«— — leaa— ax uiuMumjjm ' ^ rr*^' 
 
tt 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
'^yL<:i/^^-o/c z^ui^a^ aJ ,,J^^^ ^^^-m. //?.& C/iHiM-. 
 
Hawbuck Grange 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES 
 OF THOMAS SCOTT. ESO. 
 
 AUTHOR OF "HANDLEY CROSS," "SPONGE'S SPORTING 
 TOUR," "ASK MAMMA,"' etc, etc. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY H. K. BROWNE &- W. T. MAUD. 
 
 PRINTED FOR SUBSCRIBERS 
 
 from the plates of the Original Edition issued by 
 BRADBURY, AGNEW & CO., 8, 9, 10, BOUVERIE ST., 
 
 LONDON. 
 
PREFACE 
 TO THE ORIGINAL EDITION. 
 
 All we have got to say in the way of a preface to this 
 work is, that our friend Tom Scott, seeing his Adven- 
 tures advertised as the sporting adventures of " Thomas 
 Scott, Esquire," wrote to us to say that he calls himself 
 Mister — Mr. Thomas Scott, and that he has " Thomas 
 Scott, Farmer, Hawbuck Grange," in honest parlia- 
 mentary-sized letters, without flourish or eye-mystifying 
 gewgaw, on the back of his dog-cart, as anyone who 
 likes to inspect it may see. 
 
 London, October, 1847. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP, 
 
 I. — CI' n HUNTING •#.»,, 
 
 II. — THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING UUNT . , , 
 
 III. — A CHOKER ..,.,,, 
 
 IV. — A CHEERER •,,,,,. 
 
 V. — LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS . • , , 
 
 VI. — THE GOLDTRAP ARMS 
 
 VII. — THE GOLDTRAP ARMS ; OR, TROTTING HIM OITT 
 
 VIII. — THE STOUT-AS-STEEL HOUNDS . , , . 
 
 IX. — MR. JENKINS JONES .... - 
 
 X. — HOMEWARD BOUND .,..,. 
 
 XI. — THE DOUBTFUL DAY 
 
 XII. — THE BAD MEET 
 
 XIII. — THE BLANK DAY ...... 
 
 XIV. — THE BLANK DAY (CONTINUED) 
 
 XV. — THE SEASON 1846-7 
 
 XVI. — THE MORNING MEET ..... 
 
 XVII.— AND LAST 
 
 rAGii 
 
 1 
 
 12 
 
 48 
 
 67 
 
 70 
 
 96 
 
 107 
 
 121 
 
 134 
 
 144 
 
 156 
 
 183 
 
 204 
 
 221 
 
 237 
 
 244 
 
 261 
 
ENGRAVINGS IN TEXT. 
 
 PAOB 
 
 Col(M)rook Gorse ., ^ ,,,»*»»• ^ 
 
 Tanjuinius Muff's Mishap • ..11 
 
 An ungenial day . , . , j ^7 
 
 Chased by a colley 69 
 
 Lord Lionel in his favourite position 89 
 
 Crashing at a big fence ......... i 95 
 
 "Couhl hunt a little, I should think " . ...... 101 
 
 A morning gallop 107 
 
 •'Tliink of the country — arle bog ! " 117 
 
 "Flesh and blood can't stand this!" 123 
 
 He cleared the high stone wall ........ 130 
 
 Followed by his old enemies, the crows ....... 132 
 
 Itlr. Jenkins Jones and the Frenchman 143 
 
 " I don't keep these fellows to look at " . . . . . . . 153 
 
 Old Ben 156 
 
 Our old friend Dr. Podgers ......... 163 
 
 " Vain his attempt who strives to please them all " . . . . 182 
 
 At home ! 204 
 
 •• Prepare to mount ! " 213 
 
 Anthony Tngtail 221 
 
 Tlie end of a blank day 236 
 
 •' Forrard in ! forrard in, Tapster, old boy ! " 257 
 
 The end of Hunting 261 
 
ENGRAVINGS IN TEXT. 
 
 FULL PAGE, 
 
 '■'Uet to him, Arrogant," screamed Jo8 . , . 
 
 The delighted Mr. Trumper picks up his Hare 
 Beanstack lai;ding on a Donkey . > . . 
 ' ' There's nothing can compare " . . . . 
 
 The GentkMuan on the Painaway Chestnut 
 
 Tom Scott and the " Young-un "on the way to the Meet 
 
 " What Time do we Dine ? " asked he . , . 
 
 The Old Woman didn't know where it was . , 
 
 He sent him flying beyond the foremost hoof-mark . 
 
 Lord Lionel Lazytongs ...... 
 
 " Let me present you with the Brush " , . 
 
 The pomp and terror of cart-horse cavalry , 
 
 '■ My Lord Duke, my particular Friend. Mr. Tugtail ' 
 
 rAoa 
 
 To fare page 4 
 
 14 
 18 
 44 
 
 64 
 
 76 
 
 138 
 
 174 
 188 
 202 
 208 
 226 
 
ENGRAVINGS ON STEEL. 
 
 Hold Hard I • • t • • • 
 Lord Lionel discourses on Hare Hunting 
 Cake and the Cutlets , , . . 
 Who-hoop 1 ■ . r k . . ' 
 Muff refuses the Brush. , . , 
 Captain Rasher Demonstrating . . , 
 Ware Sheep ! Ware Sheep I . . . 
 Hawbuck Grange as seen from the South 
 
 face page 
 
 32 
 
 >»' 
 
 78 
 
 ,. 
 
 106 
 
 .' 
 
 134 
 
 II 
 
 180 
 
 >• 
 
 200 
 
 II 
 
 258 
 
 n 
 
 264 
 
Hawbuck Grange. 
 
 ETC. 
 
 COLD-BROOK GORSE. 
 
 CHAPTER I, 
 
 CUB-HUNTING. 
 
 " Sport in fox hunting cannot be said to begin before October, but 
 in tlie two preceding montlis a pack is either made or marred." — 
 Beckfoed. 
 
 "It was the born I heard," said Scott, as the old mare 
 again cocked her ears to the wind. "It ivas the horn I 
 heard, as I came over Addington Hill, though the country 
 looks so green and gay that I never thought of such a thing 
 as hunting." 
 
 This exclamation was elicited as, on a fine bright Sep- 
 tember day, a month iu which, according to the usual course 
 
3 HAWBUCK GEANGE. 
 
 of English summers, harvest operations would bft about 
 commencing in many parts, Mr. Thomas Scott the hero of 
 this work, whose '* pedigree and performances " must work 
 themselves out as we proceed, was taking a quiet ride 
 " across country " to hear how things were going on at the 
 kennel. 
 
 The kennel is a grand summer lounge. One is sure to fall 
 in with somebody to talk to ; either the huntsman ingratiating 
 himself with his entry, the whip sweeping the yards, or the 
 feeder filling his boiler or scalding his troughs. It is privileged 
 easiness — not idleness, but easiness — for the huntsman can 
 *' make off" a pup quite as well in the presence of a stranger 
 as when alone, and the whip is not likely to be put off his work 
 by answering "interrogatories," as our friend Bigbag of the 
 Chancery bar calls his questions, nor the boiler turned from his 
 purpose by listening to our rigmarole. Therefore a man goes 
 to the kennel with the certainty of a smiling reception and a 
 gossip, instead of a gruff " Well, what do you want ? " or the 
 "I'm particularly busy just now," of the man who, seeing one's 
 approach from his window, mutters to himself, " Here's that 
 confounded Tom Scott coming to bother me with his infernal 
 
 nonsense. I wish he was . Ah, Tom, my dear fellow, how 
 
 are you ? " &c. 
 
 Tom was riding his favourite old roan mare, that has carried 
 him safely for ten good seasons, and who knows just as well 
 what she goes out for as he does. She had gone stejjping along, 
 with the snaffle bridle rein dangling carelessly on her neck, 
 when, on reaching the summit of the aforementioned hill, she 
 suddenly pricked her ears, giving certain indications of gaiety 
 quite incompatible with the sober steadiness of pace she 
 had been pursuing. 
 
 Mr. Scott no more thought of hearing the horn in September 
 than he did of picking gooseberries at Christmas, or of having 
 a snowball romp in August. Indeed, how should he ? Take 
 tlie summer or no summer of 18 i5 as a "precedent," as Bigbag 
 
BAWBUCK QRANOE. 8 
 
 would say, and what was he doing in September ? Shearing a 
 bit of barley — beginning with the wheat, perhaps and the 
 " tartars " standing so ridiculously green as to look for all the 
 world like next year's crop. The summers of 1845 and 1846 
 were not in the least like the same thing, neither were the 
 winters. Some masters hardly got any cub-hunting at all in 
 1845, so late and protracted was the harvest. But, when they 
 did begin hunting, what a season they had ! Almost a surfeit 
 — to the short stud ones, certainly a surfeit. We had not had 
 such an early season as the one of 1846, since "Plenipo's" 
 year, when we remember seeing a buck ride up Doncaster 
 High-street in scarlet and boots on the Leger day. The summer 
 was a roaster ; but what a winter followed ! That, however, we 
 will deal with as we go on. 
 
