainly  he  so  persuaded  Flutterton,  as  their  sub- 
sequent partnership  in  the  steeplechaser  Bullfinch — 
over  which  poor  Flutterton  came  so  sad  a  pecuniary 
cropper — sufficiently  proves. 

Crossley  was  dreadfully  cut  up  about  these  two 
chargers,  and  vowed  that  he  would  gladly  return  the 
price,  if  he  had  it;  and  as  he  had  not,  it  is  impossible  to 
say  that  his  anxiety  was  feigned,  or  that  he  would  not 
have  kept  his  word  if  he  could. 

We  of  the  IMeadowmere  knew  very  little  of  him,  except 
as  a  gentleman  rider,  and  that  knowledge  was  chiefly, 
gained  in  London.  Crossley  is  a  member  of  a  good 
club,  and  of  the  Drake,  which  some  will  maintain  to  be 
a  good  club  likewise,  while  others  will  hold  a  contrary 
opinion.  He  was  put  up  some  time  ago  for  the  Mutton 
Chops,  the  popularity  of  which  pleasant  resort  is  well 
known ;  but  the  story  as  to  there  having  been  ten 
members  of  the  committee  at  the  election  when  his 
name  came  up  for  ballot,  and  eleven  black  balls  in  the 
ballot-box,  is  manifestly  an  exaggeration. 

As  no  one  has  the  least  idea  where  he  gets  a  shilling 
from,  the  supposition  that  his  manner  of  livelihood  is 
queer,  if  not  crooked,  must  obviously  be  gratuitous  ;  and 
Saddler,  who  was  in  the  regiment  with  him,  has  little  to 
say  when  we  ask  for  information,  as,  the  first  covert 

F 


66  SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

near  the  kennels  having  as  usual  been  drawn  blank,  we 
make  a  move  to  the  spinney  beyond. 

"What  sort  of  a  fellow  is  Crossley  ?"  some  one  in- 
quires, ranging  up  to  Saddler's  side,  and  nodding 
towards  the  new-comer  riding  along  talking  to  Down- 
ing, who  seems  to  have  some  sort  of  acquaintance  with 
the  master,  though  he  did  not  know  the  man. 

"  Rather  a  good-looking  fellow,  I  think,  about 
twenty-nine  years  old  now,  I  suppose.  Has  a  dark 
moustache,  and  turns  it  up  at  the  ends,"  Saddler 
answers,  all  these  facts  being  patent  to  us. 

"Yes,  but  what  does  he  do  r "  Scatterly  asks. 

"Rides  under  lo  st.  7  lb. — and  over  anything,"  is  the 
oracular  response. 

"  I  can  see  that,  but  is  he  a  good  fellow,  I  mean  ? " 
Scatterly  continues. 

"  Well,  I  should  be  surprised  to  hear  him  singing  Dr. 
Watts's  hymns,  or,  at  least,  if  he  did  I  should  fancy  that 
he  had  a  very  good  reason  for  it,"  is  all  we  can  get  out 
of  Saddler ;  and  Crawley  Paine,  the  sporting  novelist, 
on  being  appealed  to  for  information — for  Crawley 
knows  everybody,  and  a  good  deal  about  him — makes 
some  remark  in  vaguely  sporting  phraseology  about 
Crossley  "  going  rather  short  sometimes,"  and  suggests 
that  we  had  better  ask  little  Flutterton. 

With  the  incident  to  which  Crawley  Paine  alludes  we 
are  most  of  us  acquainted,  however. 

After  that  little  matter  of  the  chargers  had  been 
cleared  up,  and  when  the  temporary  interruption  to  the 


A   SOCIAL  PROBLEM.  67 

friendship  between  Crossley  and  Flutterton  had  been 
repaired,  Flutterton,  by  his  mentor's  advice,  purchased 
Bullfinch,  and  on  him  Crossley  won  a  hurdle  race  at  a 
suburban  meeting  with  an  ease  \vhich  seemed  to  show 
that  the  horse's  ability  was  altogether  out  of  the  com- 
mon. They  tried  him,  therefore,  over  the  Meadow- 
mere  steeplechase  course,  which  much  resembles  that 
at  Kenilworth,  against  old  Argus,  an  experienced 
animal  who  went  on  all  occasions  with  the  regu- 
larity of  a  chronometer,  and  could  always  be  impli- 
citly depended  on  as  a  trial  horse.  I  well  remember 
Flutterton's  delight  at  his  anticipated  triumph  as  he 
recounted  to  us  at  the  Drake  one  evening  the  results  of 
the  test. 

"  I  never  thought  that  we  could  beat  such  a  good  old 
horse  as  Argus,  you  know,  but  if  we  could  get  near  him 
it  was  good  enough.  Well,  they  came  on  to  the  water, 
where  I  was  standing;  Crossley  on  Bullfinch.  You 
fellows  don't  like  Crossley,  I  know,  and  I  think  fellows 
are  very  unjust  to  him,  for  he's  a  dear,  good  chap  ;  how- 
ever, 5'-ou'll  admit  that  he  can  ride,  I  suppose  ?  Well, 
on  they  came,  old  Argus  plodding  on  at  a  deuce  of  a 
pace  though — you  know  how  he  goes — and  jerking  him- 
self over  his  jumps  in  that  queer  way  he  has.  They 
got  over  the  water  together,  Bullfinch  pulling  like 
blazes,  and  jumping  like  fun.  Then  I  ran  across  to  see 
them  come  in,  and  there  was  young  Maizeley  warming 
up  old  Argus  ;  but  it  was  no  use,  and  we  can  beat  his 
head  off.     There's  nothing  nearly  so  good  as  Argus  at 

F  2 


68  SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

Kenihvorth,  and  you   fellows  can   put   your  shirts   on 
without  being  a  bit  afraid." 

"  I'm  glad  of  that,  because  I  do  it  so  often,"  Wagstaff 
interposed,  sniggering  at  his  little  joke. 

Of  course  we  took  the  tip,  and  a  little  commission 
went  up  from  the  Drake.  We  had  made  a  good  many 
mistakes  that  year — which,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  we  do 
most  years,  many  ol  us — and,  congratulating  ourselves 
that  this  time  it  was  all  right,  at  any  rate,  went  down 
to  see  our  money  pulled  off. 

But,  alas !  that  little  commission  went  after  the 
majority  of  its  predecessors. 

Something  was  wrong  somewhere. 
Bullfinch  looked  very  like  winning  as  they  came  in 
sight,  but  failed  to  preserve  that  agreeable  aspect  by 
the  time  they  reached  the  post,  and  was  cleverly  beaten 
by  a  weedy  mare  called  Virginia  Creeper,  to  whom, 
according  to  general  computation,  Argus  could  have 
given  about  two  stone  with  perfect  safety.  Poor  little 
Flutterton's  airy  castle  toppled  over — and  it  had  been 
such  a  beautiful  castle,  too,  with  a  stable  attached  to  it 
containing  the  two-year-old  which  was  certain  to  win 
next  year's  Derby.  Crossley  vowed  he  was  dead  broke 
with  such  lamentable  emphasis  that  Flutterton,  hard  hit 
as  he  was,  offered  to  lend  him  a  couple  of  hundred  to 
go  on  with ;  but  Crossley  still  further  won  his  innocent 
young  friend's  heart  by  declining  the  proffered  aid,  with 
imprecations  on  his  bad  luck  or  want  of  judgment  which 
had  let  poor  Flutterton  in  so  deeply. 


A    SOCIAL   PROBLEM.  69 

The  little  man  looked  very  white  for  some  days,  and 
having  got  leave,  went  to  Nice  with  his  family.  From 
those  southern  shores  come  accounts  of  his  mild  occu- 
pations, and  his  sporting  propensities  are  satisfied  by 
the  loss  of  a  few  five-franc  pieces  occasionally  at  Monte 
Carlo,  a  diversion  which  he  pronounces  dull,  for,  as  he 
remarks,  one  soon  gets  tired  of  putting  coins  down  on  a 
table  for  the  mere  fun  of  seeing  them  scooped  in  by  a 
fellow  with  a  rake. 

But  Crossley's  recuperative  powers  were  wonderful, 
and  the  result  of  what  he  stigmatised  as  a  howling 
cropper,  is  that  he  has  been  able  to  take  four  hunters 
and  a  galloping  hack  to  Meadshire,  and  to  set  up  in 
a  neat  little  establishment  with  Major  Rawley,  who 
doesn't  hunt,  but  likes  to  be  in  a  hunting  country,  and 
having  suddenly  conceived  a  deep  affection  for  Crossley, 
takes  care  to  have  an  excellent  dinner  for  him  when  he 
comes  home  from  hunting.  Generally  a  friend  accom- 
panies him,  sometimes  two  ;  or  the  major  has  a  guest  ; 
and  after  dinner  what  more  natural  than  that  they 
should  while  away  the  winter  evenings  with  a  little 
poker,  ecarft\  or  a  few  rounds  of  Nap  ? 

Hard  as  Crossley  was  hit,  I  have  no  doubt  that  he 
will  pay  up  if  you  win  from  him  ;  but  the  chances  of 
your  winning  are  not  considerable. 

Not  that  I  would  insinuate  that  the  two  hosts  do  not 
play  fair. 

Such  assertions  should  never  be  made  without  proof, 
and  this  is  a  cruelly  censorious  world,  ready  to  carp  at 


70  SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

and  criticise  everything.  For  instance,  it  is  well  known 
— everybody  knows — that  horses  will  not  always  run  up 
to  their  best  form,  and  the  fact  that  since  Bullfinch  lost 
at  Kenilworth,  and  passed  into  the  hands  of  Leggitt, 
the  bookmaker,  he  has  beaten  his  Kenilworth  form  by 
a  good  deal — possibly  by  as  much  as  two  stone,  as 
Flutterton's  friends  angrily  assert — is  no  reason  why 
those  gallant  Lancers  should  talk  about  the  deadest  case 
of  roping  that  ever  was  seen,  should  go  so  far  as  to  vow 
that  Crossley  tried  to  pull  the  horse  into  his  fences,  and 
should  complain  of  the  remissness  of  the  stewards  in  not 
investigating  the  matter, 

I  disbelieve  these  stories ;  simply  because,  had  Cross- 
ley  wanted  to  lose,  I  fancy  he  is  quite  good  enough 
jockey  to  stop  his  horse  without  making  it  apparent. 

The  very  likely  looking  bay  aforesaid,  on  which 
Crossley  is  this  morning  seated,  seems  fully  to  justify 
his  appearance  by  his  style  of  going ;  and  it  is  to  be 
observed  that  when  Crossley  is  on  a  good  one  he  takes 
care  to  make  the  circumstance  generally  evident. 

Here  he  has  just  one  of  those  opportunities  in  which 
he  delights. 

Soon  after  getting  away,  we  checked  in  a  big  grass 
field,  bounded  straight  ahead  by  a  high,  tough-looking 
rail  and  a  broad  ditch,  a  sufficiently  formidable  sort  of 
jump  to  make  the  boldest  cordially  hope  that  we  shall 
not  have  to  tempt  our  fate  in  that  direction.  The  ditch 
is  not  only  broad,  but  deep,  with  a  nasty  sloping  clay 


A   SOCIAL  PROBLEM.  71 

side — just  one  of  those  places  where  if  you  don't  get 
over  you  get  in,  and  probably  have  to  stay  there,  with 
your  horse  in  an  attitude  not  only  disagreeable  in 
itself,  but  derogatory  to  the  feelings  of  an  animal  that 
has  not  been  brought  up  in  a  circus.  "  The  man  who 
jumped  that  awful  big  cutting"  will  be  talked  about 
until  some  other  moving  incident  of  flood  or  field  comes 
in  its  turn  to  claim  attention,  and  this  is  precisely  what 
Crossley  desires. 

A  couple  of  hounds  turn  that  way,  plunge  in,  and 
climb  out  again,  one  slipping  back  with  a  most  un- 
pleasantly suggestive  splash. 

This  is  enough  for  Crossley,  who  takes  the  little  bay 
by  the  head,  and,  feeling  sure  that  his  achievement  can- 
not be  overlooked,  makes  for  by  no  means  the  easiest 
place,  goes  at  it  with  a  rush,  and  lands  well  over  with 
something  to  spare.  As  it  happens,  a  hound  hits  off 
the  scent  to  the  right,  and  we  have  not  to  risk  this  ugly 
place — I  do  not  know  how  other  fellows  feel  about  it : 
if  they  experience  my  sentiments  they  are  sincerely 
relieved ;  glory  is  delightful,  but  broken  bones  take  off 
its  gloss.  Crossle}^,  however — who  very  soon  afterwards 
gets  on  his  second  horse,  though  we  have  had  no  run  as 
yet,  and  only  threw  off  half  an  hour  ago — has  not 
jumped  in  vain. 

The  little  bay  goes  home  to  Downing's  stables,  and  I 
have  no  doubt  that  the  cheque  he  writes  is  a  heavy  one. 
We  shall  see  in  due  time  whether  Sir  Henry  Akerton's 


72         SKETCHES  IX  THE  HUNTIXG  FIELD. 

suspicions  as  to  the  little  bay  being  patched  up  and 
unable  to  stand  work  are  correct. 

Possibly  Downing  may  have  made  an  excellent  bar- 
gain, but  I  don't  suppose  Crossley  sold  the  horse  much 
under  its  value. 


VIII. 

A    -SWELL." 

The  noble  Baron  Tourneymeade  can  only  be  described 
as  a  "  swell,"  unmitigated  and  gorgeous. 

The  epithet  is  not  accorded  to  him  by  reason  of  his 
title. 

There  are  numerous  peers  who  are  not  swells,  and 
still  more  numerous  swells  who  are  not  peers.  The 
Duke  of  Kyleshire,  for  example,  carries  on  his  circula- 
tion by  means  of  the  very  bluest  blood ;  but  he  looks 
like  a  cad,  and  successfully  takes  pains  to  justify  his 
appearance.  Lord  iSterteris,  again,  inherits  an  es- 
cutcheon which  has  been  borne  in  the  van  of  battle  by 
some  of  those  who  have  added  honour  to  the  noblest 
names  in  English  history ;  but  his  lordship  is  the  type 
of  a  greedy  Lord  Mayor  at  the  termination  ot  a  hard 
dining  year  of  office.  Another  nobleman,  second  to 
neither  of  these  in  descent  and  in  the  quarterings  on 
his  coat  of  arms,  resembles  a  political  nonconformist  in 
the  grocery  line  so  closely  that  you  would  be  inclined 
to  bet  ten  to  one  he  was  accustomed  to  occupy  the 
pulpit  of  his  local  Bethel  for  the  purpose  of  calling 
Lord   Beaconsfield    a   man    of   sin,  and   an    immediate 


74  SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIEID. 

descendant  of  that  lady  whose  character  is  intimated 
by  the  vivid  colour  of  her  garments. 

It  is  Tourneymeade's  appearance,  his  bearing,  his 
behaviour,  his  manner  of  speaking,  and  his  tone  of 
voice,  which  necessitate  the  application  of  the  word 
"  swell ;  "  though  I  dislike  slang,  and  should  be  glad  to 
find  an  appropriate  term  in  purer  Saxon. 

Your  first  impression  with  regard  to  Tourneymeade, 
if  you  did  not  know  him,  would  be  that  he  was  not 
quite  awake. 

His  hair  is  light,  his  eyes  blue,  his  moustache  scant 
and  downy,  although  he  is  now,  J  suppose,  some  seven- 
and-twenty  years  of  age.  His  nose  is  delicately  aqui- 
line, and  his  peculiarity  of  expression  is  that  his 
eyes  never  seem  entirely  open  :  if  a  gun  were  suddenly 
fired  off  close  to  his  ear  it  would  probably  have  no  more 
effect  than  to  produce  a  mild  inquiry  as  to  what  was  the 
row.  On  the  whole  he  is  rather  good-looking,  and  ex- 
tremely agreeable  ;  and  this  idea  of  him  is  not  weakened 
by  the  knowledge  that  he  has  an  unencumbered  income 
of  some  ^45,000  a  year,  with  expectations. 

The  first  Lord  was  a  distinguished  politician,  and 
revived  the  extinct  title  of  an  ancestor  on  retiring  from 
an  active  j^osition  in  public  life.  His  son  also  had  a 
reputation  for  talent ;  and  between  them  they  appear  to 
have  got  through  the  allowance  of  intellect  which  had 
been  apportioned  to  last  the  family  for  some  genera- 
tions ;  for  the  present  bearer  of  the  title  has  little  wit, 
and  only  shows  occasional  glimmerings  of  mental  power 


A  "  swell:'  75 

in  the  raj)idity  with  which  he  calculates  the  odds,  and 
realises  the  chances  of  his  betting-book. 

Tourneymeade  has  rooms  in  the  hotel  of  the  county 
town  near  to  which  are  the  headquarters  of  the  Fallow- 
field,  and  in  November  he  takes  up  his  residence  there 
with  about  a  dozen  hunters  and  a  few  hacks,  a  number 
which  is  generally  swelled  before  the  season  closes  ;  for 
the  noble  baron  is  always  ready  to  buy  a  horse,  and  is, 
I  fancy,  a  perfect  annuity  to  some  of  his  friends  who 
generally  have  a  wonderful  animal  to  sell;  while  for 
various  reasons,  which  may  hereafter  be  hinted  at,  his 
own  stud  does  not  last  at  all  well.  You  would  think 
that  hunting  bored  him  very  grievously  if  you  were  not 
aware  that  he  was  at  least  equally  bored,  during'  the 
season,  in  his  yacht,  on  the  moors,  after  the  merry  little 
brown  birds  which  make  September  pleasant  in  the 
country,  and  after  the  long-tailed  heroes  and  the  less 
splendid  heroines  of  October. 

Tourneymeade  is  a  patron  of  the  drama,  principally 
of  that  variety  which  has  been  supplied  of  late  by  Mr. 
John  Hollingshead.  He  holds  a  decided  opinion  that 
literature  is  in  a  bad  way,  because  "  some  fellow  ought 
to  write  a  book  about  that  girl  Farren,"  as  he  familiarly 
calls  the  lady,  and  no  fellow  does ;  while  other  fellows, 
who  are  equally  negligent,  ought  to  write  other  books 
about  INIiss  Vaughan  and  other  damsels  who  are  wont 
to  delight  him.  He  has  seen  something  about  Mrs. 
Siddons  in  a  theatrical  newspaper,  and  is  jealous  for  the 
reputations  of  those  he  admires,  being  strongly  inclined 


76  SKETCHES   IN  THE  IIUNTIXG  FIELD. 

to  hold,  with  regard  to  the  great  tragedienne,  that,  as  he 
once  confided  to  me  in  a  moment  of  languid  enthusiasm. 
Miss  Farren  "  could  give  her  fifty  in  a  hundred  and  beat 
her  head  off." 

The  more  serious  forms  of  the  lyric  drama  do  not  win 
Tourneymeade's  admiration.  He  went  to  see  an  opera 
last  season  without  observing  the  name  of  the  produc- 
tion, and  with  but  a  very  faint  appreciation  of  the 
plot.  "There  was  a  lot  of  dancing  and  some  fights, 
and  a  red  beggar  cutting  about  and  doing  tricks. 
Then  a  fellow  came  on  and  sang  a  deuce  of  a  lengthy 
song  to  a  house,  and  at  last  they  all  went  to  heaven 
— singing  all  the  time,  you  know — no  one  allowed  to 
speak  a  word."  This  opera  we  assumed  was  Faust 
(although  Tourneymeade  appears  to  have  been  slightly 
mistaken  as  to  the  ultimate  destination  to  which  the 
hero  is  conducted),  and  when  we  pressed  him  for 
details  about  the  song  he  remembered,  his  criticism 
much  amused  me. 

"  I  liked  that  sort  of  '  View  Holloa '  he  gave,"  Tour- 
neymeade replied,  meaning  the  high  C  which  occurs  in 
the  aria.  "  Oh,  yes,  I  liked  that  fellow.  Good  second 
whip  he'd  make,  wouldn't  he  ?  Pretty  voice  to  call 
hounds  out  of  covert."  The  notion  struck  us  as 
quaint. 

It  is  principally  in  the  hunting  field,  however,  that 
we  have  to  deal  with  Tourneymeade,  and  when  we  take 
an  occasional  turn  with  the  Fallowfield,  as  some  of  us 
do  now  and  then  when  their  meets  are  on  our  side  of 


A   "  SWELLr  77 

the  country,  he  is  seldom  absent,  and  invariably  profuse 
in  his  offers  of  hospitality. 

Tourneymeade  is  undoubtedly  a  good  rider,  at  any 
rate  so  far  as  getting  safely  over  a  country  goes;  though 
of  course  his  horses  are  all  made  hunters  of  high  repu- 
tation, and  he  rarely  has  more  to  do  than  sit  down  in 
his  saddle  and  trust  to  their  discretion  and  knowledge 
of  their  business. 

The  story  goes  that  one  day,  when  out  on  a  raw 
young  Irish  horse  which  had  come  from  that  island 
with  a  great  character,  founded  upon  undiscernible 
grounds,  after  several  contentions,  obstinately  fought 
out  on  both  sides,  as  to  the  desirability  of  jumping 
fences,  Tourneymeade  pulled  up  and  dismounted,  turned 
the  animal  adrift  with  a  cut  of  the  whip,  declaring  that 
it  was  less  trouble  to  walk  than  ride  a  brute  like  that ; 
and  after  sitting  on  a  gate  and  smoking  for  a  con- 
siderable time,  hoping  that  his  second  horseman  would 
bring  him  something  to  go  home  on,  at  least,  if  the 
hounds  were  lost  for  the  day,  that  he  strolled  towards 
the  nearest  village  where  a  fly  was  procurable,  and  went 
back  on  wheels. 

There  is,  I  think,  some  consolation  to  poor  men  in 
the  reflection  that  two  or  three  horses,  bought  with 
deliberation  and  studied  with  patience,  afford  much 
more  genuine  pleasure  and  amusement  to  their  master, 
who  is  proud  of  them,  than  such  a  man  as  Tourney- 
meade can  possibly  derive  from  a  large  stud,  the 
individual  members  of  which  he  only  knows  by  name — 


7S  SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIEID. 

when  he  remembers  it.  Tourneymeade  certainly  does 
not  recognise  his  own  animals  when  he  sees  them,  a 
circumstance  with  which  his  stud  groom  is  perfectly 
well  acquainted. 

While  we  were  chatting  one  day  when  I  was  out  with 
the  Fallowfield  a  man  rode  up,  a  friend  of  Tourney- 
meade, to  inquire  who  that  was  on  his  chestnut  mare. 

"  Which  mare  ? "  Tourneymeade  asked. 

"Why  the  one  I  sold  you  last  month.  There  she  is  ; 
a  fellow  with  a  brown  coat  and  leggings  on  her,"  he 
answered  ;  "  rum-looking  little  snob." 

"  Can't  be  mine,"  Tourneymeade  said;  "  I  wanted  to 
ride  her  to-day,  and  asked  Plaits  if  she  could  come  out, 
but  he  said  she  was  lame  ;  though  I  don't  know  how 
the  deuce  she  came  so,  for  I  haven't  ridden  her  for 
three  weeks." 

"Well,  that's  the  mare  I  sold  you,  you  may  take  your 
oath,"  his  friend  continued. 

"  Looks  like  her,  don't  it  ?     But  of  course  it  can't  be." 

"All  right,  old  fellow!  I  dare  say  it  can't  be — only 
it  is,"  the  friend  answered,  riding  off  as  he  spoke. 

"  It  can't  be  one  of  my  fellows  got  up  like  that  r 
Besides,  the  mare's  wrong,"  Tourneymeade  observed,  as 
we  two  galloped  off,  for  hounds  were  now  running ;  and 
it  did  seem  improbable  that  the  odd-looking  personage 
on  the  handsome  chestnut  should  be  mounted  from  the 
Tourneymeade  stable. 

His  friend,  however,  whose  curiosity  was  piqued,  told 
off  his  groom  to  keep  an  eye  on  the  chestnut  mare,  and 


SWELL  r 


79 


see  where  she  went  home  to;  and  surely  enough  she 
was  ridden  to  a  small  public  in  the  outskirts  of  the 
town,  where  one  of  Mr.  Plaits'  boys  was  waiting  for  her, 
and  taking  her  from  her  rider,  leisurely  trotted  home. 

Plaits  was  accustomed,  it  subsequently  appeared,  to 
let  out  his  master'-s  horses  to  his  friends,  in  return  for 
services  rendered,  and  to  casual  acquaintances  who  were 
looked  on  as  safe,  at  so  much  a  day. 

On  a  certain  morning,  too,  Tourneymeade,  happening 
to  go  round  to  his  stables — a  very  rare  occurrence  with 
him — was  somewhat  surprised  to  see  Mr.  Plaits  himself 
ride  into  the  yard  on  a  horse  which  his  master  had  been 
hoping,  by  Mr.  Plaits'  kind  permission,  to  ride  himself 
that  day.  The  animal  had  every  appearance  of  having 
very  recently,  in  ordinary  phrase,  been  "done  to  a 
turn,"  and  Plaits  was  extremely  surprised  and  annoyed 
at  seeing  his  master. 

"  Hullo,  Plaits,  what's  up  ?  "  Tourneymeade  inquired, 
as  he  looked  at  the  horse's  drooping  head  and  foam- 
flecked  sides.     "  What's  this  ?     Firefly,  isn't  it  ? " 

"  He  wanted  a  sweat,  my  lord,"  the  groom  somewhat 
sulkily  answered,  "  and  I  thought  I'd  better  give  it  him 
myself." 

"  By  Jove !  he's  had  it,  too,  hasn't  he  ?  Pretty  hot,  I 
should  fancy !  "  Tourneymeade  observed. 

Neither  he  nor  the  owners  of  some  half-dozen  other 
gallant  steeds  were  acquainted  with  the  fact  that  Plaits 
and  a  few  of  his  friends  had  that  morning  been  running 
off  a  catch-weight  sweepstakes  of  ;^5  a  head,  and  that 


8o  SKETCHES  IX  THE  HUNTING  EIEID. 

Firefly,  after  a  hard  struggle,  had  been  beaten  half  a 
length.  Thus  it  comes  to  pass  that  Tourneymeade  has 
usually  found  it  necessary  to  augment  his  stud  as  the 
season  progressed,  and  that,  in  spite  of  the  uncomplain- 
ing manner  in  which  he  pays  the  huge  bills  so  ingeni- 
ously concocted  by  Mr.  Plaits — about  as  big  a  rascal  as 
may  be  found  in  the  three  kingdoms — horses  do  not 
thrive  in  his  stable,  and  very  rarely  fetch  half  the 
money  he  gave  for  them. 

But  scant  justice  would  be  done  to  Tourneymeade's 
get-up  by  simply  saying  that  it  is  invariably  irre- 
proachable. 

The  baronial  legs,  from  a  critical  point  of  view,  might 
be  called  attenuated  it  one  judged  by  a  masculine 
standard;  but  it  is  not  sinew  and  muscle  that  the  boot 
and  breeches  makers  want,  and  these  professors  find 
scope  for  their  highest  efforts  in  Lord  Tourneymeade. 
Hat,  neck-cloth,  the  neat  little  bow  which  fits  in  just 
above  his  well-cleaned  tops,  are  all  the  quintessence  ot 
"  form  ;  "  and  however  Plaits  may  rob  his  master,  there 
can  be  no  question  as  to  the  manner  in  which  he  turns 
out  his  horses. 

A  boy  from  the  Tourneymeade  stables  is  as  sure  to 
understand  his  business  as  he  is  to  understand  the 
tricks  of  the  trade  and  to  rob  his  master ;  for  Plaits  has 
the  communistic  view  of  equality,  that  so  long  as  he  has 
the  lion's  share  without  interference,  those  who  can  may 
pick  up  the  bones. 

What  Tourneymeade  wants  is  a  wife,  and  he  was  very 


A   "SWELLS  81 

nearly  being  provided  with  that  luxury  last  season  ;  but 
if  the  young  lady  were  anxious  to  marry  him  she  spoilt 
her  chance,  as  many  of  us  do  spoil  our  chances,  by 
being  too  keen.  It  was  for  her  sweet  sake  that  he  sat 
out  the  opera  aforesaid,  and,  being  invited  to  Leicester- 
shire, a  too  ardent  mother  thought  proper  to  carry  on 
the  campaign  by  sending  her  daughter,  an  admirable 
rider,  out  hunting  with  the  Fallowfield. 

The  enchantress,  anxious  to  display  her  skill  and 
courage  to  the  best  advantage,  jumped  one  or  two 
fences  a  length  before  Tourneymeade — too  immediately 
before  him,  in  fact;  for  once,  cutting  in  at  the  last 
moment,  his  horse  swerved,  came  down,  and  afforded 
its  noble  owner  an  excellent  view  of  four  glittering 
shoes  passing  within  a  few  inches  of  his  head. 

"  A  deuced  nice  girl  when  she's  sitting  on  a  chair," 
is  Tourneymeade's  present  verdict  upon  the  charmer; 
"  but  when  she  gets  on  a  horse  she  baulks  you  at  your 
fences,  and  jumps  on  you  when  you  are  down." 

And,  on  the  whole,  his  equanimity  was  so  seriously 
disturbed  by  the  young  lady's  exploits,  that  I  fancy  her 
chance  is  over. 

If  he  is  not  clever — and  truth  compels  the  statement 
that  he  is  not — Tourneymeade  is  generous,  kind- 
hearted,  and  thoroughly  a  gentleman.  No  doubt  some 
day  he  will  marry  a  lady  who  is  not  an  Amazon  ;  and, 
if  she  be  shrewd  and  sensible,  Tourneymeade  will  make 
an  excellent  country  gentleman,  and  be  a  credit  and 
satisfaction  to  his  county. 

G 


IX. 

AN  M.F.H.— ANOTHER  VARIETY. 

In  former  pages  the  Marquis  of  Wiltshire  has  been 
indistinctly  sketched;  and  happy  is  the  country  ruled 
over  by  such  an  M.F.H.  But,  as  most  people  are 
aware,  there  are  other  varieties  of  masters  ;  and  in  the 
Fallowfield  country  they  have  some  knowledge  of  the 
less  satisfactory  sorts,  the  recollection  of  whom  is  very 
much  more  amusing  than  were  the  actual  experiences. 

It  will  be  generally  admitted  that  if  all  of  us  only 
spent  what  we  could  afford,  money  would  not  invariably 
be  invested  as  it  is  at  present. 

Charley  Hieflight's  stable  of  fourteen  hunters  would 
be  curtailed  to  very  much  more  modest  proportions,  and 
Willy  Recknott's  hunting  would  be  confined  to  an  occa- 
sional mount  on  a  friend's  horse,  and  some  three  or  four 
turns  during  the  season  on  a  two-guinea  hack-hunter 
hired  from  the  stable  in  the  county  town,  whereas  he 
never  has  less  than  a  couple  of  very  likely  animals  in 
whatever  place  he  may  be  quartered ;  and  perhaps  he 
will  pay  all  debts  in  connection  with  them  some  da)'-,  if 
he  can.  But  while  some  men  spend  more  than  they  can 
afford,  others  spend  less,  and  one  of  the  latter  kind  was 


AN  M.F.H.—ANOTHER    VARIETY.  83 

Scruton,  who  for  one  season  ruled  the  destinies  of  the 
Meadowmere. 

The  hunt  had  gradually  fallen  into  a  bad  way.  Sir 
Henry  Akerton,  their  former — and  happily  their  present 
— Master,  had  given  up  the  hounds  and  gone  to  the 
South  of  France.  So  much  jealousy  and  wrangling 
followed  attempts  to  find  a  successor  that  they  tried  a 
committee  of  management,  which,  while  it  circumscribed 
the  limits  of  angry  discussions,  decidedly  intensified 
their  vehemence  ;  the  result  being  that  we  had  very 
little  hunting,  and  that  little  was  of  a  very  unsatis- 
factory sort. 

But  the  departure  of  one  principal  cause  of  discord, 
and  the  death  of  another,  smoothed  matters  to  some 
extent,  and  with  a  tolerable  approach  to  unanimity  it 
was  resolved  to  accept  Scruton's  offer  to  hunt  three 
days  a  week,  with  a  guaranteed  subscription,  which  he 
undertook  to  supplement. 

Now  those  who  knew  Scruton  best  had  grave  doubts 
about  his  doing  anything  for  the  good  of  the  county, 
unless  in  the  first  and  foremost  place  it  specially  re- 
dounded to  the  good  of  that  peculiar  portion  of  it  in 
which  Scruton  himself  was  interested. 

He  was  fond  of  hunting,  and  having  a  very  com- 
fortable little  property,  could  well  afford  to  gratify  his 
taste  for  sport.  But  he  was  no  less  fond  of  his  money ; 
and  if  he  did  not  take  the  hounds  in  the  hope  of  getting 
his  hunting  for  nothing,  a  serious  injustice  was  done  to 
his  character,  for  to  this  conclusion  we  speedily  came. 

G  2 


8+  SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

His  stud  consisted  of  a  pair  of  carriage-horses,  a 
couple  of  fairly  good  old  hunters,  together  with  a  pony 
which  was  driven  about  all  day  long,  with  occasional 
.periods  of  rest,  which  were  not  supposed  to  be  inter- 
rupted by  such  episodes  as  a  trip  to  the  post-office  with 
a  boy  on  its  back,  or  a  gallop  round  the  park  with 
Scruton,  junior,  in  the  saddle.  These  little  excursions 
were  believed  rather  to  freshen  him  up  than  otherwise, 
and  on  his  return  it  was  considered  that  he  was  quite 
ready  to  go  in  the  trap  again,  when,  with  a  shake  of  his 
gallant  little  head,  he  boldly  trotted  off  once  more  ;  and 
I  may  parenthetically  add  that  Scruton's  pony  is  by  no 
means  the  only  little  animal  in  the  country  that  is 
similarly  treated,  and  does  the  work  of  about  three 
horses. 

An  augmented  stud  was,  of  course,  necessary  to  begin 
with,  and  it  was  found  indispensable  to  fit  out  the  hunt 
servants  afresh,  concerning  which  Scruton  hit  upon  a 
most  brilliant  idea. 

Being  up  in  town,  he  went  one  evening  with  a  friend 
of  dramatic  tastes  to  one  of  the  theatres  where  pieces 
are  mounted  most  luxuriously,  and  was  much  struck  by 
the  handsomely  furnished  rooms  wherein  the  action  of 
the  play  proceeded. 

His  companion  assured  him  that  the  decorations  of 
these  apartments  were  just  what  they  seemed  to  be — 
good  things  out  of  the  best  shops  ;  and  this  set  Scruton 
thinking.  Before  dinner  he  had,  while  glancing  through 
the    paper,    noticed    an   advertisement   of   the  sale  by 


AN  M.F.H. — ANOTHER    VARIETY.  85 

auction  of  the  scenery,  dresses,  and  "  properties  "  of  an 
opera  company,  and  among  the  items  he  had  observed 
several  huntsmen's  costumes.  Probably  they  would  go 
cheaply.  With  some  alterations  they  could  easily  be 
made  to  fit  the  huntsman  and  whips  of  the  Meadow- 
mere  ;  and  from  what  Scruton  saw  upon  the  stage  he 
had  no  doubt  they  would  be  in  all  respects  desirable 
garments  for  the  hunt. 

The  notion  he  at  once  propounded  to  his  friend. 

"  I  see  there  are  a  lot  of  huntsmen's  costumes  at  that 
sale  next  week.  What  sort  of  things  would  they  be  r  " 
he  asked. 

"  Capital !  Just  the  thing  for  you,  I  should  fancy,  if 
you  want  anything  of  that  sort.  The  Dcr  Freischiitz 
dresses  would  suit  you  down  to  the  ground,  I  should 
think.  Green  tunics,  broad  leather  belts — you  would 
not  want  the  spears,  of  course — and  yellow  bucket  boots. 
They'd  look  awfully  jolly  on  a  horse — novel  and  out  of 
the  ordinary  run,"  his  friend  rejoined. 

Scruton's  hopes  faded.  His  innocent  companion,  an 
unadulterated  cockney,  had  no  idea  of  hunting  attire, 
and  could  not  understand  the  sensation  which  would 
have  been  created  by  the  appearance  of  a  huntsman  and 
two  whips  in  green  tights  and  bucket  boots.  Scruton, 
rather  scornfully,  said  this  would  not  do. 

"If  you  want  the  regular  thing,  have  the  suits  out  of 
the  Lily  of  Killarney,"  his  friend  suggested. 

"  What  are  they  like  ?  "  Scruton  asked. 

"  O,    Melton    all    over,   I   should   say — ^just    like   the 


86  SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

pictures  you  see,  you  know.  Red  coats,  top-boots,  knee- 
breeches,  and  caps.  They  sing  a  chorus — *  Yoicks ! 
tally-ho  ! '  and  that  sort  of  thing — capital  good  chorus," 
his  friend  replied. 

Scruton's  hopes  revived.  These  things  would  do,  no 
doubt,  and  before  he  returned  home  he  commissioned 
his  friend  to  buy  four  of  the  complete  suits  if  he  could 
get  them  under  ten  pounds. 

Here  was  one  difficulty  solved,  for  tailors  are  so 
cruelly  expensive  ;  and  on  the  afternoon  of  the  day  of 
sale  a  telegram  came  down  from  London  : — "  Had  to 
take  the  whole  lot.  Sixteen  suits  ;  but  only  gave  fifteen 
pounds.     Coming  down  by  train  to-night." 

Sixteen  suits  were  no  good ;  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
they  were  marvellously  cheap,  if  anything  like  up  to  the 
mark ;  and,  having  seen  the  admirable  manner  in  which 
things  were  done  on  the  London  stage,  of  this  Scruton 
had  no  doubt. 

Next  morning  a  huge  bundle  was  delivered  together 
with  a  letter.  He  opened  the  former  first.  There  were 
the  coats,  the  breeches,  and — what  were  these  other 
square  surfaces  of  something  like  leather  ?  Scruton 
turned  to  the  letter.  "  I  hope  you  have  received  the 
hunting  things  all  right,  and  that  you  like  them.  The 
breeches  are  rather  thin,  but  I  dare  say  that  doesn't 
matter ;  when  you  are  tally-hoing  'cross  country,  you 
keep  yourselves  pretty  warm,  I  expect.  The  'boots' 
are  not  boots  precisely,  as  you  will  see.  The  chorus 
fasten  these  things — sort  of  leggings — round  their  legs, 


AN  M.F.H. — ANOTHER    VARIETY.  87 

over  their  own  boots.  I  don't  suppose  that  will  matter, 
and  I  know  they  looked  uncommonly  well  in  the  opera. 
Write  and  say  how  they  do.  Yours  always,  Frank 
Borders." 

No.  The  boots  were  not  "  boots  precisely,"  neither 
w^ere  the  coats  coats,  nor  the  breeches  breeches.  These 
latter  were  apparently  of  stout  canvas,  while  the  coats 
were  a  thin  species  of  serge  or  flannel,  and  the  sort  of 
leggings  were  by  no  means  adapted  for  rough  work  in 
the  open  air,  "  uncommonly  well "  as  they  may  have 
looked  on  the  stage.  In  fact,  the  whole  bundle  was 
worth  considerably  less  than  the  money  to  which  it  had 
been  run  up  by  those  who  had  no  doubt  observed  that 
an  earnest  outsider  was  bidding. 

Scruton  sorrowfully  stowed  away  the  obnoxious 
parcel  in  a  top  room,  and  it  w^as  not  till  some  time 
afterwards  that  we  heard  particulars  of  his  singular 
purchase.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  drive  into 
Meadton  and  perform  the  disagreeable  operation  of 
throwing  good  money  after  bad  by  ordering  suits  in  the 
regular  way. 

Scruton  then  set  seriously  to  work  to  economise  in 
horse-flesh,  and  by  extra  cunning  reimburse  himself  for 
the  wasted  fifteen  pounds. 

He  possessed  a  fair  knowledge  of  horses,  and  had  he 
gone  to  Tattersall's,  prepared  to  give  a  moderate  price, 
would  in  all  likelihood  have  picked  up  some  beasts 
worth  their  corn.  But  Scruton  knew  a  dealer  who 
generally  had   something  cheap   in   his    stables ;    and 


88  SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

thither  he  proceeded  in  the  vain  hope  that  a  'cute  and 
experienced  man  who  passed  his  life  in  buying  and 
selling  horses  would  be  beguiled  into  parting  with 
quadrupeds  for  less  than  their  value  by  a  person  very 
much  less  accustomed  to  such  bargainings.  It  is  not  at 
all  difficult  to  get  a  horse  at  a  low  price  ;  but  that  this 
is  not  necessarily  a  cheap  horse  many  gentlemen  have 
before  now  discovered.  In  return  for  a  cheque  for  not 
much  over  a  hundred  pounds,  Scruton  became  the 
owner  of  four  animals,  for  the  arrival  of  which  we 
waited  anxiously  at  the  meet  on  the  day  appointed  for 
the  beginning  of  the  season. 

Three  of  them  duly  appeared,  one  of  the  purchases, 
described  as  a  very  good-looking  chestnut  mare,  being 
incapacitated ;  her  near  fore-leg  had  filled  after  an 
exercise  canter  on  the  Downs.  Scruton  himself  was  on 
a  decent  sort  of  bay  horse,  far  the  best  of  the  lot,  for 
which  he  had  paid  the,  to  him,  large  price  of  forty 
pounds.  Certainly  it  began  to  make  a  noise  when  we 
got  away  and  had  crossed  some  three  or  four  fields — a 
noise  suggesting  to  the  hearer  the  wheezing  of  a  con- 
sumptive steam-engine  ;  but  Scruton  scorned  the  idea 
that  it  w^as  broken-winded. 

"  Some  horses  were  like  that,"  he  very  truly  observed, 
and  it  is  only  fair  to  the  animal  to  add  that,  whatever 
was  the  matter  with  him,  he  did  not  stop,  but  got 
through  a  tolerable  day's  work. 

The  huntsman  was  oil  another  of  the  new  ones,  a 
really  handsome  brown,  more  like  a  coach-horse  than  a 


AN  M.F.H. — ANOTHER    VARIETY.  89 

hunter,  but  nevertheless  good-looking.  That  there  was 
something  wrong  somewhere  seemed  more  than  pro- 
bable, from  the  fact  that  he  had  only  cost  twenty-four 
pounds  ;  but  Scruton  had  a  plausible  proverb  to  the 
effect  that  a  good  rider  made  a  good  horse,  and  took 
him  on  the  chance  of  the  "  something  "  being  not  be- 
yond remedy. 

He  had  trotted  in  fine  style  before  Scruton  bought 
him,  and  this  we  soon  found  was  his  peculiarity. 
Through  the  fence  which  bounded  the  covert  when  we 
found  the  brown  charged  nobly,  without  an  attempt  at 
rising,  and  off  he  went  at  a  tremendously  hard  trot. 
All  endeavours  to  make  him  gallop  were  futile.  If  he 
broke  for  a  moment  he  speedily  relapsed  into  his  trot, 
and  after  about  ten  minutes  began  to  go  very  lame 
indeed  on  his  near  fore-leg. 

We  subsequently  found  that  he  was  the  winner  of 
several  trotting  matches,  and  had  broken  down  beyond 
hope  of  more  than  a  very  temporary  patching  up.  One 
of  Scruton's  old  horses  was  out  for  whoever  wanted  it 
most,  and  the  huntsman  being  transferred  to  him,  the 
big  brown  was  led  off  limping  piteously. 

Our  only  Whip  was  on  the  third  purchase,  a  very 
mealy  chestnut,  which  "  tittuped  "  along  like  a  rocking- 
horse,  requiring  a  great  deal  of  coaxing  at  the  smallest 
fence,  and  kicked  hard  whenever  it  was  touched  with 
whip  or  spur,  without  in  the  slightest  mending  its- pace. 
The  Whip  was  quite  prevented  from  performing  his 
duties,  never  being  able  to  get  near  the  hounds,  though 


90  SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIE  ID. 

the  mealy  chestnut  placidly  cantered  along  without  any 
sign  of  distress. 

Hounds  and  horses  alike  fared  badly  under  the 
Scruton  regime^  which  came  to  an  end  with  an  early 
close  to  the  season. 

Scruton  was  practically  succeeded  by  a  lady ;  for 
jDoor  young  Thynne,  under  the  direction  of  a  severe 
mother,  who  insisted  that  his  position  in  the  county 
required  it,  and  that  she  was  sure  his  uncle — Lord 
Pytchley — would  wish  it,  was  reluctantly  compelled  to 
take  the  hounds. 

JMoney  was  no  object,  and  Thynne,  a  feeble-minded, 
weak-eyed,  and  generally  limp  young  man,  paid  all 
expenses.  Thynne  could  ride  a  little,  but  hated  the 
whole  business,  though  he  had  not  much  trouble,  as  his 
mother  kept  a  stern  eye  on  the  conduct  of  affairs.  One 
of  her  first  proceedings  was  to  send  for  Vale,  the  hunts- 
man, and  tell  him  that  she  "  wished  the  foxes'  skins  to 
be  preserved."     Poor  Vale  was  aghast  at  the  idea. 

"How  do  you  mean,  ma'am?  "  he  presently  ventured 
to  ask. 

"  I  wish  them  brought  to  me,  always,"  she  severely 
rejoined. 

"  But,  ma'am,  I  can't !  "  poor  Vale  said, 

"  And  why  not,  pray  ? "  she  still  more  sternly  desired  to 
know,  probably  supposing  that  the  "  foxes'  skins"  were 
a  perquisite  which  the  huntsman  unlawfully  claimed. 

"  Hounds  eat  'em,  ma'am ! "  Vale  earnestly  ex- 
plained. 


AN  ]\r.F.H— ANOTHER    VARIETY.  91 

"  Surely  the  hounds  do  not  eat  the  ski)is  ?  They  do 
not  eat  the  faces — the  masks,  I  am  sure !  "  said  the 
dowager. 

"No,  ma'am,  I  cut  off  the  brush  and  mask  and  pads, 
and  the  hounds  have  the  rest — it's  their  due,  ma'am  !  " 
poor  Vale  said,  wondering  what  was  coming  next.  The 
dowager's  fond  anticipation  of  a  carriage-rug,  or  what- 
ever it  was  she  desired,  consequently  vanished. 

She  kept  up  her  control,  however,  to  the  best  of  her 
ability,  and  was  particularly  severe  when  she  heard  of  a 
blank  day. 

"  So  you  did  not  kill  a  fox  yesterday.  How  was 
that  ?  "  she  asked  Vale,  one  day  when  Wynnerly  and  I 
were  calling  at  the  Hall,  and  found  him  undergoing"  his 
periodical  examination. 

"  No,  ma'am.     He  went  to  ground  in  Mere  Woods." 

"  Where  is  that  ?  "  says  Lady  Thynne. 

"  By  Bradwyn  Hall  —  in  the  Fallowfield  country, 
ma'am." 