 Well, old Barbara was right. At a second blast, her small 
 pointed ears almost touched, and she stood stock still. The 
 spot she chose was worthy the eye of a painter. It was the 
 angle of a road, commanding as well the deep-ribbed Gothic 
 arches of an old stone bridge, as the bend of the rapid river 
 above, whose rocky sides were fringed with stately trees of 
 various sorts, in all the motley beauty of autumnal leaf. The 
 hounds ivere out. Mr, Scott had not stood many seconds, ere 
 'ihe well known "Get away!" of the whip, on the one side, and 
 ihe horn of the huntsman on the other, proclaimed that they had 
 drawn the banks. 
 
 Presently he saw a scarlet — a purple, rather — then 
 another, and shortly after a small cavalcade, among which 
 ie distinctly recognised the flaunting of a couple of habits, 
 emerged from the wooded waterside and made for the grass 
 field above. 
 
 The horn again twanged, and the whips cracked loud and 
 heavily on the clear crisp atmosphere, sounding over the far 
 country like guns, 
 
 " I'm in luck," said Mr. Scott, pretending to tickle old 
 Barbara's sides with his spurless shooting shoe-heel. The old 
 
4 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 mare, however, wanted no persuasion. Having satisfied herself 
 what was going on, she forthwith gathered herself together, 
 and began showing her big black knees below her nose, as she 
 trotted away in the line. 
 
 She knew the way as well as Scott did — in at the bridle-gate 
 by Squire Eamrod's keeper's, across the lawn, through the 
 brook, and at the back of Mr. Hacker's farm buildings, then 
 a long trot along the banks, and another bridle-gate at the 
 top lets her into the field where the hounds were. She had 
 often gone that line, but never so early in the year — at least 
 never for the purpose of hunting. 
 
 We have often doubted whether masters of hounds like seeing 
 people out cub-hunting or not, and we have about settled the 
 question in our own mind as follows, viz. that huntsmen or 
 masters who go out early — at day-break, for instance — are glad 
 to see people, because they are sure that none but sportsmen 
 will come ; whereas the midday or afternoon performance 
 favours all the idle, yammering, bothersome, chance-medley 
 customers of the country. 
 
 Take to-day's field as a sample. There were the Misses 
 Ogleby, beautiful girls, and full of chatter ; and in their train 
 the great Mr. Tarquinius MafiF, dressed like a dancing- 
 master, and his brother Blatheremskite Muff', who come after 
 the girls instead of after the hounds. Tlicn there was little 
 Dr. Podgers, the union doctor, on his black pony, who fell 
 in with the hounds at Gunton Gate, and is deluding himself 
 into the idea that he is hunting ; Drippinghead, the butcher's 
 boy, with his greasy blue coat, and apron tucked round his 
 waist, who is stealing his hour to the detriment of his 
 unfortunate nag, who will have to gallop all the way home ; 
 an unknown gentleman in gambadoes, with an umbrella under 
 his arm ; Tom Muzroll, the horsebreaker, who is instructing a 
 four-year-old at the expense of the pack ; and two weed- 
 riding, be-trousered, be-whiskered young gentlemen from the 
 
HAWBUCK GliANGE. 6 
 
 neijrliF^onring town of Scrapctin, who just may be aajtfiing 
 or anyl)ody. 
 
 But Scott approaches the field. Llark to old MulT! Tar- 
 quinius, that's to say. " Halloo, j\Ir. Scott ! " exclaims he, 
 with all Dhe consequence of the great Mr. O'Toole, the toast- 
 master himself. " Halloo, Mr. Scott, you are gettinc^ slack in 
 your old age. What ! only coming out now ! You've lost the 
 most beautiful thing that ever was seen — found half-a-dozen 
 most beatitifn] foxes all huddled together, and had the most 
 charming hunt that can possibly be imagined. Hadn't we. 
 Miss Amelia ? " asks he, appealing to the younger of the 
 sisters. 
 
 "0 dear! thuch a delightful hunt!" lisps the beauty, 
 repressing her jet black hair beneath her smart black Malay 
 cock-feathered hat. " My pony took thuch a jump ! " 
 added she, raising herself up in the saddle, as if to show 
 how it was done, sousing down an uncommonly neat embon- 
 point figure. 
 
 MufF is Scott's abomination. Had he ever thought of meet- 
 ing him, he would have gone " t'other way." MuflP knows he 
 despises him, and calls him a " humbug," but cannot resist the 
 opportunity of showing off before the ladies by pretending to 
 be a great sportsman. They don't know that he isn't, and he 
 thinks by carrying matters with a high hand to prevent Scott 
 exposing him. 
 
 Just as Scott had undergone the Muff's, and made his saluta- 
 tions to the " ladies," who received him in the sort of way 
 young ladies generally receive incorrigible fox-hunting, not 
 particularly young or overgilt bachelors — just as Scott had 
 undergone and performed all this we say, Arrogant, who had 
 been making the banks echo with her name, at last con- 
 descended to creep through the wood-fence, and make for the 
 pack in the hurried way peculiar to disobedient hounds v/ith an 
 irate whipper-in at their sterns. 
 
 " Get to him, Arropant ! " screamed Joe, the second whip, 
 
6 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 sjallopins: and cracking his whip, as though he would cut her 
 iu two. 
 
 Mr. Neville, who had been sitting patiently waiting Arro- 
 gant's appearance, to say a few words to the juvenile delin- 
 quent, and parrying Blatheremskite Muff's importunities to 
 know when he would begin "advertising," was just turning 
 his horse to move on when Mr. Scott's appearance attracted 
 his attention. 
 
 " Ah, Tom, my boy ! " exclaimed he, his handsome face 
 brightening up with a smile, " / ivas just thinhing of you. I 
 was just looking at that Ugly turnstile, and thinking of the 
 confounded cropper you got over it on the first day of the 
 season. By Jove that's twenty years since," added he, with 
 a shake of the head, and a significant glance of his bright 
 eye. 
 
 " Three and hventy, Sir," replied Tom, for so we will take the 
 liberty of calling him too. 
 
 '• By Jove, you're right," rejoined Mr. Neville. " Quite 
 right, I do declare,'" with an emphasis, and a dig of his hunt- 
 ing-whip end on his thigh. "It was the fifteenth season of 
 my hunting the country, and now I'm in my thirty-eighth — 
 time flies.'''' 
 
 " It passes lightly over you. Sir, though," observed 
 Tom. 
 
 " Middling," replied he, cheerfully. " Middling — can't com- 
 plain. What do you think of the young hounds ? That's a 
 nice lot," said he, pointing to some yellow pied ones who came 
 frisking forward as he called them by name ; " Marksman 1 
 Merlin ! Messmate ! Midnight 1 Myrtle ! by old Marmion 
 out of Marcia," added he, his eyes sparkling as he looked 
 at them. " Marmion was by Sir Bellingham Graham's 
 Marmion, you know ; and Marcia was by Lord Lonsdale*^ 
 Monarch out of Modish ; " and so he went on through hii 
 entry. 
 
 Mr. Neville is one of the last of the old school of sportsmen ; 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. ' 
 
 of men who made fox-huntin<>- their study, instead of mixing it 
 up witli lialf-a-dozen other pursuits. Everything connected 
 with his establisliment is ordered with the regularity of the 
 army, and conducted with the precision of a regiment. Cub- 
 hunting : — Undress ; men in hats, last year's coats, boots, 
 breeches, and whips, riding, exercising horses ; master in a 
 sort of costume combining the varieties of the shooter, the 
 hare-huntci", and the farmer — white hat, green cut-away, 
 striped cravat and waistcoat, drab breeches, with cloth 
 caps to his boots, and a pair of heavy-looking spurs ; horse, 
 a hack ; saddle and bridle, last year's ones, whip ditto ; 
 and there's the cub-hunting turn-out. Year after year has 
 seen him in the same ; and so rapidly have they passed, that 
 the first time appears but as last year. Nor has the hand ef 
 time marked its lapse more strongly on his person. His hair 
 may be a shade greyer, whiter rather ; but his figure retains its 
 pristine lightness and neatness, he sits well into his saddle, and 
 looks like what he is — a gentleman and a sportsman. How 
 unlike the Muffs with their ringlets, and chains, and brooches, 
 and gew-gaws — their registered paletots, satin cravats, white 
 leather trousers, and varnished, heel-spurred boots ! They look 
 more like Hyde Park than the hunting-field. 
 
 "This is onr first day," observed the squire. "Indeed,! 
 didn't think of going ; but it was so fine, aud the Misses 
 Ogleby persuaded me." 
 
 The fact was, the Muffs had bothered him so that he went 
 to the kennel to get rid of them ; and finding they followed, 
 he took out the hounds. " We killed a cub in Clifton 
 Dean," continued he ; " and found a litter in the banks, 
 and now we are going to Cold-brook Gorse : tve\'e plenty 
 of foxes, and there is a litter there wants disturbing." So 
 saying he gave the signal to old Ben, the huntsman, 
 who forthwith tickled his nag in the flank, and, preceded 
 by Tom, the whip, took a line of bridle gates for Cold-brook 
 G orse. 
 
8 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 The country was not quite clear of corn ; indeed, they came 
 upon a field of oats they were shearing, across a corner of which 
 the route lay. 
 
 " Come on, Sir — come on, Sir 1 " cried the farmer, from 
 amidst his workpeople, seeing the squire was turning away to 
 avoid the damage of the hounds through the standing corn. 
 "You're quite welcome. Sir! — you're quite welcome, Sir!" 
 repeated he, as he held open the gate into the field. This put 
 the horsemen into single file ; and as they jogged on, Tom 
 thus began to ruminate : — 
 
 " Cub-hunting is only poor sport to any but the immediately 
 interested," said he. " It resembles the tuning of the instru- 
 ments for a grand let oflF of a concert, all of which is very 
 right, necessary, and proper, but a sort of thing that the public 
 care very little to hear. To the master, however, it is every- 
 thing. It is the rehearsal of the performance of the season, 
 and upon which much of his credit and comfort depends. Still 
 it has more the air of the foreign chasse about it than the go- 
 along clear- the-stage devil- take-the-hindmost-sort of affair of 
 an English fox-hunt. It is like a play, with the principal 
 character omitted — a kill without a run, or the intention of a 
 run." 
 
 Despite the sneer and smile of contempt it may raise on the 
 features of our friends, we will candidly state that we agree 
 with Mr. Scott and are uot cub-hunters. We have no taste for 
 kilUng foxes " while they suck," as the old huntsman said to 
 the young one, who was boasting of the number of noses he 
 reckoned on the kennel door. 
 
 Cub-hunting is like the noise and prattle of children, all very 
 delightful to the parents, but very uninteresting to strangers. 
 If you get up in the middle of the night to start with the light, 
 though you avoid the MuflFs, you have not the excitement that 
 attends the same performance in the spring of the year, when 
 you go to drag up to a wild flying fox. In the latter case, you 
 have the hopes of a gallant run over a boundless extent of 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 9 
 
 country, while, with the cubs, it is all up and down, backwards 
 and forwards, heading and tally-hoing back. Hunting is 
 hunting, no doubt, and the cry of hounds is very delightful — 
 for better than Jullicu's or any other body's band — and the 
 cry of hounds is most beautiful in a wood, but a great part of 
 the joyful excitement is lost by the knowledge that the fading 
 dying notes outside, so quickly following "Tally-ho ! a-w-a-y ! " 
 will not be heard. " Tally-ho ! back ! Tally-ho ! back ! " is 
 only a poor cry. 
 
 In short, cub-hunting is neither one thing nor another, to 
 any one save the master and his men. There is neither the 
 joyous wide-awake uncertainty and excitement peculiar to the 
 real thing, nor the quiet, staid, take-it-easy, game-at-chess-sort 
 of labyrinth unwinding of hare-hunting. Cub-hunting is good 
 for the ladies and men like the MuflFs, who come out for 
 appetites and to kill time. They can take up positions on hills 
 and view commanding spots, join the chiding of hounds with 
 the charms of the landscape, and trot away when they have 
 had enough of either ; but the man who wants his gallop, 
 and to see hounds work, had better take a turn with the 
 harriers. It is bad enough laming a horse with harriers 
 at the beginning of the season, but infinitely worse stubbing 
 or staking one in cub-hunting. Moreover, the ground is 
 generally so desperately hard in autumn, that it shakes and 
 shatters the often not over sound legs and feet of the old 
 hunter. Many a horse is perfectly sound in November, 
 that makes a very pottering shamble of it over the hard 
 ground in September or October. But we ai'e only stating 
 what everybody knows. 
 
 The hounds soon arrived at Cold-brook Gorse ; and a fine, 
 large, close, healthy cover it was. Bush swelled above bush, 
 like undulations of the sea, or like cauliflower heads ; and the 
 rising ground of the north side commanded a view of the 
 whole. . A belt of now bright yellow horse-chestnuts, broken, 
 weather-beaten, and bent, formed a sort of shelter on that side. 
 
10 HAWBUCK GBANQE. 
 
 There were eight or ten acres of it altogether, and we hold 
 that one cover of eight or ten acres is worth eight or ten covers 
 of two or three acres. 
 
 The low end we should add was bounded by Cold-brook, a 
 very uninviting, sedgy, rotten-banked looking burn, of great 
 reputed coldness of water, as fi'equently tested in the course of 
 each season. 
 
 The hounds were soon in the cover. 
 
 The compact gorse began to shake, and in less than two 
 minutes the place was alive with their melody. 
 
 They had found no end of foxes ! The scared blackbirds 
 flew in all directions ; rabbits popped in and out ; and every 
 now and then a great golden-throppled cock-pheasant or dusky- 
 coloured hen rose with boisterous clamour, as if furiously in- 
 dignant at such unwonted intrusion. 
 
 Up and down, and round about, the whips rode, hoop- 
 ing, and hallooing, and cracking their whips ; but it is 
 weary work hallooing to hounds with a good scent in a close 
 gorse. 
 
 At last a cub slipped out at the low corner with Marksman, 
 Merlin, and Midnight after him. 
 
 " Oh ! pray turn those hounds, Mr. Muff ! " hahooed Mr. 
 Neville from the junction of the rides in the centre of the 
 gorse, 
 
 Tarquinius Muff, when thus appealed to, v/as in the middle 
 of a long dissertation on shirt frills, on which he particularly 
 prides himself, being generally set off in front like a pouter 
 pigeon ; and thinking the appeal to him for assistance com- 
 plimentary to his sporting skill, he immediately gathered his 
 horse together, and with a touch of his large brass heel spurs, 
 proceeded to show off before the ladies by giving chase to the 
 fugitives. 
 
 The horse seemed to like the fun, and went off so resolutely 
 
If A WBUCK UUAMiE. 
 
 11 
 
 that Mud' never saw the brook until just in time to pull the 
 horse iu, which he did most skilfully, blobbing- right over head 
 iu the middle of it ! 
 
 We are ashamed to say the ladies laughed, as their dripping 
 friend came spluttering ashore. 
 
 AVith that sorry exoloit we will conclude Tom Scott's first 
 dav of a bad season. 
 
 TARQUIXIUS muff's MISHAP. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 
 
 " Harriers, to be good, like all other hounds, must be kept to their 
 own game; if you run fox with them, you spoil them ; hounds cannot 
 be perfect unless used to one scent and one style of hunting. Harriers 
 run fox in so different a style from hare, that it is of great disservice to 
 them when they return to hare again ; it makes them wild, and teaches 
 them to skirt. The high scent which a fox leaves, the straightness of his 
 running, the eagerness of the pursuit, and the noise that generally accnm- 
 Danies it, all contribute to spoil harriers." — Beckfoed. 
 
 Mr. Scott was debating whether to go to Holbrook Fair, 
 or take his dogs and gun and stroll up to the ten-acre piece 
 they were draining, when the short harsh bark of Snap at the 
 door, and the clink of the Gerraan catch at the side gate, 
 announced somebody coming. 
 
 It was Joe Stumps, Mr. Trumper of Jolly-rise's man, whose 
 trot and bustling air, with the portentous display of a pon- 
 derous hunting-whip, bespoke no common errand. 
 
 Tom went to the porch to meet him — 
 
 "Meazster's compliments and hooundes be out," said Joe, 
 with which laconic speech he was turning his horse's head tc 
 go away without deigning to say where " hooundes " were. 
 
 " Where are. they, Joe .^ " hallooed Scott. 
 
 " Stockenchurch Hill, to be sure ! " replied Joe, as if it was 
 not possible for them to be anywhere else. The man of few 
 words then trotted away, leaving Tom in contemplation of his 
 enormous disk and the hind quarters of his short-legged, well- 
 actioned bay dray-horse-looking nag, whose sides were covered 
 with the flowing laps of Joe's green frock coat. 
 