"  How  did  that  happen  r  Could  you  not  make  the 
hounds  go  more  quickly  ? "  she  inquires,  as  though 
Vale  were  not  nearly  up  to  his  work,  and  glancing 
round  at  Wynnerly  and  myself  as  she  speaks,  as  if  to 
assure  us  that  she  takes  care  of  our  interests,  little  as  we 
may  think  it.  Poor  Vale  looks  horrified,  but  is  speech- 
less, and  receiving  permission  to  go  retires  precipi- 
tately. It  need  hardly  be  added  that  Sir  Henry's 
return  was  welcomed  with  enthusiasm. 


X. 

A  WRANGLER. 

As  a  very  general  rule,  men  who  hunt  are  cheery  and 
good  fellows. 

Instances  of  jealousy,  selfishness,  and  unkindness 
may,  of  course,  be  found  in  the  hunting  field,  as  else- 
where. 

The  strict  order  of  precedence  is  not  always  observed 
at  gates  and  gaps,  even  though  by  cutting  in  out  of  turn 
the  pusher  may  run  some  risk  of  upsetting  the  horse 
that  was  there  first,  to  say  nothing  of  its  rider's  temper. 
One  does  not  always  experience  vivid  regret  if  a  rival 
gets  put  down  without  hurting  himself;  and  sometimes 
after  a  nasty  spill,  when  the  rider  is  more  or  less 
doubled  up,  and  the  horse  with  flying  reins  and  stirrups 
is  kicking  up  his  heels  in  the  distance,  we  are  rather 
too  apt  to  conclude  upon  insufficient  premises  that  the 
victim  is  not  really  hurt,  or  that  some  friend  will  be  sure 
to  look  after  him,  instead  of  pulling  up  and  seeing 
whether  we  may  not  be  of  assistance. 

Nevertheless  I  think  it  will  not  be  disputed  that  there 
are  few  exceptions  to  the  general  proposition  laid  down 
above ;  but  of  course  one  now  and  then  does  come  across 


A    WRANGLER.  93 

such  exceptions,  and  the  JMeadowmere  Hunt  can  furnish 
an  example  in  the  person  of  Captain  Crookton,  though 
it  must  at  once  be  said  out  of  justice  to  him  that  his 
surliness  and  ever  ready  criticisms  of  a  condemnatory- 
nature  stop  short  at  verbal  utterances. 

Nothing  pleases  the  gallant  Captain. 

He  dislikes  the  country,  though  he  owns  a  fair  slice 
of  it.  The  hounds  are  full  of  faults,  the  servants  in- 
efficient, the  master  self-willed  and  overbearing,  the 
fields  either  too  numerous  or  else  so  scanty  that  the 
Hunt  must  go  to  the  dogs — which,  bad  as  it  is  in  every 
respect,  Crookton  would  apparently  regard  as  a  misfor- 
tune— and  even  the  foxes  themselves,  to  pursue  his 
strictures  to  their  logical  conclusion,  are  disgracefully 
ignorant  of  their  business. 

It  need  hardly  be  added  that  the  weather  very  rarely 
indeed  meets  with  Captain  Crookton's  entire  approba- 
tion, but  that,  on  the  contrary,  he  is  accustomed  to 
speak  of  the  climate  of  his  native  land  in  objurgatory 
terms,  much  more  remarkable  for  their  vigour  than  their 
propriety. 

If  in  the  meteorological  history  of  this  island  there 
ever  was  a  day  that  pleased  the  Captain,  it  was  one 
upon  which  we  had  not  the  pleasure  of  meeting  him  out 
hunting.  Nor  is  it  only  actual  occurrences  which  offend 
him.  As  a  prophet  of  evil  he  holds  high  rank,  and  that 
anything  can  be  going  on  favourably  in  any  way  he 
entirely  disbelieves. 

Jhere  he   is — the  neatly  dressed  man  with   greyish 


9+  SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

whiskers — sitting  by  himself  outside  the  covert,  through 
which  the  remainder  of  the  Hunt  are  wending  their 
ways.  Crookton  is  well  mounted  on  a  powerful  iron 
grey,  well  up  to  his  weight,  and  is  tugging  savagely  at 
the  reins  to  prevent  the  animal  from  following  his 
companions,  as  he  is  disposed  to  do. 

On  seeing  that  a  general  move  was  being  made 
through  the  covert,  we  mildly  suggested  that  we  had 
"  Better  be  getting  on,  perhaps  r" 

"  What  for  ?  "  he  asks,  conteniDtuously.  "  There 
never  was  a  fox  here,  and  there  never  will  be.  When  I 
see  a  rascal  like  that  man  of  Hawley's  leaning  over  a 
gate,"  and  he  nodded  towards  a  keeper,  who  was  look- 
ing on,  *'  I  know  what  it  means,  well  enough." 

"But  he  says  there  was  a  fox  this  morning,"  some 
one  says. 

"  I  dare  say  he  does,  and  very  likely  there  was  this 
morning,  and  he  knows  where  it  is  now.  No.  I'm  not 
going  on  any  such  fool's  errand.  What  Akerton  ought 
to  have  done,  as  I  told  him,  was  to  go  to  the  Red  Down 
Spinney.  My  man  saw  a  fox  there  yesterday,  and 
though  Oldham  is  a  bigoted  Tory  ass,  at  least  he  has 
the  grace  not  to  shoot  foxes.  You'd  better  go,  if  you 
think  it  worth  while.     I  shall  wait  till  you  come  out." 

We  do  think  it  worth  while,  and  in  we  go.  Before 
Crookton  has  succeeded  in  convincing  his  horse  that  he 
does  not  intend  to  follow  into  the  covert  a  whimper 
from  Tuneable,  quickly  acknowledged  by  other  hounds, 
proclaims    a  find,   and   the    fox   breaks   some   hundred 


A    WRANGLER.  95 

yards  from  where  Crookton  has  placed  himself — a  great 
deal  better  luck  than  he  deserves. 

"  A  mangy  bagman,  I'll  bet  a  thousand  to  one. 
Things  were  getting  too  scandalous  there,  and  Hawley 
thinks  this  will  retrieve  the  character  of  the  place," 
growls  Crookton. 

"  Well,  he's  leading  the  hounds  at  a  good  pace,  at 
any  rate,"  says  Scatterly,  as  we  gallop  along  full  swing, 
and  to  this  undeniable  proposition  Crookton  can  only 
reply  with  a  grunt. 

Into  a  covert  with  dense  undergrowth  the  hounds 
plunge,  where  for  a  time  they  seem  at  fault ;  and  Crook- 
ton, after  growing  very  angry  at  what  he  deemed  the 
imminent  probability  of  the  fox  being  "  headed  by  some 
confounded  tailor,"  proceeds  to  anathematise  his  groom 
for  not  putting  on  the  bit  he  wanted  to  ride  in,  and  to 
complain  angrily  of  the  total  incapacity  of  saddlers  in 
general,  and  the  tradesman  he  honours  with  his  patron- 
age in  particular,  who  is,  beyond  comparison,  the 
biggest  ass  that  ever  spoilt  good  leather.  The  hounds 
stay  for  some  time  in  the  covert  without  hitting  off  the 
scent,  and  Crookton  knows  why. 

"  Find  the  fox  ?  No  !  They  don't  seem  to,  indeed, 
and  no  wonder !  Akerton's  not  happy  unless  his 
hounds  are  as  fat  as  pigs.  They  don't  want  to  run, 
and  couldn't  if  they  did.  Let  the  brutes  lie  down  before 
the  fire  and  go  to  sleep,  and  they'd  be  happy,"  observes 
the  genial  Captain. 

"  I  really  think   they  are   treated  very  judiciously," 


95  SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIE  ID. 

somebody  ventures  to  say.  *'  Sir  Henry  takes  enough 
pains  witli  them,  anyhow." 

"A  deuced  sight  too  much  pains.  He's  always  try- 
ing experiments  with  some  new  blood,  and  what's  the 
result  ?  All  the  old  excellences  of  the  pack  are  dis- 
appearing, and  we  have  a  set  of  snipe-nosed  brutes " 

"That  find  foxes,  anyhow,  and  run  them  pretty 
hard !  "  cries  the  defender,  as  he  crashes  through  the 
fence  after  the  hounds,  which  are  again  in  full  cry  down 
the  vale ;  and  we  are  spared  the  a.rgument  that  would 
have  resulted  had  anybody  cared  to  take  it  up,  as  to 
the  good  and  bad  points  common  to  snipe-nosed 
hounds. 

On  we  go  again,  well  in,  it  seems,  for  a  fast  thing, 
and  for  some  time  Crookton  can  find  nothing  to  com- 
plain of  except  a  clever  bit  of  riding  on  the  part  of  the 
first  whip,  who  neatly  saves  a  fall  over  some  awkward 
rails,  and  draws  from  Crookton  a  muttered  grumble  to 
the  effect  that  Tom  is  a  deuced  deal  too  fond  of  steeple- 
chasing,  and  if  he  thought  more  of  his  hounds  and  less 
of  showing  off,  he  would  be  very  much  better  suited  for 
his  place. 

*'  Well !  If  this  is  a  bagman  he's  pretty  fit  to  go  !  " 
Scatterly  cries  out,  as  his  well-pumped  horse  bungles 
over  some  low  rails  and  nearly  lands  on  his  head,  and 
Crookton  can  only  reply  by  a  growl  of  disapprobation 
at  something  indefinite — not  the  pace,  unless  he  would, 
like  it  slower. 

But  rest  is  at  hand. 


A    WRANGLER.  97 

We  have  all  made  up  our  minds  that  the  fox  is  head- 
ing for  Oakley  Heath,  probably  beguiling  the  weary 
way  with  reflections  on  the  comfortable  and  commo- 
dious earths  which  he  imagines  are  open,  though  we 
know  better.  Suddenl}^,  however,  we  bend  away  to  the 
right,  and  gradually  come  to  a  check.  The  fox  appa- 
rently knows  the  geography  of  the  district  better  than 
we  do,  and  at  last  we  are  reluctantly  forced  to  the  con- 
clusion that  we  have  lost  him  ;  whereat  Crookton  takes 
up  his  parable  against  drunken  rascals  who  pass  their 
days  guzzling  in  public-houses,  instead  of  attending  to 
their  work,  the  culprit  against  whose  especial  head 
maledictions  are  hurled  being  poor  Bob  Blake,  the  most 
hard-working  and  sagacious  of  earth-stoppers. 

Once,  however,  we  got  a  glorious  "  rise "  out  of 
Crookton,  one  that  was  well  worth  waiting  for. 

This  was  during  the  Scruton  regime,  when  that  quasi- 
benevolent  person,  after  having  had  very  bad  luck,  as 
he  considered  it,  with  the  cheap  screws  he  managed  to 
pick  up  in  strange  places,  was  making  a  last  desperate 
effort  by  the  strictest  economy  to  avert  the  horrid  fate 
of  being  out  of  pocket.  Scruton  had  clearly  imagined 
that  there  must  be  a  balance  from  the  subscriptions 
which  would  at  least  pay  his  average  expenses,  but  this 
now  seemed  improbable,  and  things  were  not  only  cut, 
but  absolutely  shaved  down,  for  the  purpose  of,  if 
possible,  making  both  ends  meet. 

The  Whip — we  had  only  one — was  mounted  on  a 
melancholy  little  dingy  bay,  which  had  an  extraordi- 

H 


98  SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

nary  habit  of  "running"  every  now  and  then  in  the 
midst  of  a  gallop — not  trotting  or  ambling,  but  simply 
running  with  all  four  legs  independent  of  each  other; 
and  with  disagreeable  frequency  he  would  land  over  a 
jump  on  his  knees,  somewhat  after  the  fashion  of  the 
young  people  in  circuses  when  they  spring  over  what 
I  believe  are  known  as  "  banners-." 

Crookton  observ'ed  this  one  Thursday,  when  the  old 
horse  was  worse  than  usual,  taking  a  run  after  eveiy 
gallop  of  a  dozen  strides,  and,  despite  all  Tom's  care, 
toppling  him  over  at  two  successive  fences.  These 
were  of  course  gay  times  for  Crookton,  who  really 
enjoyed  himself;  for  not  only  were  there  plenty  of  legi- 
timate pretexts  for  finding  fault,  but  as  a  subscriber  to 
the  Hunt  he  felt  that  he  had  an  undeniable  right  to 
express  himself  freel3\ 

"  Look  at  that  wretched  screw  to-day  !  He'll  break 
Tom's  neck  if  the  lad  doesn't  take  care,  before  the  day's 
over.  I  believe  Scruton  makes  those  brutes  himself 
out  of  broken-down  clothes-horses.  The  lad  can  ride, 
too,  or  could  if  he  had  a  beast  to  carry  him.  I'll  tell 
you  what  I'll  do.  For  the  credit  of  the  Hunt  I'll  get  a 
horse  from  my  own  man,  and  Tom  may  ride  it  till  the 
end  of  the  season,"  the  Captain  exclaimed,  and  speedily 
put  his  project  into  execution. 

Tom  was  to  go  to  Captain  Crookton's  private  and 
particular  dealer,  bearing  a  letter  instructing  him  to 
supply  the  best  light-weight  hunter  he  could  part  with 
for    eighty  guineas.     That   was    the  Captain's  way    of 


A    WRANGLER.  99 

doing  business,  and  he  found  it  answer;  so  Tom  called 
for  the  letter,  and  it  was  arranged  that  he  should  go 
over  the  first  day  he  could  manage  it,  which  would 
probably  be  on  the  following  Monday. 

On  the  Saturday  we  were  out  again,  and  Tom,  who 
had  abandoned  the  dingy  bay,  was  on  a  chestnut  mare, 
another  of  Scruton's  bargains  apparently,  for  though 
a  very  decent-looking  beast,  she  refused  persistently, 
wheeling  round  and  kicking  at  her  fences. 

"  There's  another  of  them  !  "  Crookton  said,  contemp- 
tuously, as  he  watched  the  performance.  "  It's  simply 
disgraceful  to  send  a  servant  out  to  do  his  work  on  such 
a  beast." 

"  Not  a  bad-looking  sort,"  Wynnerly  remarks,  as  we 
stand  in  a  group,  watching  Tom's  efforts  to  get  the 
mare  over  the  fence  out  of  a  covert  which  had  been 
drawn  blank. 

"I  can't  say  I  agree  with  you,"  the  Captain  answers  ; 
"  she's  one  of  those  light,  flashy  beasts  that  never  last 
after  Christmas,  and  are  not  fit  to  go  half  the  days  before. 
Go  to  a  decent  man,  pay  a  decent  price,  and  you'll  get 
a  decent  horse — as  you'll  see  on  Tuesday,  I  hope. 
Another  awkward  brute  you've  got  there,  Tom.  Where 
did  she  come  from  r  "  Crookton  asks,  as  at  length,  with 
a  snort,  the  mare  bounds  over  the  fence. 

"  This  is  your  new  one,  sir.  I  got  over  to  fetch  her 
yesterday,"  Tom  answers,  touching  his  h^it.  "Hadn't 
time  to  bring  her  round  to  let  you  see  her,  sir,  and 
know'd  you  would  be  out  to-day." 

n  2 


100        SKE'J'CIIES  JX  THE  HUXTING  FIELD. 

I'm  afraid  we  laughed ;  the  idea  of  Crookton  so 
angrily  abusing  his  own  horse  from  his  own  unexcep- 
tionable dealer  was  too  good  to  be  resisted. 

It  is  freezing  hard  now,  and  Crookton  is  beyond  all 
doubt  girding  bitterly  at  the  abominable  weather. 
Soon  it  will  thaw,  and  then  he  will  come  out,  and  growl 
savagely  at  the  heavy  ploughs,  and  the  rides  through 
the  coverts  knee-deep  in  mud.  In  fine,  Crookton — a 
generous,  good-hearted  fellow  when  it  comes  to  the 
point — is  a  very  pronounced  type  of  that  strange  class 
of  people  who  are  never  happy  unless  they  have  some- 
thing to  be  miserable  about. 


XI. 

AN  AFTER-DINNER  SPORTSMAN. 

As  a  very  general  rule  the  less  a  man  talks  about  his 
own  performances  in  the  saddle  the  better  for  his  own 
reputation  and  the  comfort  of  his  friends. 

There  are,  of  course,  exceptions  to  every  rule ;  as,  for 
example,  Dick  Christian,  whose  *'  lecture,"  so  full  of 
pleasant  and  unconscious  egotism — as  from  its  style  it 
needs  must  have  been — is  an  abiding  joy  to  all  who 
know  the  Midlands,  either  by  experience  or  hearsay. 
"The  Druid"  did  good  service  when  he  interviewed  the 
gallant  veteran,  and  obtained  from  him  those  stories 
which  he  loved  to  repeat  for  the  edification  of  a  sympa- 
thetic listener.  The  knowledge,  too,  that  all  the  old 
man's  statements  were  strictly  accurate  lent  a  charm  to 
his  narrative  which  all  stories  of  sport  certainly  do  not 
possess  ;  as  in  the  case  of  Herbert  Fluffyer,  who  has 
lately  settled  amongst  us,  and  who  goes  wonderfully 
straight  and  well  after  dinner,  or  even  at  breakfast, 
especially  after  a  glass  of  cura9oa  and  brandy,  but  who 
does  not  appear  to  equal  advantage  when  hounds  are 
running. 

/'On  their  own   merits  modest  men  are  dumb,"  has 


102        SKETCHES  EV  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

been  said,  and  if  men  swagger,  the  inference  may 
generally  be  drawn  that  they  are  not  modest,  or  that 
their  own  merits  are,  for  the  most  part,  imaginary. 

If  we  abstain  from  discussing  ourselves,  we  may  be 
tolerably  sure  that  our  friends  will  discuss  us.  One 
wag  will  suggest  that  we  ''  go  straightest  in  a  hansom 
cab,"  and  another  will  delicately,  but  decidedly,  express 
an  opinion  that  we  are  not  so  good  as  we  were ;  and, 
with  a  hint  that  we  w^ere  never  worth  much  in  our 
best  days,  this  will  sum  up  the  question  with  tolerable 
conciseness. 

Fluffyer  differs  from  Mr.  Checkley,  who  was  intro- 
duced at  an  early  period  of  these  sketches,  because  the 
latter  never  says  that  he  rides,  while  Fluffyer,  with 
considerable  insoiiciamc,  will  describe  most  wonderful 
feats  which  he  has  accomplished  —  in  imagination. 
Mr.  Checkley  would  be  glad  to  give  you  the  impres- 
sion that  he  goes  like  a  bird,  but  has  scruples  of  con- 
science, or  is  wisely  deterred  by  a  dread  of  being  found 
out. 

Fluffyer  has  no  such  fears,  and  gets  out  of  the  little 
difficulties  into  which  his  fables  lead  him  with,  it  must 
be  admitted,  remarkable  cleverness. 

The  first  time  I  saw  him  I  was  riding  with  Wynnerly 
across  the  country  over  which  they  had  hunted  the  day 
before — I  had  been  away,  and  only  just  returned — and 
noticed  a  dog-cart  pull  up  at  the  gate  of  the  field  at 
the  far  end  of  which  we  were.  A  man  got  down, 
opened  the  gate,  and  walked  slowly  along  the  fence. 


AN  AFTER-DINNER  SPORTSMAN.  103 

"What's  he  doing?"  I  asked. 

"I  can't  make  out,"  Wynnerly  said,  looking  care- 
fully; 'and  presently  he  exclaimed,  "Why,  its  Fluffyer!" 

"  Who's  he  ? "  I  inquired. 

"A  wonderful  good  rider ;  cuts  us  all  down,  and  does 
marvels." 

"Really?"  I  ask,  Wynnerly's  tone  having  a  shade 
of  sarcasm  in  it. 

"Ask  him,  my  dear  fellow.  He  says  so,  and  of 
course  he  ought  to  know.  What  the  deuce  is  he 
at  ? "  Wynnerly  inquired  as  we  approached,  and  saw 
Fluffyer  draw  from  his  pocket  a  little  round  silver  con- 
trivance about  the  size  of  a  crown.  "  Come  on ;  we 
shall  have  some  fun ! "  he  said,  as  he  rode  up  to  the 
mysterious  Fluffyer. 

"  Good  morning  !  what's  your  little  game  out  here 
all  by  yourself?  By  the  way,  let  me  introduce  my 
friend.     Mr.  Rapier— l\Ir.  Fluffyer." 

"  Good  morning  !  "  Fluffyer  answered.  "  I  just  came 
to  measure  the  jump  that  we  crossed  yesterday.  I 
don't  think  you  came  this  way,  did  you  ?  I  fancy  I  saw 
you  in  the  next  field  just  before.  My  bay  horse  simply 
flew  over  here,  and  I  thought  I  would  see  what  we 
cleared." 

"A  very  good  way,"  Wynnerly  declared,  as  grave 
as  a  judge.  "You  measure  it  carefully,  and  then  you 
are  satisfied." 

"Quite  so.  Then  there  can  be  no  doubt  about  it,'' 
Fluffyer  answered. 


104        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

"Quite  so,"  Wynnerly  replied  in  turn,  tliough  not 
perhaps  in  accents  of  pure  conviction.  "  I  was  away  to 
the  right  there,  in  a  much  easier  place." 

Fluffyer  smiled  as  if  the  easiest  places  to  him  were 
what  other  people  regard  as  yawners.  "  See  here,"  he 
went  on,  revealing  the  fact  that  the  little  silver  machine 
contained  a  yard  measure ;  "  we  took  off  at  least  five 
feet  from  the  fence,  it's  at  least  six  feet  through,  that's 
eleven  ;  the  ditch  is  six — say  seven — that's  eighteen  ; 
and  I'm  sure  we  cleared  it  by  four  feet  on  the  other 
side — that's  twenty-two.  I  should  have  thought  it  was 
more." 

"A  very  good  jump,  though.  Not  many  of  us  would 
have  cared  about  it,"  Wynnerly  hypocritically  says  ; 
and  Fluffyer,  immensely  delighted,  answers,  "  Oh  ! 
don't  know.     It  isn't  much  !  " 

"  How  do  you  account  for  being  such  a  wonderful 
good  rider  r "  Wynnerly  asks,  while  I  look  on  in  fear 
lest  even  the  weak-minded  Fluffyer  should  see  that  he 
is  being  chaffed  ;  but  he  accepts  the  little  compliment 
without  the  faintest  suspicion, 

"  I  don't  think  that  I'm  out  of  the  way — far  from  it ; 
that's  to  say  of  course  I  do  ride.  It's  simply  a  question 
of  pluck,  judgment,  and  experience.  There's  really 
very  little  credit  due  to  a  man  who  goes  straight,  after 
all.  Pluck  is  a  matter  of  constitution — it's  born  with 
you — " 

"  Or  it  isn't,"  AVynnerly  breaks  in. 

"  Quite  so.      It's  no  credit  to  you  if  you  have  it,  I 


AN  AFTER-DINNER  SPORTSMAN.  105 

mean.  Then  judgment  is  the  result  of  experience,  and, 
of  course,  I've  had  a  good  deal  of  experience  in  hunting". 
Well,  good-bye,  old  man  ;  it's  rather  damp  on  the 
grass,  and  I  must  be  getting  on.  Good,  morning, 
Mr.  Rapier.     We  shall  meet  to-morrow,  I  dare  say?" 

"Did  he  jump  that  fence?"  I  ask,  as  we  canter 
along. 

"Jump  it?  No,  not  he.  Scrambled  through  and  got 
over  the  ditch,  and  vows  he  flew  the  whole  thing  with  a 
few  yards  to  spare.  The  queerest  part  of  the  business 
is  that  he  really  believes  what  he  tells  you.  A¥e  shall 
see  him  out  to-morrow,  but  you  won't  see  him  jump 
many  big  fences.  I  believe  he  left  Staffordshire  because 
they  chaffed  him  so,  though  I  can't  make  out  what  they 
said  to  him ;  for  he  never  seems  to  see  the  most  out- 
rageous joke  at  his  own  expense,  just  as  he  swallowed 
what  I  said  about  his  riding." 

Next  morning  we  met  at  the  Cross  Roads,  and  early 
on  the  spot  was  Fluffyer,  gorgeously  arrayed  in  spotless 
pink,  the  whitest  of  buckskin  breeches,  the  shiniest  of 
boots  with  delicate  cream-coloured  tops,  these  latter 
being  shielded  from  splashes  of  mud  by  a  species  of 
apron  attached  to  leathern  wings  fastened  to  the 
saddle  on  each  side.  He  was  mounted  on  a  well-bred 
brown  mare,  a  likely-looking  hunter  of  apparently  a 
very  temperate  disposition.  We  exchanged  greetings, 
and  I  made  some  complimentary  remarks  about  his 
mount. 

"  Yes,"    he    admitted,   with    a    thin    assumption    ot 


io6        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  EI  ELD. 

modesty,  "she's  a  good  old  mare.  Rather  wild  some- 
times, and  has  some  awkward  tricks,  but  luckily  I'm 
used  to  her.     Where  are  we  going  to  draw  r " 

"  That  gorse,"  Downing  answered.  "  It's  a  sure  find, 
and  if  we  get  away  the  other  side  of  the  common  it's  a 
splendid  country." 

"  Isn't  the  S.wish  somewhere  in  that  direction  ? " 
Scatterly  asks.  '*  It's  a  l3ig  brook  we  have  to  cross 
sometimes — that  is  of  course  to  say,  if  we  can,"  he 
explained  for  the  edification  of  Fluffyer,  who  was  new 
to  the  country.     "  I  hope  you  are  on  a  good  jumper  ? " 

"  Pretty  fair,  thanks,"  Fluffyer  replies,  patting  his 
mare's  neck  ;  and  then,  as  a  move  is  evidently  about  to 
be  made,  removing  the  coverings  w^hich  have  preserved 
the  spotlessness  of  his  garments. 

We  skirt  the  gorse,  from  the  other  end  of  which  a  big 
dog-fox  presently  steals  away,  and  is  half  across  the 
next  field  before  the  hounds  have  hit  off  the  scent. 
Then,  with  a  rush,  the  field  is  off  after  them,  the  first 
fence  being  so  very  small  and  thin  that  no  man  shrinks 
from  making  his  way  either  over  or  through,  and  on 
we  tear,  Fluffyer  looking  back  and  apparently  wonder- 
ing whether  it  would  be  worth  while  to  measure  his 
jump.  After  this  for  some  time  I  lose  sight  of  him, 
but  at  the  first  check  he  turns  up,  remarks  with  some 
satisfaction  that  this  is  a  good  beginning,  at  any  rate, 
and  asks  if  we  saw  him  do  the  fence  in  the  bottom. 
I  had  happened  to  observe  him  at  the  spot  in  ques- 
tion, and  noticed  that  he  trotted  through  without  the 


AN  AFTER-DINNER  SPORTSMAN.  107 

necessity  for  anything  in  the  shape  of  a  jump ;  but 
concerning"  this  I  held  my  peace. 

"  They're  running,  aren't  they  ?  "  Scatterly  suddenly 
asks,  looking  straight  away  over  a  sot  of  posts  and 
rails  immediately  in  front  of  us.  "  Yes.  Hold  up  !  "  he 
cries  to  his  horse,  as  the  animal  stops  and  "slithers" 
down  to  the  rails  with  no  attempt  at  jumping.  AVheel- 
ing  round,  he  canters  up  to  them  again,  but  they  are 
a  good  deal  stiffer  than  the  horse  cares  about,  though 
the  rider  is  willing  enough,  and  another  refusal  is  the 
consequence. 

"  Give  me  a  lead,  somebody  !  Wynnerly,  your  horse 
is  sure  to  go,"  the  disconcerted  one  exclaims.  But 
Wynnerly  winks  slightly  at  me,  and  says, — 

"  I'm  not  so  sure,  he's  rather  a  brute.  Ah  !  Fluffyer 
will  show  us  the  way.     Will  you  go  r" 

Fluffyer  is  not  at  all  eager  to  do  anything  of  the 
sort ;  but  if  he  is  not  ready  to  jump  rails  he  is  quite 
ready  to  explain  the  reason  of  his  forbearance. 

"  My  dear  felloAV,"  he  says,  "  if  I  were  on  any 
other  horse  in  my  stable  there's  nothing  I  should  like 
better,  but  this  mare  won't  rise  an  inch  at  timber. 
It's  her  only  fault.  At  water  she's  the  best  I  ever 
rode." 

Wynnerly  smiles,  not  altogether  without  derision ; 
but  Fluffyer  does  not  see  it,  being  occupied  with  the 
recalcitrant  mare. 

"I  suppose  I  must  try,  then,"  Wynnerly  says,  and 
slips    over   with   consummate   ease ;     while    Scatterly's 


io8        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

horse  blunders  and  smashes  the  two  top  ones,  without, 
however,  coming  to  grief. 

*'  Strange  thing  about  the  mare,  that  she  won't  rise  at 
timber,  isn't  it  ? "  Fiuffyer  says,  as  we  cross  the  next 
field,  feeling  that  some  sort  of  excuse  is  necessary. 
"  She's  so  good  and  clever  at  everything  else,  but  you 
saw  she  didn't  half  like  even  that  low  rail  that 
Scatterly  left  unbroken  ?  They  seem  to  be  bearing 
rather  to  the  right,  don't  they  ?  Through  that  gate 
is  the  quickest  way,  I  fancy;"  and  he  gallops  off,  right 
away  from  the  line,  to  escape  the  fence  in  front  of 
us,  which  the  first  flight  are  over  and  the  second  are 
engaged  upon. 

Soon  after  we  join  again,  and  Wynnerly  says, — 

"Now  you'll  have  a  chance  with  your  water-jumper, 
Fiuffyer.  We  are  going  straight  for  the  Swish,  and 
it's  pretty  big,  too,  after  the  rain." 

"Where  is  it?"  the  after-dinner  sportsman  asks,  not 
exactly  in  eager  tones. 

"  Straight  ahead,  in  the  field  by  the  clump  of  trees 
there,"  Wynnerly  replies,  and  into  the  field  we  gallop, 
numerous  splashes  showing  where  hounds  are  jumping 
in.  Sir  Henry,  the  master,  is  in  his  usual  place,  well  with 
the  hounds,  and  over  it  he  goes  in  gallant  style.  Keen 
as  Wynnerly  is  he  cannot  resist  the  fun  of  chaffing 
Fiuffyer,  and  he  encourages  him  to  the  attempt. 

"  Go  on,  old  man,  and  give  us  a  good  lead  over!  "  he 
cries ;  and  poor  Fiuffyer,  in  a  mortal  funk,  has  no  excuse 
ready. 


A.Y  AFTER-DINNER  SPORTSMAN.  icg 

"  All  right ! "  he  feebly  answers,  and  goes  towards 
the  water ;  but  his  pace  gradually  decreases,  and  the 
mare,  feeling"  that  he  does  not  mean  it,  comes  to  a  stop 
at  the  brink. 

"  Try  again,  she'll  do  it ! "  Wynnerly  shouts.  Fluffyer, 
however,  shakes  his  head. 

"  No  !  There  must  be  something  w-rong  with  her.  I 
felt  her  going  queerly  a  little  way  back.  I'm  afraid 
she's  hurt  herself;  "  whereupon  he  slips  from  the  saddle 
and  begins  to  feel  the  mare's  legs  with  an  affectation  of 
deep  anxiety.  Wynnerly  grins,  and  the  next  moment 
is  on  the  other  side  of  the  brook.  Scatterly  promptly 
jumps  into  the  middle,  while  Downing  and  some  of  the 
more  cautious  spirits  go  along  the  bank  to  a  ford,  of 
whose  existence  Fluffyer  was  unaware.  His  mare 
evidently  wanted  to  follow,  but  he  was  bound  to  keep 
up  the  imposture,  and  actually  led  her  across  the  field 
in  the  opposite  direction  to  that  in  which  we  were 
going. 

I  am  afraid  that  the  events  of  the  day  gave  no 
opportunity  for  an  entry  in  the  book  of  big  jumps. 


XII. 

THE   DEALER. 

Occasionally  among  the  followers  of  the  Meadow- 
mere  Hounds,  with  which  I  usually  hunted,  and  more 
often  with  a  neighbouring  pack  which  came  within 
reach  of  us  at  intervals,  I  was  accustomed  to  notice  a 
stranger,  whom  I  mentally  called  the  JMajor,  from  his 
close  resemblance  to  a  gallant  officer  whose  name  was 
pretty  generally  known. 

The  Major  appeared  to  be  a  reserved  man.  He  never 
accorded  to  me  that  cheery  greeting  which  pursuers  of 
the  same  foxes  soon  came  to  exchange  even  without 
having  previously  gone  through  the  ceremony  of  a 
formal  introduction  ;  neither  was  he,  as  a  rule,  com- 
municative to  other  members  of  the  hunt,  though  at 
times  I  observed  him  exchanging  salutes  with  men  as 
they  cantered  past,  his  portion  of  the  exchange  consist- 
ing of  a  military  inclination  of  two  fingers  to  the  brim 
of  his  hat. 

The  Major  was  somewhat  tall — or  looked  so  on  his 
horse — but  slim  in  proportion,  and  rode  well  under 
twelve  stone.  His  whiskers  were  rigorously  shaved  off 
in  a  line  with  the  lobes  of  his  ears ;  a  black  double- 


THE  DEALER.  iii 

seamed  coat,  cord  breeches,  and  butcher  boots  formed 
his  invariable  attire ;  but  what  chiefly  attracted  my 
attention  were  the  horses  he  rode  and  the  manner  in 
which  he  rode  them. 

Almost  always  his  mount  was  a  young  animal  that 
could  certainly  not  have  had  much  experience  of  the 
chase,  and  seemed  to  be  more  than  likely  in  the  course 
of  a  run  to  disconcert  that  perfect  equanimity  which  was 
the  Major's  most  jDrominent  characteristic. 

So  a  casual  observer  would  have  supposed.  But 
though  often  excitable  on  first  coming  among  the  other 
horses — or  rather  into  their  neighbourhood,  for  the 
Major  generally  sat  by  himself  a  little  apart  from 
groups  of  chatting  and  smoking  sportsmen,  attended 
only  by  a  servant — by  some  means  the  colt  was  speedily 
reduced  to  placidity ;  and  when  it  came  to  running,  the 
manner  in  which  the  pair  acquitted  themselves  was 
delightful  and  withal  marvellous  to  behold. 

Between  horse  and  rider,  as  between  husband  and 
wife,  the  secret  of  travelling  successfully  over  the 
obstacles  which  mark  alike  the  hunting  field  and  the 
matrimonial  existence  is  only  known  to  those  who 
understand  each  other ;  and,  indeed,  chiefly  consists  of 
that  understanding. 

By  what  subtle  means  the  Major  impressed  upon  a 
four-year-old  that  he  must  not  plunge  and  fight  with  his 
rider  at  the  covert-side  I  must  regretfully  confess  my 
ignorance,  but  this  lesson  he  was  certainly  fortunate  in 
conveying.     If  I  ride  a  young  horse  he  bucks  and  kicks. 


1,2        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIEID. 

or  at  any  rate,  as  a  very  general  rule,  fidgets  consider- 
ably and  uncomfortably  when  he  joins  his  companions  ; 
and  as  the  whimper  which  hints  at  a  find  swells  into  a 
chorus  of  conviction,  gives  such  tokens  of  exuberant 
delight  as  efiectually  prevent  me  from  criticising  with 
Mr.  Checkley  the  manner  in  which  the  hounds  are 
working. 

There  was  no  vulgar  whipping,  spurring,  and  shout- 
ing on  the  Major's  part  when  premonitory  symptoms  of 
unruliness  set  in.  His  gentle  admonitions  were  imper- 
ceptibly conveyed  ;  and,  reduced  to  perfect  quietude,  his 
young  horse  appeared  to  share  his  rider's  desire  to  get 
away  without  any  fuss  or  nonsense  on  a  good  line  of  his 

own. 

Evidently  the  INIajor  preferred  schooling  young  ones, 
for  his  green-coated  groom  was  invariably  mounted  on 
a  finished  hunter,  which  always  appeared  to  the  best 
advantage  in  his  skilful  hands.  The  Major's  stud  was 
endless,  and  the  number  of  young  horses  he  had  for  his 
own  riding,  and  of  made  hunters  for  his  groom  or 
grooms — sometimes  there  were  two  of  them — would 
apparently  have  filled  the  stables  of  the  master  of  the 
Meadowmere  and  of  his  two  neighbouring  brethren. 

At  times,  moreover,  the  Major  was  accompanied  by  a 
young  lady,  for  whom,  amongst  his  resources,  he  was 
always  able  to  find  a  mount  whose  appearance  matched 
her  pretty  face,  and  whose  good  qualities  were  abun- 
dantly evident  under  the  gentle  but  firm  hands  of  its 
accomplished  mistress. 


THE  DEALER.  1 1 3 

When  the  Major  did  get  away,  too,  there  was  no 
mistake  about  his  style  of  going.  His  young  horses 
became  possessed  of  a  discretion  beyond  their  years. 
They  neither  refused  their  fences  nor  rushed  them,  but 
slipped  over,  bringing  their  hind-legs  well  under  them, 
and,  lighting  on  those  agile  and  muscular  limbs,  were 
well  away  on  the  other  side,  w^hile  the  rushers,  who  had 
jumped  at  double  the  pace,  were  pulling  themselves  to- 
gether, and  getting  into  their  stride  again — if  they  found 
their  way  safely  over,  as  was  not  invariably  the  case. 

My  introduction  to  the  Major  was  brought  about 
accidentally.  A  gate  through  which  I  was  passing 
swung  back  more  rapidly  than  I  expected,  and  missing 
the  push  with  my  hunting-crop,  that  should  have 
warded  off  a  collision,  the  lock  caught  my  stirrup  and 
dragged  it  off.  An  attempt  to  fish  it  up  without  leaving 
the  saddle  was  unsuccessful,  and  I  did  not  want  to  dis- 
mount if  it  could  be  avoided,  as  that  necessarily  in- 
volved mounting  again,  which  is  not  a  very  easy  cere- 
mony to  perform  when  your  horse  is  restive  and  the 
plough  deep. 

At  this  juncture,  therefore,  I  was  much  gratified  to 
find  that  the  Major  had  courteously  slid  from  his  saddle, 
and  with  a  most  polite  "  Pray  allow  me,  sir,"  handed 
me  up  the  leather  and  iron.  His  legs  were  longer  than 
mine,  and  his  horse  both  quieter  and  lower,  so  that  he 
was  again  in  his  seat  before  I  could  utter  a  fitting  ex- 
pression of  thanks  and  of  shame  to  have  given  him  so 
much  trouble  ;  to  which  civil  speeches  he  made  suitable 

I 


114        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIE  ID. 

response  as  we  cantered  on  together  towards  where  the 
hounds  had  checked  a  couple  of  fields  beyond. 

If  the  Major  had  struck  me  as  being  reserved,  he  was  un- 
questionably most  polite  of  speech,  and  as  we  proceeded 
onward  we  naturally  verged  into  the  subject  of  horse- 
flesh, which  enabled  me  to  pay  a  well- deserved  compli- 
ment to  the  four-year-old  iron-grey  horse  he  was  riding. 

"A  good-looking  young  horse  you  are  on  to-day 
— sir,"  I  said,  just  stopping  in  time  to  avoid  saying 
"  Major." 

''Yes;  I  think  he  will  grow  into  a  serviceable  animal," 
he  replied,  glancing  as  he  spoke  down  the  fence  we  were 
approaching,  and  over  which  his  groom,  on  a  raking 
chestnut  mare,  bounded  in  the  most  irreproachable 
form.  "  My  servant  is  on  the  pick  of  my  stable  this 
morning,"  he  continued  ;  "  but  I  was  anxious  to  see 
what  the  young  one  was  like." 

It  would  only  have  been  courteous,  I  thought,  if  the 
Major  had  said  something  amiable  about  my  horse,  a 
nearly  thoroughbred  bay,  which  came  very  near  indeed  to 
my  beajt  ideal  of  a  hunter ;  and  presently  he  did  glance 
over  my  steed,  slightly — very  slightly — contracting  his 
eyebrows  as  his  eyes  fell  on  the  animal's  near  hind- 
leg.  I,  too,  had  looked  at  that  hock  several  times 
before  writing  rather  a  stiff  cheque.  Was  it  just  a 
little  full  r  and,  if  so,  what  could  have  caused  it  ? 
Spavin  is  such  an  ugly  word  I  did  not  like  to  think 
of  it,  and  had  succeeded  in  persuading  myself  that  it 
was  all  right ;   but  the  Major's  glance  falling  just   on 


THE  DEALER.  115 

what  had  laboured  under  suspicion  of  being  a  weak 
place  was  disquieting. 

"  A  very  useful  little  horse,  that,  sir,  I  should  say — 
especially  when  it  isn't  too  heavy  going  ?  "  was  his  com- 
mendation, and  it  sounded  very  like  an  adverse  criticism. 
"For  a  cramped  country  that  is  just  the  stamp  of  horse 
I  like." 

Now  we  do  not  consider  our  country  cramped ;  the 
adjective  "  useful "  seemed  to  me  to  fall  far  short  of  my 
steed's  deserts,  and  the  reservation  about  the  too  heavy 
going,  particularly  when  taken  in  conjunction  with  the 
term  "  little,"  meant,  if  it  meant  anything,  that  the 
animal  was  overweighted.  In  common  with  many  of 
my  species,  I  entertain  views  as  to  the  value  of  my  own 
opinion,  as  opposed  to  the  opinions  of  the  world  in 
general,  which — well,  which  perhaps  my  friends  don't 
share  with  me.  Still,  the  judgment  of  a  man  who  rode 
like  the  Major  was  not  to  be  despised,  and  when  I  saw 
his  eye  wander  once  more  to  that  hind-leg  I  began  to 
feel  doubts  and  dissatisfactions  in  striking  contrast  to 
the  sentiment  of  serene  content  I  had  experienced  as  I 
rode  that  morning  into  the  field. 

"  That  black-and-white  hound  has  it.  No  r  Yes  I  " 
he  suddenly  exclaimed,  as  a  whimper  half-way  between 
a  query  and  an  assertion  drew  affirmative  responses 
from  the  pack,  and  they  crashed  through  a  thorn  fence. 
"  Surely  that  boy  of  mine  doesn't  mean  to  have  those 
rails  ?"  he  cried,  as  the  chestnut  mare  went  straight  for 
some    excessively   ugly  timber    rather  out   of  the   line 

I  2 


ri6        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD, 

which  led  over  the  thinnish  fence  aforesaid.  "  He  does, 
though !  Splendidly  done  !  "  he  continued,  as  the  mare 
bounded  over  without  suspicion  of  a  touch. 

"  Yes,"  I  replied ;  "  it  must  be  a  man's  own  fault  if 
he  fails  to  keep  his  place  on  that  mare,  I  should  think. 
Have  you  many  up  now  ? "  I  asked,  as  we  went  smoothly 
over  the  grass. 

"Pretty  full,  just  at  present,  sir,  and  I  should  be  very 
happy  if  you  would  come  and  look  at  them  some  day," 
he  replied. 

"  You  are  very  good,  I'm  sure,  and  I  should  be 
delighted,"  I  said,  much  pleased  with  my  com- 
panion's affability,  and  likewise  at  the  prospect  of 
an  afternoon's  visit  to  such  a  stable  as  the  INIajor's 
must  be. 

"  I  sha'n't  hunt  on  Friday,  if  you  care  to  ride  over, 
sir  ? "  he  rejoined,  handing  me  a  card  ;  and  before  I 
could  answer  his  invitation  we  approached  another  sec- 
tion of  the  rails  over  which  his  mare  had  distinguished 
herself.  My  perfect  beast  stopped  dead  at  them,  while 
the  Major,  coming  up  on  his  young  one  a  length  behind, 
shot  over  with  considerable  ease,  just  faintly  tapping 
the  top  with  a  fore-foot,  but  not  enough  to  disconcert 
horse  or  rider  in  the  least. 

A  second  attempt  carried  me  over,  or  rather  through, 
for  a  broken  rail  was  the  consequence  of  an  effort  with 
too  much  steam  on,  and  at  the  next  check,  to  which  a 
particularly  dodgy  fox  speedily  brought  us,  \  found 
myself  near  a  friend. 


THE  DEALER.  117 

"What  a  good  fellow  the  Major  seems,"  I  remarked 
to  him,  as  that  gallant  officer  landed  in  the  field  some 
distance  from  us. 

"Yes,  don't  he,  charming  —  who  are  you  talking 
about  ?  "  he  replied. 

"  The  man  on  the  grey,"  I  answered,  pointing  him 
out. 

"  Why  <■  the  JMajor  '  r "  he  asked.  "  I'm  not  aware  that 
he's  a  major,  except  in  the  sense  of  being  an  old  soldier, 
perhaps.     That's  Scratton  the  dealer." 

"  He  talks  like  a  gentleman,"  I  said,  looking  at  his 
card  which,  sure  enough,  was  inscribed  "  Mr.  Scratton, 
The  Farm,  Coverton."  "  Do  you  know  him  ?  What  sort 
of  a  fellow  is  he  ?  "  I  asked  my  friend. 

"  Well,  he's  a  horse-dealer,"  I  was  again  informed. 

"  So  you  said  ;  but  is  he  all  right  r  " 

"  For  a  horse-dealer,  I  dare  say  he  is,"  my  friend  drily 
answered,  evidently  entertaining  the  common  prejudice, 
which  may  or  may  not  be  well  founded,  as  to  the  in- 
tegrity of  the  race. 

On  the  Friday,  however,  I  determined  to  ride  over, 
and,  at  any  rate,  have  a  look  at  what  was  to  be  seen  at 
The  Farm ;  and  an  hour's  trot,  with  a  gallop  over 
Coverton  Common,  brought  me  in  sight  of  Scratton's 
establishment — an  old-fashioned,  high-roofed,  red-tiled 
house,  with  what  had  been  farm  buildings,  and  were 
no\y  stables,  stretching  to  the  right  and  back. 

In  a  field  near  the  house  some  flights  of  hurdles  had 
been    placed,   over   which    Scratton   was   persuasively 


ii8        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

handing  another  of  his  young  ones,  while  a  boy  on  a 
good-looking  old  hunter  was  standing  by,  ready,  I  sup- 
posed, to  give  an  occasional  lead  if  necessary;  and 
beyond  this  field  on  the  common  I  perceived  lines  of 
fences  of  various  sizes  carefully  made  up  and  rendered 
unfit  for  the  use  of  casual  passers-by  who  might  be 
inclined  to  jump,  by  chains  fastened  to  posts  about  a 
couple  of  yards  on  the  landing  side.  My  "Major" 
dismounted  as  I  rode  up  and  saluted  me  in  his  accus- 
tomed fashion,  as  a  groom  came  forward  to  take  my 
horse. 