HAWBUCK ORANGE. 13 
 
 Mr. Trumper took Slumps ou account of bis silent qualities 
 (a great recommendation for harriers), a silence nearly reduced 
 to muteness, by Joe's leaving out as many words in the few 
 sentences he does utter as he possibly can, according to the 
 approved fashion of his native wolds. In other respects he is 
 very like the hare-hunter — heavy, patient, 'cute, and cunning, 
 a good rider for a heavy man, careful of his horse and chai'y of 
 damage. He is perfectly satisfied that there is not a more 
 important personage under the sun than his master, and that 
 he himself is the next greatest man going. 
 
 Mr, Scott, availing himself of Mr. Trumper's politeness, 
 enables us to introduce the hunt to our readers. 
 
 There is one advantage of harriers — you always know where 
 to find them, and can cut in for a game at romps, just as a 
 dowager does for a hand at whist. 
 
 Sleekpow the groom had anticipated Scott's movements ; for 
 when he went to the stable, he found the "Wilkinson and Kid" 
 astride of the hay crib, and the well-polished bridle hanging on 
 the hook between the stalls. 
 
 " Just put the saddle on old Barbara," said Tom, in the 
 negligee sort of way that may mean anything — anything, at 
 least, except fox-hunting. 
 
 " Hare-hunting certainly ought not to be made a business of. 
 It should just be taken when one's in the humour." Never- 
 theless, we don't subscribe to Beckford's doctrine — that a ride 
 to the sixth milestone and back would be as good as hare- 
 hunting ; for we think, taken quietly, that hare-hunting is the 
 next best sport to fox-hunting. But to make hare-hunting 
 enjoyable a man should live in a good country for it — in a 
 country where he can just turn out within a mile or two of 
 home, and not have to trash away to a distant one. The 
 hounds, too, should be harriers, and not dwarf foxhounds, that 
 burst a hare in ten minutes where there is anything like a 
 scent. A vicious desire for speed, and of making one thing 
 serve two purposes, has gone far to annihilate the old, respect- 
 
14 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 able, slow, and steady " well-hunfced good dogs ! " — harrier 
 packs of former days. Instead of the "squire," or a few 
 substantial farmers, keeping their ten or twelve couple of 
 harriers, we have a sort of bastard fox-hunt clubs that run 
 amuck at everything, except the game licence. 
 
 The two sports— hare-hunting and fox-hunting — do not 
 differ more in their nature than the relative expenses of each 
 differ. 
 
 Hare-hunting requires neither state, machinery, nor pre- 
 paration ; nobody expects to see anything but a lot of merry- 
 looking little animals wi'iggling and jumping about, attended, 
 perhaps, by a man on foot with the couples, or an elderly 
 servant on an elderly horse ; but an establishment, calling 
 itself a fox-hunt, is a very different thing, and raises very 
 different expectations. 
 
 There must be a couple of men at the least, with three or 
 four horses that can both gallop and jump. These two men, 
 and these three or four horses, trifling as they appear upon 
 paper, make a considerable item at the end of the year ; and il 
 the country is at all hollow, which most countries are fast 
 becoming, from the quantity of draining going on, the expense 
 of " stopping " alone, comes to as much as the whole annual 
 expense of the merry harriers. Then the promoters have re- 
 course to all sorts of screwing and scraping, applying to 
 members of Parliament, and people who don't hunt, and go 
 running open-mouthed at every chance person that comes out, 
 to support the rickety concern, which is generally a disgrace to 
 fox-hunting, and a nuisance to the country they haunt, not 
 hunt. 
 
 Fox-hunting should be done handsomely ! There is some- 
 thing about the noble animal that forbids our treating him 
 slightingly. He should be hunted like a gentleman. What 
 chance have a lot of trencher-fed, milk-fattened, street-scouring 
 beggars with a good high-couraged, clean-feeding, well-con- 
 ditioned flyer ? None whatever I The further they go the 
 
0^ 
 
 SI 
 
 a 
 
 3 
 
 ai 
 
 a 
 
 EU 
 
 H 
 S 
 
 2 
 
 Q 
 31 
 
 s 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. IT 
 
 further they are left behind, till the lagging sportsmen have 
 the satisfaction of seeing them struggling in fits, or sinking 
 exhausted in the furrows. Then the talk and noise they make 
 on a kill shows how unusual a thing it is with them. Nothing 
 can be more pitiable than the half-rigged turn out of an ill- 
 supported pretension to a fox-hunt. The boosey-looking hunts- 
 man (generally the saddler or publican) — the wretched broken- 
 kneed, over-worked leg-weary job horse — the jaded half jockey, 
 half huntsman-looking caps — the seedy, misfitting, Holywell- 
 street-looking coats — the unclean boots and filthy breeches — with 
 the lamentable apologies for saddles and bridles. AVe never see a 
 Tom-and-Jerry-looking " scarlet " without thinking how much 
 more respectable the wearer would look in black. AVe never 
 see a country-scouring, fence-flattening field without thinking 
 how much better they would be with a pack of harriers. But 
 to the hunt. 
 
 Mr. Scott reached Stockenchurch Hill just in time to see the 
 delighted 'Mv. Trumper pick up his hare before the baying pack 
 on the moor-edge side of the country. 
 
 Puss had made a wide circuit of the whole, and was run into 
 a small enclosure, whose crop of oats still stood in stook upon 
 the ground. 
 
 It was a fine view. Three parts of the hill are encircled 
 with fertile pastures and productive corn fields, while the fourth 
 stretches away, far as the eye can reach, in undulating and 
 occasionally broken moorland ground. The fertile patches 
 irrigating the whole were dotted over with little black-faced 
 sheep, while from the then browning heather the wild and 
 sacred muir-fowl rose in noisy clamour, winging their ways to 
 quieter regions in the distance. 
 
 The day was clear and bright, good both for hearing and 
 seeing, and occasional fitful gleams of sunshine fell upon the 
 distant landscape, hghting up the green patches, or disclosing 
 rocky hill-sides, which, but for the sun, would have been lost in 
 the Lieueral dimness of the s^me. 
 
18 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 The field was small, none but members of the hunt being 
 out; indeed, they don't encourage any- other, and Mr, Scott 
 looked upon it as no small compliment their asking him. It 
 was composed of Giles Gosling, of Goose Green Farm, who pays 
 tax for three couple of hounds, and, after Mr, Trumper, is the 
 chief supporter of the hunt ; Harry Beanstack, of Ricot ; 
 Michael and Thomas Hobbletrot, of Lingfield Green ; Simon 
 Driblets, of Loxley Hill Farm ; his cousin, Ben Bragg, of the 
 "Waterdown ; and the chaplain, the Reverend Timothy Good- 
 man, rector of Swillingford. 
 
 They were all in a similar state of elation to the master , 
 indeed, Mr. Trumper might be taken as a prototype of the 
 whole, for, making allowance for the difference of size, they 
 were all as like each other as peas. This similarity arose a 
 good deal from the sameness of their costume and the singu- 
 larity of its cut — extremely lo,ng loose, bed-gown sort of 
 bottle-green frock-coats, with laps reaching nearly down to their 
 spurs, and great pewter plate-looking buttons set extremely 
 wide apart behind. 
 
 There is nothing makes a person look so queer as an ex- 
 tremely long frock or great-coat ; and our friends making 
 "Guys" of themselves arising a good deal from a spirit of 
 covetousness — unworthy of the generous pursuit they follow — 
 we trust this mention of their foible may have the effect of 
 rectifying it, and of saving the expenditure of much good 
 cloth, which they are always tearing or leaving behind on the 
 fences, or, more properly speaking, gaps. The fact is, the 
 hunt always keep a web of cloth in common, and one man 
 having got his coat a little longer than the others on a former 
 occasion, it set the rest agog, and they have gone on, web 
 after web, stealing a march upon each other, till every man 
 puts on as much sail as ever he can carry. They all turn out 
 in things like dressing-gowns, with huge flapped pockets on 
 the sides, each pocket being capable of carrying a hare. Their 
 waistcoats and breeches bear the same aflfinity — the former 
 
~l^ 
 
 
 BEANSTACK LANDING ON A DONKEY. 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. in 
 
 email striped toilanettcs, the LiKei- l;ir|L,'e, dccp-ribbecl, fallow- 
 field looking, patent cords ; and the great ni;iliogany tops were 
 evidently the production of the same iiand, and made witliout 
 regard to "right or left." Between them and the breeches 
 good warm grey or white lambs'-wool stockings may be seen. 
 On this day, each man clutched a ponderous iron hammer- 
 headed whip, that looked for all the world like flails, they, too, 
 having been bought in stock, and apportioned out to them like 
 swords to yeomanry. Their hats are broad-brimmed, dog-hairy 
 looking things, rather inclined to oval at the crown. 
 
 Living in a retired part of the country, away from towns 
 and even railways, the members of the " Goose and Dumpling 
 Hunt," as they called it, from the members dining off goose 
 and apple puddings at each other's houses after the first day's 
 hunting in each week — the members of the Goose and 
 Dumpling Hunt we say — have fully satisfied themselves that 
 they are the finest, primest, heartiest cocks in the kingdom, 
 and their hounds the best that ever were seen. 
 
 Indeed, the hounds are as good as can be, and have been in 
 existence nearly forty years, during the whole of which time the 
 greatest care and attention have been paid to their breeding. 
 
 Long and solemn have been the consultations and arguments 
 respecting the crosses, and deep the consideration as to the 
 propriety of introducing fresh blood. 
 
 These have all been faithfully chronicled by the chaplain and 
 secretary, Mr. Goodman, as also the days of meeting and parties 
 composing each dinner. 
 
 The members of the hunt are all real sportsmen, men who 
 love hunting innately, but who take no pleasure in leaping. 
 Indeed, to tell the truth, since Beanstack broke his collar-bone 
 by landing on a donkey instead of " terra fir ma,'' on the far 
 side of an unsurveyed fence, the members have declined "extra 
 risk," as the insurance offices say, and if there isn't a gap 
 where they want to be over, why they make one. 
 Some people fancy hard riding an indispensable quality for 
 
20 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 a sportsman ; but we believe, if we were to canvass the sporting 
 world, we should find that the real lovers- of hunting are any- 
 thing but a hard-riding set. Fond of seeing hounds work, they 
 use their horses as a sort of auxiliary to their legs, and having 
 got a good lift across a field, they are all the abler to compete 
 with a hedge, when they come to one, which they feel they 
 would have had to take, even if on foot. 
 
 Our friends of the hunt we are describing are all of this sort, 
 Mr. Trumper, who stands six feet high, and turns the scale on 
 eighteen stone, never pretends to ride over anything. He 
 thinks if his great bay horse Golumpus can carry him hand- 
 somely over the heavy, he is entitled to all the ease he can give 
 him at his leaps ; and if in the early part of the season, when 
 the old gaps are not well re-established, or a place has grown 
 over during the summer, Mr. Trumper never attempts to 
 break them through with his horse, but dismounting, and 
 taking a bed-gown lap over each arm, he pushes backwards 
 through, and clears the way for his horse. So the field take it 
 in turns to clear the course for each other. 
 
 We should add that their breeches are all seated with 
 leather, most probably with an eye to these prickly per- 
 formances. 
 
 The hounds are of a breed now seldom seen — long, low, 
 mealy reddish, whole-coloured hounds, inclining to a brownish 
 grey along the back. They are fine-headed, fine-coated, 
 and fine-sterned animals, with light musical tongues, and 
 power and pace quite equal to, but not an over-match for, the 
 best and wildest of their moor-edge hares. They look like 
 harriers, and are very much of the colour of the hare 
 herself. 
 
 Not being great hands at riding, the object of the members 
 of the hunt has been to keep down the pace of the pack, rather 
 than to increase it, and they oftener draft at the head than the 
 tail. Indeed, one of the rales of tlie hunt is, that no man is to 
 ride over a leap that can by any possibility be avoided. When 
 
HA WJJUCK (IRANGE. 21 
 
 anythinf^ in the shape of a poser intervenes, such as Narrowdell- 
 brook or a moor-edge boundary wall, what craning and holding, 
 and leaning over is there. — "Now, ^Ir. Truinpcr," says Harry 
 Beanstack, " I'll hold your nag till you get over ; " and 
 Trumper, knowing the impossibility of clearing the brook on 
 foot, just slides down the bank into the water, and wobbles 
 through ; then comes the old nag, who takes it quite naturally, 
 and begins eating as soon as he lands. Beanstack follows in 
 similar style, and a roar of laughter bursts ibrth as Giles 
 Gosling disappears under water after a valiant attempt to clear 
 the brook on foot, which checks the ardour of all the rest, who 
 just stump through as Mr. Trumper did, trusting to the 
 strength and honesty of their boots for not taking the 
 wet in. 
 
 But we will suppose Mr. Scott joining the hunt. 
 
 "Halloo, Mr. Scott," exclaims Mr. Trumper, who had just 
 paid the last obsequies to poor Puss, who was then nodding her 
 head out of one end of Joe Stumps's hare case ; " Halh o, Mr. 
 Scott, you are half an hour too late ! you are half an hour loo 
 lale I missed the finest thing that ever was seen ! three-quarters 
 of an hour with only a slight check at Littleton cross roads, and 
 ran into her in view." (It had been a good twenty minutes.) 
 " Didn't Joe tell you where we were ? " inquired he. 
 
 " Oh yes," replied Scott ; " but I waited for my letters, 
 and then came leisurely along, trusting to chance for falling in 
 with you before you found, or in the course of the run." 
 
 " You should never trust to chance with our hounds," re- 
 torted Trumper, somewhat nettled at the unfortunate speech. 
 " If a thing's worth coming to at all, it's worth coming to in 
 time," with which somewhat irately-delivered remark, he 
 began to hoist himself on to a great sixteen hands horse that 
 looked for all the world like a pony under him. 
 
 " It's not often," observed he, as he dangled for his stirrup, 
 " that we trouble you fine fox-hunting gentlemen ; for, to tell 
 you the truth, most of you make far too much noise, and press 
 
22 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 far too close upon hounds for our taste ; but, as 1 know you 
 can hold your tongue, and as the Squire Tiasn't begun advertis- 
 ing yet, I thought I'd just let you know, you know." 
 
 " Much obliged," replied Scott, " much obliged ; you may 
 rely upon it, I won't do any mischief." 
 
 " Ay, but you may do mischief by riding as well as by shout- 
 ing," observed Trumper, who had had his wheat desperately 
 damaged on a former occasion by some of the flyers. " Your 
 wild fox-hunters are all for cramming and ramming wherever 
 hounds go, without ever considering that, by standing still, 
 p'raps you'll see a deal more of the hunt. But you must just 
 follow me," added he, putting his great horse before Barbara, 
 " and ril show you what to do." 
 
 " Let's be doing then," added he, slipping a small bugle into 
 his bed-gown pocket mouth, which disappeared like a rabbit 
 down a boa constrictor's throat. 
 
 The dismounted heavies then clambered on to their horses, 
 and the now refreshed pack began baying and frolicking with 
 delight, making the bright sunshiny scene merry with their 
 presence. 
 
 Good humour reigning o'er all the currant-jelly mugs with 
 the glorious find and kill, they proceeded to some fresh ground 
 in the neighbourhood that had not been touched upon in the 
 previous run. 
 
 There was no bother or fuss about gathering or restraining 
 the hounds ; they just followed on as they liked ; and first one 
 and then another claimed the admiration of our sportsmen as 
 they passed. 
 
 It was quite clear that our harrier masters were not ashamed 
 of their turn-out, and indeed both hounds, horses, and men had 
 a most substantial, yeomanlike, unpretending appearance. The 
 hounds we have already described, and for the horses, we may 
 say that their general stamp was extreme strength and activity 
 on remnrkably short legs. They had all square docks, other- 
 wise the ponderous carcases of many of the riders would have 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 23 
 
 made fciiein look more like ponies or cobs tliuu liill-si/x'd hunters, 
 which they were. 
 
 Before Scott had finished his mental valuation of the whole, 
 he was interrupted by Mr. Trumpcr hallooing out to his whip, 
 who was a little behind, " Which way now, Joe ? " 
 
 *' Bray doikes," replied Joe ; and accordingly the field 
 separated, each man taking his own hedge-i'ow. 
 
 These they began flopping and beating with their flail-like 
 whips, while Trumper and Joe drew the liounds across and 
 across the fallows and enclosures. 
 
 Hares were not very plentiful, and half an hour elapsed ere 
 Simon Driblets telegraphed a find. 
 
 Unlike a fox, the hare puts no one in a fluster or hni'ry 
 about a start. She is generally so accommodating as to 
 wait till she is set a-going by some one timing her out of her 
 form. 
 
 So it \\^as in this case. 
 
 Mr. Driblets having seen Trumper and Joe's backs turned 
 across the field again with the hounds in their wake, just started 
 her quietly, and let her steal away at her leisure. 
 
 All was on the silent system. No views, no hallooing, no 
 heads staring up in the air. The hounds were never taken off 
 their noses. 
 
 Mr. Trumper just drew them across the line, and, as if by 
 magic, they struck the scent ; after a wild scream of delight, 
 that thrilled through the field, the hounds went away at 
 score. 
 
 Puss, though far ahead, was still within hearing distance, and 
 having had a round with them before, mended her pace, and 
 pressed away for the open. 
 
 The field had now got gathered together from their respective 
 beats, and each man was hugging his horse as though he were 
 bent on destruction. 
 