"I  trust  you  will  permit  me  to  offer  you  a  little 
luncheon,  sir,  after  your  ride  ?"  he  courteously  inquired, 
leading  the  way  to  a  parlour  where  a  snowy  cloth  was 
laid,  and  bright  glasses  and  shining  plate  caught  the 
reflections  of  a  comfortable  fire.  It  was  evidently  his 
role  to  play  the  host  and  not  the  horse-dealer ;  and  while 
we  discussed  some  excellent  chops,  the  mealiest  of 
potatoes,  the  brightest  of  ale,  and  a  glass  of  perfect  dry 
sherry,  the  subject  of  horse-flesh  was  not  touched  upon. 

A  cigar,  which  did  no  discredit  to  the  luncheon,  duly 
followed;  and  then,  as  if  making  a  casual  suggestion 
for  the  purpose  of  amusing  a  guest,  and  without  the 
faintest  thought  of  trade,  my  host  carelessly  observed, 
"  Shall  we  look  through  the  stables  ?  "  to  which,  on  my 
acquiescing,  he  led  the  way. 

If  I  were  a  horse  I  should  wish  no  better  fate  than  to 
be  quartered  at  Scratton's,  at  any  rate  so  far  as  board 
and  lodging  are  concerned. 


THE  DEALER,  119 

Pleasantly  warm,  without  being  in  the  least  close, 
scrupulously  clean  and  beautifully  neat  in  those  little 
details  which  concern  appearance  as  well  as  health  and 
comfort,  Scratton's  stables  must  have  been  a  home 
which  their  inmates  quitted  with  regret ;  for  here  the 
happy  mean  was  evidently  reached,  and  the  horses 
neither  suffered  from  the  carelessness  on  the  one  hand, 
nor  the  excessive  pampering  on  the  other,  which  bring 
on  so  many  of  the  complaints  that  equine  flesh  is 
heir  to. 

Overfeeding,  want  of  regular  exercise,  and  the  atmo- 
sphere of  a  stable  the  temperature  of  a  hothouse  do 
more  damag"e  than  many  kind  masters  imagine. 

"Fine  horse  that!"  I  exclaimed,  as  a  groom,  at  a 
signal  from  his  master,  loosened  the  clothes  on  a  big 
thoroughbred-looking  brown. 

"  He  is  indeed,  sir ;    almost    the    best   horse  in   my 

stable.      He  carried  the    Marquis    of    W so   well 

through  the  great  run  last  season  at  Blackbrook  that 
the  gentleman  I  bought  him  from  wrote  next  morning 
to  offer  600  guineas.  He  was  too  much  of  a  horse  for 
his  new  owner,  however,  and  I  was  glad  to  give  the 
price  for  him.  That's  the  mare  my  servant  was  on  last 
Tuesday  ;  I  picked  her  up  very  cheap  in  Ireland  at  the 
sale  of  Lord  Wallaway's  stud— ^200 — a  great  bargain 
and  a  beautiful  jumper ;  do  you  care  to  try  her  over  the 
hurdles?  Perhaps  she's  scarcely  up  to  your  weight, 
sir,"  he  continued,  seeing  that  I  hesitated,  for  though 
disposed  to  buy  a  horse  if  I  found  one  that  I  cared  for, 


120       SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

I  was  not  inclined  to  deal  for  animals  which  had  been 
picked  up  cheaply  for  600  guineas,  or  even  ^200.  Con- 
sidering the  expense  of  carriage  from  Ireland,  keep,  &c., 
and  a  reasonable  profit  for  the  dealer,  which  one  could 
not  fairly  refuse,  the  price  would  mount  up  speedil}^  to 
considerable  dimensions. 

"That  is  a  hack  my  daughter  rides,"'  he  went  on,  as 
we  passed  to  the  next  stall,  which  contained  a  splendid 
little  bay  mare,  "and  this  is  Gloucester;  he  runs  in  the 
Grand  Military  next  week,  and  will  not  be  far  from 
winning,  I  imagine ; "  and  he  pointed  to  the  occupant  of 
a  capacious  loose  box,  a  powerful  black  horse  which  put 
back  his  ears  and  swished  his  tail  as  the  door  of  his 
residence  was  opened.  "  The  iron-grey  by  the  door  is 
a  young  one  I  rode  last  season,  half-brother  to  the  one 
I  was  on  last  Tuesday;  capital  hunter,  rising  six." 

"  Does  he  jump  ? "  I  ask. 

"  And  gallop,"  he  answered.  *'  Do  you  care  to  take 
him  round  the  training  ground  ?  I  can  have  it  un- 
chained in  a  moment." 

"Just  over  the  hurdles  will  do,"  I  reply,  not  quite 
caring  about  the  unknown  obstacles  of  what  no  doubt 
seemed  a  moderate  course  to  Scratton,  but  might  have 
had  a  different  appearance  to  a  stranger  on  a  young 
horse.  A  neatly-fitting  saddle  was  on  the  grey's  back 
in  a  moment,  and  over  the  hurdles  he  certainly  bounded 
as  if  he  liked  nothing  better. 

Perhaps,  as  a  short  time  afterwards  we  discussed 
another  glass  of  the  sherry,  Scratton  painted  the  grey's 


THE  DEALER.  121 

good  qualities  a  little  too  brightly,  and  it  would  not  be 
correct  to  call  him  a  cheap  horse.  To  haggle  \vith 
Scratton  is,  however,  impossible.  You  would  lower 
your  own  dignity,  destroy  the  agreeable  spirit  of  the 
intercourse  which  has  existed  between  you,  hurt  his 
feelings,  and  not  abate  his  price.  Indeed,  he  would 
not  haggle,  I  am  sure,  though  I  do  not  speak  from 
experience. 

He  mentions  the  price  of  his  horse,  and  you  can  take 
it  or  leave  it,  as  you  please.  He  does  not  puff  his 
animals,  though  he  may  take  the  opportunity  of  drawing 
your  attention  to  the  manner  in  which  they  are  going 
in  the  field  with  his  servants  on  their  backs ;  which  is 
a  perfectly  legitimate  proceeding.  The  fact  of  a  horse 
being  in  his  stable  is  supposed  to  stamp  it  as  sound 
and  serviceable,  and  just  a  little  out  of  the  common. 
He  does  not,  of  course,  depreciate  his  horses,  and  if  you 
ask  straightforward  questions  he  gives  straightforward 
answers  :  if  he  seemed  to  say  a  little  too  much  in  favour 
of  my  grey,  it  was  because  1  inquired  into  details. 

He  does  not  sell  unsound  horses — one  simple  reason 
being  that  it  would  not  pay  him  to  do  so.  If  I  wanted 
another  horse  I  should  go  to  Scratton,  and  the  man  who 
wants  a  wife  and  succeeds  in  persuading  Scratton's 
daughter  to  accept  the  position,  will,  I  should  imagine, 
marry  a  very  good  girl  with  a  substantial  dowry. 


XIII. 

THROWN  OUT. 

It  is  cold  as  we  drive  to  the  meet,  bitterly  and — for  the 
24th  of  March — cruelly  cold.  The  wind  whistles  round 
the  turned-up  collar  of  my  great-coat,  and  has  a  most 
offensive  habit  of  finding  its  way  through  interstices. 
The  Huntsman  of  the  famous  pack  we  are  going  to  meet 
is  driving,  and  even  he  finds  it  cold,  though  arrayed  in 
a  huge  fur  coat,  which  makes  him  look  like  something 
between  a  sheep  and  a  bear ;  and  he  shelters  me  some- 
what from  the  nipping  and  eager  air  that  cuts  like  a 
knife,  or  I  should  be  able  to  discuss  frost-bites  with 
Major  Burnaby  from  personal  experience. 

This  is  not  the  weather  for  sitting  still  outside  a 
covert,  but  that  is  an  amusement  in  which  we  shall 
scarcely  be  called  upon  to  take  part ;  for  there  are  foxes 
about,  and  if  any  pack  of  hounds  can  find  them  it  is  that 
which  is  going  to  try  to-day. 

"  Looks  like  December,  doesn't  it  ? "  I  growl  to  my 
companion  on  the  hind  seat. 

"  Feels  like  it,  by  Jove  !  "  he  answers,  from  the  recesses 
of  a  high  collar  which  almost  meets  the  brim  of  his 
hat.     But  if  tiiis  be  not  the  weather  for  driving  it  does 


THROWN  OUT.  123 

not  much  matter,  as  driving  is  not  the  business  of  the 
day. 

Soon  we  begin  to  pass  horsemen  jogging  along  the 
road,  some  of  them  servants  with  led  horses ;  and 
rounding  the  next  turning  we  see  a  group  of  horsemen 
in  blue  coats  relieved  by  buff,  in  black,  in  tweed,  and 
two  or  three  in  red  to  brighten  the  picture ;  while  several 
horsewomen  in  picturesque  habits  add  charming  variety 
to  the  scene. 

"  That's  yours — the  chestnut  mare  before  the  next 
carriage  there,"  says  my  host's  son,  as  I  laboriously 
unload  myself  and  doff  the  protecting  great-coat.  "  I'm 
sure  you  will  like  her,"  he  continues,  as  the  chestnut 
mare  is  led  up,  and  I  notice  that  with  the  thoughtful 
kindness  which  my  friend  inherits  he  has  remembered 
my  preference  for  a  padded  saddle,  and  substituted  one 
for  the  plain  flaps  almost  invariably  used  in  the  stables 
here. 

Poor  Whyte-Melville  was  eloquent  in  favour  of  plain 
flaps,  and  they  are  doubtless  most  comfortable  and 
convenient  to  those  accustomed  to  them  ;  but  to  men 
who  are  used  to  padded  saddles,  the  substitution  of  the 
unpadded  flaps  makes  the  rider  wonder  where  he  is 
going  to  on  the  other  side  of  even  a  moderate  jump. 

On  the  chestnut  mare's  easy  saddle  I  am  soon  seated, 
and  gladly  accept  the  suggestion  of  a  gallop  round  a 
big  grass-field  to  set  the  blood  in  brisk  circulation. 
Eagerly  the  mare  springs  forward,  and  I  at  once 
experience  the  delights  of  a  perfect  mount.     The  free 


12+        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

and  bounding  stride  is  so  smooth  and  easy,  she  skims 
the  inequalities  of  the  field  so  gently,  plays  with  her 
bit  so  good-temperedly,  and  answers  every  touch  of 
the  rein  so  willingly — altogether  a  hunter  in  a  thou- 
sand. 

The  exercise  restores  the  healthy  glow  to  a  half-frozen 
body.  Plngers  may  still  be  cold,  but  on  such  a  glorious 
mare  as  this  he  must  indeed  be  an  ungracious  churl  who 
would  find  fault  with  wind,  weather,  or  any  sublunary 
ills  ;  and  besides,  in  advance  of  us  trot  eighteen  couple 
of  hounds.  The  Huntsman  has  abandoned  the  thick 
furs  for  the  glories  of  green  and  gold,  and  down  the 
lane  we  merrily  trot  with  a  joyful  expectation  of  what 
is  to  come. 

The  hounds  turn  in  at  a  gate  and  trot  gaily  towards  a 
covert  to  the  left ;  the  Master,  some  half-dozen  horsemen 
with  him,  follows  a  little  way  and  checks  his  horse, 
while  the  bulk  of  us  wait  for  what  is  going  to  happen 
next.  And  we  have  not  to  wait  long.  The  Master 
takes  his  horse  by  the  head  and  gallops  on  in  answer  to 
the  halloa  which  has  rung  through  the  keen,  shar]3  air  ; 
some  of  the  field  crash  through  the  hedge,  others  crowd 
through  the  gate,  and  we  are  away  with  a  vengeance  at 
a  rattling  pace.  The '  story  of  a  fox  lying  out  in  the 
hedge  was  true  enough,  and  if  he  proposes  to  lie  out  in 
a  hedge  any  more — or  elsewhere,  for  the  matter  of  that 
— he  must  run  for  it  to-day. 

Away  we  stream  over  the  pastures  and  over  a  ploughed 
field  by  way  of  a  change,  my  enthusiasm  for  the  mare 


THROWN  OUT.  125 

increasing  at  every  stride.  We  are  in  a  big  meadow 
now,  and  surely  as  the  field  approach  the  middle  of  it 
there  is  some  sort  of  break  in  the  even  pace  of  the 
horses.  A  brook  ?  Yes.  As  we  come  nearer  I  see  it, 
and  the  next  moment  we  are  on  the  other  side.  Had  I 
not  seen  it  I  should  hardly  have  known  that  we  had 
crossed  it  at  all,  with  such  slight  exertion  does  the  mare 
bound  over. 

On  we  go,  the  field  now  breaking  into  two  divisions, 
one  making  for  the  gate  to  the  right,  and  the  other 
steaming  away  straight  ahead.  What  shall  we  do  r 
The  fence  is  the  most  direct  way,  and  on  such  a  mare 
there  is  no  excuse  for  hesitation.  To  it  we  come.  A 
couple  of  men  fly  it ;  another  jumps  short — his  horse 
catches  his  fore-legs  in  the  ditch  and  turns  over.  Our 
turn  now  !  Here  is  an  easy  place,  let  us  see  how  Village 
Lass  will  manage  it. 

On  to  the  bank  she  lightly  S23rings  and  simply  glides 
over  the  ditch  on  the  other  side.  It  is  just  like  handing 
a  lady  out  of  a  carriage — no  more  fuss  or  exertion,  and 
she  shakes  her  little  head  as  she  gallops  over  the  field 
beyond.  These  are,  indeed,  moments  to  live  for,  car- 
ried on  such  a  mare  across  such  a  country ;  for  that  she 
will  go  all  day,  and  like  it  the  better  the  farther  she 
goes,  I'  have  been  assured  on  the  most  unimpeachable 
authority. 

A  slight  check  gives  us  time  to  appreciate  the  plea- 
sures of  the  moment  more  fully,  and  down  a  lane,  fresh 
stoned  in  the  cartruts,  we  trot. 


126        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

"  How  do  you  like  the  mare  ? "  asks  my  host's  son, 
and  before  I  have  time  to  frame  a  sentence,  a  movement 
in  front  shows  that  something  is  up.  Tlie  hounds  have 
hit  it  off  again,  and  through  the  gateway  opposite  to 
which  we  have  just  arrived  we  all  stream  ;  for  the  stone 
wall  here  is  too  high  and  forbidding  even  for  the  careless 
ones. 

What  is  the  matter  with  the  mare  ?  She  certainly 
goes  very  lame  indeed  on  her  near  fore-leg — a  stone,  no 
doubt,  out  of  that  lane ;  unlucky  enough  at  such  a 
moment,  but  it  is  fortunate  at  least  that  I  happened  to 
bring  to-day  a  stout,  serviceable,  hunting-crop  with  an 
iron  handle,  instead  of  the  more  smart  and  very  much 
less  useful  silver  one  I  sometimes  carry. 

The  mare  knows  why  I  have  left  my  saddle,  and  holds 
up  the  lame  foot,  from  which  I  speedily  detach  the  small 
rock  she  was  carrying,  and  though  she  stands  quietly 
enough,  it  is  necessary  to  turn  her  about  to  get  a  little 
advantage  in  the  ground  before  I  am  again  in  my  seat. 

There  is  a  covert  ahead,  round  the  left  of  which  the' 
last  of  my  detachment  is  just  disappearing,  and  I  pause 
for  a  moment  to  consider.  The  field  seemed  to  be  going 
away  to  the  right,  and  if  I  go  too  I  shall  in  all  probability 
get  ahead  of  my  late  companions,  so  I  set  the  mare  going 
and  gallop  along  the  fence,  intending  to  skirt  the"  covert 
to  join  in  ;  but  here,  at  any  rate,  it  is  plain  why  the 
knowing  ones  went  the  other  way.  An  impenetrable 
fence  with  a  ditch  towards  me  most  effectually  bars  the 
way,  and  so  to  the  right  again  I  turn,  and  trot  along  to 


THROWN  OUT.  127 

find  a  way  through.  There  is  a  stream,  evidently  ford- 
able,  by  the  marks  of  many  horses'  hoofs,  and  Village 
Lass  paddles  through,  landing  again  in  a  spreading 
meadow. 

I  look  to  the  left,  and  see  nothing  ;  to  the  right,  ex- 
pecting and  finding  the  same  result.  Where  are  the 
hounds,  and  where  the  field  r  A  couple  of  rustics  are 
looking  hard ;  one  is  pointing  off  in  the  distance,  and  to 
them  I  gallop. 

"  Seen  the  hounds  ?  "  I  ask. 

"  No,  sir ;  but  we  seen  the  fox !  "  one  of  them  replies. 
"  He  come  out  by  that  there  oak-tree,  run  along  the 
ditch,  and  jumped  out  by  that  bush,  and  went  across 
the  corner  of  the  field  along  that  hedge,  sir.  Fine  big 
fox  he  was,  too,"  both  of  them  declare  in  breathless 
haste. 

"A  dog-fox,  was  he  r  "  I  ask. 

"  I  don't  know,  sir — warn't  near  enough  to  see  ;  but 
he  was  a  rare  big  'un,"  the  first  speaker  replies.  And 
so  I  sit  still,  expecting  every  moment  to  hear  the  voices 
of  the  hounds,  and  the  familiar  sound  of  their  passage 
through  the  crackling  undergrowth. 

The  rustics  continue  their  way,  leaving  me  alone, 
waiting  and  listening.  Where  are  the  hounds  ?  I  wonder, 
and  the  query  is  unsatisfied.  Where  on  earth  are  those 
hounds  r  Nothing  happens  to  inform  me.  Where  the 
deuce  can  those  hounds  have  got  to  r  I  presently  feel 
justified  in  inquiring,  while  the  mare  pricks  her  ears  as 
if  she  would  help  if  she  could,  but  cannot. 


128        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

]\Iy  friends  possibly  saw  a  fox,  but  not  the  one  that 
was  being  hunted. 

On  ahead,  or  back  the  way  I  came  and  after  the  last 
men  I  saw  ? 

Back  seems  safest,  perhaps,  as  I  have  no  certain 
knowledge  of  the  direction  the  others  took ;  and  back  I 
go,  across  the  stream,  cut  the  corner  of  the  field,  round 
the  corner,  and  see — nothing  !  A  man  ploughing  in  the 
distance  with  a  span  of  oxen  apparently,  and  no  other 
living  creatures  in  the  landscape  except  a  couple  of 
rooks.  Yet  there  is  ?  Yes  !  A  man  in  the  middle  of 
the  next  field,  pointing  at  something  straight  before  him 
for  the  edification,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  of  no  one  in 
particular. 

Up  to  him  I  canter,  and  as  we  approach  pull  up  sud- 
denly with,  I  fear,  a  not  altogether  moral  exclamation. 

The  man  is  a  scarecroiv^  and  knows  precisely  as  much 
about  the  hounds  as  I  do  myself.  The  ploughman  may 
possibly  be  better  informed,  and  to  him  I  go  next. 

"  Seen  the  hounds  ? "  I  ask. 

"  I  see  'em  one  day  last  week,  sir ;  I  ain't  seen  *em 
since,"  he  answers  quite  seriously,  for  I  look  sharply  at 
him  to  see  whether  there  be  any  humour  lurking  under 
his  stolid  countenance.  Suddenly,  moreover,  it  strikes 
me  that  it  is  uncommonly  cold,  a  fact  which  I  had  lately 
forgotten  ;  and  in  what  direction  to  jog  in  order  to  find 
my  friends  I  have  no  vestige  of  an  idea.  The  whole  hunt 
has  passed  away  like  a  dissolving  view. 

On  I  trotted,  straight  forward,  and  for  a  long  time 


THROWN  OUT.  129 

met  no  one.  At  length  a  labourer,  with  a  bundle  of 
faggots  on  his  shoulder,  came  in  sight,  but  "  Noa,  sur," 
was  his  answer  to  my  question  whether  he  had  seen 
the  hounds.  This  was  some  guide,  but  a  very  small 
one,  and  turning  a  little  aside  from  the  way  he  had 
come  we  trotted  on  until  we  reached  the  high  road. 

"  Seen  the  hounds  ? "  I  asked  the  driver  ot  a  waggon, 
and  the  irritating  answer,  "Noa,  sur,"  came  out  once 
again.  There  in  a  field  to  the  left  are  some  men,  and 
up  to  them  I  ride  and  put  my  question. 

"Noa,  sur;  but  I  seen  a  fox.  He  came  out  of  that 
withy  bed,'  and  run  across  the  field,"  one  of  them  an- 
swered ;  but  I  have  no  intention  of  going  on  a  solitary 
expedition  in  search  of  a  fox,  and  once  more  pursue  my 
lonely  way.  A  big  town  is  not  far  in  front ;  into  this 
and  over  a  bridge  we  go,  and  then  into  the  country 
beyond.  Possibly  we  may  be  more  lucky  this  side  of 
the  river. 

"  Seen  the  hounds  ?  "  I  once  more  ask  a  labourer. 

"  Oi  bleeve  ounds  goa  up  sheepen  ood,"  he  answers. 

"  What  do  you  say,  my  man  r "  I  ask  in  a  friendly 
way,  for  there  may  be  some  information  under  this 
mystic  utterance. 

"Oi  bleeve  ounds  goa  up  sheepen  ood  way  a,"  he 
answers  slowly,  and  I  feel  that  a  continuance  of  the 
conversation  can  be  hardly  productive  of  any  beneficial 
results. 

"Ah!  yes,  thank  you,"  I  answer,  and  go  on  my 
unenlightened  way. 


130        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

At  any  rate  he  did  not  say  "  Noa,  sur,"  and  that  was 
something,  so  with  hope  faintly  reillumined  I  trot  on 
down  the  road.     A  waggoner  is  coming  towards  me. 

"  Seen  the  hounds  ?  "  I  ask. 

"  Noa,  sur,"  he  returns,  and  the  faint  hope  is  again 
extinguished.  In  front,  however,  I  see  a  farmer  who 
has  just  come  out  of  a  field  into  the  road,  and  to  him  I 
put  the  too  familiar  question. 

"  I  heard  them  just  now,  sir.  They've  gone  on  to 
Shipton  Wood,"  he  says. 

"Thank  you!"  I  return  heartily.  "Whereabouts  is 
that  r  " 

"That  big  wood  3'ou  see  over  there,  sir,"  he  answers. 
"  If  you  go  down  the  road  for  about  half  a  mile,  you  will 
find  a  lane  leading  to  it."  And  with  another  "  Thank 
you  very  much,"  away  I  trot  once  more.  There  is  the 
lane,  surely  enough  ;  in  fact  there  are  two  lanes,  and 
which  did  he  mean  r  Both  lead  to  gates  into  fields,  and 
either  seems  equally  direct  to  the  wood. 

This  one  to  the  right  is  perhaps  the  best,  and  though 
the  gate  will  not  open,  a  convenient  gap  lets  me  through. 
But  the  other  side  of  the  field  there  is  a  big,  thick,  black 
bullfinch,  and  much  as  I  desire  to  be  the  other  side  of 
the  fence,  I  do  not  propose  to  reach  it  by  the  rash  ex- 
pedient of  jumping.  No  horse,  unless  he  was  a  cannon- 
ball— to  paraphrase  Sir  Boyle's  unconscious  witticism — 
could  make  certain  of  arriving,  and  altogether  it  seems 
we  have  taken  the  wrong  road. 

But  stay !     Surely  to  the  right  there,  a  horn  is  sound- 


THROWN  OUT.  131 

ing  ?  I  can  see  nothing,  but  can  hear  it  plainly  enough  ; 
there  it  is  again,  so  after  it  let  us  go.  On  we  canter  to 
a  farm  on  the  rising  ground,  and  from  a  yard  behind  it 
comes  the  sound  I  have  mistaken  for  a  horn,  apparently 
an  unconcerted  piece  of  music  rendered  by  the  animals. 
Certainly  there  is  nothing  in  the  shape  of  a  hound, 
much  less  of  a  huntsman,  and  I  am  about  to  turn  once 
again  to  the  path  to  ShiptonWood — that,  I  now  suspect, 
was  what  my  incoherent  rustic  friend  was  driving  at — 
when  I  actually  do  see  a  horseman  descending  the  slope 
before  me. 

At  last !  It  is  four  o'clock  I  see  by  my  watch,  but 
there  is  yet  time  for  the  long-deferred  gallop,  and  the 
mare  has  had  so  little  real  work,  that  there  is  no  need 
to  seek  my  second  horse ;  besides,  I  long  to  feel  her 
striding  away  beneath  me  once  again.  The  stranger 
approaches — a  groom  he  seems  to  be  :  second  horseman, 
probably. 

"  Where  are  the  hounds  \  "  I  inquire,  with  a  smile  ot 
anticipation. 

"Haven't  come  across  them,  sir,"  he  answers.  "  I've 
ridden  from  Newton,  and  didn't  pass  them  on  the 
road ;  "  and  with  a  touch  of  the  hat  he  goes  on  his 
way. 

The  best  thing  to  be  done  is  to  try  Shipton  Wood, 
and  back  I  go  down  the  green  lane,  and  along  the 
course  indicated  by  the  farmer.  There  is  a  line  of 
gates,  and  in  this  country  gates  are  easily  opened  ;  so 
one  side  of  the  wood  is  soon   reached.     Horses  have 

K  2 


132        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

been  here  recently,  it  is  clear  by  their  footprints,  and 
down  I  trot  to  the  banks  of  a  pond — a  veritable  lake — 
which  separates  me  from  the  covert.  On  both  sides  of 
me  are  impenetrable  fences  ;  before  me  is  the  water,  and 
there  is  nothing  for  it  but  to  turn  and  retrace  my  way. 

When  at  last  I  reached  Shipton  Wood — to  make  a 
long  story  short — there  is  no  trace  of  man,  horse,  or 
hound,  and  it  is  more  than  half-past  four,  I  was 
thrown  out  at  about  half-past  twelve — rather  earlier 
than  later — and  ever  since  have  been  in  search  of  the 
hunt.  Clearly  the  best  thing  to  do  now  is  to  go  home, 
and  I  ask  the  first  man  I  meet  how  far  it  is  to  my 
destination. 

"  About  eight  miles,  sir,"  he  says ;  and  I  trot  on  for 
some  twenty  minutes,  and  ask  once  more  if  this  is  the 
way.  It  is.  "  And  how  far  ?  "  "  Rather  better  than 
eight  miles,  sir,"  is  the  answer.  On  again  for  a  long 
trot,  and  another  inquiry. 

"About  five  miles,  sir,"  I  am  now  told,  and  after 
riding  some  distance  farther  and  asking  again,  am  told 
that  it  is  "  nigh  upon  six."  Elastic  as  the  road  may  be, 
it  is  straight,  so  on  we  pound  for  nearly  an  hour,  when 
I  once  more  inquire. 

"  You  should  have  turned  down  to  the  left  more  than 
a  mile  back,  sir,"  I  am  informed  by  the  girl  whose 
assistance  I  have  now  sought ;  and  when  at  length  I 
get  into  the  park,  and  have  lost  my  way  again,  the 
house  appears  in  sight,  and  I  gallop  down  a  grassy 
avenue  to  the  stables. 


THROWN  OUT.  .33 

In  a  huge  easy-chair,  by  a  comfortable  fire,  I  recover 
my  temper  somewhat,  and  strive  to  believe  that  the 
future  has  in  store  many,  or  at  least  several,  of  such 
days  as  I  have  missed  ;  and  the  immediate  prospect  of 
an  excellent  dinner  after  a  hard  day's  work  reconciles 
me  to  inquiries  as  to  "  wherever  I  could  have  got  to  ? " 
and  "  whatever  I  could  have  been  doing  r " 

"We've  had  such  a  charming  day — no  standing 
about,  galloping  all  the  time,"  an  enthusiastic  young 
lady,  who  has  held  her  own  upon  a  '*  gallant  grey," 
informs  me. 

Good  and  bad  luck  come  in  something  like  sand- 
wiches in  this  possibly  wicked,  but  not  altogether  un- 
pleasant, world  ;  and  I  console  myself  with  the  reflec- 
tion that  fate  owes  me  a  good  gallop,  to  compensate  for 
the  day  when  I  was  Thrown  Out. 

March  24,  1 879. 


XIV. 

A  GENTLEWOMAN. 

The  discussion  as  to  whether  or  not  ladies  ought  to  hunt 
is  answered  by  Crookton  in  an  angry  negative ;  and 
when  the  remembrance  of  Miss  Kitty  Trewson's  latest 
exploits  is  fresh  the  balance  of  opinion  strongly  sup- 
ports the  Captain's  views.  But,  on  some  one  asking 
whether  he  would  prevent  Miss  Earle  from  enjoying 
her  favourite  spore,  Crookton  growls  out  that  the  excep- 
tion proves  the  rule  ;  that,  he  admits,  is  quite  a  different 
thing,  for  even  he  is  not  insensible  to  the  charm  of  her 
presence. 

During  the  season  marked  by  Miss  Kitty's  first 
achievements  Florence  Earle  and  her  mother  were 
away — wintering  in  the  south  of  France  ;  but  the  elder 
lady's  health  revived,  and  the  old  Manor  House  on  the 
Hill,  at  the  bottom  of  which  is  the  Cross  Roads,  our 
favourite  meet,  is  happily  again  tenanted. 

The  idea  of  Florence  Earle  hunting  struck  Miss  Kitty 
as  extremely  funny.  "  She  does  not  look  much  like  it," 
the  volatile  young  lady  observed  on  hearing  that  Miss 
Earle  was  expected.  "  I've  seen  her  driving  about  to  old 
women's  cottages  in  a  basket-carriage  with  a  blind  pony. 


A    GENTLEWOMAN.  135 

That  seems  more  like  what  you  call  her  '  form.'  Can 
she  ride?" 

"  Oh,  yes  ! "  Wynnerly  answers,  "  she  rides."  And 
his  face  suggests  that  he  could  say  a  great  deal  more 
if  he  chose. 

"She  does  not  look  as  if  she  could  say  *Bo'  to  a 
goose,"  the  young  lady  remarked. 

"  Don't  you  give  her  the  chance.  Miss  Kitty,"  is  the 
somewhat  vague  repartee  of  a  cavalier  in  attendance, 
who  has  just  come  from  town,  where  he  has  presumably 
undergone  a  course  of  modern  comedy. 

All  this  is  at  the  meet  one  December  morning,  and 
Miss  Kitty's  blue  nose  and  purple  cheeks  show  that  the 
wind  is  keen.  We  are  walking  along  the  lane  towards 
the  covert  that  is  to  be  drawn  first,  and  some  way  ahead, 
in  the  midst  of  the  throng,  surely  enough  some  one 
espies  Miss  Earle  on  a  chestnut  mare  that  has  often 
distinguished  herself  with  these  hounds. 

I  despair  of  picturing  Florence  Earle  in  words.  Her 
face  would  be  rather  beautiful  than  pretty  but  for  the 
look  of  gentle  kindness  which  is  its  chief  character- 
istic, and  a  simplicity  of  expression  altogether  remote 
from  the  haughtiness  which  seems  to  be  suggested  by 
the  word  "beauty."  A  slight  flush  is  on  her  cheeks,  but 
the  wintry  wind  does  not  appear  to  affect  her,  and  there 
are  no  signs  of  that  highly  coloured  rawness  which  is 
so  decidedly  perceptible  in  Miss  Kitty.  Looking  at 
Florence  Earle  as  she  sits  at  once  so  firmly  and  so 
lightly  on  her  mare,  which  seems  so  proud  of  her  burden 


136        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

— the  phrase  is  conventional,  but  it  is  strictly  true,  and  is 
there  not  reason  to  suppose  that  the  creature  is  as  proud 
as  she  looks  ? — an  impartial  observer  who  knew  what 
horsemanship  is  (the  phrase  scarcely  includes  poor  Kitty) 
would  assuredly  not  say  that  the  blind  pony  was  ^'  more 
like  what  you  call  her  '  form.'  "  Sir  Henry  Akerton  rides 
by  her  side,  and  looks  down  from  the  back  of  his  great 
brown  horse  with  evident  admiration  at  his  companion, 
as  she  acknowledges  with  a  kind  smile  the  salutations 
and  congratulations  of  those  who  know  her,  as  they  pass 
near.  Anything  more  completely  removed  from  the 
hunting  lady  (whom  Mr.  Boucicault  so  stupidly  carica- 
tured under  the  title  of  Lady  Gay  Spanker)  cannot  be 
imagined.  It  was  perhaps,  after  all,  excusable  that 
Miss  Kitty  should  have  made  her  error,  though  when  it 
comes  to  galloping  all  possibility  of  mistake  at  once 
vanishes. 

The  hounds  find  at  once  this  morning,  and  all  but  the 
most  arrant  of  gate  hunters  turn  sharp  round  to  the 
right,  and  cross  the  thin  hedge  and  narrow  ditch  which 
separates  them  from  the  field  where  the  pack  is  running. 
But  the  next  obstacle  is  of  a  different  sort.  A  thick, 
ugly-looking  hedge — so  ugly  and  blind  that  a  stiff  stile 
seems  preferable — and  over  this  Bill  Heigh,  the  hunts- 
man, gets  fairly  well ;  a  well-known  steeplechase  jockey 
flies  it  after  him  ;  Scatterly  hits  it  hard,  and  gets  across 
with  a  clatter ;  Wynnerly,  riding  a  young  one,  is  turned 
completely  over,  an  occurrence  which  does  not  seem  to 
disconcert  him  in  the  least,  for  in  a  very  few  seconds  the 


A    GENTLEWOMAN.  137 

young  one  is  on  his  legs  and  Wynnerly  is  in  the  saddle. 
A  hard-riding  farmer  does  it  neatly  enough,  but  Miss 
Kitty,  who  has  seen  Wynnerly's  cropper,  checks  her 
horse  and  turns  to  the  left,  where  a  long  string  of  men 
are  crossing  a  gap  some  two  hundred  yards  away. 

Here  comes  Florence  Earle.  The  chestnut  mare  has 
reached  at  her  bit  a  little  at  starting,  but  the  girl's  light 
hand  has  quieted  her  exuberance  ;  and  at  a  steady  gal- 
lop, diminishing  to  a  quiet  canter,  the  pair  approach. 
If  Wynnerly's  young  one  had  gone  like  this  they  would 
have  had  a  better  chance.  Instead  of  moderating  its 
speed,  the  four-year-old  had  got  out  of  hand,  and,  with 
the  impetuosity  of  youth,  gone  at  the  timber  racing  pace, 
with,  if  not  the  inevitable,  the  most  probable,  conse- 
quences. Miss  Earle's  well-trained  hunter  knows  her 
duty  thoroughly,  decreases  the  stroke  of  her  canter,  and, 
with  an  ease  which  seems  nothing  short  of  marvellous, 
springs  lightly  over  the  stiff  bars.  For  the  moment  you 
wonder  what  there  was  in  that  little  jump  to  turn  Wyn- 
nerly over,  to  cause  Scatterly  to  make  all  the  fuss  about 
it,  and  to  stop  nearly  all  the  field.  Here,  however, 
comes  Downing  on  a  well-known  steeplechaser,  which 
refuses  the  first  time,  and  only  just  manages  it  with 
obvious  effort  on  a  second  attempt,  and  it  evidently  is 
not  a  simple  matter  to  get  over  it.  I  confess  to  never 
having  even  thought  of  attempting  it. 

"  What  a  beautiful  horse  ! "  Miss  Kitty  says,  a  little 
ungenerously. 

"And  what  a  beautiful  rider!"    some  one   answers; 


138        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  EI  ELD. 

to  which  Miss  Trewson,  feeling  much  smaller  than  she 
did  when  discussing  Florence  Earle  in  connection  with 
the  basket-carriage  and  the  blind  pony,  says,  "  Yes," 
without  any  very  great  display  of  enthusiasm. 

The  entire  absence  of  anything  like  effort  is  the 
peculiarity  of  Florence  Earle's  riding.  Four  times  out 
of  five  she  will  finish  among  the  first  rank,  and  though 
the  other  horses  (second  horses  some  of  them),  and  men 
too,  often  show  strong  symptoms  of  the  joace,  she  is 
invariably  as  calm  and  self-possessed  as  when  sitting 
quietly  at  the  meet.  A  light  w^eight  may  aid,  no  doubt ; 
and,  perhaps,  another  reason  is  that  when  one  of  her 
favourites  exhibits  signs  of  weariness  she  is  always 
ready  to  stop ;  but  this  only  partially  explains  the 
secret. 

For  the  sport  itself,  the  hunting  of  foxes,  I  am  afraid 
it  must  be  confessed,  to  the  disgust  of  sportsmen,  that 
Florence  Earle  cares  nothing.  When  the  hounds  run 
into  their  fox  she  turns  round  and  trots  away ;  and  that 
she  would  infinitely  prefer  a  run  without  even  the  pros- 
pect of  a  kill  I  am  certain.  How  does  a  girl  like  this 
defend  her  participation  in  such  a  sport  ?  may  be  asked, 
and  cannot  be  answered,  for  this  is  a  sketch  and  not  a 
moral  essay. 

I  never  knew  the  imperturbable  Wynnerly  speak 
enthusiastically  on  any  subject  but  that  of  Florence 
Earle,  and  for  her,  words  cannot  describe  his  admiration. 
She  rides  well,  and  that,  of  course,  wins  one  who  is  so 
devoted  to  horses  and  all  belonging  to  them  ;  but  it  is 


A    GENTLEWOMAN.  139 

her  courage,  generosity,  and  kindness  which  rouse  him 
from  his  usual  condition  of  -insouciance  to  a  state  of  the 
most  fervent  enthusiasm. 

One  day  it  appears,  in  the  course  of  a  run,  Florence 
Earle  and  Wynnerly  came  to  a  fence  almost  side  by 
side,  and  rose  at  it  simultaneously.  Wynnerly  got  over, 
and,  glancing  towards  his  companion,  was  alarmed  to 
see  her  horse,  a  new  one  that  had  gone  clumsily  before, 
struggling  to  its  legs,  and  its  rider  on  the  ground.  He 
pulled  up,  caught  the  horse,  and  returned  to  the  spot 
where  Florence  Earle  had  just  made  an  ineffectual  effort 
to  rise. 

"Thank  you  so  much,  Mr.  Wynnerly.  How  kind  of 
you  to  stop  ;  but  pray  do  not  lose  your  place,"  she  said 
as  he  helped  her  up. 

"  You  are  hurt,  I  am  afraid.  Miss  Earle  ?"  he  inquired. 

"  Not  at  all,  thank  you/'  she  replied,  supporting  her- 
self against  her  horse.  "  My  horse  slipped  on  landing, 
but  there's  no  harm  done.  I  shall  be  so  much  grieved 
if  I  keep  you — do  pray  ride  on." 

Just  then  her  servant  came  up,  and  she  continued  her 
persuasions  to  Wynnerly  not  to  lose  his  day  on  her 
account.  He,  however,  persisting  that  she  was  hurt, 
presently  found  that  she  had  broken  her  collar-bone  and 
sprained  her  ankle. 

"  In  pain  as  she  was,"  Wynnerly  told  us,  "  she  thought 
a  great  deal  more  about  my  losing  a  day's  hunting  than 
her  own  injuries.  We  helped  her  into  the  saddle,  and 
walked  slowly  homeward.     It  was  all  through  the  blun- 


140        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

dering  of  the  beast  she  was  riding  that  she  got  hurt ; 
and  what  do  you  think  she  did  ?  Leaned  over  and  patted 
the  clumsy  brute  s  neck.  Leave  her  ?  I'd  ratlier  have 
given  up  hunting  for  ever.  Somehow  or  other  it's  very- 
odd  I  always  feel  bad  and  good  at  the  same  time  when 
I'm  with  her.  She's  the  most  splendid  girl  in  the 
world ! " 


XV. 

A  HUNTSMAN. 

That  it  is  a  rare  and  extraordinary  occurrence  to  meet 
an  entirely  liappy  and  contented  man  is  a  proposition 
which  few  will  be  inclined  to  dispute. 

Which  of  us  has  his  heart's  desire,  or,  having  it, 
is  satisfied  ?  the  greatest  of  moralists  has  asked,  and 
experience  daily  proves  the  truth  of  the  reflection.  If 
we  only  came  into  possession  of  that  estate ;  if  our 
horse  only  won  his  race  and  landed  the  gorgeous  odds ; 
if  Matilda  would  only  beatify  us  with  her  sweet 
consent ! 

The  estate  becomes  yours,  and  you  are  bored  to 
death  by  duties  and  annoyances  arising  from  it :  that 
endless  lawsuit  about  a  couple  of  worthless  fields — you 
must  go  through  with  it,  for  you  won't  be  swindled — 
that  question  of  common  right,  the  grossness  or  snob- 
bishness of  all  the  neighbours  within  reach,  are  a  few 
of  the  matters  that  daily  cause  you  trouble  and  anxiety. 
The  horse  wins  his  race :  you  decide  on  one  final 
plunge  with  the  proceeds,  and  lose  it  all ;  while  as  for 
Matilda,  well,  there  is  no  denying  that  Matilda  has  the 
deuce  of  a  temper. 


14  2        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

Of  a  little  child  in  the  innocence  of  early  days  I 
wrote  some  years  ago  : — 

"  You  do  not  know  how  oft  we  find 
The  sourest  fruit  'neath  fahest  rind, 

How  oft  no  longer  lingers 
The  bloom  of  joys  that  please  the  eye 
Than  colours  on  the  butterfly, 

When  touched  by  careless  fingers." 

And  even  at  an  advanced  age  we  are  slow  to  learn  the 
lesson. 

It  is  therefore  as  pleasant  as  it  is  rare  to  discover  a 
man  who  has  won  the  prize  he  sought,  and  finds  that 
it  realises  his  expectations  ;  and  such  an  one  is  Bill 
Heigh,  the  Huntsman  of  the  Meadowmere  hounds. 

Bill  is  a  good  deal  older  than  myself,  and  the  history 
of  his  early  life  comes  to  me  at  second  hand ;  but 
I  think  it  is  quite  a  little  idyl  of  the  hunting  field. 

I  have  never  heard  the  proverb  applied  to  huntsmen, 
but  am  strongly  of  opinion  that  voiator  iiascitur  non  fit 
is  as  true  as  the  more  familiar  saying. 

Bill  Heigh  was  bred  to  be  a  gardener,  and  from  his 
training  and  associations  should  have  known  more  of 
hollyhocks  than  of  hounds,  less  of  foxes  than  of 
fuchsias,  and  have  had  a  more  comprehensive  acquaint- 
ance with  vegetables  than  with  view  holloas. 

Bill's  father  was  head-gardener  to  Sir  Henry  Akerton, 
our  M.F.H.,  and  in  the  ordinary  course  of  events  Bill 
would  have  succeeded  in  due  time.  A  conscientious 
boy,  he  performed  the  tasks  that  were  set  him ;  but  his 


A   lie  NTS  MAN.  143 

thoughts  were  in  the  kennels  and  the  stables,  and  every 
spare  moment  he  could  find  was  sjDent  in  hovering 
around  these  most  delightful  precincts ;  while  with 
every  cur  in  the  village  he  was  on  the  most  confidential 
terms.  Of  the  puppies  at  walk  he  knew  as  much  as 
Sir  Henry  or  the  Huntsman  himself,  and  on  hunting 
days,  if  he  could  contrive  to  make  a  holiday,  it  was 
spent  in  seeing  as  much  of  the  sport  as  sturdy  young 
legs,  stout  lungs,  and  an  instinctive  eye  for  a  country, 
rendered  possible. 

His  father  was  a  little  dismayed,  though  of  course  at 
the  Hall  hunting  was  the  principal  occupation,  and 
absolutely  to  discourage  a  love  for  it  would  have  been 
out  of  the  question  on  the  part  of  any  one  who  served 
•  Sir  Henry.  Young  Bill,  moreover,  was  a  good  lad,  a 
favourite  with  everybody;  so  that  if  his  natural  long- 
ings were  not  encouraged  they  were  not  checked. 

The  Hall  is  some  five  or  six  miles  from  the  post  town, 
and  it  was  the  custom  to  send  the  bag  every  night  by 
a  groom  to  post,  as  by  this  arrangement  letters  could 
be  sent  some  hour  or  more  later  than  they  must  have 
gone  had  they  been  carried  by  the  itinerant  postman. 
Bill  had  occasionally  found  means  of  getting  a  ride,  and 
when  he  was  about  fourteen  he  had  an  excellent  oppor- 
tunity of  acquiring  the  rudiments  of  horsemanship  in 
the  best  possible  way. 

The  groom  whose  duty  it  was  to  take  the  post-bag 
found  metal  very  much  more  attractive  in  the  opposite 
direction.     Some  four  miles  from  the  Hall  was — and  is 


144        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

— a  popular  tavern  much  affected  by  youths  from 
Brookley's  training  stables,  from  Scratton  the  dealer's, 
&:c.,  and  to  ride  off  here  and  have  a  pint  of  ale  and  a 
chat  about  races  to  come  was  much  better  fun  than 
carrying  the  letters  to  the  post. 

But  the  letters  had  to  be  taken  of  course,  and  Bill 
was  always  ready  to  take  them.  His  only  means  of 
locomotion  was  a  certain  pony.  Kicking  Peggy  by 
name,  an  unamiable  beast  that  lived  at  the  tarm,  and 
was  accustomed  to  drag  a  mowing  machine  about  the 
lawn,  to  run  in  a  trap  for  odd  jobs,  and  was  not  only 
quite  unaccustomed,  but  entirely  indisposed,  to  carry 
anybody  on  her  back.  A  bridle  was  obtainable,  but  no 
saddle  was  to  be  had,  and  on  Kicking  Peggy's  bare 
back — with  intervals  when  he  could  not  manage  to 
retain  that  precarious  position — Bill  made  an  almost 
nightly  journey  to  the  town.  Once  or  twice  Peggy  got 
away  during  the  trip,  after  depositing  her  rider  in  a  ditch 
or  on  the  road,  and  had  it  not  been  for  a  convenient  lift 
in  a  passing  trap  Sir  Henrj^'s  letters  would  have  been 
late  for  the  post. 

On  Kicking  Peggy,  however,  young  Bill  learnt  very 
thoroughly  the  difficult  art  of  sitting  tight,  and  after  a 
few  expeditions,  even  if  when  the  start  took  place 
some  mischievously  jocular  friend  touched  the  pony  up 
with  a  whip  and  sent  her  kicking  and  plunging  down 
the  road.  Bill  kept  his  seat. 

In  time  he  acquired  quite  a  reputation  for  his  skill, 
and   with  many  attempts  was   at   times   successful   in 


A  HUNTSMAN.  145 

persuading  Peggy  to  jump  small  fences.  Young 
Brookley  one  day  let  Bill  have  the  glorious  treat  of  a 
gallop  on  the  Downs,  and  for  the  first  time  he  felt  the 
supreme  pleasure  of  being  borne  over  the  grass  on  the 
back  of  a  thoroughbred  horse.  If  his  father  would  only 
have  let  him  take  service  in  the  training  stables,  so  that 
he  might  ride  every  day,  his  cup  of  happiness  would 
have  been  full ;  but  for  a  gardener  he  was  at  this  time 
destined,  and  he  knew  that  to  suggest  anything  else 
would  be  not  only  futile  but  would  give  his  father  pain. 