24 HAWBUCK QRANQE. 
 
 Mr, Trumper rode first, and they all fell into places, like a 
 troop of horse, the chaplain and Joe bringing up the rear. 
 
 " This way, young man ! " cried Trumper to Scott, seeing he 
 was going to take the line of the hounds, instead of following 
 a field road through a line of gates that rather bent away from 
 them. " This way," said he, pointing with his whip, " she'll 
 turn at yon pasture end and skirt the turnips, said he, " and 
 we shall catch them up at the cowshed in the field but one 
 beyond." 
 
 Trumper was right. The hounds ran to the very point he 
 predicted, and came out into Newsell's-lane by the cowshed — 
 all busy and bustling like bees. 
 
 " You never saw better hounds than those ! " observed iRIr. 
 Trumper, soito voce, pointing to them in ecstasy. 
 
 " No," said Joe, who happened to be within hearing. 
 
 Presently the pace mended, and the trot that had been per- 
 tinaciously maintained was converted into a canter, some of the 
 fatties standing up in their stirrups as if for the purpose of 
 easing their horses, though as yet they had done nothing. 
 
 Still they kept the lanes and field roads, which appeared to 
 turn up most accommodatingly whatever way puss pointed. 
 
 Sometimes, indeed, they seemed to turn their backs on the 
 hounds, and to be riding away from them altogether ; but it 
 was only momentary, and they presently found themselves at 
 some pet gap or friendly rail, which, succumbing to the heavy - 
 hammered whips, set them on the line again. 
 
 So they went on, from lane to field, and from field to lane, 
 for some time, the pace being occasionally good, but never 
 great — the music beautiful. 
 
 Having run the length of Green-pasture Valley, and crossed 
 Stockenchurch Hill, near the village or hamlet, a cur dog had 
 got sufficiently near puss's quarters to cause her serious uneasi- 
 ness for her safety, and had forced her oflF her line, to the 
 astonishment of the field, who, not knowing what had happened 
 were calculating upon Maddingly Common as a certainty In- 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 86 
 
 deed, Michael Hobblctrot had cut away for the common at once 
 on reaching the village, instead of turning short to the left at 
 the blacksmith's, as the others did, Michael not being quite 
 sure that the gap by the pond had been opened out, and 
 reckoning he would save time by riding a little about instead of 
 waiting his turn in case the gap had to be re-established. We 
 believe we may add that Michael is rather given to " nicking." 
 
 Well, great was the astonishment of the field, when, after a 
 short check, where the hounds over-ran the line, Twister, with 
 something between a note and a yell, struck the scent down a 
 newly built wall pointing direct for the moors. 
 
 " Great heavens ! She can't have gone for the hills ! " 
 ejaculated Tom Hobbletrot, with a lively recollection of a deep 
 bog he had been in on the moors. 
 
 Towler, Lovely, Ruffler, Cottager, Guider, all the unerring 
 ones of the pack, however, confirmed the surmise, and that, too, 
 with an energy leaving no room for doubt. 
 
 The scent had improved, and they went away at score. They 
 packed beautifully — close as turnips. 
 
 " We shall be in trouble," ejaculated Hobbletrot, as he got 
 half way down the side of the next field, and saw that Cold- 
 brook Burn was inevitable. 
 
 A brook is the only thing in the list of hunting obstacles 
 that admits of neither hope nor palliation. It is a regular 
 " take it, or leave it " afiFair, and Coldbrook Burn is one of the 
 deepest, nastiest, and most twisting in the country — it seems to 
 be everywhere. 
 
 ]\Ioreover, the horrors of a brook are materially increased by 
 a previous acquaintance with it ; for a bold leader will fre- 
 quently entice a funking field over a place when it comes un- 
 expectedly in chase, at which many would crane and measure, 
 and measure and crane, and ultimately turn away, if en- 
 countered in crossing from cover to cover. A brook is a thing 
 at which no man can do anything for another — unlike a wall, 
 or a rail, or a hedge, or a locked gate, the brook stands boldly 
 
26 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 on its own merits, as big a leap to the last comer as to the first, 
 nay, sometimes bigger, for rotten undermifaed banks are apt to 
 give way under the weight of horses. Brooks being formidable 
 customers at all times, we need hardly say that they were con- 
 siderably aggravated by the autumnal rains ; indeed, places 
 that in summer well-nigh suspend payment altogether, begin 
 running and roaring and behaving in the most riotous manner 
 imaginable. Coldbrook Burn may be mentioned as a particular 
 instance of a refractory streamlet ; for its course being deep, 
 and its bank sedgy, it is well calculated for holding an uncom- 
 mon quantity, and when Mr. Trumper reached it this day, he 
 pronounced it a bumper. Scott observed, however, that 
 Trumper didn't seem a bit, put out on coming to it. On the 
 contrary, he w^as more intent on his hounds, who had thrown 
 up on the bank, and were trying for the scent up and 
 down. 
 
 " Yooi over, good dog ! " hallooed he to Risker in delight, as 
 his dark head and back rose above the stream. Grleamer, 
 Guider, Rachael quickly followed, and then went the body of 
 the pack. " Yooi over, all on you ! " hallooed Trumper, hat in 
 hand, trying to get the young ones to follow. 
 
 The field sat in mute attention, watching the proceedings on 
 the opposite side. 
 
 Risker first snatched the scent, and there was a rare splashing 
 and scrambling among those in the brook to get at him. 
 " Now you wild fox-hunters," said Mr. Trumper, turning to 
 Scott as he sat eyeing the hounds shaking themselves on the 
 opposite side, " would try to leap that burn. Now I'll show 
 you what us hare-hunters do," continued he, seeing the hounds 
 putting their heads for the moors ; saying which he gathered 
 his reins, touched his horse with the spur, and bustled away to 
 Bewdley wooden bridge, about a mile off, followed by the 
 whole of the field as hard as ever they could lay legs to the 
 eround. 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 27 
 
 "That's far better uor gettin a wet shirt!" exclaimed 
 Trnmper, as his ponderous liorse clattered over the wooden 
 fabric, making it shake again with his weight, 
 
 *' But we've lost the hounds ! " observed Scott. 
 
 " Fiddle-te-dee ! " exclaimed he ; *' I know where they'll be 
 to a nicety. Come up, horse ! " cried he, as his nag began 
 shying at the stone-steps, at the taking-off end of the foot- 
 bridge. 
 
 Having effected a landing, he forthwith gathered his reins, 
 and, tickling Golumpus freely with the spur, set off at a good 
 round pace, the old nag indulging in a sort of make-believe 
 kick in his canter. 
 
 They were now upon the moors, with nothing to fear but 
 bogs and holes, and ruts, things that did not seem to be in- 
 cluded in the list of casualties of the Goose and Dumpling 
 Hunt, for all the members began charging abreast instead of 
 following in the goose fashion they had been pursuing before. 
 
 The hounds we^e long out of sight ; indeed, they had run up 
 B ravine, from which the detour by Bewdley Bridge had inter- 
 posed a hill ; but the fatties saw by the staring of the sheep the 
 line they had taken, and the field jogged on in high exultation 
 at the splendour of the run, and delighted at the idea of 
 astonishing the stranger. 
 
 Presently they got within sight of where sheep were still 
 running, or rather wheehug about, and then a shepherd's hat. 
 on the gky line of a far-off hill announced where they were. 
 
 The riding was only awkward, the heather hiding both stones 
 and holes, and the turf on the bare places, particularly on the 
 hill-side, being extremely slippery. Nevertheless they clattered 
 on, trusting entirely to their horses for safety. 
 
 Presently they heard the cry of hounds. 
 
 " Hold hard ! " exclaimed Mr. Trumper, " they are coming 
 towards us. Hark I " exclaimed he (pulling up short, and 
 holding up his hand) — " now, Mr. Scott, if you'll come here^ 
 i'ii show you the hare," said he. 
 
28 
 
 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 Accordingly, Scott followed him through a narro\^ defile to 
 the left, and, looking over a hollow in the rocky hill upon the 
 country below, he saw poor puss dribbling along in a listening 
 sort of canter. 
 
 The field followed to partake of the treat. 
 
 " Oh, she's a fine un ! " exclaimed Mr. Trumper, his eyes 
 sparkling as he spoke ; " but she's pretty well beat," added he ; 
 '* she'll most likely begin to play some of her tricks : these 
 things have far more cunning nor foxes," added he. '* Now 
 this is the time," continued he, addressing himself seriously to 
 Scott, " that you wild fox-hunters would take advantage of, for 
 the purpose of cutting short the diversion, by mobbing, and 
 shouting, and taking every advantage of him ; but we do the 
 thing differently. We let our hounds hunt ; and if they can't 
 kill a hare fairly, why they lose her." 
 
 The hounds had now descended from the hills and turned 
 the corner of the last angle that shut them out from view. 
 They were working a middling scent, which they caught and 
 lost and lost and caught alternately. 
 
 Puss heard them, and regulated her pace by theirs. 
 
 Presently she began the tricks Mr. Trumper anticipated. 
 Having got into a small fallow, she dribbled up a furrow above 
 which her back was scarcely visible, and having run the length 
 of it, she deliberately returned the same way, and with a mighty 
 spring landed in a thick hedge-row. 
 
 "That'll puzzle them," said Mr. Trumper, " for the scent ia 
 but cold at best, and the wet of yon furrow won't improve what 
 little there is." 
 
 " But you'll let them hunt it of course ? " observed Scott, 
 thinking Mr. Trumper was paving the way to a little assis- 
 tance. 
 
 *' Undoubtedly,^' replied Trumper, with a deep sideway in- 
 clination of the head — " undoubtedly," repeated Trumper, 
 " We'd scorn to take an unfair advantage of her. But look how 
 they hunt ! " added he, " Did you ever see hounds work better; 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 29 
 
 no babblers, no skirters, no do-nothing gentlemen here ; twelve 
 couple, and all workers ; we keep no cats that don't catch mice, 
 Mr. Scott. Oh, but they're beauties ! " added he in ecstasy, as 
 they came hunting her as true as an arrow. 
 
 When they got upon the fallow it certainly was not propi- 
 tious. There wasn't a hound that could speak to the scent, and 
 Twister andTowler alone guided them on the line. 
 
 " Those hounds are worth two hundred thousand pounds a- 
 piece to Prince Albert, or any of the royal family who really 
 know what hunting is," whispered Mr. Trumper. " See what 
 confidence they all have in them. Hark ! Cottager threw his 
 tongue. That's the first time he's spoke since he came into the 
 field, but he's had the scent the whole way. Oh ! hare-huutiug 
 is beautiful sport, the most delightful amusement under the 
 sun," added he. " There's nothing to compare to it. Is there, 
 Beaney ? " continued he, looking over his shoulder to our 
 fi'iend Beanstack, who with the rest of the field were now 
 clustered behind in ardent admiration of their darlings. 
 
 ^^ Nothing ! nothing I nothing ! " was vociferated by all. 
 
 The hounds had now got to the end of the double, and 
 several of the young ones dashed beyond. Not so Twister and 
 Towler, who cast a small semicircle in advance, and then re- 
 turned to the spot. 
 
 " ThaVs hunting now ! " exclaimed Mr. Trumper, " your wild 
 fox-dogs would have been half over the next parish by this 
 time, but those hounds won't move an inch without a scent. 
 See how they hunt it back. That's something like, now. Far 
 better than getting a hold of them and pretending to tell them 
 what you keep them to tell you, ivhich way the hare went.'''' 
 
 " Ah, that's all very well," observed Scott, " with the hare 
 sitting in the hedge-row ; but a fox, you know, keeps travelling 
 on. There's no time for dawdling with him." 
 
 " You don't know but that hare may be in JoUyrise town- 
 ship by this time," snapped Mr. Trumper ; " it doesn't follow 
 because she took the hedge-row, that she's there still. But wo 
 
 D 
 
30 RAWBUGK GRANGE. 
 
 are in no hurry. Fair play's the universal motto of hare- 
 hunters. We even have it on our buttons," added he, turning 
 up a great pewter-plate-looking thing with a hare and the 
 words " Fair play " underneath. 
 
 " The gentleman doesn't seem to understand much about the 
 thing, I think," observed Michael Hobbletrot, who had got 
 dribbled up from his detour by Maddingly Common, after a 
 most enjoyable ride of the line. 
 
 " Fox-hunters seldom do," rejoined Simon Driblet. 
 
 " More at home at a steeple hunt, p'raps," suggested 
 Gosling. 
 
 The currant jelleyers were getting personal, and there is no 
 saying to what lengths they might have gone in the wild moor- 
 land region in which they now had their unhappy victim, had 
 not Twister fortunately obtruded his nose so near puss's hind 
 quarters as to cause her to bound out of the hedge, to the gal- 
 vanisation of the pack, who, with heads in the air, struck up a 
 strain that set the now freshened horses a-frisking. Away they 
 went in view. 
 
 " Yonder she goes ! Yonder she goes ! Yo7ider she goes ! " 
 " Lauk, what a dog is that Twister ! " with which exclama- 
 tions the bed-gown wearers began climbing on to their horses 
 much in the style that Punch represented the old French King 
 climbing on to " Artful Dodge." 
 
 Fairly and coolly down the hill-side now they went " luho-a- 
 ing'" and " gent-kj-ing'" to their horses as they unravelled the 
 zig-zag mysteries of the track. 
 
 The pack, meanwhile, were screaming and streaming away in 
 the distance. 
 
 When they had all landed at the bottom and shaken them- 
 selves, and those who had " led down " re-mounted, the hounds 
 were fairly out of sight ; but Mr. Trumper, nothing daunted, 
 tickled Golumpus into a canter, and putting his head the re- 
 verse way of what Scott had seen the hounds going, cut down 
 a long slip of grass land lying between the rocky hills and the 
 
HAWBUCK Q RANGE. 31 
 
 enclosures, and taking a sudden twist to the left by the corner 
 of a turf fence, shot away like a meteor to the north, through a 
 long line of white field gates, whose pleasing perspective opened 
 in the distance. 
 
 Where these would have ultimately led to we know not, for 
 when they had got through about half a dozen of them, Mr. 
 Trumper suddenly stopped short as if shot — an evolution so 
 quickly followed by the rest of the cavalry, as to have the effect 
 of shooting several of the loose riders on to the pommels of their 
 saddles. 
 
 Trumper saw the hare ! Indeed they all saw her ; but 
 Trumper saw her first. 
 
 She was bearing right down upon them, in a style that would 
 most inevitably have led to a collision, had they not pulled up. 
 Full of what was going on behind, she never thought of looking 
 ahead, and nearly ran into them. Poor thing ! She came so 
 close, that they distinctly saw the curl of warmth on her soiled 
 fur, and the big heaving of her anxious breast. 
 
 A hare is a curious mixture of cleverness and stupidity. We 
 see them lobbing and staring along as if they hadn't an idea in 
 their heads, and then all at once they perform tricks worthy of 
 a wizard. 
 
 " She's a fine un," observed Mr. Trumper, sotto voce, as he 
 sat, whip erect, staring her out of countenance. 
 
 The noise he made had the effect of awaking her to a sense 
 of their presence, and caused her to pop through a meuse in 
 the hedge. 
 
 " She's about done," observed he, eyeing the performance, 
 for Trumper can calculate the amount of " goment " left to a 
 nicety ; Tom Hobbletrot then pulled out a great turnip of a 
 watch from his fob, of which having made a good open ex- 
 posure, he shut it up, with the observation that " it was about 
 time." 
 
 •' Domplins be ready, ars wf.rned," said Stumps, feeling the 
 effects of hunger himself. 
 
32 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 The hounds now came towling and picking along with the 
 weak scent of the sinking animal. 
 
 Just as Twister and Towler were again eliciting the admira- 
 tion of the field at the way in which they unravelled the line, 
 a loud shrill hoop ! hoop ! hoop ! from the rising ground in the 
 next field but one, got up the hounds' heads, and caused 
 them to work their ways through the high hedge to get at the 
 halloo. 
 
 Great was the horror and perturbation of the field, as the 
 hounds flew away, and greater still their disgust at seeing a 
 great fat man in white leather trousers, and bright heel spurs, 
 with a gold-banded blue cap, and a registered paletot, capping 
 them away at a canter. 
 
 " Hold hard. Sir," " hold hard. Sir," *' God bless you, hold 
 hard. Sir ! " " God d — n you, hold hard, Sir ! " were shouted 
 and vociferated by the indignant field, now rendered perfectly 
 furious by not being able to get at him, unless they either 
 charged a tolerably-sized fence that looked to them like an 
 Impregnable barrier, or rode two hundred yards " t'other way," 
 to get through at the old established gap. 
 
 In vain Trumper, having dived into the bottom of his bed- 
 gown, fished up the little bugle — in vain he blew, in vain he 
 screamed, in vain he imprecated. There wasn't an evil or an 
 adverse element that Trumper didn't wish the stranger visited 
 with. 
 
 The hounds topped the hill, and were out of sight in no 
 time. 
 
 Fury, unspeakeable fury, was depicted on the face;? of 
 the field; nor was it diminished by seeing the hunted hare 
 pop out of the hedge, as they moved away to ride for the 
 gap. 
 