After  the  thoroughbred's  stride  Peggy  seemed  to  go 
absurdly  short,  but  Peggy  was  better  than  nothing,  and 
it  was  owing  to  her  that  Bill  came  to  enjoy  the  happiest 
day  of  his  life — a  gallop  after  the  hounds  on  a  good 
horse.  Farmer  Maizeley — young  Maizeley  in  those  days 
— was  driving  along  the  road  when  he  came  upon  Bill 
trying  to  persuade  Peggy  to  jump  a  low  rail  and  ditch. 
It  was  in  the  afternoon,  and  the  hounds  having  just 
crossed  the  road,  Bill  was  suddenly  fired  with  ambition 
to  see  some  of  the  sport  otherwise  than  on  his  legs. 
Peggy  had  done  it  before,  but  on  this  occasion  was  in 
one  of  her  tantrums,  stopped  short  at  the  rail,  and 
amply  justified  her  sponsors  by  kicking  her  hardest. 
Maizeley  pulled  up  to  see  the  fun,  watched  the  unwilling 
steed  refuse,  and  noted  how  patient  but  persistent,  firm 
but  gentle,  the  boy  was. 

"  She's  not  what  you'd  call  a  well-trained  hunter,  that 
pony.  Bill  ? "  Maizeley  said,  chaffingly  :  there  is  no  story 
he  so  loves  to  tell  as  how  he  made  Bill  a  huntsman. 

I. 


i^h        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIE  ID. 

"  No,  and  she's  particular  troublesome  to-day ;  but 
she'll  do  it  presently,"  Bill  answered,  giving  his  mount 
just  a  tap  with  his  ash  stick  to  remind  her  that  there 
were  other  means  of  persuasion  available. 

"  Not  that  time,  my  boy — well  saved,  though  !  "  he 
exclaimed,  as  the  pony  stopped  short  once  more  with  a 
heave  of  the  hind-quarters  that  almost  shot  Bill  over 
her  head ;  and  then  an  idea  struck  the  kind-hearted 
farmer. 

"  How  would  you  like  a  ride  with  the  hounds  on  a 
real  'un  some  day  ?  I  owe  you  a  turn.  Master  Bill,  for 
catching  my  horse  the  other  day,"  asked  INIaizeley. 

The  idea  was  too  splendid  for  belief,  and  the  boy 
trotted  up  to  the  cart  to  look  in  Maizeley's  face  and  see 
whether  he  really  meant  it.     Evidently  he  did. 

"  Oh  !  I  should  so  like  it  !  Could  you  let  me  have 
one  ?  "  he  answered. 

"  You  come  round  on  Tuesday  at  half-past  ten,  and 
we'll  see,"  Maizeley  replied,  as  pleased  with  the  pleasure 
he  was  giving  as  the  boy  himself,  whose  "  Thank  you, 
Mr.  Maizeley,"  was  sincere  and  fervent.  Then  once 
more  he  turned  Peggy  to  her  jump,  and  this  time  she 
bounded  over,  gave  a  couple  of  kicks  the  other  side,  and 
galloped  off  over  the  field. 

The  eventful  Tuesday  arrived  and  Maizeley  had  not 
forgotten,  as  Bill,  in  his  intense  anxiety,  had  thought  he 
possibly  would  do. 

"  You  shall  have  the  young  chestnut  mare,  Bill ;  it'll 
be  a  holiday  for  her  to  carry  you,"  his  friend  said,  and 


A   HUNTSMAN.  147 

Bill  was  soon  installed  in  the  unwonted  luxury  of  a 
saddle.  He  was,  of  course,  perfectly  well  known  in  the 
field,  and  perhaps  did  not  feel  quite  at  ease  as  he 
splashed  down  a  muddy  lane,  past  his  old  foot-com- 
panions, a  few  village  boys,  an  assistant  earth-stopper, 
and  a  once  well-known  whip  who  had  lost  place  after 
place  through  a  drunken  disposition,  and  now,  attired 
in  a  weather-stained  pink,  earned  occasional  sixpences 
and  shillings  by  opening  gates,  breaking  down  rails  or 
removing  binders  for  timid  sportsmen,  holding  horses, 
and  sometimes  catching  a  loose  one. 

Sir  Henry,  riding  by,  nods  to  INIaizeley,  looks  at  Bill 
on  his  steed,  asks  the  young  farmer  if  that  isn't  his 
mare,  and  tells  him  to  see  that  the  boy  doesn't  hurt 
himself;  for  Bill's  exploits  are  not  known  beyond  the 
lower  grades  in  the  stable  and  about  the  home  farm. 

As  sometimes  happens,  there  was  on  this  day  a  good 
deal  of  unproductive  riding  to  and  fro,  and  the  best  part 
of  an  hour  had  been  thus  passed  before  hounds  got 
away  on  a  hot  scent.  The  chestnut  mare  could  go,  and 
after  his  experience  on  Kicking  Peggy  Bill  found  sit- 
ting on  her  a  remarkably  pleasant  and  simple  matter. 
The  ease  with  which  the  pair  of  them  flew  a  high  post 
and  rail  that  set  more  than  the  best  half  of  the  field 
astonished  Sir  Henry. 

"  Just  look  at  thcit  boy  on  Maizeley's  chestnut.  He 
jumped  the  rails  cleaner  than  anybody.  It  can't  be  the 
lad  that's  always  running  after  the  hounds  r "  a  friend 
asked. 

L  2 


148        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

**  It  is.  It's  my  gardener's  son,  though  where  he 
learnt  to  ride  like  that  I  can't  say,"  Sir  Henry 
answered. 

But  the  Master  was  soon  to  be  more  astonished 
still. 

The  hounds  checked.  They  had  apparently  overrun 
the  scent.  Marigold  feathered  down  by  the  side  of  a 
ditch  to  the  right,  reluctant  to  leave,  when  the  second 
whip  drove  her  on  to  a  holloa  in  the  opposite  direction, 
and  presently  from  the  covert  where  the  pack  had  gone 
a  hound  spoke. 

"  Marigold  was  quite  right,  I'm  sure,"  Bill  said  to  his 
friend.     "  Countess  has  hit  off  the  vixen  that  lies  there." 

Sir  Henry  overheard  the  remark. 

"What  do  you  say,  my  boy?"  he  asked;  and  Bill, 
blushing  deeply,  replied,  as  "  Hark  to  Countess ! " 
resounded  from  the  covert, — 

"  I  said,  sir,  that  Marigold  was  right.  It's  the 
same  fox  that  was  lost  last  week,  and  I  saw  him  come 
out  of  the  ditch  when  you  had  gone  to  draw  the  Red 
Down  Spinney.  There's  a  vixen  lying  in  that  covert, 
and  Countess  very  likely  spoke  to  that ;"  and  Bill  touched 
his  cap. 

"  How  do  you  know  it  was  Countess  ?  Can  you  tell  the 
hounds'  voices  ?     What  was  that  ? "  Sir  Henry  asked. 

"That's  Sweetheart,  I  think,  sir, — and  that's  Patience, 
I'm  sure,"  Bill  answered. 

Sir  Henry  looked  round  silently  at  a  group  of  his 
friends,  and  in  a  moment,  drawing  his  horn,  said, — 


A   HUNTSMAN.  i49 

"Well,  my  boy,  we'll  see  whether  you  are  right. 
You've  got  Marigold  on  your  side,  apparently ; "  and 
making  a  cast  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  down  the  ditch 
indicated,  out  jumped  the  fox,  sufficiently  refreshed  to 
go  hard  and  fast  for  a  rattling  twenty  minutes. 

That  glorious  day  decided  Bill's  career.  After  supper 
there  came  a  summons  from  Sir  Henry,  who  wanted 
to  see  Bill's  father,  and  the  old  man  came  back  after 
visiting  the  Hall,  not  exactly  pleased  nor  precisely  in  a 
bad  humour. 

"  The  master  wants  to  see  you  in  the  morning  at  ten 
o'clock.  Bill.  I  shall  never  make  a  gardener  of  you  I'm 
afraid  !  "  he  said,  shaking  his  head  with,  nevertheless, 
a  sort  of  pride  in  his  son,  who  was  a  sharp,  clever  lad. 
Sir  Henry  had  declared,  though  Heigh,  senior,  felt  that 
the  sharpness  was  wrongly  directed. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  next  morning  Bill 
was  punctual ;  indeed,  he  was  about  the  stables  and 
shrubberies  a  good  three  hours  before  the  time  ap- 
pointed. What  could  his  master  want  to  say  to  him  ? 
and  what  did  his  father's  speech  about  never  making  a 
gardener  of  him  mean  ?  As  ten  o'clock  struck,  Bill 
made  his  way  to  the  servants'  hall  to  find  some  one  who 
would  tell  Sir  Henry  that  he  was  there ;  and  three 
minutes  afterwards  he  found  himself  in  the  study, 
where,  at  a  writing-table  by  the  window,  was  seated  the 
greatest  man  in  all  the  world,  according  to  Bill's  ideas. 

"  How  old  are  you,  William  Heigh  ? "  Sir  Henry 
besran. 


ISO        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

"  Sixteen,  sir,"  Bill  answered. 

"  And  you  are  going  to  be  a  gardener  ? "  Sir  Henry 
continued. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  Bill  replied,  not  quite  so  readily,  for  his 
eyes  fell  upon  a  rack  in  the  corner  where  several 
hunting-crops  were  laid,  and  on  the  chimney-piece  was 
a  pair  of  spurs.  The  sight  of  these  delightful  imple- 
ments, joined  with  a  recollection  of  spades,  rakes,  and 
watering-pots  drew  forth  an  irrepressible  sigh. 

*'  I  am  afraid  you'll  make  a  very  poor  gardener  if  you 
pass  all  your  time  in  running  after  my  hounds." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  but  it's  only  now  and  then,  and  I'm  so 
fond  of  them,  sir,  and "     Bill's  apologies  died  away. 

"Where  did  you  learn  to  ride.  Heigh?"  Sir  Henry 
asked. 

"  I've  ridden  Kicking  Peggy  a  good  deal,  sir,  she's  a 
pony — and  she  kicks,"  Bill  stammered. 

"  Doesn't  she  kick  you  off?  " 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  but — I — get  on  again,"  Bill  humbly 
replied,  and  a  smile  stole  over  Sir  Henry's  features. 

"Well,  William,  your  father  seems  to  be  afraid  that 
you  don't  care  much  for  his  business,  but  he  gives  you 
a  good  character,  and  I  have  sent  for  you  to  ask  whether 
you  would  like  to  come  into  my  stables  ? " 

Poor  happy  Bill  paused  before  he  could  speak.  Was 
this  a  blissful  dream,  and  would  he  be  awakened  in  a 
minute  or  two  by  paternal  instructions  to  go  and  help 
Johnson  hoe  something,  take  some  bulbs  to  Smith,  and 
then  weed  the  path  in  the  west  walk  ? 


A  HUNTSMAN.  151 

No  !  It  was  all  true  enough.  Dazed  as  he  was,  that 
must,  he  surely  felt,  be  Sir  Henry  telling  him  that  if 
he  is  industrious  and  straightforward,  civil  to  his  com- 
panions, and  kind  to  his  horses,  he  will  be  sure  to  get 
on.  Bill  tries  to  express  his  gratitude  and  to  promise 
to  do  his  very  best.  An  interval  of  delirium,  in  which 
tailors,  boots,  and  breeches  play  a  prominent  part, 
supervenes.  Monday  morning  sees  Bill  installed  as 
second  horseman,  and  Tuesday  sees  the  beginning  of 
his  duties. 

His  early  training  and  experience  stood  him  in 
admirable  stead.  To  a  light  weight  and  skill  in  the 
saddle  he  united,  as  before  said,  an  instinctive  know- 
ledge of  the  fox's  line,  and  as  a  second  horseman  Bill 
was  little  short  of  perfect.  When  a  vacancy  for  a 
second  whip  occurred,  however,  Sir  Henry  felt  bound  to 
advance  a  good  servant,  and  Bill — who,  we  may  be  sure, 
had  meantime  seen  as  much  of  his  four-legged  friends 
in  the  kennels  as  he  possibly  could — became  officially 
connected  with  them.  Bill  had  never  before  talked 
to  hounds — that  is  to  say,  talked  aloud — and  a  new 
qualification  for  success  in  his  profession  was  now 
discovered — a  rich  and  musical  voice. 

Further  promotion  fell  to  Bill  some  two  seasons  after- 
wards, and  though  it  by  no  means  follows  that  a  good 
First  Whip  will  make  a  good  Huntsman,  after  passing 
five  or  six  years  as  First  Whip  Bill  attained  the  summit 
of  his  ambition,  and  was  elevated  to  the  rank  he  had 
always  so  eagerly  desired. 


152        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

While  the  Whip  is  the  stern  schoolmaster,  the  Hunts- 
man is  the  friend  and  companion  of  his  hounds  ;  but 
Bill's  temper  was  always  kind  and  gentle,  and  he  had 
never  failed  to  retain  the  affection  of  his  charges  as  well 
as  to  insure  obedience. 

To  the  abstruse  question  of  breeding  hounds  Bill 
Heigh  devotes  himself  with  untiring  diligence,  and  his 
excellent  judgment  in  this  matter  is,  of  course,  the 
foundation  of  his  success  as  a  Huntsman.  Another 
secret  is  that  he  "  does  not  worry  his  hounds  w^hen  they 
are  doing  their  business."   His  patience  is  inexhaustible. 

''  I  let  them  think  it  out  for  themselves,  and  don't 
interfere  until  they  ask  me.  If  they  give  it  up  it's  my 
turn  to  try,"  he  says. 

He  invariably  knows,  too,  what  hounds  are  doing, 
being  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  dispositions  and 
tempers  of  all  his  charges. 

Oftener  than  most  people  suppose  a  hound  pretends 
to  be  very  busy  when  he  is  doing  nothing,  but  Bill  is 
never  deceived  in  these  cases.  He  knows  which  to 
trust  and  when  to  trust  him.  In  every  pack  there  are 
hounds  with  different  special  qualifications — some  patient 
and  plodding,  slow  and  sure ;  others  brilliant  and  dash- 
ing ;  some  that  will  gaily  race  away,  trusting,  as  it 
were,  to  the  rest,  and  only  desiring  to  be  well  ahead  ; 
and  others  that  want  to  make  certain  before  all  things 
that  they  are  right,  and  that  the  fox  is  in  front  of  them. 
Bill's  ear  and  eye  never  seem  to  deceive  him,  and  he 
can  in  fact  trust  to  either. 


A  HUNTSMAN.  153 

When  hounds  throw  up,  Bill's  recipe  is  to  ask  him- 
self what  he  would  have  done  if  he  had  been  a  fox ;  and 
the  manner  in  which  he  appears  to  enter  into  the 
arguments  and  calculations  of  the  cunning  animal  are 
nothing  short  of  marvellous. 

Beckford  declares  that  a  second-rate  Huntsman  and  a 
first-rate  First  Whip  are  more  likely  to  afford  sport  than 
if  their  measures  of  ability  were  reversed  ;  but  I  think 
an  acquaintance  with  Bill  Heigh  would  have  altered  his 
opinion. 

On  two  occasions  Bill  and  his  hounds  lost  the  same 
fox  in  the  same  place.  The  scent  was  hot  as  far  as  the 
high  road,  across  which  hounds  dashed  at  right  angles 
and  threw  up  in  the  field  beyond.  Bill  was  puzzled,  and 
the  second  time  cast  all  about  in  every  direction  with 
the  utmost  patience  and  care  before  he  would  give  up. 
A  third  time  we  got  away,  evidently  with  our  old  friend, 
and  were  taken  over  precisely  the  same  line  to  the  same 
spot.  But  Bill  had  kept  his  attention  fixed  on  Sweet- 
heart, knowing  that  he  could  trust  her  implicitly ;  and 
she  would  acknowledge  it  no  farther  than  the  side  of 
the  road  to  which  we  came  first.  This  was  just  by  a 
pound,  walled  in  except  at  its  opening,  facing  the  high 
road,  w^here  was  the  railed  entrance.  To  this  corner, 
between  the  tree  and  the  wall,  Sweetheart  returned 
twice. 

"  He's  gone  along  the  top  of  the  wall,  sir,"  Bill 
exclaimed. 

"I    don't    fancy    so,    really,"    Sir   Henry    answered. 


154        SKETCHES  E\  THE  HUXTIXG  TIE  LB. 

shaking  his  head.  "  He  could  not  have  jumped  up,  if 
he  could  have  travelled  along  that  thin  rail." 

"  Sweetheart  says  so,  sir,"  Bill  replied.  "  He's  run 
up  that  tree,  jumped  on  to  the  branch,  and  then  on  to 
the  wall." 

The  thing  seemed  impossible,  lor,  though  the  fox 
might  have  got  on  the  branch,  it  appeared  quite  out  of 
the  question  that  he  could  have  jumped  a  good  eight 
feet  on  to  the  w^all  in  such  a  way  that  the  impetus  would 
not  have  carried  him  over  on  the  other  side;  and  the 
rail  he  must  have  crossed,  if  Bill  were  right,  was  a  piece 
of  timber  with  the  top  at  an  acute  angle. 

Sweetheart,  however,  stuck  to  her  post  at  the  foot  of 
the  tree,  running  to  and  fro  between  that  and  the  corner 
of  the  wall,  and  a  few  of  her  friends  returned  to  see  w-hat 
she  had  to  say.  Bill  lifted  her  up,  and  she  ran  along 
the  top  speaking  to  it  vociferously,  but  stopped  at  the 
rail  as  if  wondering  how  to  get  across.  Bill  solved  the 
difficulty  by  lifting  her  over,  and  on  the  other  side  she 
went  on  till,  some  few  yards  beyond  on  a  branch  of  an 
ivy-covered  oak-tree,  the  fox  was  seen  peering  down. 

To  understand  how  utterly  improbable  Bill's  idea 
seemed  to  be,  the  nature  of  the  place  and  the  position  of 
the  high  wall  and  tree  must  be  realised,  and  it  vastly 
astonished  all  who  were  up  at  the  time. 

I  have  no  story  to  tell  about  Bill  Heigh  on  one  point 
concerning  which  there  are  many  current  anecdotes  of 
huntsmen.  I  do  not  know  that  he  ever  directed  an 
insolent    witticism    at    any    gentlemen    out    with     his 


A   HUNTSMAN.  155 

master's  hounds.  There  are  no  tales  of  "  what  Bill  Heigh 
said  to  that  fellow  on  the  brown  mare,"  or  "  how  he 
shut  up  young  Blank." 

Now  and  again  he  has  to  make  a  request  to  some 
troublesome  members  of  the  Hunt,  or  more  likely  to 
some  stranger  from  town ;  but  though  perhaps  his 
equable  temper  may  be  tried  at  times,  he  is  always 
respectful  and  polite. 

He  married  pretty  Polly  Maizeley,  the  younger  sister 
of  his  early  friend,  and  there  is  a  sturdy  little  Bill,  junior, 
some  four  years  old,  who  toddles  about  after  his  sire, 
and  when  the  sire  is  away  from  home  may  generally  be 
found  in  intimate  companionship  v/ith  some  wise  old 
hound  or  frolicsome  puppy  by  the  fireside  in  winter,  and 
on  the  doorstep  of  Bill's  neat  little  cottage  in  warm 
weather. 

In  time  he  will  doubtless  succeed  his  father  :  such  at 
least  is  Bill  Heigh's  aspiration.  It  is  the  general 
opinion  that  little  Bill  is  a  genuine  chip  of  the  old 
block ;  and  so  there  is  every  reason  to  hope  that  for 
many  years  to  come  the  Meadowmere  Hounds  will  be 
provided  with  a  Huntsman. 


XVI. 

THE  FIRST  MEET  OF  THE  S HOUNDS. 

"  See  you  on  Thursday,  sir  r  "  has  for  the  last  fortnight 
been  the  usual  greeting  of  friendly  farmers  as  they  passed 
one  on  the  road,  and,  as  the  updrawing  of  my  blind 
awakens  me,  I  soon  recollect  that  the  eventful  Thursday 
has  arrived,  and  that  the  hounds  are  to  meet  for  the  first 
time  this  season.  "  It  is  our  opening  day,"  as  the  band 
of  merry  outlaws  sing  in  Guy  Alannering  ;  and  already, 
as  I  dress,  occasional  glimpses  of  pink  coats,  with 
bobbing  backs  of  darker  hue,  are  visible  from  my 
window  through  the  trees  which  partially  hide  the 
road.  These  are  the  early  birds  from  a  distance,  bound 
for  breakfast  at  the  Manor  House,  and  are  anxious, 
those  of  them  who  are  limited  in  the  matter  of  horse- 
flesh, to  give  their  animals  a  rest  before  beginning  the 
business  of  the  day ;  feeling  sure  on  their  own  accounts 
that  at  the  hospitable  table  of  the  popular  master  the 
interval  can  be  passed  pleasantly  enough. 

How  lovingly  one's  breeches  seem  to  cling  around 
one's  knees,  without  crease  or  wrinkle  ;  and  how  firmly 
braced  up  one  feels  in  the  double-seamed  black  coat ! 
In  short,  how  extremely  satisfactory  is  the  world  from 


THE  FIRST  MEET  OF  THE  S HOUNDS.     157 

every  possible  point  of  view  when  one's  favourite  sport 
again  comes  into  season,  and  there  is  a  particularly 
excellent  prospect  of  the  first  of  many  good  runs. 
Breakfast  is  dispatched  with  one  eye  on  the  plate  and 
the  other  on  the  drive  in  front  of  the  house,  to  note  the 
earliest  appearance  of  the  little  iron-grey  colt,  that 
seemed  at  the  end  of  last  season  to  take  so  kindly  to 
his  business,  and  will,  it  is  the  unanimous  opinion  of 
his  many  friends  and  acquaintances,  distinguish  himself 
greatly  now  that  he  has  come  to  maturity,  and  now  that 
judicious  schooling  has  taught  him  the  shortest  and 
easiest  way  over  a  fence,  and  has  succeeded  in  con- 
vincing him  that  he  is  not  a  competitor  in  a  high- 
jumping  contest,  as  he  appeared  at  first  to  believe  was 
the  case. 

Heralded  by  the  jingling  of  his  curb,  here  he  comes, 
and  my  pink-coated  companion  joins  with  me  in  ad- 
miration of  the  well-shaped  frame,  sturdy,  yet  not 
heavy,  with  those  muscular  second  thighs,  upon  which 
so  much  depends  towards  the  close  of  a  hard  day ;  and 
powerful  shoulders,  which  do  not  belie  their  apparent 
capacity  for  getting  through  the  dirt.  I  think  it  is 
"Scrutator" — it  can  hardly  be  Major  Whyte-Melville, 
for  his  horses  were  invariably  of  a  more  fashionable 
stamp — who  vows  that  one  of  the  best  horses  he  ever 
rode  had  crooked  fore-legs  and  no  shoulders,  but  mus- 
cular hind-quarters,  with  tremendous  ribs  and  loins ; 
so  that  in  fact  his  fore-quarters  acted  simply  as 
pioneers.     It  may  be  that  the  propelling   power  of  a 


158        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIE  ID. 

horse  lies  behind  the  shoulders,  but  none  the  less  the 
animal  in  question  was  an  exception,  and  without  good 
shoulders  a  horse  can  hardly  make  a  good  hunter. 

By  the  time  we  reach  the  high  road  the  stream  of 
horsemen  is  thickening,  and  under  the  oaks  in  the 
Manor  park  a  little  throng  of  farmers  has  already 
assembled,  chatting  gaily  and  doing  justice  to  the 
contents  of  well-filled  trays  thoughtfully  provided  for 
those  who  do  not  accept  the  general  invitation  to 
breakfast.  Neatly  attired  grooms  are  leading  their 
charges  to  and  fro,  and  on  the  steps  of  the  house  the 
master  stands,  amidst  a  little  booted  and  spurred  group 
who  have  made  way  for  hungry  late-comers,  pressing 
all  and  sundry  to  enter  and  join  the  party  at  the  table, 
who,  unless  a  glance  through  the  window  conveys  a 
singularly  incorrect  impression,  are  having  a  merry 
time  of  it. 

The  old  butler  knows  our  weakness,  and  confidently 
whispering  that  he  has  "  got  some  of  that  sherry  up  " 
forthwith  proceeds  to  fetch  a  sensible-sized  bumper  for 
myself  and  friend,  together  with  a  third  for  the  Major, 
one  of  the  pillars  of  this  hunt,  who  has  a  keen  apprecia- 
tion of  that  most  excellent  vintage. 

Fresh  additions  to  the  company  are  constantly  arriv- 
ing. Here  comes  young  Laceby's  drag,  somewhat 
feebly  handled  by  that  young  gentleman  himself,  who 
is  ardently  wishing  that  he  dared  give  his  off  leader 
what  that  too  excitable  animal  richly  deserves ;  only 
that  he  is  painfully  uncertain  as  to  what  might  happen 


THE  FIRST  MEET  OF  THE  S HOUNDS.    159 

in  the  course  of  the  next  two  minutes.  The  noble  steed 
has  never  taken  quite  kindly  to  harness,  and  knows 
very  well  what  ail  this  gathering  under  the  trees  is 
about;  but  beyond  an  entirely  ineffectual  "Who-a! 
will  you !  " — which  he  clearly  won't  till  some  one  gets 
down  and  holds  his  head — Laceby  does  not  venture 
to  go. 

Here  is  the  doctor,  who,  of  course,  is  greeted  with  the 
set  jokes  as  to  the  object  of  his  arrival  which  are  com- 
monly fired  off  when  his  fraternity  appear  in  the  hunt- 
ing field  ;  and  here,  in  the  neatest  of  all  possible  pony 
phaetons,  is  the  Lady  Bountiful  of  our  district,  driven 
by  her  pretty  daughter,  who  has  a  smile  and  a  pleasant 
word  for  all  who  ride  up  to  shake  the  kindest  and 
prettiest  little  hand  in  all  the  south  country. 

Away  to  the  right  there  is  evidently  something  up. 

It  is  the  pack  approaching ;  and  soon,  with  waving 
sterns  and  upturned  faces,  seventeen  couples  of  as  well- 
shaped  hounds  as  are  to  be  found  in  England,  that  is  to 
say  in  the  world — so,  at  least,  every  member  of  our 
Hunt  will  strenuously  maintain,  and  readily  answer  any 
criticism  which  the  envious  may  adduce — are  gathered 
round  their  master's  horse. 

We  who  implicitly  believe  in  our  master,  especially 
when  aided  by  the  advice  of  the  Major  and  a  few  chosen 
friends,  together  with  such  servants  as  those  at  our 
kennels,  knowing  how  many  critical  examination  da5's 
there  have  been  on  the  flags  and  at  walk,  to  say 
nothing  of  a  course  of  cub-hunting,  have  every  confi- 


i6o        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

dence  that  the  apprentices  in  the  new  entry  will  sustain 
the  reputation  of  their  seniors. 

That  yelp  came  from  poor  Trinket,  who  cannot  be 
persuaded  of  the  folly  of  lingering  behind,  and,  to  judge 
from  her  solemn  face,  seriously  pondering  over  private 
family  affairs  when  she  ought  to  be  attending  to  her 
public  duties.  Trinket  is  an  excellent  hound  when 
once  she  sets  herself  to  her  task,  but  her  meditative  dis- 
position is  apt  to  get  her  into  trouble.  Another  crack 
of  the  whip  reminds  a  young  hound  that  the  present  is 
not  a  favourable  moment  for  either  quarrelling  or  lark- 
ing with  his  companions,  and  one  or  two  other  little 
matters  having  been  adjusted  the  move  takes  place. 

A  wave  of  the  huntsman's  arm  sends  the  obedient 
pack  into  the  covert  which  adjoins  the  park;  the  more 
excitable  horses  curvet  and  shake  their  heads,  eager  to 
be  off,  while  the  more  sedate  and  sensible  reserve  their 
energies,  listening  with  pricked  ears  for  the  music  they 
know  and  love  so  well ;  while  the  hounds  spread  them- 
selves and  draw  eagerly  for  their  prey.  Now  and  then 
comes  a  whimper,  but  it  dies  away ;  and  as  we  skirt  the 
covert-side  nothing  more  is  heard  save  now  and  again 
the  voice  of  the  huntsman  or  of  a  whip  encouraging  or 
rating  his  hounds. 

On  we  go,  the  little  grey  horse  playing  with  his  bit, 
but  always  acknowledging  a  restraining  touch  when 
excitement  half  induces  him  to  forget  himself.  The 
park  gates  are  reached  and  the  leaders  turn  into  a  ride 
beyond,  along  which  we  follow.    Now  and  then  a  hound 


THE  FIRST  MEET  OF  THE  S HOUNDS.    i6i 

crosses  the  path  and  again  plunges  into  the  underwood, 
but  still  there  is  no  sign  of  a  fox,  and  when  we  emerge 
and  regain  the  open,  most  of  the  pack  are  surrounding 
the  huntsman  and  looking  inquiringly  up  for  further 
orders.  The  sun  shines  with  rather  more  brightness 
than  is  exactly  welcome  under  the  circumstances, 
though  still  we  hope  for  the  best,  and  console  ourselves 
with  the  reflection  that  as  there  is  no  fox  here  there  is 
all  the  more  probability  that  we  shall  find  one  else- 
where— a  comforting  thought  which  will  always  keep 
up  the  spirits  of  any  one  who  cannot  find  the  fox,  the 
fur,  or  the  feathers  that  he  is  seeking.  Across  the  field, 
however,  is  a  covert  which  has  rarely  been  drawn 
blank,  and  for  this  we  make,  to  the  great  delight  of  the 
horses,  who  are  for  a  couple  of  minutes  indulged  in  a 
modified  edition  of  the  gallop  for  which  they  have  been 
longing. 

A  too  adventurous  youth  on  a  mealy  chestnut  rides 
quite  unnecessarily  at  some  posts  and  rails,  over  which 
he  is  promptly  deposited  on  his  back ;  and  Laceby  and 
his  horse  thereupon  fall  out  on  the  question  of  whether 
or  not  they  could  do  it  better  if  they  tried,  the  horse 
being  anxious  to  give  proof  that  it  is  just  the  sort  of 
jump  he  is  especially  good  at,  while  Laceby  is  more 
than  willing  to  take  his  ability  for  granted  and  post- 
pone timber  jumping  sine  die.  Leaving  this  ambitious 
youth,  who  is  much  more  at  home  in  the  City  than  in 
the  saddle,  to  soothe  his  animal  with  a  canter  round  the 
field — a  mode   of  progression  which  has  a  good  deal 


1 62        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIEID. 

more  of  the  "buck"  about  it  than  the  rider  likes — we 
thread  our  way  down  a  brambly  slope,  over  a  broken 
hedge  into  a  terribly  sloshy  ride,  with  mud  up  to  the 
horses'  fetlocks,  until  coming  to  firmer  ground  we  pause 
to  see  what  can  be  brought  forth  here.  Yes !  half  a 
dozen  hounds  simultaneously  give  tongue,  and  we  press 
forward  to  the  field  beyond  us,  while  down  a  side  path 
trots  the  huntsman  with  his  hounds  streaming  to  him. 

"  Keep   back,   gentlemen,   please ! "    he   cries,    more 
from  force  of  habit  than  from  necessity,  for  the  couple 
of  dozen  of  us  who   are  at  this  point  press  back  into 
the  fence,  lest  by  any  chance  we  should  head  the  fox. 
"  Together   on !    together   on ! "    cries   our  friend,    and 
there — yes ! — surely  that  is  the  fox  stealing  down  the 
hedge-row !     Now  is  the  time  to  press  on  hats,  feel  the 
stirrups,  and   carefully   run  one's  fingers   through   the 
reins.     The  welcome  cry  of  the  hounds  rings  out,  and  the 
little  iron-grey  rears  up  in  his  anxiety  to  be  off.     With 
keen  ears  we   listen  for  the  "  Forrard  !  "    "  Forrard  !  " 
"  Gone  away !  "  but  to  the  general  distress  the  voices  of 
the  hounds  gradually  die  out,  and  we  are  left  lamenting. 
A  couple  of  cock  pheasants  fly  over  our  heads  as  if  in 
mockery  of  their  enemies'  dismay,  the  rest  of  the  field 
ride  up,  to  find  that  we  have  not  got  the  start  of  them 
as  they  evidently  feared,  and,  with  rather  blank  faces, 
master  and  huntsman  take  council  together  as  to  the 
next  move.     "The  sun's  against  us,"  the  Major  admits, 
as  we  canter  off  once  again,  but  still  it  can  hardly  be 
sufficiently  hot  to  dry  scent  up  entirely,  and  the  day  is 


THE  FIRST  MEET  OF  THE  S HOUNDS.    165 

still  young,  though  so  far  near  upon  two  hours  have 
passed  without  results. 

The  hounds  dash  into  covert  again,  not  one  of  our 
well-bred  beauties  taking  the  least  notice  of  a  fright- 
ened hare  which  runs  within  half  a  dozen  yards  of  the 
foremost,  and  again  we  skirt  the  fence,  listening  for  the 
desired  chorus. 

Flasks  and  sandwich-cases  are  now  produced,  and 
cigars  are  rather  the  rule  than  the  exception.  Not 
without  misgiving  we  look  to  our  oracle,  the  Major;  for 
if  his  cigar-case  comes  out,  and  one  of  his  precious 
Celestiales  is  lighted,  we  understand  that  in  the  opinion 
of  a  very  competent  judge  there  will  be  nothing  to 
prevent  him  from  enjoying  it  to  the  end. 

"  It's  very  tiresome !  "  pouts  an  impatient  young  lady, 
as  we  all  continue  with  ears  astretch ;  but  even  to  oblige 
a  good-looking  young  girl  a  fox  will  not  always  come 
out  and  afford  a  run. 

"  How  beautiful  the  beech-woods  are  at  this  time  of 
year,"  I  remark,  pointing  down  the  vale  over  one  of  the 
most  picturesque  landscapes  our  country  possesses  ;  but 
she  is  not  to  be  consoled  by  beech-trees,  though  their 
leaves  may  exhibit  all  the  colours  of  the  rainbow  in 
perfect  harmony. 

"Yes,  I  know,"  this  unaisthetic  young  person  rejoins; 
"but  I  can  see  lots  of  beech-trees  at  home,  and  I  think 

it's  very  disappointing what's  that  ? "  she  breaks  off 

suddenly,  and  it  is  soon  evident  that  "  that "  is  what  we 
have  been  waiting  for. 

M  2 


164-        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

Marigold  has  hit  off  a  hot  scent,  the  burst  of  music 
rom  the  pack  leaves  little  doubt  about  it,  and  the  first 
whip's  "  Gone  away ! "  with  that  wild  and  jubilant 
scream  which  is  not  to  be  put  down  on  paper,  leaves 
none  at  all.  There  he  goes,  out  of  the  ditch,  through 
the  fence,  and  up  the  slight  ascent  on  the  other  side, 
and  as  the  last  hounds  leap  out  of  the  covert  we  merrily 
start  across  the  grass.  With  what  a  firm  and  blithe- 
some stride  the  little  iron-grey  lifts  himself  over  the 
grass,  and  how  cleverly  he  gathers  himself  up,  after  just 
a  hint  from  the  reins,  for  the  fence  before  us — a  set  of 
lowish  rails  with  a  hedge  just  rising  above  them. 

Unnecessary  jumping  is,  of  course,  at  all  times  to  be 
condemned  and  avoided,  and  there  is  an  open  gate 
twenty  yards  to  the  left ;  but  it  would  be  too  cruel  to 
baulk  the  eager  horse's  desire,  and  without  perceptible 
effort  he  bounds  over,  landing  in  a  wet  plough,  through 
which  he  would  go  at  racing  pace  were  he  not  steadied. 
The  first  fence  has  stopped  no  one,  and,  indeed,  hardly 
could  have  done  so,  seeing  that  there  was  the  open  gate 
for  choice.  In  a  compact  body  the  hunt  crosses  the 
plough,  and  in  the  pack  there  is  not  a  straggler.  A 
thin  fence  into  the  meadow  beyond  hardly  causes  the 
horses  to  rise,  and  we  can  form  a  shrewd  notion  of  the 
sensations  experienced  by  the  rhymer  who  sang  with 
such  enthusiastic  delight  of  the  joys  of 

"A  quick  thiity  minutes  from  Banksborough  Gorse." 

Even   so   far,  however,   some   of  the   field   have  disap- 
peared,   notably    the    two     light    weights    on    weedy 


THE  FIRST  MEET  OF  THE  S HOUNDS.    165 

thorouglibreds,  who  are  wasting  their  time  in  the 
utterly  hopeless  endeavour  of  obtaining  from  the  Master 
a  hunter's  qualification  for  horses  which  have  not  been 
legitimately  hunted.  Their  crocks  might  just  as  well 
have  been  in  the  stable  for  all  the  good  they  have  done 
to-day  in  this  direction,  and  if  other  Masters  were 
equally  firm  something  which  bears  a  very  close 
resemblance  to  an  impudent  swindle  might  be  pre- 
vented. 

But  familiar  faces  are  here  in  a  little  knot  as  we 
speed  over  a  big  clover  field,  and  the  horseman  ahead 
of  us  all,  "and  in  very  dangerous  proximity  to  the 
hounds,  is  Laceby ;  though  it  is  only  fair  to  him  to 
admit  that  circumstances  over  which  he  has  no  control 
— a  pulling  horse  and  a  want  of  knowledge  how  to  ride 
him — have  him  in  complete  subjection. 

The  Master,  on  a  splendid  bay  with  black  points, 
holds  his  own  with  the  utmost  ease ;  the  impatient 
young  lady  is  in  the  seventh  heaven  of  delight  as  the 
footstrokes  of  her  shapely  little  chestnut  mare  thud  on 
the  turf;  of  course  the  Major  is  in  his  usual  position, 
for  though  his  old  hunter  has  small  pretensions  to 
breeding  or  beauty,  and  does  not  look  particularly  like 
jumping  or  galloping,  it  must  be  indeed  a  hard  day 
when  it  does  not  keep  its  place  in  the  van,  or  at  any 
rate  turn  up,  sometimes  from  unsuspected  quarters,  at 
critical  moments. 

But  are  we  really  in  for  a  run,  or  is  disappointment 
to  be  still  our  lot  ? 


1 66        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

A  sudden  swerve  to  the  right  heads  us  straight  for  a 
well-known  covert,  wherein  more  than  once  before  a 
run  has  come  to  a  sudden  and  inglorious  conclusion; 
and  with  much  anxiety,  together  with  not  a  little  dis- 
content, we  canter  along  the  furrows  or  close  to  the 
hedge  in  the  mangold  field  through  which  hounds  are 
running.  Hounds  disappear,  and  apprehensively  we 
canter  onward,  but  are  mightily  relieved  when  with  a 
loud  burst,  as  though  they  had  all  viewed  him  at  the 
same  second,  they  speed  on  again  across  a  pasture 
bordered  by  the  Downs,  and,  topping  or  scrambling 
through  the  hedge,  stream  up  the  steep  hill-side. 

Easing  our  horses  all  we  can  up  the  ascent,  we  follow, 
and,  with  much  care  and  encourag^ement  from  voice 
and  hand,  we  descend.  The  fox  turns  off  diagonally, 
and  now  we  know  pretty  well  the  earths  for  which  he  is 
heading. 

The  bottom  of  the  hill  is  happily  reached,  though  the 
field  now  presents  a  long  tail,  and  those  who  have  not 
husbanded  their  resources  up  the  ascent  and  over  the 
plough  discover,  especially  if  they  have  been  larking 
before  the  find,  and  galloping  too  recklessly  to  and  fro, 
that  they  will  have  to  do  all  they  know,  and  in  many 
cases  more  than  that,  to  keep  their  places.  Laceby's 
horse  has  distressed  itself — to  say  nothing  of  having 
very  seriously  distressed  him — and,  swerving  at  a  fence 
just  by  a  gate,  topples  clumsily  over  the  latter,  upon 
which  safe  eminence  the  rider  presently  ensconces 
himself,  after  having  carefully  examined  his  arms  and 


THE  FIRST  MEET  OF  THE  S HOUNDS,    167 

legs,  and  watches  his  steed  cantering  off  on  its  own 
account. 

I  am  gradually  becoming  conscious  that  there  is  an 
awkward  brook  in  front,  and  doubts  as  to  the  little  iron- 
grey's  probable  proceedings  (he  never  having  been 
ridden  at  a  stream)  begin  to  assert  themselves.  In  a 
high  flight  of  rails,  guided  by  the  Major,  I  find  a  broken 
place,  and  then,  over  more  grass — there  is  no  doubt 
about  it — we  are  coming  to  a  brook,  and  a  good-sized 
one  moreover. 

The  gallant  colt  pricks  his  ears,  but  there  is  no  doubt 
that  he  means  to  have  it,  and  indeed  he  clears  it  with  a 
bound  which  lands  his  hind-legs  a  good  yard  the  other 
side.  More  than  one  bath  takes  place  here,  and  at  a 
nasty  blind  fence  with  a  ditch  on  the  landing  side,  over 
which  the  iron-grey  gets  with  rather  a  bad  stumble, 
more  of  the  followers  are  stopped.  The  plough  is  cruelly 
wet  and  heavy,  and  the  rather  flashy  horse  my  friend  is 
riding  (this  morning  at  breakfast  I  did  certainly  say  it 
looked  like  going ;  but  then,  what  can  you  say  under 
such  circumstances  ?)  is  done,  and  labours  on  with  heav- 
ing flanks  and  panting  nostrils.  Neither  is  the  iron- 
grey  going  by  any  means  so  freely  as  he  was  five 
minutes  ago,  so  that  in  the  interests  of  safety  and  self- 
preservation  I  am  compelled  reluctantly  to  wake  him 
up  at  the  next  fence. 

Our  Master  still  goes  at  ease,  as  do  the  huntsman  and 
whips  on  their  seasoned  hunters ;  the  Major  keeps  his 
place  a  little  in  the  rear ;    some  half-dozen  pink  coats, 


i6S        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

as  many  black  ones,  a  boy  on  a  pony,  a  horse-dealer  on 
a  raking  chestnut,  together  with  a  couple  of  ladies, 
constitute  the  first  flight. 

But  surely  something  is  wrong  in  front  ?  The  hounds 
throw  up  their  heads,  and  slacken  speed.  The  scent 
has  failed.  Have  they  overrun  it  ?  Yes  !  With  a  wild 
halloo  a  pink  coat  at  the  head  of  a  long  line  of  strag- 
glers points  with  his  hunting  crop  to  the  hedge-row 
along  which  the  draggled  fox  is  stealing.  Again  he  is 
viewed  away  and  plunges  into  the  dry  ditch,  but  when 
the  hounds  reach  the  spot  where  he  disappeared  they 
are  again  at  fault.  Nor  do  subsequent  efforts  bring  his 
whereabouts  to  light.  There  must  have  been  some 
unsuspected  earth  into  which  he  crept,  warmly  con- 
gratulating himself  upon  a  singularly  narrow  escape. 
It  is  past  four  o'clock,  and  we  are  reluctantly  compelled 
to  admit  that  to-day  the  fox  has  had  the  best  of  us. 

So  ends  the  first  meet  of  the  S hounds — without  a 

kill,  truly,  but  with  the  consciousness  that  every  man, 
hound,  and  horse  has  done  his  work  in  a  way  which 
can  only  be  accepted  as  an  earne$t  of  better  luck  to 
come.  That  other  packs  may  throughout  the  season  be 
as  fortunate  as  ours,  and  that  ours  may  be  as  fortunate 
as  the  best,  is  a  concluding  wish  to  which  no  one  will 
take  exception. 


XVII. 

"SEASONABLE  WEATHER." 

There  is  a  silent  eloquence  about  the  proceedings  of 
one's  servant  on  a  frosty  morning  peculiarly  abominable 
in  its  plainness.  He  thinks  you  are  not  awake,  perhaps  ; 
but  you  are,  and  can  tell  by  the  cautious  manner  in 
which  he  moves  about  the  room,  fearful  of  disturbing 
you,  that  things  meteorological  are  just  about  as  bad  as 
they  can  be.  In  his  hand  he  bears  your  boots  and 
breeches  ;  but  these  emblems  of  the  chase  he  does  not 
put  by  your  bedside  ready  for  use.  On  the  contrary,  he 
silently  opens  a  drawer,  takes  out  a  pair  of  trousers,  and 
then  you  know,  if  you  had  not  known  before,  which  way 
the  wind  blows — north-east,  in  all  probability. 

"  Frost,  eh  ? "  you  ask,  having  noted  these  prepara- 
tions with  dismay. 

"  Yes,  sir.  Freezing  hard.  Came  on  to  snow  in  the 
night,  and  dreadful  slippery,  sir,  this  morning,"  he 
answers. 

In  desperation  you  remark,  interrogatively,  "No 
hunting,  I  suppose  ? " 

"  Oh,  dear,  no !      Looks  as  if  frost  was  setting  in,  sir." 

So  it  apparently  is.     The  landscape  is  white,  and  that 


170        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

utterly  offensive  condition  of  affairs  sometimes  known  as 
"seasonable  weather"  has  come  about  with  a  vengeance. 
You  dress  leisurely,  and  saunter  down  to  breakfast,  where 
your  companions  are  trying  hard  to  look  agreeable,  and 
that  donkey  Borders,  an  amateur  actor  of  distressing 
pertinacity,  is  in  high  feather ;  which  does  not  niake 
you  love  Borders.  Neither  can  you  cordially  join  in 
Miss  Pensyller's  enthusiastic  admiration  for  the  scene 
from  the  windows,  the  bare  twigs  and  branches  of  the 
trees  exquisitely — the  phrase  is  hers,  and,  in  this  con- 
nection, is  what  Polonius  calls  "  a  vile  phrase  " — traced 
out  with  the  snow.  The  little  birds  are  having  a  festive 
time  over  an  unexpected  breakfast  thoughtfully  provided 
by  our  hostess,  when,  poor  little  creatures,  they  had  de- 
spaired of  that  meal,  and  were  more  than  doubtful  about 
luncheon.  But  what  are  we  to  do  ?  Read  last  night's 
papers  which  have  just  come  by  post  ?  As  always 
happens  under  such  circumstances  they  are  singularly 
uninteresting. 

Round  to  the  stables  we  go  for  a  smoke,  but  this  again 
is  an  annoying  performance,  for  it  is  a  proposition  which 
I  fancy  few  will  dispute,  that  horses  never  look  so  fit 
and  so  much  like  going  as  on  a  "  seasonable  "  morning. 
Your  favourite,  that  you  intended  to  ride  to-day — con- 
found this  frost ! — gazes  round  at  you  as  much  as  to  say, 
"It's  rather  poor  sort  of  fun  standing  here.  Why  is  no  one 
getting  me  ready,  and  how  about  those  hounds  ?  "  You 
cannot  stand  this,  and  stroll  back  to  the  house,  where 
you  find  Borders  endeavouring  to  organize  a  dramatic 


"SEASONABLE  WEATHERS  171 

entertainment.  You  are  just  the  man  he  wants,  and  are 
given  to  understand  that  he  has  cast  you  for  a  part  in  a 
arce,  your  duty  in  which  will  consist  in  decking  your- 
self in  some  absurd  costume,  coming  in,  and  letting  him 
empty  a  bag  ol  flour  on  your  head,  or  smudge  your  face 
with  lamp-black.  "  Awfully  good  situation  ;  the  people 
will  yell  with  laughter !  "  he  tells  you,  but  you  don't  see 
it,  and  are  set  down  as  a  surly  creature,  devoid  of  all 
notion  of  true  humour. 

Suppose  the  frost  continues  through  the  whole  winter  ! 
Suppose  there  were  to  be  no  hunting  for  weeks,  no 
chance  of  proving  the  excellence  of  a  carefully  chosen 
stud,  seeing  whether  the  little  bay  mare  was  as  good  as 
she  looked,  and  how  much  discount  must  be  allowed 
from  the  eulogistic  assertions  of  her  late  owner  ?  These 
are  the  thoughts  which  afflict  us  as  we  take  up  the  paper 
again  to  read  the  weather  prophecies,  and  make  angry 
assaults  on  the  barometer,  which  resents  the  insult  by 
behaving  worse  than  ever. 

But  we  know  that  there  is  a  good  time  coming,  though 
we  may  not  always  be  able  to  fix  the  precise  date. 
The  English  climate  is  as  variable  as  Virgil  tells  us 
lovely  woman  is,  and  if  sometimes  your  hopes  are 
dashed,  at  other  times  your  evil  anticipations  are 
agreeably  disappointed.  When  you  expect  to  find  by 
your  bed-side  those  stay-at-home  garments  to  which 
reference  has  been  made  above,  lo  and  behold !  in 
comes  your  man,  with  a  smile  on  his  face,  and  your 
breeches  on  his  arm.     He  proclaims   it  to   be   a  fine 


172        SKETCHES  IX  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

morning,  and  so  it  is.  The  snow  lias  disappeared ; 
the  country  is  clear  ;  deep  it  may  be,  heavy  going  even 
on  the  grass,  worse  in  the  plough,  and  knee-deep  in 
the  rides  through  tangled  coverts ;  but  what  does  that 
matter  ?  Stout  limbs,  good  wind,  and  eager  hearts  are 
ready  to  overcome  all  drawbacks. 

Borders  is  in  despair,  and  tries  to  make  his  company 
solemnly  promise  and  vow  to  be  home  to  rehearsal  at  four 
o'clock;  an  attempt  in  which  Borders  miserably  fails. 
If  Miss  Pensyller  would  ask  you  to  admire  this  landscape 
you  would  willingly  cap  all  her  terms  of  praise ;  but 
she  says  it  is  nasty  dirty  weather,  and  determines  to  stay 
at  home.  Here  come  the  horses,  and  when  Mufiington, 
who  has  been  talking  very  "big"  about  his  prowess, 
perceives  the  steed  he  is  to  ride  rarely  standing  on  more 
than  two  legs  at  the  same  time,  he  looks  very  much  as  if 
he  would  like  to  stay  at  home  and  help  Borders,  or  flirt 
with  the  aesthetic  Miss  Pensyller. 

Philosophers  tell  us  that  anticipation  is  more  satis- 
factory than  realisation,  and  certainly  the  ride  to  the 
meet  is  not  the  least  agreeable  feature  of  a  day's  hunt- 
ing. The  cheery  nod  of  acquaintances  whom  one 
overtakes  on  the  road,  or  meets  as  they  come  from 
by-ways  and  out  of  lodge  gates,  shows  their  delight  at 
having  at  length  got  the  better  of  the  late  vile — that  is  to 
say,  of  course,  "  seasonable  " — weather. 

Recent  immunity  from  danger  has  made  Master  Rey- 
nard incautious,  and  he  is  pleasantly  trotting  along 
through  the  under-growth,  when  Vixen  comes  upon  a 


''SEASONABLE   WEATHERS  173 

spot  he  has  just  quitted,  and  announces  her  discovery 
in  the  most  unmistakable  manner.  Her  companions 
readily  admit  the  justice  of  the  information,  and  the 
fox,  hearing  their  references  to  his  private  affairs,  does 
not  wait  to  resent  the  intrusion.  Off  he  goes  across 
the  open,  and  the  hounds,  running  almost  to  view, 
eagerly  bound  through  the  fence,  followed  by  the  field 
in  general,  barring  two  or  three,  who  go  carelessly  and 
land  on  their  heads  or  backs  as  the  case  may  be,  not 
calculating  on  a  ditch  the  other  side  of  the  jump; 
and  Muf&ngton  sincerely  regrets  the  want  of  moral 
courage  which  led  him  out  hunting  instead  of  permit- 
ting him  to  stay  at  home  comfortably  and  safely  with 
Borders. 

Men  who  want  to  live  to  the  end  will  do  well  to  take 
a  pull  at  their  horses  ;  for  though  there  is  sound  wisdom 
in  poor  JMajor  Whyte-Melville's  theory  that  a  horse  in 
fighting  for  his  head  takes  as  much  out  of  himself  as  if 
allowed  to  go  with  tolerable  freedom,  the  steeds  this 
morning  are  too  much  inclined  to  gallop.  Which  way  ? 
Towards  those  disagreeably  dense  woods  to  the  left, 
where  a  fox  v/ith  decent  topographical  knowledge 
would  have  so  excellent  a  chance  of  finding  an  open 
earth,  or  away,  bearing  slightly  to  the  right,  across  a 
line  of  splendid  country  that  we  know  so  well  ?  A 
moment  of  anxious  doubt  decides  it,  and  the  hounds 
make  a  decided  bend  in  the  hoped-for  direction.  Over 
the  rails  is  an  easy  task,  for  a  heavy  man  on  a  huge 
horse  placidly  goes  at  and  crashes  through  the  top  one  ; 


174        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUKTIXG  FIELD. 

but  many  saddles  are  emptied  and  boots  filled  in  the 
deep  and  disagreeable  brook  beyond,  having  crossed 
which  in  safety  we  may  fearlessly  join  in  the  con- 
gratulation : — 

We're  steadily  sailing  away  to  the  fore  ;  I 

Think  we've  every  prospect  of  seeing  the  run, 

For,  iprimo  aspirat  fortuna  lahori, 

A  thing  is  half  finished  when  neatly  begun. 

It  has  been  said  that  five-and-twenty  minutes  is 
quite  long  enough  for  a  run,  and  many  who  have  been 
hard  at  it  for  that  period  have  by  this  time  thoroughly 
adopted  the  opinion  ;  but  still  hounds  go  on,  with  no 
sign  of  stopping,  though  the  field  is  very  considerably 
thinned,  as  need  hardly  be  said.  By  a  lucky  chance 
Scatterly  has  got  his  second  horse,  a  mean  and  unfair 
advantage,  for  which,  at  the  moment,  we  cordially  hate 
him ;  and  had  he  been  turned  over  without  doing  him- 
self much  damage  about  this  period  of  the  run,  I  fear 
some  of  us  would  not  have  lamented  the  downfall  of  as 
good  a  fellow  as  ever  sat  in  saddle  ;  for,  much  as  you 
may  like  a  man,  you  like  him  less  than  usual  when  he 
is  cutting  you  down,  and  "bellows  to  mend"  is  the 
general  situation. 

But  suddenly  a  ringing  holloa  proclaims  that  they 
have  seen  him,  and  in  the  next  field  the  stout  fox  is 
rolled  over.  One  lady,  two  men,  the  master,  and 
huntsman  alone  are  up,  and  from  the  heaving  flanks 
of  the  horse  which  has  so  gallantly  carried  the  latter, 
it  is  clear  he  could  not  have  held  on  much  longer.     The 


SEASONABLE   WEATHERS 


17s 


Whip  just  stumbles  into  the  field  at  the  critical  moment, 
the  effort  of  scrambling  through  the  last  fence  finishing 
off  his  horse ;  and  a  few  others  struggle  up  in  turn  to 
receive  the  credit  of  having  gone  well  through  a  fast 
forty  minutes. 


XVIII. 

A  SCIENTIFIC  SPORTSMAN. 

The  air  of  sublime  superiority  with  which  Tewters  was 
accustomed  to  make  a  donkey  of  himself  on  frequent 
occasions  amply  justifies  his  inclusion  in  these  sketches  ; 
for  though  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  very  few  men  are  quite 
so  silly  as  he  was,  and  probably  is,  if  one  had  the  misfor- 
tune to  know  where  to  find  him  at  the  present  moment, 
there  are  a  great  many  young  gentlemen  who  believe 
that  they  know  all  about  it,  when,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
their  belief  is  in  a  precisely  inverse  ratio  to  the  truth. 

There  was  icrede  Tewters)  nothing  that  he  could  not 
do  :  and  he  did  nothing.  He  came  to  Fallowfield  to 
stay  with  an  aged  female  relative,  and  attracted  the 
attention  of  the  residents  by  strutting  about  the  town 
with  an  air  of  tolerant  but  slightly  contemptuous  criti- 
cism, as  he  gazed  about  him  ;  and  when  calling  one 
afternoon  on  Downing,  we  found  our  then  unknown 
friend  in  the  billiard- room,  dilating  learnedly  on  angles 
of  incidence  and  reflection,  and  explaining  how  the 
game  really  ought  to  be  played.  We  soon  discovered 
that  explaining  was  his  strong  point.  He  had  a  decided 
opinion  on  everything,  and  was  always  ready,  if  not  to 


A   SCIENTIFIC  SPORTSMAN.  i-n 

show,  at  any  rate  to  explain,  how  one  ought  to  perform 
any  sort  of  operation  whatsoever. 

On  one  of  the  earliest  days  of  the  hunting  season 
Tewters,  without  having  stated  his  intention  to  any 
one — we  did  not,  in  fact,  see  very  much  of  him — rode  up 
on  a  steady-looking  old  hunter,  and  joined  in  the  con- 
versation. We  were  discussing  the  always  interesting 
subject  of  getting  across  country,  and  Tewters  proceeded 
to  enlighten  us. 

"  A  great  deal  too  much  nonsense  is  talked  about  men 
riding  straight,"  he  observes.  "  Fencing  is  so  simple, 
that  there  is  no  reason  why  any  man  with  common  sense 
and  the  use  of  his  limbs  should  not  ride." 

"Yet,"  I  venture  to  suggest,  "men  do  at  times  come 
to  grief." 

"They  do,"  he  admits;  "but  only  because  they  do 
not  follow  the  simplest  of  rules.  A  seat  is  kept  either 
by  balance  or  by  grip  ;  and  a  combination  of  the  two 
methods  affords  absolute  security.  Men  come  into  the 
field  knowing  nothing  of  the  sport,  and  then  wonder 
that  they  get  into  trouble." 

"  I  suppose  you've  hunted  a  good  deal  ? "  Flutterton 
asks. 

"  I  know  something  of  it.  We  had  better  get  into  the 
covert,  I  think,"  he  rejoins,  and  rides  forward.  Heigh 
has  just  begun  to  draw,  and  we  are  waiting  outside 
listening  for  the  first  indication  of  something  up. 
"Where  is  he  going  to,  that  fellow?"  some  one  asks, 
as  Tewters  trots  along  the  fence  till  he  finds  a  gate,  and 

N 


iyS        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIE  ID. 

rides  in  just  about  the  spot  where  the  foremost  hounds 
are  working. 

In  a  moment  or  two  he  emerges,  however.  Heigh 
has  politely  begged  him  to  keep  outside,  and  he  does 
so  ;  but  instead  of  returning  back  to  us,  he  trots  along 
by  the  side  of  the  hedge  till  he  is  lost  to  sight. 

Suddenly  a  yell  is  heard  in  his  direction.  We  set  oif, 
and  find  him  standing  up  in  his  stirrups,  and  uttering 
wild  shrieks. 

"  I  saw  him  !  I  saw  him  come  out  of  there  !  "  he  cries 
excitedly,  repeating  his  yell. 

"  And  you  sent  him  in  again  ?  "  Wynnerly  asks,  with 
ironical  amazement,  for  Tewters  seems  to  be  delighted 
with  his  exploit. 

"Yes;  he  went  in  just  there  !  "  and  he  triumphantly 
points  out  the  spot. 

"Well,  perhaps  on  the  whole  it  would  have  been 
better  if  you  had  stayed  quietly  with  us,"  Downing 
sarcastically  remarks ;  but  Tewters  does  not  see  it. 
We  have  been  kept  in  by  frost  for  several  days  and 
are  pining  for  a  gallop,  and  to  be  regarded  comtemp- 
tuously  by  the  man  who  has  just  headed  the  fox  is 
exasperating  in  no  small  degree.  But  Tewters  is  still 
superior. 

"  I  have  always  found  that  men  are  of  more  use  in 
the  covert  than  gossiping  about  the  fences.  The  hunts- 
man here  seems  to  conduct  his  business  differently,  for 
he  requested  me  to  stay  outside  ;  and  when  I  saw  the 
fox  of  course  I  halloaed,"  Tewters  answers. 


A  SCIENTIFIC  SPORTSMAN.  179 

"Following  on  inside  the  covert  is  different  from 
getting  right  before  the  hounds,  and  viewing  the  fox 
away  is  not  quite  the  same  as  heading  him  back," 
Downing  observes,  with  disgust. 

"  He's  been  getting  up  his  hunting  out  of  a  book  and 
has  got  hold  of  the  wrong  end  of  the  stick,"  Flutterton 
suggests  as  Tewters  rides  on,  evidently  pitying  our 
ignorance  of  the  elements  of  sport.  "  I  wonder  whether 
he  can  ride  ?" 

The  doubt  was  soon  to  be  solved.  From  the  other 
side  of  the  strip  of  covert  the  Whip  viewed  the  fox 
away,  and  the  hounds  made  straight  for  a  fair  hunting 
fence,  hedge  and  ditch.  Tewters  was  a  little  in  front 
of  us,  and  to  give  him  his  due  he  had  the  courage  of 
his  convictions.  He  went  straight  at  the  jump,  his 
horse  rose,  he  rose  still  higher,  left  the  saddle,  was 
jerked  violently  into  the  air,  and  turning  almost  a 
complete  somersault  landed  on  his  back ;  while  the 
horse,  which  had  jumped  smoothly  and  without  super- 
fluous effort,  galloped  on  ahead.  The  combination  of 
grip  and  balance  had,  for  some  unexplained  cause, 
proved  unsuccessful. 

Tewters  was  not  in  the  least  hurt,  but  just  a  little 
discomfited — more  shaken,  however,  as  regarded  him- 
self than  his  convictions.  His  horse  was  caught  and 
brought  back  to  him,  and  he  climbed  into  the  saddle. 
For  some  time  he  kept  to  gates  with  much  discretion, 
but  on  arriving  near  a  tolerably  wide  brook  proceeded 
to  put  his  theory  again  into  practice,  and  went  for  it ; 

N    2 


iSo        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

the  old  horse  stopped  suddenly  on  the  brink,  shot 
Tewters  clean  over  his  head  into  the  water,  and  paused 
with  legs  and  neck  outstretched  as  if  to  watch  how  his 
"  master"  was  going  to  get  out  again. 

This  ended  his  hunting  for  the  first  day,  and  it  was 
some  time  before  he  reappeared,  having  meantime 
undergone,  as  we  afterwards  learned,  a  severe  course 
of  hurdles  and  bars  in  a  riding  school,  and  having 
tumbled  about  over  them  with  desperate  perseverance 
before  he  could  be  brought  to  understand  that  the  com- 
bination of  balance  and  grip,  though  excellent  in  theory, 
requires  practice  to  give  it  due  effect. 

A  man  cannot  do  himself  any  physical  injury  by  talk- 
ing nonsense,  however,  so  Tewters  takes  advantage  of 
the  circumstance  and  indulges  himself  freely.  Before 
his  first  appearance  he  had  rarely  been  on  a  horse,  and 
never  away  firom  the  high  road.  He  soon  found  out  how 
to  take  care  of  himself,  and  he  forgot  the  exciting  events 
of  his  first  day — forgot  them  so  entirely  that  he  never 
even  explained  how  it  was  that  he  bumped  so  awkwardly 
over  the  hedge  and  finished  in  the  water.  His  air  of 
superiority  was  quickly  resumed,  and  in  a  very  short 
time  he  was  as  ready  with  a  criticism  on  what  was  being 
done,  and  an  explanation  of  what  people  should  do,  as 
though  his  career  had  been  long  and  glorious. 

He  was  a  student  of  sporting  literature,  and  could 
readily  explain  to  you  how  to  hold  your  gun,  so  that  you 
could  not  miss  a  shot,  or  how  to  do  anything  else; 
though  on   the  matter  of  jumping  fences  he  was  less 


A   SCIENTIFIC  SPORTSMAN.  i8i 

eloquent  than  on  most  things.  The  sources  of  his  in- 
spiration were  discovered,  and  when  he  explained  how 
the  hounds  ought  to  be  hunted,  under  difficult  circum- 
stances, or  gave  opinions  on  other  abstruse  points,  some 
of  the  men  who  had  grown  tired  of  hearing  Tewters  talk 
nonsense  took  to  replying,  "Yes,  I  know — Beckford 
says  so,  but  it  does  not  apply  here  ;"  "  '  Scrutator ' 
showed  how  it  might  be  effective  in  certain  cases  of 
which  this  is  not  one  ;"  "  A  man  who  clearly  knew 
nothing  about  it  said  so  in  the  paper  last  week  ;"  and 
make  similar  endeavours  to  convince  him  that  his 
opinions  are  not  regarded  as  original  inspirations,  or 
the  result  of  acute  personal  experience. 

Tewters  smiled  with  the  accustomed  air  of  superior 
wisdom  for  some  time,  but  at  length  appears  to  have 
concluded  that  we  were  not  worthy  to  receive  the  pearls 
of  his  instruction — put  more  bluntly,  though  this  way 
of  putting  it  would  never  have  occurred  to  him,  he  felt 
that  we  had  discovered  how  great  a  humbug  he  was 
— and,  if  he  has  not  abandoned  hunting  altogether,  he 
is  doubtless  laying  down  the  law  for  the  officials  and 
followers  of  some  other  pack  of  hounds. 


XIX. 
HUNTINGCROP  HALL: 

A  TALE  OF  TRIUMPHANT  ADVENTURE. 

"  Reputation  !  Reputation  !  oh,  I  have  lost  my  reputa- 
tion !  "  It  was,  I  believe,  one  Michael  Cassio,  a  Floren- 
tine, who  originally  made  the  remark  ;  and  I  can  only 
say  I  sincerely  wish  I  were  in  Michael  Cassio's  position, 
and  could  lose  mine.  It  may  be  a  "  bubble,"  this  same 
reputation  ;  indeed,  we  have  high  authority  for  so  term- 
ing it ;  but  "bubble  "  rhymes  with  "  trouble,"  and  that  is 
the  condition  to  which  such  a  reputation  as  mine  is  apt 
to  bring  you  ;  for  it  supposes  me  to  be  a  regular  Nimrod, 
whereas  I  know  about  as  much  of  the  science  of  the 
chase  as  my  suppositious  prototype  probably  knew  of 
ballooning  ;  it  sets  me  down  as  being  "  at  home  in  the 
saddle,"  whereas  it  is  there  that  I  am,  if  I  may  be 
allowed  the  expression,  utterly  at  sea. 

When,  last  November,  I  was  seated  before  a  blazing 
fire  in  Major  Huntingcrop's  town  house,  and  his  too 
charming  daughter,  Laura,  expressed  her  enthusiastic 
admiration  for  hunting  and  everything  connected  with 
it — mildly  at  the  same  time  hinting  her  contempt  for 


HUNTINGCROP  HALL.  183 

those  who  were  unskilled  in  the  accomplishment — could 
I  possibly  admit  that  I  was  among  the  despised  class  ? 
Was  it  not  rather  a  favourable  opportunity  for  showing 
our  community  of  sentiment  by  vowing  that  the  sport 
was  the  delight  of  my  life,  and  firing  off  a  few  sentences 
laden  with  such  sporting  phraseology  as  I  had  happened 
to  pick  up  in  the  course  of  desultory  reading  ? 

Laura  listened  with  evident  admiration.  I  waxed 
eloquent.  My  arm-chair  would  not  take  the  bit  between 
its  teeth  and  run  away ;  no  hounds  were  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood to  test  my  prowess ;  and  I  am  grieved  to 
admit  that   for   an   exciting   ten   minutes   the   "  father 

of stories  "  (what  a  family  he  must  have !)  had  it 

all  his  own  way  with  me. 

^^  Atra  ciira  sedit  post  equitem  indeed!"  I  concluded. 
"  You  may  depend  upon  it,  Miss  Huntingcrop,  that  man 
was  mounted  on  a  screw  !  Black  Care  would  never  dare 
to  intrude  his  unwelcome  presence  on  a  galloper. 
Besides,  why  didn't  the  fellow  put  his  horse  at  a  hurdle  ? 
Probably  Black  Care  wouldn't  have  been  able  to  sit  a 
fence.  But  I  quite  agree  with  you  that  it  is  the  duty  of 
a  gentleman  to  hunt ;  and  I  only  wish  that  the  perform- 
ance of  some  of  my  other  duties  gave  me  half  as  much 
pleasure  ! " 

Where  I  should  have  ended  it  is  impossible  to  say  ; 
but  here  our  tete-a-tcte  was  interrupted  by  the  advent  of 
the  Major,  who  heard  the  tag  end  of  my  panegyric  with 
manifest  delight. 

"  Huntingcrop  is  the  place  for  you,  Mr.  Smoothley," 


1 84       SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

said  he,  with  enthusiasm,  "  and  I  shall  be  more  than 
pleased  to  see  you  there.  I  think,  too,  we  shall  be  able 
to  show  you  some  of  your  favourite  sport  this  season. 
We  meet  four  days  a  week,  and  you  may  reckon  on  at 
least  one  day  with  the  Grassmere.  It  is  always  a  sincere 
pleasure  to  me  to  find  a  young  fellow  whose  heart  is 
in  it." 

As  regards  my  heart,  it  was  in  my  boots  at  the  pros- 
pect ;  and,  despite  the  great  temptation  of  Laura's 
presence,  I  paused,  carefully  to  consider  the  pros  and 
C071S  before  accepting. 

How  pleasant  to  see  her  fresh  face  every  morning  at 
the  breakfast-table !  How  unpleasant  to  see  a  horse, 
most  likely  painfully  fresh  also,  waiting  to  bear  me  on 
a  fearsome  journey  as  soon  as  the  meal  was  concluded ! 
How  delightful  to  feel  the  soft  pressure  of  her  fingers  as 
she  gave  me  morning  greeting !  How  awful  to  feel  my 
own  fingers  numbed  and  stiff  with  tugging  at  the  bridle 
of  a  wild,  tearing,  unmanageable  steed !    How  enjoyable 

to 

"  Are  you  engaged  for  Christmas,  ]\Ir.  Smoothley  ?  " 
Laura  inquired,  and  that  query  settled  me.  It  might 
freeze ;  I  could  sprain  my  ankle,  or  knock  up  an  excuse 
of  some  sort.  Yes,  I  would  go  ;  and  might  good  luck  go 
with  me. 

For  the  next  few  days  I  unceasingly  studied  the  works 
of  Major  Whyte-Melville,  and  others  who  have  most  to 
say  on  what  they  term  sport,  and  endeavoured  to  get  up 
a  little  enthusiasm.     I  did  get  up  a  little — very  little ; 


HUNTINGCROP  HALL.  185 

but  when  the  desired  quality  had  made  its  appearance, 
attracted  by  my  authors'  wizard-like  power,  it  was  of  an 
extremely  spurious  character,  and  entirely  evaporated 
when  I  had  reached  the  little  railway-station  nearest  to 
the  Hall.  A  particularly  neat  groom,  whom  I  recog- 
nised as  having'  been  in  town  with  the  Huntingcrops, 
was  awaiting  me  in  a  dog-cart,  and  the  conveyance  was 
just  starting  when  we  met  a  string  of  horses,  hooded 
and  sheeted,  passing  along  the  road :  in  training,  if  I 
might  be  permitted  to  judge  from  their  actions,  for  the 
wildest  scenes  in  "  Mazeppa,"  "Dick  Turpin,"  or  some 
other  exciting  equestrian  drama.  I  did  not  want  the 
man  to  tell  me  that  they  were  his  master's;  I  knew  it  at 
once  ;  and  the  answers  he  made  to  my  questions  as  to 
their  usual  demeanour  in  the  field  plunged  me  into  an 
abyss  of  despair. 

The  hearty  greeting  of  the  Major,  the  more  subdued 
but  equally  inspiriting  welcome  of  his  daughter,  and  the 
contagious  cheerfulness  of  a  house  full  of  pleasant  people, 
in  some  measure  restored  me ;  but  it  was  not  until  the 
soothing  influence  of  dinner  had  taken  possession  of  my 
bosom,  and  a  whisper  had  run  through  the  establishment 
that  it  was  beginning  to  freeze,  that  I  thoroughly  re- 
covered my  equanimity,  and  was  able  to  retire  to  rest 
with  some  small  hope  that  my  bed  next  night  would  not 
be  one  of  pain  and  suffering. 

Alas,  for  my  anticipations  !  I  was  awakened  from 
slumber  by  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  the  man  entered 
my  room  with  a  can  of  hot  water  in  one  hand  and  a  pair 


1 86        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIE  ID. 

of  tops  in  the  other ;  whilst  over  his  arm  were  slung  my 
— in  point  of  fact,  my  breeches  ;  a  costume  which  I  had 
never  worn  except  on  the  clay  it  came  home,  when  I 
spent  the  greater  portion  of  the  evening  sportingly 
arrayed  astride  of  a  chair,  to  see  how  it  all  felt. 

"  Breakfast  at  nine,  sir.  Hounds  meet  at  Blackbrook 
at  half-joast  ten ;  and  it's  a  good  way  to  ride,"  said  the 
servant. 

"  The  frost's  all  gone,  I  fea I  hope  ? "  I  said  in- 
quiringly. 

"  Yes,  sir.  Lovely  morning  !  "  he  answered,  drawing 
up  the  blinds. 

In  his  opinion  a  lovely  morning  was  characterised  by 
slightly  damp,  muggy  weather ;  in  mine  it  would  have 
been  a  daybreak  of  ultra-Siberian  intensity. 

I  ruefully  dressed,  lamenting  that  my  will  was  not  a 
little  stronger  (nor  were  thoughts  of  my  other  will — and 
testament — entirely  absent),  that  I  might  have  fled  from 
the  trial,  or  done  something  to  rescue  myself  from  the 
exposure  which  I  felt  must  shortly  overwhelm  me.  The 
levity  of  the  men  in  the  breakfast-room  was  a  source  of 
suffering  to  me,  and  even  Laura's  voice  jarred  on  my 
ears  as  she  petitioned  her  father  to  let  her  follow  "just  a 
little  way  " — she  was  going  to  ride  and  see  the  hounds 
"  throw  off,"  a  ceremony  which  I  devoutly  hoped  would 
be  confined  to  those  animals — "  because  it  was /c*^  hard 
to  turn  back  when  the  real  enjoyment  commenced  ;  and 
she  would  be  good  in  the  pony-carriage  for  the  rest  of 
the  week." 


HUNTINGCROP  HALL.  187 

"No,  no,  my  dear,"  replied  the  Major,  "women  are 
out  of  place  in  the  hunting  field.  Don't  you  think  so, 
Mr.  Smoothley  ? " 

"  I  do  indeed,  Major,"  I  answered,  giving  Laura's 
little  dog  under  the  table  a  fearful  kick,  as  I  threw  out 
my  foot  violently  to  straighten  a  crease  which  was 
severely  galling  the  inside  of  my  left  knee.  "You  had 
far  better  go  for  a  quiet  ride.  Miss  Huntingcrop,  and" — 
how  sincerely  I  added — "  I  shall  be  delighted  to  accom- 
pany you  ;  there  will  be  plenty  of  days  for  me  to  hunt 
when  you  drive  to  the  meet." 

"  No,  no,  Smoothley.  It's  very  kind  of  you  to  propose 
it,  but  I  won't  have  you  sacrificing  your  day's  pleasure," 
the  ]\Iajor  made  answer,  dashing  the  crumbs  of  hope 
from  my  hungering  lips.  "You  may  go  a  little  way, 
Laura,  if  you'll  promise  to  stay  with  Sir  William,  and 
do  all  that  he  tells  you.  You  won't  mind  looking  after 
her,  Heathertopper  ? " 

Old  Sir  William's  build  would  have  forbidden  the 
supposition  that  he  was  in  any  way  given  to  activity, 
even  if  the  stolidity  of  his  countenance  had  not  assured 
you  that  caution  was  in  the  habit  of  marking  his  guarded 
way  ;  and  he  made  suitable  response.  I  was  just  debat- 
ing internally  as  to  the  least  circuitous  mode  by  which  I 
could  send  myself  a  telegram,  requiring  my  immediate 
presence  in  town,  when  a  sound  of  hoofs  informed  us 
that  the  horses  were  approaching ;  and  gazing  anxiously 
from  the  window  before  me,  which  overlooked  the  drive 
in  front  of  the  house,  I  noted  their  arrival. 


1 88        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

Now  the  horse  is  an  animal  which  I  have  always 
been  taught  to  admire.  A  "  noble  animal  "  he  is  termed 
by  zoologists,  and  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  admit  his 
nobility  when  he  conducts  himself  with  reticence  and 
moderation  ;  but  when  he  gyrates  like  a  teetotum  on  his 
hind-legs,  and  wildly  spars  at  the  groom  he  ought  to 
respect,  I  cease  to  recognise  any  qualities  in  him  but 
the  lowest  and  most  degrading. 

Laura  hastened  to  the  window,  and  I  rose  from  the 
table  and  followed  her. 

"You  pretty  darlings!"  she  rapturously  exclaimed, 
"Oh  !  are  you  going  to  ride  The  Sultan,  Mr.  Smoothley  ? 
How  nice  !     I  do  so  want  to,  but  papa  won't  let  me." 

"  No,  my  dear,  he's  not  the  sort  of  horse  for  little  girls 
to  ride  ;  but  he'll  suit  you,  Smoothley ;  he'll  suit  you, 
I  know." 

Without  expressing  a  like  confidence,  I  asked,  "Is 
that  The  Sultan  ? "  pointing  to  a  large  chestnut  animal 
at  that  moment  in  the  attitude  which,  in  a  dog,  is  termed 
"  begging." 

"  Yes ;  a  picture,  isn't  he  ?  Look  at  his  legs.  Clean 
as  a  foal's !  Good  quarters — well  ribbed  up — not  like 
one  of  the  waspy  greyhounds  they  call  thoroughbred 
horses  nowadays.  Look  at  his  condition,  too ;  I've 
kept  that  up  pretty  well,  though  he's  been  out  of  train- 
ing for  some  time,"  cried  the  Major. 

"  He's  not  a  racehorse,  is  he  r "  I  nervously  asked. 

"He's  done  a  good  deal  of  steeplechasing,  and  ran 
once  or  twice  in  the  early  part  of  this  season.     It  makes 


HUNTINGCROP  HALL.  189 

a  horse  rush  his  fences  rather,  perhaps  ;  but  you  young 
fellows  like  that,  I  know." 

"  His — eye  appears  slightly  bloodshot,  doesn't  it  ? " 
I  hazarded ;  for  he  was  exhibiting  a  large  amount  of 
what  I  imagine  should  have  been  white,  in  an  unsuc- 
cessful attempt  to  look  at  his  tail  without  turning  his 
head  round.     "  Is  he  quiet  with  hounds  ?  " 

"Playful — a  little  playful,"  was  his  unassuring  reply. 
"  But  we  must  be  off,  gentlemen.  It's  three  miles  to 
Blackbrook,  and  it  won't  do  to  be  late  !  "  And  he  led 
the  w^iy  to  the  Hall,  where  I  selected  my  virgin  whip 
from  the  rack,  and  swallowing  a  nip  of  orange-brandy, 
which  a  servant  providentially  handed  to  me  at  that 
moment,  went  forth  to  meet  my  fate. 

Laura,  declining  offers  of  assistance  from  the  crowd  of 
pink-coated  young  gentlemen  who  were  sucking  cigars 
in  the  porch,  was  put  into  the  saddle  by  her  own  groom. 
I  think  she  looked  to  me  for  aid,  but  I  was  constrained 
to  stare  studiously  in  the  opposite  direction,  having  a 
very  vague  idea  of  the  method  by  which  young  ladies  are 
placed  in  their  saddles.  Then  I  commenced,  and  ulti- 
mately effected,  the  ascent  of  The  Sultan  ;  a  process 
which  appeared  to  me  precisely  identical  with  climbing 
to  the  deck  of  a  man-of-war. 

"  Stirrups  all  right,  sir  ? "  asked  the  groom. 

"This  one's  rather  too  long.  No,  it's  the  other  one, 
I  think."  One  of  them  didn't  seem  right,  but  it  was 
impossible  to  say  which  in  the  agony  of  the  moment. 

He  surveyed  me  critically  from  the  front,  and  then 


190        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIEID. 

took  up  one  stirrup  to  a  degree  that  brought  my  knee 
into  close  proximity  with  my  waistcoat,  The  Sultan 
meanwhile  exhibiting  an  uncertainty  of  temperament 
which  caused  me  very  considerable  anxiety.  Luckily  I 
had  presence  of  mind  to  say  that  he  had  shortened  the 
leather  too  much,  and  there  was  not  much  difference  be- 
tween the  two,  when,  with  Laura  and  some  seven  com- 
panions, I  started  down  the  avenue  in  front  of  the  house. 

The  fundamental  principles  of  horsemanship  are  three  : 
keep  your  heels  down  ;  stick  in  your  knees ;  and  try  to 
look  as  if  you  liked  it.  So  I  am  informed,  and  I  am  at  a 
loss  to  say  which  of  the  three  is  the  most  difficult  of 
execution.  The  fact  that  The  Sultan  started  jerkily 
some  little  time  before  I  was  ready  to  begin,  thereby 
considerably  deranging  such  plans  as  I  was  forming  for 
guidance,  is  to  be  deplored  ;  for  my  hat  was  not  on  very 
firmly,  and  it  was  extremely  awkward  to  find  a  hand  to 
restore  it  to  its  place  when  it  displayed  a  tendency  to 
come  over  my  eyes.  Conversation  under  these  circum- 
stances is  peculiarly  difficult ;  and  I  fear  that  Laura 
found  my  remarks  somewhat  curt  and  strangely  punc- 
tuated. The  Sultan's  behaviour,  however,  had  become 
meritorious  to  a  high  degree ;  and  I  was  just  beginning  to 
think  that  hunting  was  not  so  many  degrees  worse  than 
the  treadmill  when  we  approached  the  scene  of  action. 

Before  us,  as  we  rounded  a  turning  in  the  road,  a 
group  of  some  thirty  horsemen,  to  which  fresh  accessions 
were  constantly  being  made,  chatted  together  and 
watched  a  hilly  descent  to  the  right,  down  which  the  pack 


HUNTINGCROP  HALL.  191 

of  hounds,  escorted  by  several  officials,  was  approaching. 
The  Major  and  his  party  were  cordially  greeted,  and  no 
doubt  like  civilities  would  have  been  extended  to  me  had 
I  been  in  a  position  to  receive  them  ;  but,  unfortunately 
I  was  not ;  for,  on  seeing  the  hounds,  the  "  playfulness  " 
of  The  Sultan  vigorously  manifested  itself,  and  he  com- 
menced a  series  of  gymnastic  exercises  to  which  his 
previous  performances  had  been  a  mere  farce.  I  lost  my 
head,  but  mysteriously  kept  what  was  more  important — 
my  seat,  until  the  tempest  of  his  playfulness  had  in  some 
measure  abated  ;  and  then  he  stood  still,  shaking  with 
excitement.     I  sat  still,  shaking — from  other  causes. 

"  Keep  your  horse's  head  to  the  hounds,  will  you,  sir?" 
was  the  salutation  which  the  master  bestow^ed  on  me, 
cantering  up  as  the  pack  defiled  through  a  gate  ;  and 
indeed  The  Sultan  seemed  anxious  to  kill  a  hound  or  two 
to  begin  with.  "  Infernal  Cockney  !  "  was,  I  fancy,  the 
term  of  endearment  he  used  as  he  rode  on ;  but  I  don't 
think  Laura  caught  any  of  this  short  but  forcible  utter- 
ance, for  just  at  this  moment  a  cry  was  raised  in  the 
wood  to  the  left,  and  the  men  charged  through  the  gate 
and  along  the  narrow  cart-track  with  a  wild  rush.  Again 
The  Sultan  urged  on  his  wild  career,  half-breaking  my 
leg  against  the  gate-post,  as  I  was  very  courteously 
endeavouring  to  get  out  of  the  way  of  an  irascible 
gentleman  behind  me  who  appeared  to  be  in  a  hurry, 
and  then  plunging  me  into  the  midst  of  a  struggling^, 
pushing  throng  of  men  and  horses. 

If  the  other  noble  sportsmen  were  not  enjoying  them- 


192        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

selves  more  than  I,  it  was  certainly  a  pity  that  they  nad 
not  stayed  at  home.  Where  was  this  going  to  end  r  and 
— but  what  was  the  matter  in  front  ?  They  paused,  and 
then  suddenly  all  turned  round  and  charged  back  along 
the  narrow  path.  I  was  taken  by  surprise,  and  got  out 
of  the  way  as  best  I  could,  pulling  my  horse  back  amongst 
the  trees,  and  the  whole  cavalcade  rushed  past  me.  Out 
of  the  wood,  across  the  road,  over  the  opposite  hedge, 
most  of  them ;  some  turn  off  towards  a  gate  to  the  right 
and  away  up  the  rise  beyond,  passing  over  which  they 
were  soon  out  of  sight. 

That  The  Sultan's  efforts  to  follow  them  had  been 
vigorous  I  need  not  say  ;  but  I  felt  that  it  was  a  moment 
for  action,  and  pulled  and  tugged  and  sawed  at  his 
mouth  to  make  him  keep  his  head  turned  away  from 
temptation.  He  struggled  about  amongst  the  trees,  and 
I  felt  that,  under  the  circumstances,  I  should  be  justified 
in  hitting  him  on  the  head.  I  did  so  ;  and  shortly  after- 
wards— it  was  not  exactly  that  I  was  thrown,  but  circum- 
stances induced  me  to  get  off  rather  suddenly. 

My  foot  was  on  my  native  heath.  I  was  alone,  appre- 
ciating the  charms  of  solitude  in  a  degree  I  had  never 
before  experienced  ;  but  after  a  few  minutes  of  thankful- 
ness, the  necessity  of  action  forced  itself  on  my  mind. 
Clearly,  I  must  not  be  seen  standing  at  my  horse's  head 
gazing  smilingly  at  the  prospect — that  would  never  do, 
for  the  whole  hunt  might  reappear  as  quickly  as  they 
had  gone ;  so,  smoothing  out  the  most  troublesome 
creases  in  my  nether  garments,  I  proceeded  to  mount. 
I  say  "  proceeded,"  for  it  was  a  difEcult  and  very  gra- 


HUNTINGCROP  HALL.  193 

dual  operation,  but  was  eventually  managed  through  the 
instrumentality  of  a  little  boy,  who  held  The  Sultan's 
head,  and  addressed  him  in  a  series  of  forcible  epithets 
that  I  should  never  have  dared  to  use :  language,  how- 
ever, which,  though  reprehensible  from  a  moral  point  of 
view,  seemed  to  appeal  to  the  animal's  feelings,  and  was 
at  any  rate  successful. 

He  danced  a  good  deal  when  I  was  once  more  on  his 
back,  and  seemed  to  like  going  in  a  series  of  small 
bounds,  which  were  peculiarly  irritating  to  sit.  But  1 
did  not  so  much  mind  now,  for  no  critical  eye  was  near 
to  watch  my  hand  wandering  to  the  convenient  pommel 
or  to  note  my  taking  such  other  little  precautions  as  the 
exigencies  of  the  situation,  and  the  necessity  for  carrying 
out  the  first  law  of  nature,  seemed  to  suggest. 

Hunting,  in  this  way,  wasn't  really  so  very  bad.  There 
did  not  appear  to  be  so  very  much  danger,  the  morning 
air  was  refreshing  and  pleasant,  and  the  country  looked 
bright.  There  always  seemed  to  be  a  gate  to  each  field, 
which,  though  troublesome  to  open  at  first,  ultimately 
yielded  to  patience  and  perseverance  and  the  handle  of 
my  whip.  I  might  get  home  safely  after  all ;  and  as  for 
my  desertion,  where  every  one  was  looking  after  himself, 
it  was  scarcely  likely  they  could  have  observed  my  de- 
fection. No  ;  this  was  not  altogether  bad  fun.  I  could 
say  with  truth  for  the  rest  of  my  life  that  I  "  had  hunted." 
It  would  add  a  zest  to  the  perusal  of  sporting  literature, 
and,  above  all,  extend  the  range  of  my  charity  by  making 
me  sincerely  appreciate  men  who  really  rode. 

o 


194        ^SK ETC  LIES  IX  THE  IIUXTIXG  FIELD. 

But  alas  !  though  clear  of  the  trees  practicall}^,  I  was, 
metaphorically,  very  far  from  being  out  of  the  wood. 
AVhen  just  endeavouring  to  make  up  my  mind  to  come 
out  again  some  day  I  heard  a  noise,  and,  looking 
behind  me,  saw  the  whole  fearful  concourse  rapidly 
approaching  the  hedge  which  led  into  the  ploughed  field 
next  to  me  on  the  right.  Helter-skelter,  on  they  came. 
Hounds  popping  through,  and  scrambling  over.  Then 
a  man  in  pink  topping  the  fence,  and  on  again  over  the 
plough ;  then  one  in  black  over  wdth  a  rush  ;  two,  three, 
four  more  in  different  places.  Another  by  himself  who 
came  up  rapidly,  and,  parting  company  with  his  horse, 
shot  over  like  a  rocket ! 

All  this  I  noted  in  a  second.  There  was  no  time  to 
watch,  for  The  Sultan  had  seen  the  opportunity  of  making 
up  for  his  lost  day,  and  started  off  with  the  rush  of  an 
express  train.  We  flew  over  the  field  ;  neared  the  fence. 
I  was  shot  into  the  air  like  a  shuttlecock  from  a  battle- 
dore— a  moment  of  dread — then,  a  fearful  shock  which 
landed  me  lopsidedly  somewhere  on  the  animal's  neck. 
He  gives  a  spring  which  shakes  me  into  the  saddle 
again,  and  is  tearing  over  the  grass  field  beyond.  I  am 
conscious  that  I  am  in  the  same  field  as  the  Major,  and 
some  three  or  four  other  men.  We  fly  on  at  frightful 
speed  ;  there  is  a  line  of  willows  in  front  of  us  which  we 
are  rapidly  Hearing.  It  means  water,  I  know.  We  get 
— or  rather  it  comes  nearer — nearer — nearer — ah-h-h  ! 
An  agony  of  semi-unconsciousness — a  splash,  a  fearful 
splash — a  struggle  .... 


HUNTIXGCROP  HALL.  195 

I  am  on  his  back,  somewhere  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  the  saddle  :  without  stirrups,  but  grimly  clutching  a 
confused  mass  of  reins  as  The  Sultan  gently  canters  up 
the  ascent  to  where  the  hounds  are  howling  and  barking 
round  a  man  in  pink,  who  weaves  something  brown  in 
the  air  before  throwing  it  to  them.  I  have  no  sooner 
reached  the  group  than  the  master  arrives,  followed  by 
some  four  or  five  men,  conspicuous  among  whom  is 
the  Major. 

He  hastens  to  me.  To  denounce  me  as  an  impostor  ? 
Have  I  done  anything  wrong,  or  injured  the  horse  ? 

"  I  congratulate  you,  Smoothley,  I  congratulate  you ! 
I  promised  you  a  run,  and  you've  had  one,  and,  by  Jove  ! 
taken  the  shine  out  of  some  of  us.  My  Lord,"  to  the 
master,  "  let  me  present  my  friend,  IMr.  Smoothley,  to 
you.  Did  you  see  him  take  the  water  ?  You  and  I  made 
for  the  Narrow^s,  but  he  didn't  turn  away,  and  went  at  it 
as  if  Sousemere  were  a  puddle.  Eighteen  feet  of  water  if 
it's  an  inch,  and  with  such  a  take-off  and  such  a  landing, 
there's  not  a  man  in  the  hunt  who'd  attempt  it !  Well, 
Heathertopper !  Laura,  my  dear,"  for  she  and  the  bulky 
Baronet  at  this  moment  arrived  at  the  head  of  a  strag- 
gling detachment  of  followers,  "you  missed  a  treat  in 
not  seeing  Smoothley  charge  the  brook : 

"  The  Swirl  is  in  front,  and  of  it  I'm  no  lover  ; 
There's  one  way  to  do  it,  and  that's  at  a  dash; 
But  Christian  is  leading,  and  lightly  pops  over, 

I  follow — we  rise — down  !— No  !  !  done  with  a  splash  ! 

Isn't  that  it  ?     It  was  beautiful !  " 

O    2 


196        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUXTIXG  FIELD. 

It  might  have  been  in  his  opinion ;  in  mine  it  was 
simply  an  act  of  unconscious  insanity,  which  I  had 
rather  die  than  intentionally  repeat. 

"  I  didn't  see  you  all  the  time,  Mr.  Smoothley ;  where 
were  you  ?  "  Laura  asked. 

*' Where  was  he  r "  cried  the  Major.  "Not  following 
you,  my  dear.  He  took  his  own  line,  and,  by  Jove  !  it 
was  a  right  one  !  " 

It  was  not  in  these  terms  that  I  had  expected  to  hear 
the  Major  addressing  me,  and  it  was  rather  bewildering. 
Still  I  trust  that  I  was  not  puffed  up  with  an  unseemly 
vanity  as  Laura  rode  back  by  my  side.  She  looked  lovely 
with  the  flush  of  exercise  on  her  cheek,  and  the  sparkle 
of  excitement  in  her  eyes ;  and  as  we  passed  home- 
wards through  the  quiet  country  lanes  I  forgot  the  pain- 
ful creases  that  were  afflicting  me,  and  with  as  much 
eloquence  as  was  compatible  with  the  motion  of  my 
steed — I  ventured ! 

The  blushes  deepen  on  her  cheek.  She  consents  on 
one  condition  :  I  must  give  up  hunting. 

"  You  are  so  rash  and  daring,"  she  says,  softly — very 
softly,  "  that  I  should  never  be  happy  when  you  were 
out." 

Can  I  refuse  her  anything — even  tJiis  ?     Impossible  ! 

I  promise  :  vowing  fervently  to  myself  to  keep  my 
word ;  and  on  no  account  do  anything  to  increase  the 
reputation  I  made  at  Huntingcrop  Hall, 


XX. 

ACHATES;    OR,    WHO    WON   THE 
KENILWORTH  CUP. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Seven  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  a  day  in  early  February. 
The  sun  is  beginning  to  make  his  way  feebly  through 
the  clouds ;  and  the  birds  in  the  trees  round  about 
Carryl  Castle  are  just  tuning  up  their  songs  in  a  care- 
less sort  of  way,  as  birds  do  when  they  have  no  nests 
to  make,  and  nothing  to  occupy  their  attention  beyond 
the  interchange  of  slight  passages  of  affection  with  the 
chosen  brides  to  whom  they  will  be  united  on  the  com- 
ing St.  Valentine's  Day,  in  accordance  with  immemorial 
custom. 

The  busiest  figures  in  the  landscape  are  two  young 
men  who  have  just  issued  from  the  castle,  and  are  mak- 
ing their  way  down  to  the  road  by  a  bridle  path. 

"  Very  kind  of  you  to  turn  out  at  this  abnormal  hour, 
Beau;  but  you  understand  why  I  am  anxious.  I  want 
to  see  if  the  horse  can  get  anywhere  near  your  mare 
over  three  miles ;  for  if  he  can,  he's  good  enough  to  put 
into  training  for  the  Grand  Military.     I  have  entered 


ujS        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIEID. 

him  for  your  race  at  Kenihvorth,  intending  to  give  him 
a  trial  there  ;  but  you  and  the  mare  can  tell  me  just 
what  I  want  to  know,  and  then  I  need  not  disturb  his 
preparation." 

Dick  Evelyn,  the  speaker,  is  the  eldest  son  of  a 
baronet  in  a  neighbouring'  county,  and  a  shining  light 
in  the  Household  Troops.  He  addresses  his  companion 
as  "  Beau,"  not  on  account  of  any  personal  character- 
istics (though  his  good-looking  face,  set-off  by  a  droop- 
ing fair  moustache,  and  g"enerally  "correct"  appearance, 
might  have  warranted  the  title),  but  as  an  abbreviation 
of  his  name.  Lord  Beauclerc  Carryl.  He  is,  indeed,  the 
youngest  son  of  the  Duke  of  Meadshire,  at  present 
visiting  his  elder  brother,  the  Marquis  of  St.  Asaph,  at 
Carryl  Castle,  where  Dick  Evelyn  is  also  staying. 

"  You  say  he  can  jump  }"  Lord  Beauclerc  inquired. 

"  Like  a  deer.     Did  I  tell  where  I  found  him  ?" 

"You  only  said  that  you  bought  him  from  that 
tobacco-man  who  has  taken  poor  Glendare's  place." 

"  Well,  it  was  the  Tuesday  before  you  came  down," 
Dick  commenced ;  "  we  were  out  with  the  Gorsehamp- 
ton.  I  was  riding  Bullfinch — a  beast  I  never  liked — 
and  after  killing  at  Swinnerton,  I  found  myself  at  five 
o'clock  about  fifteen  miles  from  the  castle,  in  uncom- 
monly heavy  rain,  on  a  horse  as  lame  as  a  tree ;  and 
how  the  deuce  I  was  to  reach  the  house  by  dinner-time 
I  didn't  know.  I  was  leading  Bullfinch  down  a  lane 
when  I  met  IManners,  and  he  offered  me  a  mount.  I 
looked  over  his  stables,  and,  'pon  my  word,  never  saw 


]yiIO    WON  THE  KEAUL  WORTH  CUP.  199 

such  a  sorry  lot  of  beasts  in  all  my  life — I  wouldn't  have 
given  ^5  a  head  for  the  whole  collection.  Achates  was 
the  most  likel}'  looking,  so  I  started  on  him.  There 
wasn't  much  time,  for  it  was  past  six,  and  I  didn't  want 
to  be  late  for  dinner ;  so  I  set  off,  thinking  that  I  had 
my  work  cut  out.  I  was  never  so  astonished  in  my  life  ! 
To  do  Bullfinch  justice,  he  can  jump  for  ten  minutes  or 
so ;  but  he  was  nothing  to  this  beast,  who  went  at 
everything  as  if  it  had  been  made  for  him." 

"Did  Manners  christen  him  r" 

"Yes,"  Dick  replied.  "He  bought  him  because  he 
was  an  excellent  match  for  a  horse  he  used  to  drive  in  a 
dog-cart,  and  thought  the  pair  would  go  well  in  double- 
harness.  I  don't  suppose  Manners  was  ever  what  you'd 
call  educated :  he  picked  up  scraps  of  knowledge  here 
and  there,  but  at  the  tobacco  manufactory  in  White- 
chapel,  where  he  found  most  of  them,  the  classics  did 
not  flourish ;  however,  he  had  heard  the  term  Jidus 
Achates  in  relation  to  intim.ate  friendship,  and  it  occurred 
to  him  that  Fidus  and  AcJiatcs  were  probably  brothers 
who  were  much  devoted  to  each  other,  so  he  named  the 
beasts  accordingly  and  harnessed  them  to  the  phaeton. 
Achates  was  a  perfect  match  for  Fidus,  but  he  was  a 
good  deal  more  than  a  match  for  the  coachman.  You 
see,  as  far  as  harness  went,  he  was  entirely  unbroken  ; 
but  it  was  different  with  the  carriage — that  was  broken 
up  small.  He  was  a  very  willing  sort  of  horse,  but  he 
didn't  understand  the  business — didn't  enter  into  the 
spirit  of  the  thing  at  all — and  when  he  saw  the  lodge 


2  00        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

gate  in  front,  thought  they  wanted  him  to  jump  it,  I 
suppose  ;  at  any  rate  he  charged  it  before  the  fellow 
could  get  it  open.  He  knocked  himself  about  a  good 
deal,  but  not  seriously  ;  of  course  the  trap  was  spoilt ; 
Manners  landed  on  his  head,  so  he  was  all  right,  and 
the  coachman  broke  something — arm,  I  think.  When  I 
sent  for  Bullfinch,  I  returned  Achates,  offering  to  buy 
him ;  and  as  Manners  did  not  know  what  to  do  with 
him,  he  was  giad  to  sell.  You  know  the  fellow,  don't 
you  ?" 

"Yes;  St.  Asaph  had  him  up  to  dine  once  or  twice 
when  he  came  to  the  county,  but  he  didn't  answer. 
When  poor  Glendare  had  to  leave  England  we  hoped 
the  Duke  would  buy  the  place,  but  he  didn't,  and  ]\Ian- 
ners  paid  the  price  without  flinching.  It  was  useful  to 
him  just  then,  because  he  had  a  contract  to  supply  the 
Prussian  army  with  cigars,  and  he  could  grow  the 
material  on  the  estate  cheaper  than  he  could  buy  it ; 
cabbage  I  thought,  but  they  say  it's  lettuce — however, 
that  does  not  matter.  St.  Asaph  thought  he  was  a 
harmless  sort  of  person  and  asked  him  ;  but  he  wasn't 
nice,  and  one  morning  got  too  friendly,  don't  you  know. 
The  hounds  were  meeting  at  the  castle,  and  there  were 
a  good  many  fellows  at  breakfast,  and  on  the  sideboard 
was  a  big  joint  of  beef  amongst  other  things — a  baron, 
don't  you  call  it  r — which  seemed  to  strike  Manners  a 
good  deal  :  '  This  is  what  I  like,  my  lord  !  the  good  old 
English  style!'  he  said,  after  being  rather  offensive  all 
breakfast;  and  St.  Asaph  had  been  so  very  courteous 


WHO    WON  THE  KENILWORTH  CUP.  201 

that  Manners  thought  it  would  point  the  remark  if  he 
slapped  him  on  the  back  :  '  This  is  what  I  call  cut  and 
come  again  ! '  St.  Asaph  could  stand  a  good  deal,  but 
being  patted  on  the  back  was  too  much ;  '  He  may  C7i.t 
as  much  as  he  likes,'  my  brother  muttered  to  me,  '  but 
I'll  take  care  he  never  couies  again  !'  'Bad  Manners,' 
St.  Asaph  calls  him." 

They  turned  aside  from  the  road  up  a  somewhat  muddy 
lane  and,  knocking  at  the  door  of  a  low-roofed  farm- 
house, were  promptly  admitted  by  a  hale-looking  old 
man,  who  ushered  them  into  a  tiled  kitchen  hung  round 
with  pictures  of  hunting  and  racing  celebrities,  man  and 
beast,  and  decorated  in  such  a  way  as  bespoke  the 
residence  of  a  trainer — a  position  in  life  which  Mat 
Straightley  occupied  with  considerable  success. 

"Good  morning,  my  lord — good  morning,  sir!"  he 
said  cheerily.  "  Yes,  sir,  I  fetched  Achates  from  Mr. 
Manners'  place  last  night,"  he  answered  to  Dick 
Evelyn's  question. 

"And  how's  the  mare,  Straightley  r"  Beauclerc  asked. 

"  All  right,  my  lord ;  as  well  as  she  can  be,  and  as 
lively  as  a  kitten.  The  boys  are  in  the  stable,  gentle- 
men; and  if  you'll  just  have  something  to  take  the  edge 
off  the  morning  air,  we'll  start.  A  glass  of  brown 
sherry  ?     You  know  the  tap,  my  lord  ?  " 

"No,  thanks,  Straightley.  Too  early  for  sherry,  don't 
you  think  ?  There  they  are  !  By  Jove,  she  does  look 
well !  " 

Evelyn   glanced    out  of  the   window   to   the    stable- 


202        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTLXG  FIELD. 

yard  into  which  the  animals  had  just  been  led.  A  lively 
little  bay  mare,  and  a  long,  j^owerfid,  short-legged  .chest- 
nut horse,  with  a  lean  head  and  a  w^ell-bred  looking 
neck,  set  into  a  pair  of  perfect  shoulders. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  him,  Straightley  r  "  Dick  asked, 
as  he  finished  the  rum  and  milk  which  had  been  sub- 
stituted for  sherry,  and  took  up  his  hunting  crop  from 
the  table. 

"  Looks  likely  enough,  sir,  and  would  be  a  good  deal 
better  for  a  fortnight's  work,"  ]\Iat  answered,  as  he 
opened  the  door,  and  hurried  on  to  speak  to  the  boys 
who  were  leading  the  animals  down  the  lane. 

"I'm  deuced  anxious  about  the  15th,  Dick;  for  if  I 
don't  pull  it  off  I  shall  be  in  a  very  nasty  hole,  I  can  tell 
you,"  Lord  Beauclerc  confided  to  his  friend,  as  they 
followed.  "  Besides,  it  would  be  a  pleasure  to  get  a  pull 
out  of  Heidenberg.  I've  dropped  more  than  I  like  to 
think  about  to  that  fellow  in  the  last  six  months :  and 
though  I  don't  mean  to  say  anything  against  his  honesty, 
the  w^ay  he  got  hold  of  the  kings  that  night  we  played 
ecartc  at  his  place  was — well,  it  was  unusual !  I'm  glad 
that  I'm  not  going  to  ride,  myself,  at  Kenilworth,  for  I 
should  be  so  nervous,  and  Rosendale  won't  make  a 
mistake." 

"You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  you,  '  the  pillar  of  a 
ducal  house,'  as  Manners  calls  you,  could  be  made 
uncomfortable  by  the  loss  of  a  few  hundreds  ? "  Dick 
remarked. 

"Yes,  I'm  a  pillar^  all  right ;  but  I'm  a  pillar  without 


WHO    WON  THE  KENILWORTH  CUP.  203 

any  capital^'  Beauclerc  went  on,  and  Dick  wondered 
whether  he  meant  it  for  a  joke.  "  Besides,  there  are  a 
good  many  hundreds  depending  on  this  race ;  however, 
I  don't  fear  anything.  Heidenberg's  horse  is  about  the 
best ;  but  we  beat  him  at  Warwick,  and  meet  now  on 
ten  pounds  better  terms.  I  want  some  money,  and 
should  much  prefer  getting  my  own  back  from  him  to 
finding  any  elsewhere.  Is  this  the  ground  r  "  he  asked 
Straightley,  seeing  that  the  horses  had  stopped,  and 
that  their  attendants  were  removing  the  hoods  and 
sheets,  and  tightening  the  girths. 

"  Yes,  my  lord ;  you  go  right  round  the  flag  by  the 
cottage  yonder,  then  turn  rather  sharp  off  to  the  left 
towards  where  you  see  another  flag  on  the  hill  there  ; 
round  that  and  the  next  and  then  you'll  come  down  to 
the  brook,  and  home  over  the  hurdles.  That's  a  little 
over  three  miles." 

Beauclerc  was  soon  in  the  saddle,  and,  so  far  as  per- 
fection of  seat  may  be  taken  as  a  criterion  of  jockey- 
ship,  there  was  certainly  no  fault  to  find  with  him  as  he 
went  lightly  over  the  first  hurdle  and  back  again.  Dick 
mounted  Achates,  and  ]\Iat  Straightley,  who  was  more 
than  rather  critical,  could  find  no  fault  with  the  way  his 
legs  hung  over  the  saddle.  If  there  was  a  pin  to  choose 
between  the  two  men  perhajDs  the  choice  would  have 
fallen  on  Lord  Beauclerc ;  but  I  don't  think  there  was. 

The  horse  and  mare  were  in  a  line  before  Mat :  "  Are 
you  ready,  gentlemen  V  he  asked.  "Then  go  !"  and  in 
three  seconds  the  two  were  over  the  fence  and  well  into 


204        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

the  next  field,  heading  for  the  flag  by  Straightley's 
house,  the  mare,  her  own  length  in  front,  getting  over 
the  heavy  plough  more  easily  than  Achates.  In  this 
order  they  land  over  a  hedge,  with  a  ditch  on  the  take-off 
side,  into  the  grass  :  much  better  going  here ;  the  mare 
shakes  her  head  and  plays  with  her  bit  as  she  feels  her 
rider's  light  hand  on  the  rein :  Achates  following  with 
a  mighty  stride.  Easily  over  some  posts  and  rails, 
gently  in  and  out  of  a  double,  and  round  the  first  flag ; 
the  mare  with,  perhaps,  a  trifle  the  better  lead  than 
before  while  ascending  the  hill.  More  than  half  the 
journey  is  over,  and  Beauclerc  puts  on  a  little  spurt  and 
comes  down  quickly  to  the  water ;  but  Achates  is  not  to 
be  shaken  ofl",  and  they  land  over  the  brook  simul- 
taneously. It  is  half  a  mile  to  home,  over  two  hurdles, 
and  the  mare's  rider  glances  anxiously  at  his  com- 
panion, who  is  pounding  away  steadily  on  nearly  equal 
terms  with  him.  There  is  a  slight  jerk  in  the  mare's 
stride,  and  a  want  of  that  free  spring  with  which  she 
started,  for  the  pace  has  been  very  hot.  Over  the 
hurdle  Dick  is  taking  it  very  quietly,  and  for  the  first 
time  Beauclerc  feels  uncomfortable,  and  inclined  to 
think  that  he  is  only  keeping  the  half  length  ahead  on 
sufferance.  They  charge  the  last  hurdle  together. 
Neither  of  the  animals  have  been  touched  as  yet ;  but 
Beauclerc  sees  that  if  he  is  to  win  he  must  fight  for  it, 
so  he  takes  tight  hold  of  the  mare's  head,  and  sets  her 
going.  She  pluckily  responds,  and  shoots  out  beyond 
Achates ;  but  only  for  a  moment,  for  when  Dick  takes 


WHO    WON  THE  KENILWORTH  CUP.  205 

up  his  whij^  his  horse  is  immediately  seen  in  advance, 
and  gallops  past  Straightley  first  by  two  lengths. 

They  pull  up  as  soon  as  possible,  and  walk  back 
to  him  side  by  side.  At  length  Dick  broke  the 
silence. 

"  I  suppose  you  were  trying,  Beau  ? "  he  asked. 

Lord  Beauclerc  was  almost  too  staggered  to  speak, 
but  at  last  he  found  tongue  to  reply : 

"  I  was  trying  hard  enough,  I  assure  you ! " 

"  I  wasn't  particularly.  Achates  seems  to  show  it 
more  than  the  mare,  but  all  the  same,  I  could  have  won 
a  good  deal  further,"  Dick  answered,  hardly  knowing 
what  to  make  of  it. 

"What's  the  matter  with  her,  Straightley?"  Beau- 
clerc asked,  with  a  tinge  of  vexation  in  his  voice,  as 
they  rejoined  the  trainer. 

"  Nothing  the  matter  with  her,  my  lord,  but  she  can't 
gallop  like  the  chestnut — nor  jump,  neither ;  and  what's 
more,  he'll  be  7  lbs.  better  by  the  15th.  I'm  afraid  it's 
all  up  with  our  chance !"  Mat  said  in  a  sorrowful  tone; 
but,  patting  the  mare's  neck  forgivingly,  "  she  could 
only  do  her  best." 

"  Yes  ;  there's  not  much  doubt  about  that,  I  fancy  !  " 
her  owner  said,  as  he  dismounted — one  stage  down  into 
the  hole  he  had  spoken  about,  he  fancied. 

"  What  nonsense  !  "  Dick  burst  in.  "  My  dear  Beau, 
what  are  you  thinking  of !  I  sha'n't  run  him  at  Kenil- 
worth  on  any  account — of  course  not !  I  wouldn't 
interfere  with  your  book  for  all  the  world  ;  but  I'll  send 


2o6        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  EI  ELD. 

him  down  to  Hednesford,  and  it'll  take  a  good  one  to 
beat  him  for  the  Grand  Military,  or  I'm  liiuch  mis- 
taken." 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  15th  of  February  had  dawned,  and  the  sun  was 
shining  down  brilliantly  on  Kenilworth  racecourse,  as 
if  he  took  an  interest  in  sporting  matters  ;  and,  indeed, 
there  seems  some  ground  for  the  supposition,  consider- 
ing how  good  a  whip  Phoebus  is  reported  to  have  been 
in  his  ^''ounger  days.  Beauclerc  had  left  his  brother's 
drag,  and  was  loitering  about  by  himself  near  the  pad- 
dock, noticing  with  pleasure  the  slight  print  his  boots 
left  in  the  turf,  which  showed  how  good  was  the  going. 
The  mare  had  progressed  to  her  trainer's  entire  satis- 
faction, and  he  was  proudly  leading  her  about  before 
her  master's  admiring  eyes.  Baron  Heidenberg's  horse, 
Konig,  had  just  arrived,  and  Beauclerc  glanced  at  it 
with  a  shade  of  anxiety  in  his  face.  As  he  had  con- 
fided to  Evelyn,  the  Baron  had  won  a  heavy  amount 
from  him  lately,  and  Beauclerc  had  backed  the  mare 
against  Konig  to  an  extent  which  he  could  not  help 
terming  heav}^,  though  that  was  only  one  item  in  the 
book  he  had  made  about  her.  However,  there  didn't 
seem  much  to  fear,  considering  the  estimate  he  could 
form  of  the  horse's  powers  ;  neither  had  he  lost  faith  in 
the  mare,  being  rather  inclined  to  believe  that  Achates 
was  an  altogether  exceptional  animal. 


WHO    WON  THE  KEXIL  WORTH  CUP.  207 

Suddenly  Straightley  joined  him. 

"Do  you  see  that,  my  lord  r"  he  asked,  pointing  to  a 
big  chestnut  which  had  just  entered  the  field.  Beauclerc 
recognised  it  at  once,  and  he  and  his  trainer  gazed  into 
each  other's  faces. 

"  Achates  !  Nonsense,  Straightley.  What  is  he  here 
for  ? " 

"To  run  for  this  race,"  answered  the  trainer  savagely, 
"  he's  named  for  it  by  Mr.  Henford." 

"  Absurd  !  Why,  Mr.  Evelyn  told  me — you  heard 
what  he  said  !  " 

"Yes,  my  lord,  and  I  have  just  heard  what  that  boy 
said,  too,"  Straightley  answered,  and  they  walked 
towards  the  groom  who  was  attending  to  the  new 
arrival. 

"  Is  Mr.  Evelyn  going  to  ride,  boy  ? "  Beauclerc 
inquired. 

"  No,  sir.  Sam  Wyatt  has  the  mount,"  was  the 
answer.  Wyatt  was  a  professional  who  had  often 
ridden  for  Evelyn,  and  who  approached  at  this  moment, 
with  a  blue  jacket  showing  under  his  great-coat — 
Evelyn's  colours. 

"  T/uy  know  it,  too,"  Straightley  said  as  they  turned 
away,  jerking  his  head  towards  the  noisy  ring ;  "  the 
mare's  gone  back  two  points  in  the  betting." 

"  Five  to  two,  bar  one  !  "  "  Five  to  two  agin  Lady 
May !  "  resounded  from  the  crowded  enclosure.  They 
had  been  betting  six  to  four  against  the  mare  jDreviously, 
so  the  secret  had  oozed  out. 


2o8        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIEID. 

"  Well,  Straightley,  we  must  do  our  best,  that's  all !  " 
Beauclerc  said,  as  he  left  his  trainer's  side  rather 
hastily;  for  he  did  not  want  to  be  told  that  if  Achates 
stood  up,  Lady  May  had  no  chance ;  he  knew  that,  but 
he  was  more  hurt  at  the  duplicity  of  his  friend  than  at 
the  almost  certain  loss  that  was  coming  upon  him. 

Evelyn  had  left  Carryl,  and  professed  his  inability  to 
come  to  the  races ;  but  still  Beauclerc  was  not  much 
surprised,  when  he  had  walked  about  fifty  yards,  to  see 
his  treacherous  friend  approaching  him  behind  the  line 
of  carriages  drawn  up  by  the  rails. 

*'  I've  been  looking  for  you  everywhere.  Beau  !  You 
see,  I  got  away  after  all !  "  Dick  said. 

"  So  I  perceive,  Mr.  Evelyn ;  and  now  I  wish  you  a 
good  morning,  sir,"  Beauclerc  answered,  turning  round. 

Dick  seemed  a  good  bit  astonished,  and  stood  gazing 
vaguely,  for  a  moment.  He  evidently  had  not  expected 
this  cut,  and  appeared  quite  unable  to  make  it  out :  but, 
checking  an  impulse  to  use  strong  language,  he  fol- 
lowed Beauclerc ;  who  responded  to  a  tap  on  the 
shoulder  by  a  contemptuous,  rather  than  an  angry 
stare. 

*'  Lord  Beauclerc,  we've  been  friends  for  a  good  many 
years,  and  we  parted  friends  when  I  left  Carryl  last 
week.  You  know  enough  of  me  to  be  sure  that  I  don't 
want  to  force  my  society  on  any  one  ;  but  all  the  same, 
I  can't  help  thinking  from  your  manner  that  you  are 
labouring  under  a  delusion  of  some  kind,  and  I  should 
like  to  put  it  right." 


WHO    WON  THE  KENILWORTH  CUP.  209 

"  There  is  no  delusion,  sir,"  Beauclerc  answered. 

"  Then,  what  the  deuce  is  it  ?  Will  you  kindly  ex- 
plain, because  I'm  not  aware  of  having  done  anything 
particularly  atrocious  since  last  week  ?  "  said  Evelyn. 

"  I  think  I've  seen  that  animal  before,  Mr.  Evelyn  !  " 
and  Beauclerc  pointed  to  a  group,  in  which  Wyatt 
was  inspecting  his  horse's  trappings  preparatory  to 
mounting. 

"  I've  no  doubt  you  have,  Lord  Beauclerc,  and  I  was 
just  going  to  tell  you  about  it ;  but  your  strange  man- 
ner repelled  the  confidence."  He  was  silent  for  a 
moment,  and  then  continued :  "  Look  here,  Beauclerc, 
we've  been  a  good  deal  together  since  we  were  boys, 
and  I  don't  think  you've  ever  known  me  do  anything 
exceptionally  blackguardly  ? " 

"  j\Iost  certainly  not ;  and  I'm,  therefore,  the  more 
surprised,  Evelyn " 

"  Will  you  defer  your  surprise  for  half  an  hour,  and 
put  yourself  entirely  in  my  hands  ?  Will  you  ? "  Dick 
asked. 

For  half  a  second  Beauclerc  paused.  Achates,  he 
felt  certain,  could  win  this  race.  There  stood  Achates 
in  perfect  health  and  condition.  If  Evelyn  didn't  intend 
to  win,  he  was  going  to  rope  his  horse  and  lose  on  pur- 
pose, and  that  was  just  about  as  low  a  thing  to  do  as  to 
go  for  the  race  after  the  assurance  he  had  given  his 
friend  on  the  morning  of  the  trial.  This  side  of  the 
question  seemed  very  close  and  conclusive  ;  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  Dick  was  a  gentleman,  and  so  that  side  of 

P 


2  10        SKl^TCIIKS  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

the  scale  came  down  the  heavier,  and  Beauclerc  gave 
consent. 

"Have  you  hedged  at  all?"  Evelyn  inquired. 

"Not  a  penny,"  Beauclerc  answered — perhaps  just  a 
trifle  regretfully. 

"And  you  think  that  the  mare  can  beat  everything 
but  Achates  ? " 

"  Yes  ;  I'm  pretty  sure  of  that,  because " 

Before  he  could  finish  the  sentence,  Heidenberg 
joined  the  pair,  with  a  gorgeous-bound  betting-book 
in  his  hand,  and  fully  equipped  for  the  race. 

"  I  suppose  you  don't  care  to  do  any  more  about  your 
mare,  my  lord?"  said  the  Baron. 

Beauclerc  glanced  at  Dick,  who  slightly  nodded.  To 
refuse  would  have  been  to  betray  want  of  confidence, 
and  though  Beauclerc  really  did  not  care  to  "  do  any 
more,"  with  a  stupid  absence  of  decision  of  character 
he  answered : 

"  Your  supposition  is  incorrect.  Baron ;  I  am  quite 
ready  to  go  on." 

"  Five  to  two,  then,  against  Lady  INIay  ?  In  thou- 
sands ? "  and  Beauclerc  nodded  assent. 

"  With  you,  sir,  if  you  will.  Do  you  back  the  mare  ?  " 
the  foreigner  said  to  Dick,  with  whom  he  was  slightly 
acquainted,  and  who  answered  with  a  bow,  "In  hun- 
dreds. Baron." 

Then  the  bell  rang  to  clear  the  course  for  the  im- 
portant race ;  and  Beauclerc,  j^referring  the  stand  to  his 
brother's  drag,  ascended  the  structure  with  Dick,  and 


WHO    WON  THE  KENIL  WORTH  CUP.  211 

very  soon  the  horses  swept  past  in  their  preliminary- 
canter.  Rosendale,  in  a  bright  pink  jacket  with  white 
sleeves,  came  first  on  the  mare ;  then  Konig,  a  power- 
ful, good-looking  horse,  ridden  by  his  owner,  in  black 
and  red.  Wyatt's  mount  attracted  a  good  deal  of  atten- 
tion, as  did  Hades,  a  handsome  black.  There  were 
three  others,  against  which  you  might  have  obtained 
long  odds. 

Beauclerc  made  efforts  at  ordinary  conversation,  but 
without  success ;  for  though  Evelyn  took  matters  much 
in  his  usual  easy  way,  it  was  impossible  to  hide  the  fact 
that  there  was  a  shadow  of  some  sort  between  the  two 
men ;  and,  indeed,  perhaps  they  were  both  too  anxious 
to  be  thoroughly  cheerful. 

The  start  was  effected  a  little  to  the  left  of  the  stand, 
and  immediately  afterwards  the  seven  horses  swept 
past  in  a  compact  body  :  they  had  not  jumped  as  yet. 
Except  by  a  swindle,  Beauclerc  could  not  see  how 
Achates  was  to  be  prevented  from  winning;  and  he 
was  debating  earnestly  within  himself  as  to  whether  he 
ought  not  to  have  warned  Rosendale  of  the  danger  to 
be  anticipated  from  the  unexpected  arrival  when  the  lot 
came  in  sight  for  the  second  time,  Hades  leading, 
galloping  hard ;  Konig  next ;  Lady  May  well  ujo, 
pulling  double;  three  more  in  straggling  order;  but 
Achates — where  was  he  ? 

"Where's  Achates?"  Beauclerc  asked.  The  horse 
could  jump,  and  AVyatt  could  ride,  and  altogether 
the  affair   looked    very   ugly  for  Dick   Evelyn.     "Ah! 

P  2 


212        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

why — it  can't  be.  Yes — there  he  is  !  Look  !  look, 
Dick !  " 

At  the  second  fence — some  posts  and  rails — which 
the  horses  were  just  approaching  for  the  second  time, 
was  Wyatt,  fighting  angrily  with  his  refractory  mount. 
Persuasion  hadn't  succeeded  in  making  him  jump,  so 
his  jockey  was  trying  abuse.  Beauclerc  remembered 
having  heard  Dick  say,  "He'd  go  at  a  haystack — I 
don't  say  jump  it,  but  he'd  try;"  and  the  fence  which 
stopped  him  now  was  nothing.  The  others  rushed 
over,  and  then,  momentarily  inspired  by  the  example, 
Wyatt's  beast  went  at  it  also  with  a  feeble  sort  of  hop, 
knocked  all  his  four  legs  hard,  and,  having  tumbled 
down,  didn't  seem  to  care  at  all  about  getting  up  any 
more. 

"Look  at  him!  Do  you  see?"  cried  Beauclerc, 
gazing  through  his  field-glasses. 

"No,  I  don't,"  Dick  answered,  with  his  glass  focussed 
on  the  performance  ;  "  and  if  you  can  see  Achates,  all  I 
can  say  is  I  congratulate  you  on  your  eyesight,  for  that 
noble  animal  is  at  the  present  moment  comfortably 
reposing  in  his  stall  at  Hednesford." 

"  What !  why — who,  then  ? "  vaguely  cried  Beau- 
clerc, less  than  ever  able  to  make  it  out. 

"  I'll  tell  you  directly.  Look  out !  Here  they 
come !  "  And  they  did  come ;  only  three  in  it  now, 
Konig  leading,  but  evidently  with  labour;  then,  neck- 
and-neck,  Hades  and  the  mare  ;  but  she  is  going  well 
within  herself,  and  the  man  on  Hades  is  hard  at  work. 


WHO    WON  THE  KEXILWORTH  CUP.  213 

At  the  distance  Rosendale  sets  her  going,  and  Beau- 
clerc  felt  her  between  his  knees  as  he  looked — he  knew 
that  bounding  stride  so  well !  On  she  comes  up  to 
Konig's  shoulders  —  level  —  a  head  —  a  neck  —  half  a 
length — a  length  in  front :  like  a  greyhound,  like  a 
deer,  like  just  whatever  gallops  best  of  all.  Hades  is 
nearly  done  with  :  Heidenberg  sits  down  and  begins  to 
ride  furiously ;  but  I  think  Rosendale  has  backed  his 
mount  rather  heavily,  for  he  laughs  aloud  as  his  pink 
jacket  shoots  past  the  post  first  by  three  lengths. 

Beauclerc  laughs  too,  as  a  man  may  be  permitted  to 
do  when  he  is  ;^  12,000  to  the  good. 

"  Yah ! "  shouted  the  crowd  as  the  supposititious 
Achates  rejoins  his  companions  by  crossing  the  first 
fence  in  the  wrong  direction ;  and  Evelyn  gives  his 
explanation : 

"  I  told  Manners  how  good  Achates  was,  and  that  I 
was  going  to  enter  him  for  this  race  and  some  others. 
Manners  thought  that  if  Achates  could  jump,  Fidus, 
being  similarly  shaped,  must  be  gifted  with  similar 
powers.  (You  may  judge  what  a  perfect  match  the  two 
are.)  So  he  entered  his  animal,  and  engaged  Wyatt  to 
ride ;  and  if  Mr.  Wyatt  has  not  mounted  one  of  my  old 
jackets  he's  got  something  uncommonly  like  it." 

"  But  how  is  it  that  the  mare  went  back,  and  wasn't 
favourite  at  the  start  r"  Beauclerc  wondered. 

"  I  fancy  that  is  to  be  attributed  to  one  of  Straight- 
ley's  boys,  who  probably  made  the  same  mistake  as 
you.     He  knew  that  the  horse  he  fetched  from  Manners' 


2  14        SKETCHES  EY  THE  II  EN  TING  FIELD. 

stables  had  beaten  the  mare,  and  not  knowing  that  I 
had  bought  Achates  and  taken  him  away,  naturally 
thought  that  it  was  Fidus.  That's  the  only  way  I  can 
see  out  of  it,  at  least,"  Dick  answered. 

By  this  time  Fidus  had  reached  the  neighbourhood  of 
the  paddock,  w^here  the  two  friends  stood,  and  they 
looked  at  him  with  varying  emotions.  Wyatt  dis- 
mounted, and,  not  at  all  abashed  at  that  little  matter  of 
the  borrowed  jacket,  gave  a  grin  expressive  of  comic 
disgust  as  he  slid  from  the  saddle  and  acknowledged 
Dick's  presence. 

"  And  so  that  is  Fidus,  is  it  r "  Beauclerc  asked. 

"That  is  the  noble  animal,  though  he  doesn't  appear 
to  advantage  with  a  saddle  and  bridle  on,  especially 
with  a  jockey  on  his  back  and  a  plaited  mane,"  Dick 
replied. 

Beauclerc  looked  at  the  unconscious  cause  of  his  late 
perplexity,  and  then  at  the  card. 

**  What  are  you  studying  ? "  Dick  asked. 

"  There's  no  Fidus  down  here  r "  Beauclerc  said, 
reading  the  list  of  horses. 

"I  dare  say  not,  but  there's  a  'Juno'  though.  In 
some  strange  way  Manners  found  out  that  Fidus  wasn't 
a  name,  and  he  discovered  that  Juno  was ;  so  with  a 
trifling  disregard  for  gender  the  animal  was  rechris- 
tcned.  He  told  me  he  knew  Juno  was  a  'proper  name.' 
I  was  going  to  say,  under  the  circumstances,  it  was  a 
very  improper  name,  only  I  did  not  see  the  good  of 
explaining." 


Il'/yC    IWiV  rilE  KENIL  WORTH  CUP.  215 

In  the  paddock,  watching  the  saddling  of  a  horse  St. 
Asaph  was  going  to  run  in  the  next  race,  Beauclerc 
began  to  knock  a  hole  in  the  ground  with  his  heel, 
watching  the  excavation  attentively.  Presently  he 
gave  tongue : 

"  I  say,  Dick — I  beg  your  pardon — I  had  a  very 
unhappy  half-hour,  I  can  tell  you ;  but  I  thoroughly 
deserved  it  for  behaving  like  a  cad,  in  not  being  assured 
that  a  gentleman's  word  is  more  worthy  of  credence 
than  a  fellow's  eyesight." 

Dick  Evelyn  smiled  very  kindly  : 

"  Poor  old  Beau,"  he  said,  "you  didn't  suppose  that 
I  was  going  to  put  you  in  a  hole,  did  you  r "  and  then 
they  strolled  off  arm  in  arm. 

I  don't  think  that  their  friendship  was  at  all  de- 
creased because  of  the  misunderstanding  which  took 
place  the  day  that  the  Kenilworth  Cup  was  not  won 
by  Achates. 


XXI. 

ONLY    THE    MARE. 

When  one  opens  a  suspicious-looking  envelope  and 
finds  something  about  "  ]\Ir.  Shopley's  respectful  com- 
pliments "  on  the  inside  of  the  flap,  the  chances  are  that 
Mr.  Shopley  is  hungering  for  what  we  have  Ovid's 
authority  for  terming  irritaincnta  malonmi.  Not  wish- 
ing to  have  my  appetite  for  breakfast  spoiled,  I  did  not 
pursue  my  researches  into  a  communication  of  this  sort 
which  was  amongst  my  letters  on  a  certain  morning  in 
November,  but  turned  over  the  pile  until  the  familiar 
caligraphy  of  Bertie  Peyton  caught  my  6)^6 ;  for  Bertie 
was  Nellie's  brother,  and  Nellie  Peyton,  it  had  been 
decided,  would  shortly  cease  to  be  Nellie  Peyton  ;  a 
transformation  for  which  I  was  the  person  most  respon- 
sible. Bertie's  communication  was  therefore  seized 
with  avidity.     It  ran  as  follows  : — 

"  The  Lodge,  Holmesdale. 

"  My  dear  Charlie, 

"  I  sincerely  hope  that  you  have  no  important  en- 
gagements just  at  present,  as  I  want  you  down  here 
most  particularly. 


ONLY  THE  MARE.  217 

"  You  know  that  there  was  a  small  race-meeting  at 
Bibury  the  other  day.  I  rode  over  on  Little  Lady,  and 
found  a  lot  of  the  140th  Dragoons  there  ;  that  conceited 
young  person  Blankney  amongst  the  number.  Now, 
although  Blankney  has  a  very  considerable  personal 
knowledge  of  the  habits  and  manners  of  the  ass,  he 
doesn't  know  much  about  horses  ;  and  for  that  reason 
he  saw  fit  to  read  us  a  lecture  on  breeding  and  training, 
pointing  his  moral  and  adorning  his  tale  with  a  refer- 
ence to  my  mare — whose  pedigree,  you  know,  is  above 
suspicion.  After,  however,  he  had  kindly  informed  us 
what  a  thoroughbred  horse  ought  to  be,  he  looked  at 
Little  Lady  and  said,  '  Now,  I  shouldn't  think  that 
thing  was  thoroughbred  !  '  It  ended  by  my  matching 
her  against  that  great  raw-boned  chestnut  of  his  :  three 
and  a  half  miles  over  the  steeplechase  course,  to  be  run 
at  the  Holmesdale  Meeting,  on  the  4th  December. 

"  As  you  may  guess,  I  didn't  want  to  win  or  lose  a  lot 
of  money,  and  when  he  asked  what  the  match  should  be 
for,  I  suggested  ^£20  a  side.'  *  Hardly  worth  while 
making  a  fuss  for  ^20! '  he  said,  rather  sneerily.  '^120, 
if  you  like  ! '  I  answered,  rather  angrily,  hardly  mean- 
ing what  I  said;  but  he  pounced  on  the  offer.  Of  course 
I  couldn't  retract,  and  so,  very  stupidly,  I  plunged 
deeper  into  the  mire,  and  made  several  bets  with  the 
fellows  who  were  round  us.  They  gave  me  3  to  i 
against  the  mare,  but  I  stand  to  lose  nearly ^500. 

"You  see  now  what  I  want.  I  ride  quite  12  stone,  as 
you  know;  the  mare  is  to  carry  11  stone,  and  you  can 


2i8         SKETCHES  JN  THE  HUNTEXG  FIELD. 

just   manage  that  nicely.     I  know  you'll  come  if  you 
can,  and  if  you  telegraph  I'll  meet  you. 

"  Yours  ever, 

"Bertie  Peyton. 

"  P.S. — Nellie  sends  love,  and  hopes  to  see  you.  No 
one  is  here,  but  the  aunt  is  coming  shortly." 

I  was  naturally  anxious  to  oblige  him,  and  luckily 
had  nothing  to  keep  me  in  town ;  so  the  afternoon  saw 
me  rapidly  speeding  southwards,  and  the  evening 
comfortably  domiciled  at  The  Lodge. 

Bertie,  who  resided  there  with  his  sister,  was  not  a 
rich  man.  ;^5oo  was  a  good  deal  more  than  he  could 
afford  to  lose,  and  poor  little  Nellie  was  in  a  great 
flutter  of  anxiety  and  excitement  in  consequence  of  her 
brother's  rashness.  As  for  the  mare,  she  could  gallop 
and  jump  ;  and  though  we  had  no  means  of  ascertaining 
the  abilities  of  Blankney's  chestnut,  we  had  sufficient 
faith  in  our  Little  Lady  to  enable  us  to  come  "up  to  the 
scratch  smiling  ;  "  and  great  hopes  that  we  should  be 
enabled  to  laugh  at  the  result  in  strict  accordance  with 
the  permission  given  in  the  old  adage,  "  Let  those  laugh 
who  win." 

It  was  not  very  pleasant  to  rise  at  an  abnormal  hour 
every  morning,  and,  arrayed  in  great-coats  and  com- 
forters sufficient  for  six  people,  to  rush  rapidly  about  the 
country  ;  but  it  was  necessary.  I  was  a  little  too  heavy, 
and  we  could  not  afford  to  throw  away  any  weight,  nor 
did  I  wish  to  have  my  saddle  reduced  to  the  size  of  a 


OXLV  THE  MARE.  zic) 

cheese-plate,  as  would  have  been  my  fate  had  I  been 
unable  to  reduce  myself.  Breakfast,  presided  over  by 
Nellie,  compensated  for  all  matutinal  discomforts  ;  and 
then  she  came  round  to  the  stables  to  give  her  equine 
prototype  an  encouraging  pat  and  a  few  words  of  advice 
and  endearment  which  I  verily  believe  the  gallant  little 
mare  understood,  for  it  rubbed  its  nose  against  her 
shoulder  as  though  it  would  say,  "Just  you  leave  it  in 
my  hands — or  rather,  to  my  feet — and  I'll  make  it  all 
right!  "  Then  we  started  for  our  gallop,  Bertie  riding 
a  steady  old  iron-grey  hunter. 

The  fourth  of  December  arrived,  and  the  mare's  con- 
dition was  splendid.  "  As  fit  as  a  liddle "  was  the 
verdict  of  Smithers,  a  veterinary  surgeon  v\^ho  had  done 
a  good  deal  of  training  in  his  time,  and  who  super- 
intended our  champion's  preparation  ;  and  though  wc 
were  ignorant  of  the  precise  degree  of  fitness  to  which 
fiddles  usually  attain,  he  seemed  pleased,  and  so  con- 
sequently were  we.  Unfortunately,  on  this  morning- 
Bertie's  old  hunter  proved  to  be  very  lame,  so  I  was 
forced  to  take  my  last  gallop  by  myself;  and  with 
visions  of  success  on  the  morrow,  I  passed  rapidly 
through  the  keen  air  over  the  now  familiar  way  ;  for  the 
course  was  within  a  couple  of  miles  of  the  house,  and  so 
we  had  the  great  advantage  of  being  able  to  accustom 
the  mare  to  the  very  journey  she  would  have  to  take. 

Bertie  was  in  a  field  at  the  back  of  the  stables  when 
I  neared  home  again.  "  Come  on !  "  he  shouted,  point- 
ing to  a  nasty,  hog-backed  stile,  which  separated  us.     I 


2  20         SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

gave  Little  Lady  her  head,  and  she  cantered  up  to  it, 
lighting  on  the  other  side  like  a  very  bird !  Bertie 
didn't  s|3eak  as  I  trotted  ujd  to  him,  but  he  looked  up 
into  my  face  with  a  triumphant  smile  more  eloquent 
than  words. 

"You've  given  her  enough,  haven't  you?"  he  re- 
marked, patting  her  neck,  as  I  dismounted  in  the  yard. 

"  You've  given  her  enough  "  usually  signifies  "  you've 
given  her  too  much."  But  I  thoug^ht  not,  and  we 
walked  round  to  the  house  tolerably  well  convinced  that 
the  approaching  banking  transactions  would  be  on  the 
right  side  of  the  book. 

Despite  a  walk  with  Nellie,  and  the  arrival  of  a  pile 
of  music  from  town,  the  afternoon  passed  rather  slowly  ; 
perhaps  we  were  too  anxious  to  be  cheerful.  To  make 
matters  worse,  dinner  was  to  be  postponed  till  nine 
o'clock,  for  the  aunt  was  coming,  and  Nellie  was  afraid 
the  visitor  would  be  offended  if  they  did  not  wait  for  her. 

"  You  look  very  bored  and  tired,  sir !' "  said  Nellie, 
pouting  prettily ;  "  I  believe  you'd  yawn  if  it  wasn't 
rude !  " 

I  assured  her  that  I  could  not,  under  any  circum- 
stances, be  guilty  of  such  an  enormity. 

"  It's  just  a  quarter  past  seven.  We'll  go  and  meet 
the  carriage,  and  then  perhaps  you'll  be  able  to  keep 
awake  until  dinner-time  !  "  and  so  with  a  look  of  dignity 
which  would  have  been  very  effective  if  the  merry  smile 
in  her  eyes  had  been  less  apparent  after,  the  little  lady 
swept  out  of  the  room  ;  to  return  shortly  arrayed  in  furs, 


ONLY  THE  MARE.  221 

a  most  coquettish-looking  hat,  and  the  smallest  and 
neatest  possible  pair  of  Balmoral  boots,  which  in  their 
efforts  to  appear  strong  and  sturdy  only  made  their 
extreme  delicacy  more  decided. 

"  Come,  sleepy  boy ! "  said  she,  holding  out  a  grey- 
gloved  hand.  I  rose  submissively,  and  followed  her  out 
of  the  snug  drawing-room  to  the  open  air. 

Bertie  was  outside,  smoking. 

"  We  are  going  to  meet  the  aunt,  dear,"  explained 
Nellie.  "  I'm  afraid  she'll  be  cross,  because  it's  so 
cold." 

"  She's  not  quite  so  inconsequent  as  that,  I  should 
fancy  ;  but  it  is  cold,  and  isn't  the  ground  hard  !  "    I  said. 

'*  It  is  hard ! "  cried  Bertie,  stamping  vigorously. 
''  By  Jove  !  I  hope  it's  not  going  to  freeze  !  "  and  afflicted 
by  the  notion — for  a  hard  frost  would  have  rendered  it 
necessary  to  postpone  the  races — he  hurried  off  to  the 
stables,  to  consult  one  of  the  men  who  was  weather- 
wise. 

Some  stone  steps  led  from  the  terrace  in  front  of  the 
house  to  the  lawn  ;  at  either  end  of  the  top-step  was  a 
large  globe  of  stone,  and  on  to  one  of  these  thoughtless 
little  Nellie  climbed.  I  stretched  out  my  hand,  fearing 
that  the  weather  had  made  it  slippery,  but  before  I  could 
reach  her  she  slipped  and  fell. 

"  You  rash  little  creature  !  "  I  said,  expecting  that  she 
would  spring  up  lightly. 

"  Oh  !  my  foot !  "  she  moaned  ;  and  gave  a  little 
shriek  of  pain  as  she  put  it  to  the  ground. 


222         SKETCHES  IN  THE  HLWTIXG  FIELD. 

I  took  her  in  my  arms,  and,  summoning  her  maid, 
carried  her  to  the  drawing-room. 

"Take  off  her  boot,"  I  said  to  tlie  girl,  but  Nellie  could 
not  bear  to  have  her  foot  touched,  and  feebly  moaned 
that  her  arm  hurt  her. 

"  Oh,  pray  send  for  a  doctor,  sir!  "  implored  the  maid, 
while  Nellie  only  breathed  heavily,  with  half-closed 
eyes ;  and  horribly  frightened  I  rushed  off,  hardly  wait- 
ing to  say  a  word  to  the  poor  little  sufferer. 

"  Whatever  is  the  matter  r "  Bertie  cried,  as  I  burst 
into  the  harness-room. 

"  Where's  the  doctor  ?  "  I  replied,  hastily.  "Nellie's 
hurt  herself — sprained  her  ankle,  and  hurt  her  arm — 
broken  it,  perhaps  !  " 

"  How  ?     When  r  "  he  asked. 

"There's  no  time  to  explain.  She  slipped  down. 
Where's  the  doctor  r" 

"  Our  doctor  is  ill,  and  has  no  substitute.  There's  no 
one  nearer  than  Lawson,  at  Oakley,  and  that's  ten 
miles,  very  nearly." 

"  Then  I  must  ride  at  once,"  I  reply. 

"  Saddle  my  horse  as  quickly  as  possible,"  said  Bertie 
to  the  groom. 

"  He's  lame,  sir,  can't  move  !  "  the  man  replied,  and 
I  remembered  that  it  was  so. 

"  Put  a  saddle  on  one  of  the  carriage-horses — any- 
thing so  long  as  there's  no  delay." 

"  They're  out,  sir !  Gone  to  the  station.  There's 
nothing  in  the  stable — only  the  mare  ;    and  to  gallop 


OXLV  THE  MARE.  223 

her  to  Oakley  over  the  ground  as  it  is  to-night  will 
pretty  well  do  for  her  chance  to-morrow — to  say  nothing 
of  the  twelve  miles  back  again.  The  carriage  will  be 
home  in  less  than  an  hour,  sir,"  the  man  remonstrated, 

"  It  may  be,  you  don't  know,  the  trains  are  so  horridly 
unpunctual.  Saddle  the  mare,  Jarvis,  as  quickly  as  you 
can — every  minute  may  be  of  the  utmost  value  !  "  As 
Bertie  spoke  \he  faintest  look  of  regret  showed  itself  on 
his  face  for  a  second :  for  of  course  he  knew  that  such  a 
journey  would  very  materially  affect,  if  it  did  not  entirely 
destroy,  the  mare's  chance. 

Jarvis,  who  I  think  had  been  speculating,  very  reluc- 
tantly took  down  the  saddle  and  bridle  from  their  pegs,  but 
I  snatched  them  from  his  arms,  and,  assisted  by  Bertie, 
was  leading  her  out  of  the  stable  in  a  very  few  seconds. 

"  Hurry  on  !  Never  mind  the  mare — good  thing  she's 
in  condition,"  said  Bertie,  who  only  thought  now  of  his 
sister.     "  I'll  go  and  see  the  girl." 

"  I  can  cut  across  the  fields,  can't  I,  by  the  cross 
roads  ? "  I  asked,  settling  in  the  saddle. 

"No  !  no  !  Keep  to  the  highway;  it's  safer  at  night. 
Go  on  !  "  I  heard  him  call  as  I  went  at  a  gallop  down 
the  cruelly  hard  road. 

The  ground  rang  under  the  mare's  feet,  and  in  spite 
of  all  my  anxiety  for  Nellie  I  could  not  help  feeling  one 
pang  of  regret  for  Little  Lady,  whose  free,  bounding 
action  augured  well  for  what  her  chances  w^ould  have 
been  on  the  morrow — chances  which  I  felt  were  rapidly 
dying  out;  for  if  this  journey  didn't  lame  her  nothing 


2  24        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

would.  Stones  had  just  been  put  down,  as  a  matter  of 
course  ;  but  there  was  no  time  for  picking  the' way,  and 
taking  tight  hold  of  her  head  we  sped  on. 

About  a  mile  from  the  Lodge  I  came  to  the  cross 
roads.  Before  me  was  a  long  vista  of  stones — regular 
rocks,  so  imperfectly  were  they  broken  :  to  the  right  was 
the  smoother  and  softer  pathway  over  the  fields— perfect 
going  in  comparison  with  the  road.  Just  over  this 
fence,  a  hedge,  and  with  hardly  another  jump  I  should 
come  again  into  the  highway,  saving  quite  two  miles  by 
the  cut.  Bertie  had  said  "  Don't,"  but  probably  he  had 
spoken  thoughtlessly,  and  it  was  evidently  the  best 
thing  to  do,  for  the  time  I  saved  might  be  of  the  greatest 
value  to  poor  little  suffering  Nellie.  I  pulled  up,  and 
drew  the  mare  back  to  the  opposite  hedge.  She  knew 
her  work  thoroughly.  Two  bounds  took  her  across  the 
road ;  she  rose — the  next  moment  I  was  on  my  back, 
shot  some  distance  into  the  field,  and  she  was  struggling 
up  from  the  ground.  There  had  been  a  post  and  rail 
whose  existence  I  had  not  suspected,  placed  some  six 
feet  from  the  hedge  on  the  landing  side.  She  sprang 
up,  no  bones  were  broken  ;  and  I,  a  good  deal  shaken 
and  confused,  rose  to  my  feet,  wondering  what  to  do 
next.  I  had  not  had  time  to  collect  my  thoughts  when 
I  heard  the  rattle  of  a  trap  on  the  road ;  it  speedily 
approached,  and  the  moonlight  revealed  the  jolly 
features  of  old  Tom  Heathfield,  a  friendly  farmer. 

"  Accident,  sir  r "  he  asked,  pulling  up.  *'  What ! 
Mr.  Vaughan  !  "  as  he  caught  sight  of  my  face.  "  What's 
the why!  that  ain't  the  mare,  sure/zi:.^ " 


ONLY  THE  MARE.  225 

All  the  neighbourhood  was  in  a  ferment  of  excitement 
about  the  races,  and  the  sight  of  Little  Lady  in  such  a 
place  at  such  a  time  struck  horror  to  the  honest  old 
farmer. 

"  Yes,  it  is — I'm  sorry  to  say.  Miss  Peyton  has  met 
with  an  accident.  I  was  going  for  the  doctor,  and 
unfortunately  there  was  nothing  else  in  the  stable." 

"  You  was  going  to  Oakley,  I  s'pose,  sir  ?  It'll  be 
ruination  to  the  mare.  Miss  Peyton  hurt  herself!  I'll 
bowl  over,  sir ;  it  won't  take  long ;  this  little  horse  o' 
mine  can  trot  a  good  'un ;  and  I  can  bring  the  doctor 
with  me.  The  fences,  there,  is  mended  with  wire. 
You'd  cut  the  mare  to  pieces." 

"  I  can't  say  how  obliged  to  you  I  am " 

"  Glad  of  the  opportunity  of  obliging  Miss  Peyton — 
very  glad  indeed,  sir!"  He  was  just  starting  when  he 
checked  himself.  "There's  a  little  public-house  about 
a  hundred  yards  farther  on  ;  if  you  don't  mind  waiting 
there  I'll  send  Smithers  to  look  at  the  mare.  I  pass  his 
house.     All  right,  sir." 

His  rough  little  cob  started  off  at  a  pace  for  which  I 
had  not  given  it  credit ;  and  I  slowly  followed,  leading 
the  mare  towards  the  glimmering  light  which  Heath- 
field  had  pointed  out.  My  charge  stepped  out  well,  and 
I  didn't  think  that  there  was  anything  wrong,  though  I 
was  glad,  of  course,  to  have  a  professional  opinion. 

A  man  was  hanging  about  the  entrance  to  the  public- 
house,  and  with  his  assistance  the  mare  was  bestowed 
in  a  kind  of  shed,  half  cow-house,  half  stable  ;  and  as 

Q 


2  26        SKETCHES  IX  THE  HUNTING  FIE  ID. 

the  inside  of  the  establishment  did  not  look  by  any 
means  inviting,  I  lit  a  cigar  and  lounged  about  outside, 
awaiting  the  advent  of  Smithers. 

He  didn't  arrive  ;  and  in  the  course  of  wandering  to 
and  fro  I  found  myself  against  a  window.  Restlessly 
I  was  just  moving  away  when  a  voice  inside  the  room 
repeated  the  name  of  Blankucy.  I  started,  and,  turning 
round,  looked  in.  It  was  a  small  apartment,  with  a 
sanded  floor,  and  two  persons  Avere  seated  on  chairs 
before  the  fire  conversing  earnestly.  One  of  them  was 
a  middle-aged  man,  clad  in  a  brown  great-coat  with  a 
profusion  of  fur  collar  and  cuffs  which  it  would  scarcely 
be  libel  .to  term  "  mangy."  He  was  the  owner  of  an 
unwholesome,  pasty  face,  decorated  as  to  the  chin  with 
a  straggling  crop  of  bristles  which  he  would  have 
probably  termed  an  imperial. 

"  Wust  year  I  ever  'ad  !  "  he  exclaimed  (and  a  broken 
pane  in  the  window  enabled  me  to  hear  distinctly). 
"  The  Two  Thousand  'orse  didn't  run  ;  got  in  deep  over 
the  Derby  ;  H ascot  was  hawful ;  and  though  I  had  a 
moral  for  the  Leger,  it  came  to  grief." 

His  own  morals,  judging  from  his  appearance  and 
conversation,  appeared  to  have  followed  the  example  of 
that  for  the  Leger. 

"  I  can't  follow  your  plans  about  this  race  down  here, 
though,"  said  his  companion,  a  younger  man,  who 
seemed  to  hold  the  first  speaker  in  great  awe  despite  his 
confessions  of  failure.  "Don't  you  say  that  this  young 
Blankney's  horse  can't  get  the  distance  ?  " 


ONLY  THE  MARE.  zii 

"  I  do.  He  never  was  much  good,  I  'ear  ;  never  won 
nothing,  though  he's  run  hurdle-races  two  or  three 
times ;  and  since  Phil  Kelly's  been  preparing  of  him 
for  this  race  he's  near  about  broke  down.  His  legs 
swells  up  like  bolsters  after  his  gallops  ;  and  he  can't 
hardly  get  three  miles  at  all,  I  don't  believe,  without  he's 
pulled  up  and  let  lean  against  something  on  the  journey 
to  rest  hisself." 

"  And  yet  you're  backing  him  ?  " 

*'  And  yet  I'm  backing  of  him." 

"This  young  Peyton's  mare  can't  be  worse  r"  said 
the  younger  man  interrogatively. 

"That  mare,  it's  my  belief,  would  stand  at  eight  to 
one  for  the  Grand  National  if  she  was  entered,  and  some 
of  the  swells  saw  'er.  She's  a  real  good  un  !  "  replied 
the  man  with  the  collar. 

"  I  see.  You've  got  at  her  jockey.  You're  an  artful 
one,  you  are  !  " 

As  the  jockey  to  whom  they  alluded,  I  was  naturally 
much  interested. 

"No,  I  ain't  done  that,  neither.  He's  a  gentleman, 
and  it's  no  use  talkin'  to  such  as  'im.  They  ain't  got 
the  sense  to  take  up  a  good  thing  when  they  see  it — 
though,  for  the  matter  o'  that,  some  of  the  perfessionals 
is  as  bad  as  the  gentlemen — them  as  is  gentlemen,  I 
mean,  for  some  of  the  reg'lar  gentlemen  riders  is  downy 
and  comfortable.  All's  fair  in  love  and  war,  says  I ; 
and  this  'ere's  war." 

"  Does  Blankney  know  how  bad  his  horse  is  ?  " 

Q  2 


i28        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

"  No,  bless  yer !  That  ain't  Phil  Kelly's  game." 
(Kelly  was,  I  knew,  the  man  who  had  charge  of  my 
opponent's  horse.) 

"Well  then,  just  explain,  will  you;  for  /can't  see." 

From  the  recesses  of  his  garment  the  elder  man 
pulled  out  a  short  stick  about  fifteen  inches  in  length, 
at  the  end  of  which  was  a  loop  of  string;  and  from 
another  pocket  he  produced  a  small  paper  parcel. 

"  D'yer  know  what  that  is  ?  That's  a  *  twitch.'  D'yer 
know  what  that  is  r  That's  med'cine.  I  love  this  'ere 
young  feller's  mare  so  much  I'm  a-goin'  to  give  it  some 
nicey  med'cine  myself;  and  this  is  the  right  stuff.  I've 
been  up  to  the  house  to-day,  and  can  find  my  way  into 
the  stable  to-night  when  it's  all  quiet.  Just  slip  this 
loop  over  'er  lip,  and  she'll  open  'er  mouth.  Down  goes 
the  pill,  and  as  it  goes  down  the  money  goes  into  my 
pocket.  Them  officer  fellers  and  their  friends  have 
been  backing  Blankney's  'orse  ;  but  Phil  Kelly  will 
take  care  that  they  hear  at  the  last  moment  that  he's  no 
good.  Then  they'll  rush  to  lay  odds  on  the  mare — and 
the  mare  won't  win." 

They  laughed,  and  nudged  each  other  in  the  side,  and 
I  felt  a  mighty  temptation  to  rush  into  the  room  and 
nudge  their  heads  with  my  fist.  Little  Lady's  delicate 
lips,  which  Nellie  had  so  often  petted,  to  be  desecrated 
by  the  touch  of  such  villains  as  these ! 

While  struggling  to  restrain  myself  I  heard  a  step 
behind  me,  and,  turning  round,  I  saw  Smithers.  We 
proceeded  to  the  stable  ;  and  I  hastily  recounted  to  him 


ONLY  THE  MARE.  229 

what  had  happened,  and  what  I  had  heard,  as  he 
examined  the  mare  by  the  aid  of  a  bull's-eye  lantern. 
He  passed  his  hand  very  carefully  over  her,  whilst  I 
looked  on  with  anxious  eyes. 

"  She's  knocked  a  bit  of  skin  off  here,  you  see."  He 
pointed  to  a  place  a  little  below  her  knee,  and,  drawing 
a  small  box  from  his  pocket,  anointed  the  leg.  "  But 
she's  all  right.  All  right,  ain't  you,  old  lady  ?  "  he  said, 
patting  her ;  and  his  cheerful  tone  convinced  me  that 
he  was  satisfied.  "  We'll  lead  her  home.  I'll  go  with 
you,  sir ;  and  it's  easy  to  take  means  to  prevent  any 
foul  play  to-night." 

When  we  reached  home  the  doctor  was  there,  and 
pronounced  that,  with  the  exception  of  a  slightly 
sprained  ankle,  Nellie  had  sustained  no  injury. 

Rejoicing  exceedingly,  we  proceeded  to  the  stable; 
Heathfield,  who  heard  my  story,  and  who  was  delighted 
at    the   prospect   of    some   fun,    asking    permission    to . 
accompany  us. 

Collars  had  doubtless  surveyed  the  premises  carefully, 
for  he  arrived  about  eleven  o'clock,  and  clambered 
quietly  and  skilfully  into  the  hayloft  above  the  stable, 
after  convincing  himself  that  all  was  quiet  inside.  He 
opened  the  trap-door,  and  down  came  a  foot  and  leg, 
feeling  about  to  find  a  resting-  place  on  the  par- 
tition which  divided  Little  Lady's  loose  box  from 
the  other  stalls.  Bertie  and  I  took  hold  of  the  leg, 
and  assisted  him  down,  to  his  intense  astonishment ; 
while  Heathfield  and  a  groom  gave  chase  to,  and  ulti- 


2  30        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

mately  captured,  his  friend,  the  watcher  on  the  thres- 
hold. 

^  si'  s!>  si*  kl^  sl^ 

"  If  I'm  well  enough  to  do  anything  I'm  well  enough 
to  lie  on  the  sofa ;  and  there's  really  no  difference 
between  a  sofa  and  an  easy-chair — if  my  foot  is  resting 
— and  I'm  sure  the  carriage  is  easier  than  any  chair; 
and  it  can't  matter  about  my  foot  being  an  inch  or  two 
higher  or  lower — and  as  for  shaking,  that's  all  nonsense. 
It's  very  unkind  indeed  of  you  not  to  want  to  take  me  ; 
and  if  you  won't,  directly  you're  gone  I'll  get  up,  and 
walk  about,  and  stamp  !  " 

Thus  Nellie,  in  answer  to  advice  that  she  should 
remain  at  home.  How  it  ended  may  easily  be  guessed  ; 
and  though  we  tried  to  be  dignified,  as  we  drove  along, 
to  punish  her  for  her  wilfulness,  her  pathetic  little 
expressions  of  sorrow  that  she  should  "  fall  down  and 
hurt  herself,  and  be  such  a  trouble  to  everybody,"  and 
child-like  assurances  that  she  would  "  try  not  to  do  so 
any  more,"  soon  made  us  smile,  and  forget  our  half- 
pretended  displeasure.  So  with  the  aunt  to  take  care  of 
her,  in  case  Bertie  and  I  were  insufficient,  we  reached 
the  course. 

The  first  three  races  were  run,  and  then  the  card 
said : — 

3.15  Match,  ;^I20  a  side,  over  the  Steeplechase  Course,  about  three  miles  and 
a  half. 

1.  Air.  Blankney,  140th  R.D.G.,  ch.  h.  Jibboom,   list.  7lb.,  rose,  black  and 

gold  cap. 

2.  Mr.  Peyton,  b.  m.  Little  Lady,  list,  sky  blue,  white  cap. 


ONLY  THE  MARE.  231 

Blankney  was  sitting  on  the  regimental  drag,  arrayed 
in  immaculate  boots  and  breeches,  and  after  the  neces- 
sary weighing  ceremony  had  been  gone  through,  he 
mounted  the  great  Jibboom,  which  Phil  Kelly  had  been 
leading  about  :  the  latter  gentleman  had  a  rather 
anxious  look  on  his  face,  but  Blankney  evidently 
thought  he  was  on  a  good  one,  and  nodded  confidently 
to  his  friends  on  the  drag  as  he  lurched  down  the 
course. 

Little  Lady  was  brought  up  to  me,  Smithers  being  in 
close  attendance. 

"  I  sJiall  be  so  glad  if  you  win,"  Nellie  found  oppor- 
tunity to  whisper. 

"What  will  you  give  me  ?  "  I  greedily  inquire. 

^'  Anything  yoM  ask  me,"  is  the  reply;  and  my  heart 
beats  high  as,  having  thrown  off  my  overcoat,  weighed 
and  mounted,  Little  Lady  bounds  down  the  course,  and 
glides  easily  over  the  hurdle  in  front  of  the  stand. 

Bertie  and  Smithers  were  waiting  at  the  starting- 
place  ;  and,  having  shaken  hands  with  Blankney,  to 
whom  Bertie  introduced  me,  I  went  apart  to  exchange 
the  last  few  sentences  with  my  friends. 

Bertie  is  a  trifle  pale,  but  has  confidence ;  and 
Smithers  seems  to  possess  a  large  supply  of  the  latter 
quality.  In  however  high  esteem  we  hold  our  own 
opinions,  we  are  glad  of  professional  advice  when  it 
comes  to  the  push ;  and  I  seek  instructions. 

"No,  sir,  don't  you  wait  on  him.  Go  away  as  hard 
as  you  can  directly  the  flag  drops.     I  don't  like  the  look 


232         SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

of  that  chestnut's  legs — or,  rather,  I  do  like  the  look  of 
them  for  our  sakes.  Go  away  as  hard  as  ever  you  can  ; 
but  take  it  easy  at  the  fences  :  and,  excuse  me,  sir,  but 
just  let  the  mare  have  her  head  when  she  jumps,  and 
she'll  be  all  right.  People  talk  about  '  lifting  horses  at 
their  fences  : '  I  only  knew  one  man  who  could  do  it, 
and  he  made  mistakes." 

I  nod  ;  smiling  as  cheerfully  as  anxiety  will  permit 
me.  The  flag  falls,  and  Little  Lady  skims  over  the 
ground,  the  heavy  chestnut  thundering  away  behind. 

Over  the  first  fence — a  hedge — and  then  across  a 
ploughed  field  ;  rather  hard  going,  but  not  nearly  so 
bad  as  I  expected  it  would  have  been :  the  mare 
moving  beautifully.  Just  as  I  reach  the  second  fence  a 
boy  rushes  across  the  course,  baulking  us  ;  and  before  I 
can  set  her  going  again  Jibboom  has  come  up  level,  and 
is  over  into  the  grass  beyond,  a  second  before  us  ;  but  I 
shoot  past  and  again  take  up  the  running.  Before  us 
are  some  posts  and  rails — rather  nasty  ones  ;  the  mare 
tops  them,  and  the  chestnut  hits  them  hard  with  all  four 
legs.  Over  more  grass ;  and  in  front,  flanked  on  either 
side  by  a  crowd  of  white  faces,  is  the  water-jump.  I 
catch  hold  of  the  bridle  and  steady  her ;  and  then,  with 
just  one  touch  of  the  whip — needless — she  rises,  flies 
through  the  air,  and  lands  lightly  on  the  other  side. 
Half  a  minute  after  I  hear  a  heavy  splash ;  but  when, 
after  jumping  the  hurdle  into  the  course,  I  glance  over 
my  shoulder,  the  chestnut  is  still  pounding  away  behind : 
they  had  made  a  mistake,  but  picked   themselves   up 


OXLY  THE  MARE.  233 

undamaged.  As  I  skim  along  past  the  stand  the  first 
time  round  and  the  line  of  carriages  opposite,  I  catch 
sight  of  a  waving  white  handkerchief:  it  is  Nellie;  and 
my  confused  glimpse  imperfectly  reveals  Bertie  and 
Smithers  standing  on  the  box. 

I  had  seen  visions  of  a  finish,  in  which  a  certain 
person  clad  in  a  light-blue  jacket  had  shot  ahead  just 
in  the  nick  of  time,  and  landed  the  race  by  consummate 
jockeyship  after  a  neck-and-neck  struggle  for  the  last 
quarter  of  a  mile.  This  did  not  happen,  however,  for, 
as  I  afterwards  learned,  the  chestnut  refused  a  fence 
before  he  had  gone  very  far,  and,  having  at  last  been 
got  over,  came  to  grief  at  the  posts  and  rails  the  second 
time  round.  Little  Lady  cantered  in  alone,  Blankncy 
strolling  up  some  time  afterwards. 

There  is  no  need  to  make  record  of  Bertie's  delight  at 
the  success.  We  messed  next  day  with  the  140th. 
Blankney  and  his  brethren  were  excessively  friendly, 
and  seemed  pleased  and  satisfied  ;  as  most  assuredly 
were  we.  Blankney  opines  that  he  went  rather  too  fast 
at  the  timber ;  but  a  conviction  seemed  to  be  gaining 
ground  towards  the  close  of  the  evening  that  he  had  not 
gone  fast  enough  at  any  period  of  the  race. 

And  for  Nellie  r  She  kept  her  promise,  and  granted 
my  request ;  and  very  soon  after  the  ankle  is  well  we 
shall  require  the  services  of  other  horses — grey  ones  ! 


XXII. 
AN    ECCENTRIC    CHASE. 


CHAPTER  I. 


A  MAN  who  strolls  into  his  club  after  an  absence,  and 
is  greeted  with  a  cheery  "  Hallo  !  Here  he  is  again  ! 
How  are  you  r "  experiences  one  of  the  small  pleasures 
which  go  towards  making  life  comfortable,  and  my 
friends  at  the  Smoking  Room  were  dissembling  very 
successfully,  or  they  were  really  glad  to  see  me,  as, 
after  being  kejDt  away  for  a  short  time  for  family 
reasons — the  death  of  an  uncle  more  rich  in  money 
than  in  amiability  or  affection — I  re-entered  the  jjortals 
of  that  agreeable  institution  and  found  an  extremely 
good-tempered  party  sitting  round  the  fire. 

"  Well,  Charlie,  did  the  poor  old  boy  cut  up  well  ? " 
Harquier  asks,  abandoning  the  sentimental  for  the 
practical  view  of  the  question. 

"  Gorgeously,"  I  reply,  "  though  I  only  have  a  very 
small  slice — ^500.  Several  metropolitan  and  provincial 
asylums  benefit,  and  the  balance  is,  as  usual  when  rich 
men  leave  money,  distributed  among  those  who  do  not 
in  the  least  want  it." 


A.y  ECCENTRIC   CHASE.  235 

"Got  ^500,  eh?"  says  my  particular  friend  Leonard, 
as  the  general  conversation  which  was  in  progress 
when  I  entered  the  club  continues.  "  Lucky  beggar ! 
I  wish  I  had.  It's  always  you  fellows  who  don't  care 
about  such  things  that  get  them.  Why  do  the  richest 
men  in  the  club  invariably  win  all  the  sweeps  V 

"  I  can't  answer  conundrums,"  I  reply,  "  and  I  don't 
see  where  my  luck  comes  in.     What  would  you  do  with 

i:500r" 

"I  should  make  it  ^10,000,"  Leonard  answers  de- 
cidedly. 

"  A  most  excellent  suggestion,  which  only  one  trifling 
circumstance  prevents  me  from  putting  into  immediate 
effect — I  haven't  the  slightest  notion  how  to  set  about 
it,"  I  tell  him. 

"  Back  jMuffin  Boy  for  the  Gloucester  Cujd,"  he 
solemnly  rejoins. 

"  Good  thing,  you  believe  r " 

"  Coining  money,  my  dear  fellow,  simply.  Look 
here ! "  he  continued,  taking  up  the  evening  paper. 
"He's  now  at  25  to  i — '^^  to  i  at  Manchester, but  you  very 
likely  wouldn't  get  such  good  odds.  You  might  depend 
on  20  to  I,  however,  certainly,  and — there  you  are  !  " 

"  If  Muffin  Boy  is  where  he  ought  to  be,  that  is  to 
say  \  "  I  inquire. 

"  Just  look  here  !  "  Leonard  begins  again ;  and  after 
an  elaborate  disquisition,  showing  what  this  excellent 
creature  had  done  at  diiferent  places  under  different 
weights,   he   proves    to    demonstration    that  the    Glou- 


236        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

cester  Cup  is  an  iibsolute  certainty  for  him,  and 
would  be  hardly  less  so  if  he  had  i2lbs.  more  to  carry. 

The  tale  is  plausible,  and  the  reasons  why  the 
horse  did  not  win  at  Goodwood  sound  quite  convincing. 
Leonard,  too,  is  an  admirable  judge  both  of  horses  and 
of  racing — two  very  different  things — and  the  result  of 
our  conversation  is  that  I  hand  him  over  a  cheque  for 
the  amount  of  my  legacy  to  be  invested  on  Muffin  Boy 
at  the  best  obtainable  odds,  which  Leonard  is  of  opinion 
will  assuredly  average  20  to  i.  ;^50o  was  of  no  par- 
ticular use  to  me,  who  had  an  income  amply  sufficient 
for  all  requirements,  but  ;^  10,000  would  be  serviceable 
in  a  variety  of  ways,  and  I  passed  a  good  deal  of  time 
in  studying  the  market  odds,  and  inwardly  debating 
what  to  do  with  the  haul  when  it  was  safely  landed. 

A  couple  of  days  passed.  IMuffin  Boy  kept  his  place 
at  the  tag  end  of  the  list,  while  Ophelia  and  King 
Pippin,  the  two  favourites,  gradually  advanced  to  shorter 
odds.  Evidently  the  party  interested  in  my  horse  were 
managing  him  well,  and  I  went  round  to  the  club  to  see 
Leonard  and  congratulate  him  on  our  prospects,  wonder- 
ing meantime  how  I  could  repay  him  for  the  splendid 
service  he  had  done  me. 

"Mr.  Leonard  was  here  inquiring  for  you,  sir,"  a 
waiter  tells  me,  as  I  pass  in.  "  He  wanted  to  see  you 
particularly,  and  said  he  would  look  in  presently  if  he 
could  manage  it,  sir." 

Evidently  to  tell  me  that  the  money  was  safely  on,  as 
I  had  been  expecting   to  hear ;   so  with  an   increased 


AN  ECCENTRIC   CHASE.  237 

feeling  of  satisfaction  I  joined  the  group  by  the  lire  and 
lighted  a  cigarette. 

"  Who's  going  to  win  at  Gloucester  ? "  presently  in- 
quires Herries. 

"  King  Pippin,"  Caplett  replies.  "  A  certainty  I 
should  say.  You  can't  get  2  to  i  this  afternoon,  and 
it'll  very  likely  be  6  to  4  on  him  when  he  starts. 
Ophelia's  gone  wrong.  Here's  Russford,  ask  him,"  he 
continued,  as  the  owner  of  the  favourite  made  his  ap- 
pearance. "  You're  going  to  win  next  week,  aren't  you, 
Russford  ? "  Caplett  inquires. 

"  I  fancy  so.  I'm  backing  him  myself,  and  it  seems  a 
good  thing.  There  was  nothing  to  beat  but  Ophelia, 
and  she's  out  of  it,"  he  answers,  and  the  response  makes 
me  begin  to  feel  rather  uncomfortable.  We  are  ac- 
customed to  share  our  good  things  freely  when  we  know 
anything  at  the  Smoking  Room,  and  I  have  not  the 
slightest  wish  to  keep  to  myself  what,  since  Monday 
evening,  I  have  looked  on  as  my  brilliant  scheme. 

"  Why  shouldn't  INIuffin  Boy  win  ?  He  beat  you  at 
the  Epsom  Spring  Meeting  at  even  weights,  Russford  ? " 
I  suggest,  remembering  this  much  of  what  Leonard  had 
said. 

"  Quite  so.  But  King  Pippin,  who  wasn't  nearly  fit 
then,  was  never  in  such  form  as  he  is  now,  and  Muffin 
Boy  has  steadily  gone  off  all  the  year,"  Russford 
answers,  and  I  remember  that  this  was  not  by  any 
means  what  Leonard  had  said. 

^'  Then  you  think  Muffin  Boy  can't  win  ?     Harford's 


238       SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

confident,  I  believe,"  I  remark,  for  of  his  owner's  belief 
in  his  powers  Leonard  had  informed  me. 

"  Say  was  confident  last  week,  and  j'-oii'll  be  near  the 
mark.  There  are  two  excellent  reasons  why  Harford 
won't  beat  me.  In  the  first  place,  his  horse  couldn't  if 
he  wanted  him  to ;  and,  in  the  second  place,  he  doesn't. 
He  will  start  Muffin  Boy  to  make  running  for  Fair 
Rosamond,  and  declare  to  win  with  her.  You  may 
depend  upon  it,  Charlie,  my  boy,"  Russford  goes  on, 
seeing  that  I  look  disturbed  ;  "  they  were  tried  on 
Saturday,  and  the  mare's  far  the  best  at  the  weights, 
though  she  isn't  good  enough  to  beat  the  King,  I  fancy. 
Aren't  you  going  to  stay  and  dine  r  "  he  asks,  as  I  rise 
abruptly. 

"  In  about  half  an  hour,"  I  reply,  and  instructing  the 
servants  to  tell  Mr.  Leonard  I  particularly  want  to  see 
him  if  he  calls,  jump  into  a  hansom  and  speed  away 
towards  Victoria  Street,  where  he  has  a  flat. 

"  j\Ir.  Leonard  in  ? "  I  ask,  when  his  man  appears. 
"  No,  sir.     Just  gone  to  Paris.     Started  a  few  minutes 
ago — you  must  almost  have   passed  him  as  you  come, 
sir,  if  that  was  from  Charing  Cross  way.     Master  was 
inquiring  whether  you  had  called,  sir,"  the  man  added. 

I  looked  at  my  w^atch.  Just  time  to  catch  him  before 
the  mail  goes  if  the  man  drives  quickly,  so  into  the 
hansom  I  plunge,  and  off  we  go  to  Charing  Cross.  But 
the  cabby  is  more  willing  than  skilful,  and  affords  a  new 
proof  of  the  accuracy  of  the  proverb,  "  More  haste,  less 
speed."     In  whipping  round  a  corner  the  wheel  catches 


AJV  ECCENTRIC  CHASE.  239 

a  kerbstone,  down  comes  the  horse,  a  regular  cropper, 
and  though  I  save  the  tumble  I  had  half  foreseen, 
the  mischief  is  done.  It  takes  two  or  three  minutes  to 
pick  up  the  horse,  which  is  not  hurt,  but  just  reaches 
Charing  Cross  in  time  to  see  the  mail  steaming  away- 
over  the  bridge. 

Perhaps  he  has  left  a  letter  at  the  club  giving  me  some 
information  ?  I  call  in  passing,  bound  back  to  Victoria 
Street  to  find  out  where  a  telegram  will  reach  the  trou- 
blesome fugitive. 

"  Mr.  Leonard  was  here  a  few  minutes  ago.  Gone  to 
Paris,  sir,"  a  waiter  tells  me. 

"Did  he  leave  any  note  or  message  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.  Wasn't  here  more  than  five  minutes,"  the 
man  says ;  so  muttering  what  are  not  precisely  bless- 
ings on  Leonard's  erratic  proceedings,  I  return  to  his 
chambers. 

"  Didn't  catch  master,  sir  ?  "  the  servant  asks. 

"No.  Just  missed  train.  Where  is  he  staying  in 
Paris  ?  "  I  inquire. 

"Well,  sir,  I  don't  rightly  know.  Master  generally 
goes  to  the  Imperial,  as  you  are  aware,  sir ;  but  he  said 
last  time  it  was  so  horrid  dirty  he  shouldn't  go  again. 
Master  was  speaking  about  Meurice's  the  other  day, 
but  there  was  another  gentleman  here  talking  about 
another  hotel  in  the  Rue  de  la — I  didn't  quite  get  the 
name,  I'm  afraid — and  he  said  he  thought  he  should  try 
that.  He  might  go  to  the  Imperial,  but  I  wasn't  to  send 
his  letters,  as  his  movements  was  very  uncertain,  sir." 


240        SKETCHES  IX  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

What  was  to  be  done  next  ?  Depending  on  letters  or 
telegrams  on  such  vague  directions  was  manifestly  out  of 
the  question.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  go  to  Paris 
by  the  morning  train  and  trust  to  luck  in  running  him 
down  somewhere  or  other.  About  the  ^500  I  did  not 
much  care.  Losing  it  all  would  not  have  afflicted  me;  but 
to  make  the  ring  a  present  by  backing  a  brute  that  wasn't 
intended  to  win  seemed  such  a  grossly  idiotic  affair  that 
I  was  bent  on  averting  the  absurdity  at  all  hazards.  For 
a  moment,  on  arriving  at  home  to  dress  for  a  tardy  dinner, 
I  hoped  that  the  expected  letter  might  be  there.  No  !  A 
couple  of  bills,  some  tickets  for  a  theatre,  an  invitation 
to  shoot,  and  an  envelope  in  Harquier's  writing,  the 
contents  of  which  I  knew  -without  opening  it,  as  he  had 
told  me  when  I  met  him  in  the  afternoon  that  he  had 
just  written  to  say  he  could  not  dine  with  me  as  I 
had  asked  him.  A  glance  at  the  special  edition  of  the 
Evenmg  ShiJidard  showed  Muffin  Boy  at  25  to  i,  Ophelia 
struck  out  of  the  Gloucester  Cup  at  3.20,  King  Pippin  at 
7  to  4  taken  and  wanted,  &:c.,  &c.  Paris  by  the  first 
train  is  the  nearest  way  out  of  the  irritating  misfortune. 


CHAPTER  II, 


To  rise  at  an  offensively  preposterous  hour  on  a  wet 
morning,  drive  to  an  uncomfortable  railway  station,  get 
on  board  a  damp  slippery  boat,  and  cross  the  Channel  in 


AN  ECCENTRIC  CHASE.  2^1 

a  choppy  sea,  are  such  dismal  doings  that  before  we  were 
half-way  over  I  wished  that  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to 
let  the  whole  thing  slide  and  say  no  more  about  it.  But 
then  came  thoughts  of  the  excellent  story  some  fellows 
at  the  Smoking  Room  would  make  out  of  the  affair. 
How  Charley  Welton  was  going  to  make  a  fortune  on 
the  turf,  only  didn't  because  the  Judge  wouldn't  give  it 
to  the  one  that  got  off  best  and  finished  first  half  way 
round ;  and  that  sort  of  thing,  which  would  have  been 
very  funny  indeed  with  any  other  hero.  I  clambered 
into  the  train  at  Boulogne,  where  it  was  raining  harder 
than  it  was  at  Folkestone,  only  hoping  that  Leonard 
might  not  have  taken  refuge  at  the  hotel  in  the  Rue  de 
la — something  that  his  man  did  not  rightly  remember. 

For  once  in  the  course  of  my  expedition  something 
like  luck  seemed  to  attend  my  chase.  Monsieur  Leonard 
had  gone  to  the  Imperial,  whither  I  first  drove,  but 
Monsieur  was  out  for  the  moment:  his  room  was  21. 
Run  to  the  ground  at  last,  I  thought,  and  giving  the 
porter,  who  knew  us  both,  particular  instructions  to  tell 
Leonard  directly  he  came  in  that  I  had  arrived,  and 
wanted  him  to  dine  with  me,  I  strolled  down  the  boule- 
vard towards  an  English  club,  of  which  I  was  a  member, 
and  where  I  thought  it  possible  that  he  might  be ;  for, 
though  not  belonging  to  the  club  himself,  many  of  our 
friends  did.  Leonard  was  not  there,  however,  though  I 
found  a  man  who  had  seen  him  that  afternoon,  so  I 
returned  to  the  Imperial. 

Had  M.  Leonard  come   back?     He  had,  almost  the 


242        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

moment  after  Monsieur  went  out,  and  left  a  note  for 
Monsieur,  which  the  speaker  handed  to  me.  I  opened 
it  in  fear  and  trembling.  Surely  he  had  not  slipped  off 
again  ?     But  he  had. 

"  Dear  Charlie,"  the  note  ran, — 

*'  What  the  deuce  are  you  doing  over  here  ?  Wish 
I'd  known  you  were  coming,  and  we'd  have  travelled 
together.  Sorry  I  can't  stay  to  dine,  but  I'm  off  to  Nice 
by  the  7.15.  Got  to  see  about  a  villa  for  my  uncle. — 
Yours,  H.  L." 

Nice  !  A  little  journey  of  something  over  twenty-four 
hours  !  But  I  would  have  followed  him  now  if  he  had  gone 
to  the  Fiji  Islands.  Why  had  I  not  left  a  note'telling  him 
that  Muffin  Boy  wasn't  meant  for  the  Gloucester  Cup  ? 
However,  the  next  thing  was  to  go  to  Nice,  and  there 
was  certainly  plenty  of  time  on  the  journey  to  think 
what  I  would  do  when  I  got  there.  The  Continental 
Bradshaw  is  a  particularly  irritating  work  at  all  times, 
especially  for  a  journey  where  one  gets  the  "  a.m."  and 
"p.m."  mixed  up.  The  7.15  train  by  which  Leonard 
had  gone  I  could  not  have  caught,  for  it  was  nearly  7 
when  I  reached  the  Imperial,  and  the  station  for  Mar- 
seilles is,  as  most  people  are  aware,  nearly  an  hour's 
drive  from  the  Boulevard  des  Capucines. 

There  seemed  to  be  a  train  at  11. 10  p.m.,  arriving  at 
Nice  at  3.54,  and  another  at  11. 15  a.m.,  reaching  its 
destination  at  2.6,  together  with  one  at  8  p.m.,  which 
never   got   to  Nice  at  all.     The   11.15  in  the  morning 


AN  ECCENTRIC    CHASE.  243 

seemed  to  be  the  best,  so  I  determined  to  dine  comfort- 
ably, and  go  to  the  play  for  an  hour  or  two,  trying  to 
forget  Leonard  and  Muffin  Boy  and  my  ;^  500. 

Next  morning  I  set  off  on  my  new  journey,  and  on  the 
afternoon  of  the  following  day  we  drew  up  at  Nice,  the 
exquisite  views  seen  from  the  window  of  the  train,  as 
we  followed  the  Mediterranean  coast-line,  almost  com- 
pensating for  the  trouble  and  annoyance.  And  now, 
how  to  find  Leonard  ?  The  villa  which  his  uncle,  the 
Earl  of  Horchester,  had  occupied  during  a  former 
winter  was  up  at  Cimiez  I  knew,  so  thither  I  drove. 
No !  That  villa  was  taken  by  an  Italian  family.  Down 
the  hill  again,  and  round  to  some  score  of  the  hotels 
which  are  so  plentiful.  Neither  Kraft  nor  Chauvain  know 
M.  Leonard,  and  at  the  Hotels  des  Anglais,  d'Angle- 
terre,  de  France,  de  la  Grand  Bretagne,  Mediterranee, 
and  the  rest,  I  have  no  better  luck.  He  is  not  at  the 
theatre,  and  I  go  to  bed  at  last,  tired  and  angry, 
wondering  whether  he  will  turn  up  next  day,  and 
trying  to  think  that  he  is  certain  to  take  a  stroll  in 
the  Promenade  des  Anglais  before  breakfast. 

But  he  does  not.  I  walk  and  drive  all  over  the  town 
in  vain,  till  at  last,  about  half-past  twelve,  I  meet  little 
Flutterton,  a  friend  and  member  of  the  Smoking  Room, 
on  the  Promenade, 

"  Hullo !  "  he  says ;  "  you  here,  too  r " 

"  Yes ;  arrived  yesterday,"  I  reply,  and  before  I  can 
begin  my  story  he  breaks  in  with, — 

"Just  been  seeing  Leonard  off;  he  turned  up  yesterday." 

R  2 


244        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

"  And  he's  gone  ?  "  I  ask,  my  feelings  not  permitting 
me  to  say  more. 

*' Yes.  He  only  just  came  to  choose  between  a  couple 
of  houses  for  his  people  this  winter.  I'm  glad  they're 
coming.  He's  off  to  England  straight,"  Flutterton 
remarks. 

Then  I  tell  him  my  story;  how  I  have  been  in  hot 
pursuit  since  IMonday  evening,  and  now  it  is  Friday 
morning ;  and  I  detail  all  the  circumstances  connected 
with  the  miserable  Muffin  Boy  and  my  ;^  500. 

"What  a  lark!"  he  says,  laughing  heartily;  and  I 
don't  like  it. 

"  It  may  strike  you  as  being  extremely  funny,  but  I 
can't  see  the  humour  of  being  dragged  to  all  parts  of 
Europe  for  the  sake  of  finding  that  I'm  sold  when  I  get 
there,"  I  observe  somewhat  severely. 

"  Yes,  I  know,  my  dear  fellow,  it  is  a  bore,  and  I'm 
really  very  sorry;  but  it  is  so  jolly  absurd!"  and  he 
tries  unsuccessfully  to  repress  a  chuckle.  "  However," 
he  continues,  "you  can't  go  till  the  evening,  so  you'd 
better  come  and  dine  with  us.  We've  got  a  house,  you 
know,  and  Leonard  stayed  with  us  last  night." 

This  accounted  for  my  fruitless  search  through  the 
hotels,  then  ;  but  I  forgave  Flutterton  for  his  want  of 
sympathy,  and  was  led  off  to  pass  the  rest  of  the  day 
with  his  mother  and  sisters,  though  I  was  in  too  great  a 
state  of  excitement  and  irritation  to  thoroughly  appre- 
ciate their  amiable  kindness  ;  and  by  as  early  a  train  as 
possible  I  set  off  again  on  my  chase.     From  Nice  to 


AN  ECCENTRIC  CHASE.  245 

London  is  a  far  cry  ;  but  engines  and  energy  can  do 
much  in  these  days,  and  within  considerably  less  than 
forty-eight  hours  I  was  once  more  in  London  and  on  my 
way  to  Leonard's  chambers.  It  would  be  very  hard  if 
he  had  again  escaped  me. 

"  ]\Ir.  Leonard  returned  ? "  I  inquired  of  his  man  as 
he  appeared  at  the  door. 

"Yes,  sir,  master's  returned  from  abroad,  but  he 
has  gone  down  to  the  country.  Left  last  night,  sir, 
for  Horchester.  He  has  been  to  Nice,  sir,  but  only 
stayed " 

"  Yes,  I  know ;  when  will  he  be  back  ? "  I  inter- 
rupted. 

"Well,  sir,  it's  uncertain,  I  think.  I  was  not  to 
forward  letters  or  papers  till  I  heard,  sir,"  the  man 
answered  ;  and  here  was  another  source  of  perplexity. 

The  best  thing  to  be  done  seemed  to  carry  on  the 
pursuit  without  flagging,  however,  especially  as  I  was 
sure  of  a  friendly  welcome  from  my  errant  friend's  uncle. 
There  was  a  train  at  7.10  in  the  morning,  reaching 
Horchester  at  10.30,  and  at  any  rate  I  might  have  the 
consolation  of  discussing  the  matter  with  Leonard. 
This  was  Monday,  and  the  race  was  to  be  run  next  day. 
He  must  have  put  my  ;^5oo  on  the  wretched  Muffin 
Boy,  who  now  figured  in  the  quotations  at  33  to  i,  while 
125  to  100  was  the  last  recorded  bet  against  King 
Pippin.  As  the  tram  carried  me  down  to  Horchester  I 
had  the  pleasure  of  reading  the  analyses  of  the  prophets, 
most  of  whom  went  for  the  King  in  big  letters,  with  the 


246       SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

reservation  that  the  next  three  favourites  might  either 
of  them  win  if  anything  happened  to  him,  and  that  it 
would  be  well  to  keep  some  three  or  four  others  on  the 
safe  side,  while  danger  might  be  apprehended  from  a 
couple  of  outsiders — of  which  Lluffin  Boy  was  not  one. 
He  was  thrown  over  by  all  except  one  prophet,  who 
declared  that  he  was  well  in,  and  if  he  only  retained 
his  spring  form  might,  despite  the  vicissitudes  of  the 
market,  effect  a  surprise. 

Horchester  Towers,  it  need  hardly  be  said,  is  situated 
some  five  miles  from  the  railway.  We  reached  the 
station  about  ten  minutes  late,  but  a  groom  in  a 
dog-cart  was  luckily  in  waiting,  come  over  to  fetch  a 
parcel,  so  I  was  spared  an  hour's  journey  in  a  damp  and 
unpleasant  fly.  Mr.  Leonard  had  arrived  the  night 
before,  I  learned  from  the  groom,  so  at  last  my  quarry 
seemed  run  to  earth. 

"  Was  Mr.  Leonard  in  ?  "  I  inquired,  on  reaching  the 
door. 

"No,  he  was  not.  Had  gone  out  with  the  gentlemen. 
Would  I  see  my  lord  ?  "  was  the  reply. 

I  would,  and  did. 

"Yes.  Herbert  arrived  last  night.  He  has  kindly 
been  to  Nice  to  look  after  a  villa  for  us.  His  aunt 
wished  him  to  choose  the  place  himself,  as  agents  give 
singularly  flattering  accounts  of  houses  they  wish  to 
dispose  of  The  hounds  meet  to-day  for  the  first  time, 
you  know — you  may  have  seen — and  he  rode  over  to  see 
them  thrown  off,  at  any  rate,"  Lord  Horchester  answers. 


AN  ECCENTRIC  CHASE.  247 

"  Won't  he  be  back  this  afternoon  ? "  I  inquire. 

"  No  ;  we  couldn't  persuade  him  to  stay.  They  were 
going  to  draw  towards  Chorlington,  and  hounds  are 
almost  certain  to  run  towards  Hartlebury,  so  he  will  put 
up  his  horse  and  catch  the  train.  He  must  be  in  town 
this  evening,  as  he  is  going  to  Gloucester,  I  think  he 
said,  to-morrow,"  I  am  informed. 

To  Gloucester,  no  doubt,  to  see  Muffin  Boy  take  that 
expensive  gallop. 

"  If  you  are  so  anxious  to  see  him  at  once  you  had 
better  get  on  a  horse  and  try  to  catch  them  up.  They 
only  left  some  half-hour  ago,  and  as  it  is  the  first 
morning  there  may  be  some  delay.  We  shall  be  very 
glad  to  see  you  if  you  can  come  back,  and,  if  not,  leave 
your  horse  at  either  of  the  inns  and  he  can  be  fetched 
with  Herbert's,"  Lord  Horchester  kindly  suggested,  and 
I  was  glad  to  accept. 

There  was,  of  course,  no  time  for  boots  or  breeches, 
even  if  I  could  have  borrowed  anything  of  the  sort,  and 
as  I  have  tried  borrowed  breeches  on  one  occasion,  I 
should  not  have  been  eager  to  repeat  the  experiment, 
incongruous  and  opposed  to  the  unities  as  trousers  may 
seem  at  a  meet.  Within  seven  minutes  I  had  swallowed 
two  glasses  of  peach  brandy,  made  play  with  some 
sandwiches  that  happened  to  be  at  hand,  and  was  on 
the  back  of  a  wiry  little  chestnut  mare,  galloping  along 
the  grass  by  the  side  of  the  road  at  a  very  respectable 
pace.  The  meet  at  the  cross  roads  was  a  good  six 
miles  from  the  Towers,  and  in  less  than  half  an  hour  I 


248      SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIE  ID. 

was  wiping  the  perspiration  from  my  forehead — the  first 
few  gallops,  particularly  on  a  pulling  horse,  try  a  man 
in  rough  condition — and  looking  round  for  the  hounds. 
The  trampled  grass,  some  gaps  in  a  fence,  and  a  muddy 
track  leading  to  the  easiest  way  over  it,  gave  unmistak- 
able evidence  that  here  they  had  been  lately.  It  was 
twelve  o'clock,  and  rather  past,  however,  and  where 
were  they  now  ? 

"  Hounds  be  gone  down  Chorlton  Lane,  sir,"  a  rustic 
grinned,  seeing  me  standing  up  in  the  stirrups  and 
gazing,  around ;  so  with  a  word  of  thanks  to  my  in- 
formant, I  started  off  again  for  Chorlington.  But  though 
the  hounds  had  been  in  that  direction  they  had  diverged. 
I  soon  lost  the  track,  set  off  on  a  false  scent,  got  hope- 
lessly astray,  and  it  was  not  until  nearly  three  o'clock 
that  I  suddenly  came  across  a  straggler  bound  for  home, 
and  learning  my  direction  from  him,  suddenly  perceived 
the  hunt  before  me,  at  the  end  of  a  long  slip  of  cover,  as 
I  reached  the  top  of  a  slight  rise.  Several  of  my  friends 
were  among  the  men,  but  no  Leonard.  To  have  found 
him  would  have  seemed  too  much  good  luck  considering 
what  a  vein  of  ill-fortune  I  was  working  through  at  the 
time ;  so,  instead  of  asking  where  he  was,  I  simply 
remarked  that  he  was  gone,  of  course  ? 

"  Yes,"  cheerfully  replied  one  of  his  cousins ;  "  he  left 
about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ago.  He's  bound  for  town. 
Off  racing  to-morrow,  I  think  he  said." 

"That's  just  what  I  want  to  see  him  about  par- 
ticularly.    Can  I  catch  him,  do  you  think  ?    No,  thanks, 


A,V  ECCENTRIC   CHASE.  249 

I  can't  stay  ;  I  wish  I  could.  I  must  see  him.  What 
station  was  he  bound  for  r  "  I  ask. 

"  I  hardly  know.  Did  Herbs  say  where  he  was  going  r " 
he  inquired  of  his  brother. 

"  No,  I  didn't  hear  him.  You  see  there's  not  much  to 
choose  as  regards  distance.  Hartlebury's  nearer  town, 
but  we  always  put  up  at  Chorlington  when  we  can,  and 
his  old  mare  will  be  there  all  night,  I  expect." 

"Then  good-bye — sorry  to  go  and  leave  you,  but  I 
must  find  him  to-night,"  I  said,  and  turning  round 
started  off  towards  a  sign-post  I  had  lately  passed 
pointing  to  Chorlington.  But  here,  for  almost  the  first 
time  in  this  eccentric  chase,  an  idea  struck  me.  Hartle- 
bury  was  not  much  farther  than  Chorlington,  and 
whether  Leonard  started  from  there  or  not,  he  would  be 
obliged  to  pass  through.  It  was  now  3.30;  the  train 
left  Chorlington  at  4.3 — this  I  had  ascertained.  It  was 
eight  miles  from  Chorlington  to  Hartlebury,  and  I  was 
about  three  miles  distant  from  each — in  the  centre  of 
what  was  nearly  a  semi-circle.  The  best  thing  to  do 
was  clearly  to  make  for  Hartlebury,  and  wait  till  the 
train  came  up,  and  this  I  accordingly  did,  arriving  at 
the  latter  station  soon  after  4,  whereas  the  train  could 
not  be  due  till  about  4.25. 

I  dismounted  and  sauntered  into  the  station,  where 
I  found  the  amiable  official  who  did  duty  as  station- 
master. 

"  When  is  the  next  train  for  town  ? "  I  asked,  almost 
as  a  matter  of  form. 


250       SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIEID. 

"  Next  train  for  town  ?     8.48,  sir,"  he  rejoined. 

"  8.48  ?"  I  exclaimed.  "  Is  not  there  one  just  due  ?  It 
can't  have  passed  r  " 

"Ah,  sir,  that  don't  stop  here  now;  the  4.2  from 
Chorlington  it  was,  but  it  runs  through,  this  month." 

"  Are  you  sure  r "  I  asked  desperately,  and  the  station- 
master  smiled. 

"Yes,  sir,  I'm  sure  enough.  I've  been  here  nigh 
upon  ten  years,  and  I  know  the  run  of  the  trains  pretty 
well.     It  was  took  off  last  month,"  he  rejoined. 

There  could  be  no  doubt  about  it,  and  there  was  none. 
Punctual  almost  to  a  moment  the  train  that  was  "  took 
off"  ran  through,  as  I  had  been  assured  it  would.  Did 
I  see  Leonard  in  a  carriage  as  it  passed  me  ?  Speed 
was  a  little  slackened,  and  a  fnan  standing  up  in  one  of 
the  compartments  looked  just  like  the  object  of  my 
irritating  quest. 

"  Have  you  a  telegraph  office  here  ? "  I  asked,  for  at 
any  rate  a  telegram  would  reach  him,  and  luckily  there 
was  a  chance  of  sending ;  so  to  his  private  address  and 
to  each  of  the  three  clubs  he  frequented,  including,  of 
course,  the  Smoking  Room,  I  dispatched  a  message, 
warning  him  against  the  deceptive  Muffin  Boy,  and 
pointing  to  King  Pippin  as  a  comparatively  certain 
winner.  At  least  I  should  have  shown  him  that  I  was 
not  such  a  fool  as  I  seemed,  and  he  might  by  skilful 
manipulation  save  my  money. 


AN  ECCENTRIC  CHASE.  251 


CHAPTER  III. 

The  telegrams  sent  off,  it  did  not  seem  to  matter  much 
whether  I  went  to  town  by  the  8.48  or  by  some  corre- 
sponding train  from  another  station,  or  waited  com- 
fortably till  next  morning  and  dined  at  the  Towers.  I 
should  have  reached  there  too  late  to  see  Leonard  that 
night  in  all  probability,  and  I  was  rather  angry  with 
him,  because  of  the  erratic  wanderings  to  which  he  had 
condemned  me.  They  were  in  no  wise  his  fault,  but  that 
did  not  make  me  any  the  less  vexed  with  him ;  rather 
the  more,  perhaps.  My  telegrams  contained  all  that  I 
wanted  to  say,  and  however  he  dodged,  as  appeared  to 
be  his  wont,  he  vv^as  sure  to  find  one  of  the  four  that 
would  be  waiting  his  arrival.  I  returned,  therefore,  to 
the  Towers,  and  for  a  brief  period  forgot  the  worry  o^r^ 
the  luckless  bet  in  the  comfort  of  a  pleasant  dinner. 
Though  they  lived  in  the  saddle,  most  of  the  inhabitants 
of  this  delightful  house,  and  though  Lord  Horchester  had 
a  few  animals  in  training,  they  were  far  from  being 
a  racing  community.  Some  one  after  dinner  said  he 
supposed  the  Gloucester  Cup  was  a  certainty  for  King 
Pippin,  and  some  one  else  said,  "  Yes,  you  couldn't  get 
money  on  at  evens  yesterday,"  and  that  was  all.  I  did 
not  advocate  Muffin  Boy's  claims  to  consideration,  bit- 
terly hating  his  deleterious  and  indigestible  name.  With 
the  second  glass  of  Madeira  after  dinner  it  flashed 
across  my   mind   that  after  all  he  might  win,  but  the 


252        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

reflective   influence  of  a  cigar  assured  me  that  I  was 
in  for  a  "  real  bad  thing." 

Next  morning  I  was  off"  at  daybreak,  and  should  have 
reached  town  before  nine,  but  by  one  of  those  unlucky 
flukes  which  had  been  pursuing  me  for  the  week  we 
suddenly  pulled  up  at  a  lonely  spot  between  two 
stations  ;  something  had  gone  off  the  line,  or  happened 
to  a  luggage-train  before  us,  and  for  rather  more  than  an 
hour  we  were  delayed.  The  blessings  showered  on 
directors,  engine-drivers,  guards,  pointsmen,  navvies, 
engineers,  &c.,  need  not  be  repeated.  Instead  of  arriv- 
ing at  a  quarter  to  nine,  it  was  twenty  minutes  past  ten 
before  Euston  was  reached,  and  twenty  to  eleven  before 
I  was  at  the  door  of  Leonard's  rooms  on  my  hopeless 
errand.  The  special  had  started  from  Paddington  at 
10.15,  ^^^  I  ^^.d  hoped  to  catch  Leonard  in  good  time 
for  ten  minutes'  chat  before  he  was  off";  now  there  was 
nothing  for  it  but  to  drive  to  Victoria  Street  and  see 
what  had  happened. 

"  j\Ir.  Leonard  has  gone,  I  suppose  ? "  I  ask  his 
man. 

"  Did  not  come  home  at  all  last  night,  sir.  Went 
straight  on,  I  presume,  to  Gloucester,  sir.  Races  is  on 
to-day." 

"  Yes,  so  I  believe,"  I  mildly  answer.  "  Is  there  a 
telegram  waiting  for  him  r " 

"  Yes,  sir.  Came  yesterday  about  half-past  five.  He 
wasn't  here  to  receive  it,"  he  tells  me  ;  and  with  an  in- 
articulate exclamation  I  retire  to  find  out  how  a  man 


AiV  ECCENTRIC  CHASE.  253 

feels  when  he  has  paid  ^  500  for  the  privilege  of  making 
an  ass  of  himself 

In  due  course  out  came  the  evening  papers. 

Lord  Russford's  b.c.  King  Pippin  .  .  .1 
Mr.  Jenning's  Trouville  .  .  .  .  .2 
Sir  W.  Heseltine's  Half  Moon        .         .         .3 

And  the  journal  further  stated  that  it  was  won  in  a 
canter  by  half  a  dozen  lengths. 

That  evening  I  was  engaged  to  dine,  and,  happily, 
with  some  people  who  did  not  talk  racing ;  but  in  the 
evening  I  strolled  down  to  the  Smoking  Room.  The 
usual  cheery  group  was  round  the  fire,  and  lounging  in 
an  easy-chair,  a  little  away  from  the  rest,  reading  the 
special  Standard  and  quietly  smoking,  was  the  man  I 
had  been  chasing  so  ardently — Herbert  Leonard. 

He  looked  up  with  perfect  calmness,  and  quietly  said, 
"  Holloa  ?     Good  evening.     How  are  you  r " 

*'  Well,  my  dear  fellow,  I  may  say  that  I  am  pretty 
well  blown  with  pursuing  you  for  the  last  six  months,  or 
what  seems  like  it.  I've  been  to  Paris,  Nice,  to  the 
Towers,  to  Chorlington,  and  some  dozen  other  vile  holes, 
to  say  nothing  of  a  score  or  two  visits  to  your  rooms,"  I 
tell  him. 

"  And  why  all  this  exertion  ?  "  he  coolly  asks,  with  a 
look  of  innocent  surprise  on  his  face. 

"  Haven't  you  got  my  telegrams  ? "  I  ask  in  turn. 

''  Oh,  yes,  of  course.    I  received  it  just  now.   Are  there 


2  54       SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

any  more  ?  It  was  so  late  I  didn't  go  home  to  dress,  and 
came  in  to  dine  as  I  was." 

"  Any  more  ?  Isn't  that  enough  ?  Have  you  been  to 
Gloucester?"  I  inquire. 

"  Yes,  just  back.  Went  straight  on  from  the  Towers, 
changed  my  things  in  the  train,  I  hate  the  worry  of 
going  racing  from  town  early  in  the  morning.  It  was 
all  right,"  he  rejoins. 

"  All  right  ?  What  was  ?  Backing  a  brute  that  wasn't 
even  started  to  win  r  I  don't  blame  you,  my  dear  fellow, 
but  it  looks  to  me  all  wrong,"  I  answer. 

"  All  wrong  ?   How  do  you  mean  ? "  he  asks  in  surprise. 

"  Why,  didn't  you  back  I\Iuffin  Boy  for  me  ? " 

"  Certainly  not !     Didn't  you  receive  my  letter  ? " 

"  Letter  ?     What  letter  ? " 

"  A  letter  I  wrote  you  ten  days  ago,  telling  you  about 
it,"  he  answers. 

"  My  dear  fellow,  you  astound  me.  I  have  received  no 
letter  at  all.  What  was  it  about  ?  Are  you  sure  you 
sent  it  ? " 

"  I'm  sure  I  put  it  in  the  box,  and  it  must  have 
gone." 

"  In  the  box  ?     In  what  box  ? "  I  inquire. 

"  Why,  the  letter-box  here,"  he  replies  ;  and  just  then 
a  waiter  passes. 

"  You  are  careful  to  send  the  letters  every  night,  are 
you  not  r  "  Leonard  asks. 

"Yes,  sir.  They  go  every  night  at  half-past  two," 
the  man  replies. 


A  A'  ECCENTRIC   CHASE.  255 

"  Then  it  could  not  have  been  correctly  addressed. 
Where  did  you  send  it  to  ?  "  I  ask. 

"Your  rooms,  and  it  was  correctly  addressed,  I'm  sure, 
for  I  looked  carefully,"  he  says. 

"  How  do  you  mean  looked  ?  Did  not  you  address  it 
yourself?  "  I  ask  again. 

"  It  just  happens  I  did  not.  The  writing-table  was 
full,  so  I  scribbled  a  line  in  pencil,  and  as  no  fellow 
moved,  I  asked  Harquier,  who  was  at  the  table,  to  write 
an  envelope  to  you.  I'm  certain  he  did  so,  for  I  read  it 
over  to  see  if  it  was  all  right,"  he  goes  on. 

A  light  dawns  upon  me  as  he  continues  : — 

"  I  told  you  Ihad  heard  that  Muffin  Boy  wasn't  going, 
and  that  I  had  got  you  2  to  i  against  King  Pippin.  I 
couldn't  do  better,  and  had  to  look  round  to  get  that." 

The  light  becomes  more  and  more  vivid. 

Slowly  I  draw  from  my  pocket  Harquier's  letter,  the 
epistle  which,  as  recorded  at  the  end  of  the  first  chapter, 
I  had  put  unopened  into  my  pocket,  believing  that  it 
was  simply  to  say  that  he  could  not  come  to  dine  with 
me. 

"  That's  the  letter !  "  Leonard  cries,  and  opening  it  I 
read,  in  pencil,  "  Muffin  Boy  all  wrong.  I  have  put  your 
money  on  King  Pippin.     Got  you  2  to  i." 

Afterwards  I  heard  that  Harquier  had  sent  his  own 
communication  to  me  at  another  club,  the  one  where  I 
had  asked  him  to  dine. 

With  Leonard's  letter  in  my  pocket  the  whole  time, 
answering  so  conclusively  the  query  I  was  anxious  to 


2S6        SKETCHES  IN  THE  HUNTING  FIELD. 

put  to  him,  I  had  followed  him  in  this  long  journey. 
Carefully  and  steadfastly  carrying  about  with  me  the 
information  I  sought,  I  had  chased  him  from  his  rooms 
to  Paris,  to  Nice,  back  to  London,  to  Horchester  Towers, 
to  his  rooms,  and  to  the  club.  Had  I  only  not  jumped  at 
conclusions,  and  had  I  opened  the  letter  and  read  the 
two  lines  and  a  half  he  had  written,  I  should  have  saved 
all  the  worry  of  what  I  think  may  be  correctly  called 
An  Eccentric  Chase. 


PRINTEU   BY  VIRTUE   AND   CO.,   LIMITED,    CITY   ROAD,    LONDON, 


193?  Piccadilly,  London,  IF. 
January,  1880. 


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CHEAP    AND    UNIFORM    EDITION. 

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THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  : 

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OLIVER  CROMWELL'S  LET- 
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LIVES     OF     SCHILLER      AND 

JOHN  STERLING,     i  vol.,  6s. 

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AND  RICHTER.     i  vol.,  6s. 

WILHELM  MEISTER,  by  Gothe. 

A  Translation.    2  vols.,  12s. 

HISTORY  OF  FRIEDRICH  THE 

SECOND,  called  Frederick  the  Great 
Vols.  I.  and  II.,  containing  Part  I. — 
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SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

FRENCH  REVOLUTION.   3  vols. 

LIFE  OF  JOHN  STERLING. 

OLIVER     CROMWELL'S     LET- 
TERS AND  SPEECHES.      5  vols. 

ON      HEROES      AND      HERO 

WORSHIP. 
PAST  AND  PRESENT. 

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NEOUS ESSAYS.    7  vols. 

LATTER-DAY  PAMPHLETS. 


LIFE  OF  SCHILLER. 
FREDERICK  THE  GREAT.     10 

vols. 

WILHELM  MEISTER.     3  vols. 

TRANSLATIONS     FROM     MU- 
SyEUS,   TIECK,    AND    RICHTER. 

2  vols. 

THE  EARLY  KINGS  OF  NOR- 

WAY ;  also  an  Essay  on  the  Portraits 
of  John  Knox,  with  Illustrations.  Small 
crown  Svo.  Bound  up  with  the 
Index  and  uniform  with  the  "People's 
Edition." 


CHAPMAN  &>  HALL,  LIMLTED,  193,  PLCCADILLY.         19 

DICKENS'S    (CHARLES)   WORKS. 

ORIGINAL     EDITIONS. 

In   Demy  Svo. 

THE  MYSTERY  OF  EDWIN  DROOD.      With   Illustrations 

by  S.  L.  Fildes,  and  a  Portrait  engraved  by  Baker.   Cloth,  7s.  6d. 

OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.    With  Forty  Illustrations  by  Marcus 

Stone.     Cloth,  £1  is. 

THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS.      With  Forty-three  Illustrations 

by  Seymour  and  Phiz.     Cloth,  ;^i  is. 

NICHOLAS   NICKLEBY.    With  Forty  Illustrations  by  Phiz. 

Cloth,  £\  IS. 

SKETCHES  BY  ''  BOZ."     With  Forty  Illustrations  by  George 

Cruikshank.    Cloth,  £1  is. 

MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.    With  Forty  Illustrations  by  Phiz. 

Cloth,  £\  IS. 

DOMBEY    AND    SON.      With    Forty   Illustrations   by   Phiz. 

Cloth,  £\  IS. 

DAVID  COPPERFIELD.     With   Forty  Illustrations  by  Phiz. 

Cloth,  £1  IS. 

BLEAK   HOUSE.     With   Forty   Illustrations   by  Phiz.    Cloth, 

£-1  IS. 

LITTLE  DORRIT.     With  Forty  Illustrations  by  Phiz.     Cloth, 

£1.  IS. 

THE  OLD   CURIOSITY   SHOP.       With    Seventy-five    Illus- 

trations  by  George  Cattermole  and  H.  K.  Browne.     A  New  Edition.     UnifoiTn  with 
the  other  volumes,  £t.  is. 

BARNABY  RUDGE  :   a  Tale  of  the  Riots  of  'Eighty.     With 

Seventy-eight  Illustrations  by  G.  Cattermole  and  H.  K.  Browne.      Uniform  with  the 
other  volumes,  £1.  is. 

CHRISTMAS    BOOKS  :    Containing— The    Christmas    Carol ; 

The  Cricket  on  the  Hearth  ;  The  Chimes  ;   The  Battle  of  Life  ;   The  Haunted  House. 
With  all  the  original  Illustrations.    Cloth,  12s. 

OLIVER  TWIST   and   TALE    OF   TWO    CITIES.      In   one 

volume.    Cloth,  £\  is. 

OLIVER  TWIST.     Separately.     With  Twenty-four  Illustrations 

by  George  Cruikshank. 

A  TALE  OF  TWO  CITIES.     Separately.     With  Sixteen  Illus- 

trations  by  Phiz.     Cloth,  9s. 

***  The  remainder  of  Dickens's  Works  'were  not  onginnlly  printed  in  Demy  S^'o. 

B  2 


BOOKS  PUBLISHED  BY 


DICKENS'S  (CHARLES)  \^OVi.YJS,— Continued. 

LIBRARY   EDITION. 

In  Post  8vo.      With  the  Original  Illustrations,  jo  vols.,  cloth,  £12. 


PICKWICK  PAPERS 43  Illustrns. 

NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY  ,^9 

MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT        40 

OLD  CURIOSITY  SHOP  and  REPRINTED  PIECES  36 


BARNABY  RUDGE  and  HARD  TIMES 

BLEAK  HOUSE    .. 

LITTLE   DORRIT 

DOMBEY  AND  SON     .. 

DAVID  COPPERFIELD 

OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND 

SKETCHES  BY  " BOZ " 

OLIVER  TWIST   .. 

CHRISTMAS  BOOKS     .. 

A  TALE  OF  TWO  CITIES 

GREAT  EXPECTATIONS 

PICTURES   FROM  ITALY  and  AM 

UNCOMMERCIAL  TRAVELLER 

CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND        

EDWIN  DROOD  and  MISCELLANIES 

CHRISTMAS  STORIES  from  "  Household  Words,"  &c.. 


2  vols 
I  vol. 
I  vol. 
I  vol. 
I  vol. 
I  vol. 
I  vol. 
1  vol. 
I  vol. 
I  vol. 
I  vol. 

THE  LIFE  OF  CHARLES  DICKENS.     By  John  FoRStER.     A   New   Edition 
Illustrations.  Uniform  with  the  Library  Edition,  post  8vo,  of  his  Works.  In  one  vol 


ERICAN   NOTES    8 


14 


,  2  vols. 

2  vols. 
2  vols. 
2  vols. 
2  vols. 
2  vols. 
2  vols. 
2  vols. 
2  vols. 


THE  "  CHARLES  DICKENS  "  EDITION. 

In  Crown  8vo.    In  21  vols.,  cloth,  -with  Illustrations,  £j  gs.  bd. 

. .     8  Illustrations  . . 


With 
los.  6d. 


s.d. 


PICKWICK  PAPERS     . . 

MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT 

DOMBEY  AND   SON     .. 

NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY 

DAVID  COPPERFIELD 

BLEAK  HOUSE     .. 

LITTLE   DORRIT 

OUR  MUTUAL   FRIEND 

BARNABY  RUDGE 

OLD   CURIOSITY  SHOP 

A   CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND   .. 

EDWIN  DROOD  and  OTHER    STORIES 

CHRISTMAS  STORIES,  from  "Household  Words' 

TALE   OF  TWO   CITIES         

SKEdCHES  by  "BOZ"  

AMERICAN  NOTES  and  REPRINTED  PIECES 

CHRISTMAS   BOOKS 

OLIVER  TWIST 

GREAT  EXPECTATIONS 

HARD  TIMES  and  PICTURES   FROM   ITALY 

UNCOMMERCIAL  TRAVELLER 

THE   LIFE   OF   CHARLES   DICKENS.     Uniform  with  this  Edition,  with  Numerous 
Illustrations.     2  vols.     3s.  6d.  each. 


CHAPMAN  cf  HALL,   193,  LLMLTED,  PICCADILLY.         21 


DICKENS'S  (CHARLES)  \}Q'Ky:Ji>— Continued. 

THE   ILLUSTRATED    LIBRARY   EDITION. 

Complete  in  JO  Volumes.     Demy  Svo,  los.  each;  or  set,  £1^. 

This  Edition  is  printed  on  a  finer  paper  and  in  a  larger  type  than  has  been 
employed  in  any  previous  edition.  The  type  has  been  cast  especially  for  it,  and 
the  page  is  of  a  size  to  admit  of  the  introduction  of  all  the  original  illustrations. 

No  such  attractive  issue  has  been  made  of  the  writings  of  Mr.  Dickens, 
which,  various  as  have  been  the  forms  of  publication  adapted  to  the  demands 
of  an  ever  widely-increasing  popularity,  have  never  yet  been  worthily  presented 
in  a  really  handsome  library  form.. 

The  collection  comprises  all  the  minor  writings  it  was  Mr.  Dickens's  wish 
to  preserve. 

SKETCHES  BY  "  BOZ."    With  40  Illustrations  by  George  Cruikshank. 

PICKWICK  PAPERS.     2  vols.     With  42  Illustrations  by  Phiz. 

OLIVER  TWIST.     With  24  Illustrations  by  Cruikshank. 

NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.     2  vols.     With  40  Illustrations  by  Phiz. 

OLD  CURIOSITY  SHOP  and  REPRINTED  PIECES.    2  vols.    With  Illustrations  by 
Cattermole,  &c. 

BARNABY  RUDGE  and  HARD  TIMES.     2  vols.    With  Illustrations  by  Cattermole,  &c. 

MARTIN   CHUZZLEWIT.     2  vols.     With  40  Illustrations  by  Phiz 

AMERICAN  NOTES  and  PICTURES  FROM  ITALY      1  vol.    With  8  Illustrations. 

DOMBEY  AND  SON.     2  vols.     With  40  Illustrations  by  Phiz. 

DAVID  COPPERFIELD.    2  vols.    With  40  Illustrations  by  Phiz. 

BLEAK  HOUSE.     2  vols.     With  40  Illustrations  by  Phiz. 

LITTLE  DORRIT.    2  vols.    With  40  Illustrations  by  Phiz. 

A  TALE  OF  TWO  CITIES.    With  16  Illustrations  by  Phiz. 

THE  UNCOMMERCIAL  TRAVELLER.    With  8  Illustrations  by  Marcus  Stone. 

GREAT.  EXPECTATIONS.    With  8  Illustrations  by  Marcus  Stone. 

OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.    2  vols.    With  40  Illustrations  by  Marcus  Stone. 

CHRISTMAS  BOOKS.    With  17  Illustrations  by  Sir  Edwin  Landseer,  R.A.,  Macllse, 
R.A.,  &c.  &c. 

HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND.     With  8  Illustrations  by  M.-ifcus  Stone. 

CHRISTMAS  STORIES.   (Ffom  "  Household  Words  "  and  "All  the  Year  Round.")  With 
14  Illustrations. 

EDWIN  DROOD  AND  OTHER  STORIES.    With  12  Illustrations  by  S.  L.  Fildes, 


BOOKS  PUBLISHED  BY 


DICKENS'S  (CHARLES)  WORKS -Co«//«7/<rrf— 

HOUSEHOLD     EDITION. 

In  Crown  ^to  vols. 
21    Volumes    completed. 

OLIVER  TWIST,  with  28  Illustrations,  cloth,  2s.  6d.  ;  paper,  is.  9d. 

jMARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT,  with  59  Illustrations,  cloth,  4s.  ;  paper,  3s. 

DAVID  COPPERFIELD,  with  60  Illustrations  and  a  Portrait,  cloth,  4s.  ;  paper,  3s. 

BLEAK  HOUSE,  with  61  Illustrations,  cloth,  4s.  ;  paper,  3s. 

LITTLE  DORRIT,  with  58  Illustrations,  cloth,  4s.  ;   paper,  3s. 

PICKWICK  PAPERS,  with  56  Illustrations,  cloth,  4s. ;  paper,  3s. 

BARNABY  RUDGE,  with  46  Illustrations,  cloth,  4s.  ;  paper,  3s. 

A  TALE  OF  TWO  CITIES,  with  25  Illustrations,  cloth,  2s.  6d.  ;  paper,  is.  gd. 

OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND,  with  58  Illustrations,  cloth,  4s.  ;  paper,  3s. 

NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY,  with  59  Illustrations,  cloth,  4s.  ;  paper,  3s. 

GREAT  EXPECTATIONS,  with  26  Illustrations,  cloth,  2s.  6d.  ;  paper,  is.  gd. 

OLD  CURIOSITY  SHOP,  with  39  Illustrations,  cloth,  4s. ;  paper,  3s. 

SKETCHES  BY  "  BOZ,"  with  36  Illustrations,  cloth,  2s.  6d.  ;  paper,  is.  gd. 

HARD  TIMES,  with  20  Illustrations,  cloth,  2s.  ;  paper,  is.  6d. 

DOM  BEY  AND  SON,  with  61  Illustrations,  cloth,  4s. ;  paper,  3s. 

UNCOMMERCIAL  TRAVELLER,  with  26  Illustrations,  cloth,  2s.  6d.;  paper,  is.  gd. 

CHRISTMAS  BOOKS,  with  28  Illustrations,  cloth,  2S.  6d.:  sewed,  is.  gd. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND,  with  15  Illustrations,  cloth,  2s.  6d.  ;  paper,  is.  gd. 

AMERICAN  NOTES  and  PICTURES  FROM  ITALY,  with  iS  New  Illustrations,  cloth, 
2S.  6d.  ;  paper,  is.  gd. 

EDWIN  DROOD  ;  REPRINTED  PIECES  ;  and  other  STORIES,  with  30  Illustrations, 
cloth,  4s.  ;  paper,  3s. 

CHRISTMAS  STORIES,  with  23  Illustrations,  cloth,  4s.  ;  paper  3s. 

THE   LIFE   OF   DICKENS.     By  John   Forster.    With   Illustrations.     Cloth,  4s.  6d.; 
paper,  3s.  6d. 

Messrs.  Chapman  &  Hall  trust  that  by  this  Edition  they  will  be  enabled 
to  place  the  works  of  the  most  popular  British  Author  of  the  present  day  in 
the  hands  of  all  English  readers. 

PEOPLE'S  EDITION. 

PICKWICK  PAPERS.     In  Boards.     Illustrated.    2s. 
SKETCHES   BY   BOZ.     In  Boards.     Illustrated.     2s. 
OLIVER  TWIST.     In  Boards.     Illustrated.     2S. 
NICHOLAS   NICKLEBY.     In  Boards.     Illustrated.    2s. 
MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.     In  Boards.     Illustrated.    2s, 
DOMBEY  AND  SON.     In  Boards.     Illustrated.     2s. 

MR.    DICKENS'S    READINGS. 

Fcap.  8vo,  sewed. 
CHRISTMAS  CAROL  IN  PROSE,     is.        STORY  OF  LITTLE  DOMEEY.     i.-?. 

CRICKET  ON  THE  HEARTH,     is.  "^^^^  TRAVELLER,  BOOTS  AT  THE 

HOLLY-TREE       INN.      and       MRS. 
CHIMES  :  A  GOBLIN   STORY,    is.  GAMP.     is. 


A  CHRISTMAS  CAROL,  with  the  Original  Coloured  Plates  ; 

being  a  reprint  of  the  Original  Edition,     Small  8vo,  red  cloth,  gilt  cdget,  5s. 


CHAPMAN  oy  HALL,  LIMITED,  193,  PICCADILLY.         23 


THE    LIBRARY 


CONTEMPORARY    SCIENCE. 

Some  degree  of  truth  has  been  admitted  in  the  charge  not  unfrequently 
brought  against  the  English,  that  they  are  assiduous  rather  than  soHd  readers. 
They  give  themselves  too  much  to  the  lighter  forms  of  literature.  Technical 
Science  is  almost  exclusively  restricted  to  its  professed  votaries,  and,  but  for 
some  of  the  Quarterlies  and  Monthlies,  very  little  solid  matter  would  come 
within  the  reach  of  the  general  public. 

But  the  circulation  enjoyed  by  many  of  these  very  periodicals,  and  the 
increase  of  the  scientific  journals,  may  be  taken  for  sufficient  proof  that  a  taste 
for  more  serious  subjects  of  study  is  now  growing.  Indeed  there  is  good  reason 
to  believe  that  if  strictly  scientific  subjects  arc  not  more  universally  cultivated, 
it  is  mainly  because  they  are  not  rendered  more  accessible  to  the  people.  Such 
themes  are  treated  either  too  elaborately,  or  in  too  forbidding  a  style,  or  else 
brought  out  in  too  costly  a  form  to  be  easily  available  to  all  classes. 

With  the  view  of  remedying  this  manifold  and  increasing  inconvenience, 
we  are  glad  to  be  able  to  take  advantage  of  a  comprehensive  project  recently 
set  on  foot  in  France,  emphatically  the  land  of  Popular  Science.  The  well- 
known  publishers  MM.  Reinwald  and  Co.,  have  made  satisfactory  arrange- 
ments with  some  of  the  leading  savants  of  that  country  to  supply  an  exhaustive 
series  of  works  on  each  and  all  of  the  sciences  of  the  day,  treated  in  a  style  at 
once  lucid,  popular,  and  strictly  methodic. 

The  names  of  MM.  P.  Broca,  Secretary  of  the  Societe  d' Anthropologic  ; 
Ch.  Martins,  Montpellier  University  ;  C.  Vogt,  University  of  Geneva ;  G.  de 
Mortillet,  Museum  of  Saint  Germain;  A.  Guillemin,  author  of  "  Ciel "  and 
"  Phenomenes  de  la  Physique;"  A.  Hovelacque,  editor  of  the  "Revue  de 
Linguistique ; "  Dr.  Dally,  Dr.  Letourneau,  and  many  others,  whose  co- 
operation has  already  been  secured,  are  a  guarantee  that  their  respective 
subjects  will  receive  thorough  treatment,  and  will  in  all  cases  be  written  up  to 
t  he  very  latest  discoveries,  and  kept  in  every  respect  fidly  abreast  of  the  times. 

We  have,  on  our  part,  been  fortunate  in  making  such  further  arrangements 

with  some  of  the  best  writers  and  recognised  authorities  here,  as  will  enable  us 

to  present  the  series  in  a  thoroughly  English  dress  to  the  reading  public  of  this 

country.     In  so  doing  we  feel  convinced  that  we  are  taking  the  best  means  of 

supplying  a  want  that  has  long  been  deeply  felt. 

[over. 


24 


BOOKS  PUBLISHED  BY 


LIBRARY  OF  CONTEMPORARY  SCIENCE— Cwi//«?«-</— 

The  volumes  in  actual  course  of  execution,  or  contemplated,  will  embrace 
such  subjects  as  : 


PHYSICAL      AND      COMMERCIAL 

GEOGRAPHY. 
ARCHITECTURE. 
CHEMISTRY. 
EDUCATION. 
GENERAL  ANATOMY. 
ZOOLOGY. 
BOTANY. 
METEOROLOGY. 
HISTORY. 
FINANCE. 
MECHANICS. 
i        STATISTICS,  &c.  &c. 

All  the  volumes,  vi^hile  complete  and  so  far  independent  in  themselves,  will 
be  of  uniform  appearance,  slightly  varying,  according  to  the  nature  of  the 
subject,  in  bulk  and  in  price. 

When  finished  they  will  form  a  Complete  Collection  of  Standard  Works  of 
Reference  on  all  the  physical  and  mental  sciences,  thus  fully  justifying  the 
general  title  chosen  for  the  series—"  Library  of  Contemporary  Sciknce." 


SCIENCE  OF  LANGUAGE.  {_Fublished. 

BIOLOGY. 

ANTHROPOLOGY. 

.ESTHETICS. 

PHILOSOPHY. 

COMPARATIVE  MYTHOLOGY. 

A.STRONOMY. 

PREHISTORIC  ARCHEOLOGY. 

ETHNOGRAPHY. 

GEOLOGY. 

HYGIENE. 

POLITICAL  ECONOMY. 


LEVER'S  (CHARLES)  WORKS. 

THE  ORIGINAL  EDITION  with  THE  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

In  1 7  vols.     Dany  ^vc.     Cloth,  ds.  each. 

CHEAP  EDITION. 

Fancy  boards,  2s.  dd. 


CHARLES  O'MALLEY. 
TOM  BURKE. 

THE  KNIGHT  OF  GWYNNE, 
MARTINS  OF  CROMARTIN. 


THE  DALTONS. 
ROLAND  CASHEL. 
DAVENPORT  DUNN, 
DODD  FAMILY. 


THE  O'DONOGHUE. 
FORTUNES  OF  GLENCORE, 
HARRY  LORREQUER, 
ONE  OF  THEM. 
A  DAY'S  RIDE. 
JACK  HINTON. 
BARRINGTON. 
TONY  BUTLER. 
MAURICE  TIERNAY. 
SIR  BROOKE   FOSBROOKE. 
BRAMLEIGHS    OF    BISHOP'S 
FOLLY. 


Fancy  boards,  zs. 

LORD  KILGOBBIN. 

LUTTRELL  OF  ARRAN. 

RENT    IN    THE    CLOUD  and  ST, 

PATRICK'S   EVE. 
CON  CREGAN. 
ARTHUR  O'LEARY. 
THAT  BOY  OF  NORCOTT'S. 
CORNELIUS  O'DOWD. 
SIR  JASPER  CAREW, 
NUTS  AND  NUT-CRACKERS, 

Also  in  sets,  27  vols.,  cloth,  for C\  4J. 


CHAPMAN  &-  HALL,  LIMITED,   193,  PICCADILLY.         25 


TROLLOPE'S    (ANTHONY)    WORKS. 

CHEAP     EDITION. 

Boards,  2s.  6d,  ;  doth,  y.  dd. 


THE  PRIME  MINISTER. 
PHINEAS  FINN. 
ORLEY  FARM. 
CAN  YOU  FORGIVE  HER? 


VICAR  OF  BULLHAMPTON. 
RALPH  THE  HEIR. 
THE  BERTRAMS. 
KELLYS  AND  O'KELLYS. 
McDERMOT  OF  BALLYCLORAN. 
CASTLE  RICHMOND. 
B ELTON  ESTATE. 
MISS  MACKENSIE. 
LADY  ANNA. 


PHINEAS  REDUX, 

HE  KNEW  HE  WAS  RIGHT. 

EUSTACE  DIAMONDS. 


Boards,  2s.  ;  dolh. 


HARRY  HOTSPUR. 

RACHEL  RAY. 

TALES  OF  ALL  COUNTRIES 

MARY  GRESLEY, 

LOTTA  SCHMIDT. 

LA  VENDUE. 

DOCTOR  THORNE. 

IS  HE  POPENJOY 


WHYTE-MELVILLE'S    WORKS. 

CHEAP  EDITION. 

Crozun  %vo,  fancy  boards,  2s.  each,  or  2s,  6d.  in  doth. 

UNCLE  JOHN. 

THE  WHITE   ROSE. 

CERISE.     A  Tale  of  the  Last  Century. 

BROOKES   OF   BRIDLEMERE. 

"BONES   AND  I;"   or,  The  Skeleton  at  Home. 

"M.,  OR   N."     Similia  Similibus  Curantur. 

CONTRABAND;   or,  A  Losing  Hazard. 

MARKET    HARBOROUGH;    or.  How  Mr.    Sawyer  went  to 

the  Shires. 

SARCHEDON.    A  Legend  of  the  Great  Queen. 

SONGS  AND   VERSES. 

SATANELLA.    A  Story  of  Punchestown. 

THE   TRUE   CROSS.    A  Legend  of  the  Church. 

KATERFELTO.    A  Story  of  Exmoon 

SISTER  LOUISE  ;  or,  A  Story  of  a  Woman's  Repentance. 

ROSINE. 


26  BOOKS  PUBLISHED  BY 


List  of  Books,  Drawing  Examples,  Diagrams,  Models, 
Instruments,  &c. 

INCLUDING 

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Cylinder. 
Cone. 
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Triangular  Prism. 
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is  a  brief  description 


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30  BOOKS  PUBLISHED  BY 


SOLID  MODELS,  S^c— Continued— 

the  body  of  the  obelisk),  3  feet  high ;  i  Pyramid,  6  inches  base  ;  the  complete 
object  is  thus  nearly  5  feet  high.  A  Market  Cross — composed  of  3  Slabs,  24,  18, 
and  12  inches  across,  and  each  3  inches  high  ;  i  Upright,  3  feet  high  ;  2  Cross  Arms, 
united  by  mortise  and  tenon  joints  ;  complete  height,  3  feet  9  inches.  A  Step- 
Ladder,  23  inches  high.  A  Kitchen  Table,  14^  inches  high.  A  Chair  to  corre- 
spond. A  Four-legged  Stool,  with  projecting  top  and  cross  rails,  height  14  inches. 
A  Tub,  with  handles  and  projecting  hoops,  and  the  divisions  between  the  staves 
plainly  marked.  A  strong  Trestle,  18  inches  high.  A  Hollow  Cylinder,  9  inches 
in  diameter,  and  12  inches  long,  divided  lengthwise.  A  Hollow  Sphere,  9  inches 
in  diameter,  divided  into  semi-spheres,  one  of  which  is  again  divided  into  quarters  ; 
the  semi-sphere,  when  placed  on  the  cylinder,  gives  the  form  and  principles  of 
shading  a  Dome,  whilst  one  of  the  quarters  placed  on  half  the  cylinder  forms  a 
Niche. 

*Davidson's  Apparatus  for  Teaching  Practical  Geometry  (22  models),  £k,. 

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Models  in  any  position.  Wood  Models  :  Square  Prism,  12  inches  side,  18  inches 
high  ;  Hexagonal  Prism,  14  inches  side,  18  inches  high  ;  Cube,  14  inches  side  ; 
Cylinder,  13  inches  diameter,  16  inches  high  ;  Hexagon  Pyramid,  14  inches 
diameter,  22^  inches  side:  Square  Pyramid,  14  inches  side,  22 J4  inches  side; 
Cone,  13  inches  diameter,  22^^  inches  side  ;  Skeleton  Cube,  19  inches  solid  wood 
i|^  inch  square  ;  Intersecting  Circles,  19  inches  solid  wood  2j:t  by  ij^  inches. 
Wire  Models  :  Triangular  Prism,  17  inches  side,  22  inches  high  ;  Square  Prism, 
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high  ;  Cylinder,  14  inches  diameter,  21  inches  high  ;  Hexagon  Pyramid,  i8  inches 
diameter,  24  inches  high  ;  Square  Pyramid,  17  inches  side,  24  inches  high  ;  Cone, 
17  inches  side,  24  inches  high  ;  Skeleton  Cube,  it)  inches  side  ;  Intersecting  Circles, 
79  inches  side  ;  Plain  Circle,  ig  inches  side  ;  Plam  Square,  19  inches  side.  Table 
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LARGE    DIAGRAMS. 

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CLASS.  DIVISION.  SECTION.  DIAGRAM. 

(  /  Thalamifloral  ..  ..         i 

T^V.»  1  ^  jAngiospermous        . .  \9''"^'?^S'''\     '^         ■•='^3 

Dicotyledon  ..         ..  <       of  j  Corolhfioral     ..  ..        4 

/  \  Incomplete  . .  . .  5 

V  Gymnospermous  . .         . .  . .  . .  . .  6 

I  Petaloid        . .  . .    f  Superior  . .  . .  7 

Monocotyledons       ..\  |  Inferior..  ..  ..  8 

( Glumaceous. .  ..         ..  ..  ..  ..  9 

ILLUSTRATIONS  OF  THE  PRINCIPAL  NATURAL  ORDERS  OF  THE 
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CHAPMAN  ^^  HALL,  LIMITED,  193.  PICCADILLY.         31 


BUILDING   CONSTRUCTION: 

TEN  SHEETS.     By  Williaji  J.  Glennv,  Professor  of  Drawing,  King's  College. 

In  sets,  ;^i  IS. 
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DIAGRAMS   OF    THE    MECHANICAL    POWERS,    AND    THEIR    APPLI- 
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Dr.  John  Anderson. 
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Sheets  ;^i  per  set  ;  mounted  on  rollers,  £1. 

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PHYSIOLOGICAL  : 

ELEVEN  SHEETS.  Illustrating  Human  Physiologj',  Life  size  and  Coloured  from 
Nature.  Prepared  under  the  direction  of  John  Marshall,  F.R.S.,  F.R.C.S.,  &c. 
Each  Sheet,  12s.  6d.     On  canvas  and  rollers,  varnished,  £1  is. 

1.  THE  SKELETON  AND  LIGAMENTS. 

2.  THE  MUSCLES,  JOINTS,  AND  ANIMAL  MECHANICS. 

3.  THE  VISCERA  IN  POSITION.— THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  LUNGS. 

4.  THE  ORGANS  OF  CIRCULATION. 

5.  THE  LYMPHATICS  OR  ABSORBENTS. 
6    THE  ORGANS  OF  DIGESTION. 

7.  THE  BRAIN  AND  NERVES.— THE  ORGANS  OF  THE  VOICE. 
S.  THE  ORGANS  OF  THE  SENSES. 
9.  THE  ORGANS  OF  THE  SENSES. 

10.  THE  MICROSCOPIC  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  TEXTURES  AND  ORGANS. 

11.  THE  MICROSCOPIC  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  TEXTURES  AND  ORGANS. 


HUMAN    BODY,    LIFE    SIZE.     By  John  Marshall,  F.R.S.,   F.R.C.S.     Each 
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1.  THE  SKELETON,  Front  View. 

2.  THE  MUSCLES,  Front  View. 

3.  THE  SKELETON,  Back  View. 

4.  THE  MUSCLES,  Back  View. 


5.  THE  SKELETON,  Side  View. 

6.  THE  MUSCLES,  Side  View. 

7.  THE    FEMALE    SKELETON, 

Front  View. 


ZOOLOGICAL : 

TEN  SHEETS.    Illustrating  the  Classification  of  Animals.    By  Robert  Patterson, 

£■2. ;  on  canvas  and  rollers,  varnished,  XJ3  los. 
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32 


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