 Moreover, she accompanied them as far as their joint lines 
 lay, in the direction of the hills, almost as it would seem for 
 the purpose of deriding them. As they pounded and clattered 
 down the stoney, rutty field-road, she kept working her way up 
 
HAWBUCK QEANGE. 33 
 
 a furrow, about twenty yards to their left, in the next Held. 
 Doleful were the looks our friends cast on her as they passed on 
 the alteration of their lines. 
 
 " She couldn't have stood two minutes before them," sighed 
 Tom Hobbletrot, who was next in rotation for a hare. 
 
 " Who could it be ? " gasped Parson Goodman, who was 
 riding a still pulling four-year old, and had had something else 
 to do than stare about. 
 
 "/ know,'' responded Truraper ; "77? sarve him out," 
 added he, bringing his ponderous hunting whip crack down 
 his boot. 
 
 "Most infamous thing that ever was done!" exclaimed Giles 
 Gosling. 
 
 " So like those wild fox-hunting fools,*' muttered Trumper, 
 leaning over his horse's shoulder to open a gate. " Never 
 happy but when they're galloping," added he, throwing it open, 
 and striking into a gallop himself. 
 
 He presently reached the eminence over which they had seen 
 the hounds disappear, from whence Trumper was horrified at 
 seeing " white leathers " absolutely casting the pack ! casting 
 the hounds that Trumper deemed it next to high treason for 
 any one to speak to but himself. 
 
 There was the stranger in the middle of a twenty-acre turnip 
 field, riding about, tasselled cap in hand, describing a circle, 
 which he kept enlarging each time round, after a fashion of his 
 own. 
 
 Trumper turned deadly pale at the sight. If there is one 
 thing in the world that he hates more than another, it is a pair 
 of white breeches, and his detestation seemed to increase by the 
 length of the present articles. 
 
 ^* Mister Muff ! Mister Muff!" gasped he, as if in the last 
 agony of a stomach-ache. " Mister Muff ! " repeated he ; but 
 Mr. Muff was deaf to the cry. " He^s mad ! he's mad ! he 
 must be mad ! " continued Trumper, eyeing Tarquinius's 
 manceuvres among the turnips, who, regardless of Trumper's 
 
34 HAWBUCK GBANGE. 
 
 imprecations, continued his career to the damage of the turnips 
 and the danger of the hounds. 
 
 Trumper then put on all steam, and charged down hill, fol- 
 lowed by the train-band, bold. 
 
 Tarquinius, full of his own importance, not only as a first- 
 class swell, but a fox-hunter, held up his hand as he saw them 
 coming, exclaiming most importantly, " Hold hard, gentlemen, 
 hold hard ! Pray hold hard ! " continued he, seeing the ex- 
 hortation was disregarded ; adding, " / know how far they 
 brought her." 
 
 " You know how far they brought her ? " grinned Trumper, 
 in agony, as he leaned fumbling the chain of the gate opening 
 into the field where they were. " You know how far they 
 brought her ? I wish I knew how far I might take you to 
 hang you." " I never did ride over turnips in my life," ob- 
 served he to himself as he got the gate open, " but I'll have a 
 shy at them to-day." 
 
 So saying, he stuck spurs into Golumpus, and went pounding 
 and smashing through the middle of them. 
 
 If it hadn't been for the hounds, we believe Trumper would 
 have charged Tarquinius full tilt. Luckily, some of the 
 beauties popping above the turnips, which being guano sown 
 were uncommonly forward, caused Trumper to get his horse 
 more in hand, and ultimately to pull up a little short of assault- 
 ing distance. 
 
 '• Oh, Mr. Trumper, it's you, is it ? " observed MufiP, in the 
 most patronising way to our gasping and perspiring sportsman. 
 " I thought it must be a heavy-weight pack, as none of you 
 were up with them." 
 
 " Up with them ! " gasped Trumper, " I wish you would 
 ride about your business, and leave our hounds to them- 
 selves." 
 
 " Why, my good fellow," replied Muff, turning his horse to 
 the now assembled field, " I was doing you an absolute service. 
 I viewed the hare, and laid your beagles on to her." 
 
EAWBUGK GRANGE. 80 
 
 " Begghs ! " vociferated Trumper, '' Beg^los," repeated he, 
 as if he was going to be sick ; "Where the deuce do you use 
 any hcggles here ? " 
 
 "Them's harriers," observed Hobblctrot, with the utmost 
 contempt, muttering something about "d — d frenchified" some- 
 thing that sounded rather like *'fool." 
 
 " Well, but my good fellow, let me make my cast perfect, at 
 all events," continued Muff, who had been studying Mr. Smith's 
 patent "all-round-my-hat " cast in the " Diary of a Huntsman " 
 that morning. 
 
 " You know I know something about hunting, Tom Scott," 
 continued he, appeahng to our friend with the familiar "Tom," 
 instead of the distant "Mr." he uses on ordinary occasions, 
 when he is coming it grand. 
 
 ^^ Indeed I don't,''' replied Tom, nettled at his meanness, 
 and unable to resist the temptation of having a shy at him 
 too. 
 
 " That's right, Mr. Scott ! Speak your mind like a man ! " 
 exclaimed Trumper, slapping his whip down his boot. 
 
 " Not about fox-hunting, at all events," continued Scott, 
 thinking to qualify his answer. 
 
 " And I'm sure he knows nothing about hare-hunting," 
 ejaculated Tom Hobbletrot, determined not to let Muff oif. 
 
 " But, my good men," minced Muff, with the greatest 
 effrontery, throwing back his registered paletot, and showing 
 a profusion of trinkets appended to his glittering watch chain, 
 at the same time sticking out a great leather-covered leg — "my 
 good men," repeated he, " at all events, you must admit, that 
 but for me you would have seen no more of your hare ; your 
 little dogs could hardly own the scent when I capped them 
 away close at her scut." 
 
 "D— n you and your capping," roared Tom Hobbletrot, 
 unable to restrain himself at hearing Muff take credit to him- 
 self for losing him his hare ; " you've lost us our hare, Sir, 
 instead of helping us to catch her." 
 
de HAWBtJGK QRANQB. 
 
 " That's becanse you interrupted me when I was making my 
 cast," retorted Muff. 
 
 " Cast ! " screamed Trumper, *' you hallooed us away to a 
 fresh hare." 
 
 " Fresh hare ! " sneered Muff — " fresh hare," repeated he, 
 shrugging up his shoulders, and throwing out a primrose- 
 coloured kid-gloved hand, "my good fellow, do you suppose 
 I'm such a fool as not to know a fresh hare from a hunted 
 one ? " 
 
 " Yes, ar do," roared Tom ; " I don't think you know nothin 
 about one except you see her in the soup plate." 
 
 " Silly man ! silly man ! " simpered Muff. " If this is not 
 the hunted hare, I'm " 
 
 "Well, Mr. Muff, it don't argufy a bit," interrupted Trumper, 
 whose choler had been subsiding as the other's had been getting 
 up ; " it don't argufy a bit. Sir," repeated he ; " the hunted 
 hare is back. I saw her make for the hills as we came to your 
 halloo. I tell you how it is, Sir ! I tell you how it is. Sir ! " 
 his anger rising again as he spoke, " You are a fox-hunter, Sir 
 — no objection at all to fox-hunters. Sir — none whatever ; 
 Mr. Neville's an excellent man. Sir — can't be a better — always 
 most civil to me when I go out with his hounds. Sir ; but ^ 
 never presume to halloo. Sir. If I see a fox. Sir, I hold up m,^ 
 hat, Sir ; never think of hunting the hounds, Sir. Glad to sec 
 Mr. Neville, or any of his gentlemen out. Sir, with our hounds. 
 Sir, but I hope they'll do the same when they come, Sir — hope 
 theyHl do the same when they come, Sir. Now, Sir, you've lost 
 us our hare, Sir," continued he, "so I'll bid you good morning, 
 Sir — I'll bid you good morning, Sir, and we'll go home to dinner, 
 Sir — we'll go home to dinner, Sir." 
 
 So saying, Mr. Trumper made Mr. Muff a bow, and diving 
 into his bed-gown pocket for the horn, gave it a twang, and, 
 having gathered his hounds, retraced his way through the 
 turnips. 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 37 
 
 " He'll cut his stick now," observed Mr. Trumper, looking 
 over his shoulder as he got to the gate to see where Muff 
 was. 
 
 "We'll just try and see if we can recover the hunted 
 hare," added he, looking at his watch, and seeing it was a 
 little past one. 
 
 " That Mr. Muif," continued he, jogging on, half to himself 
 and half to any one that would Hsten to him, " is the most dis- 
 agreeable man I know ; he's eternally teaching somebody some- 
 thing. He thinks, because he rides in scarlet, that he's fit for 
 a huntsman, whereas, saving Mr. Scott's presence," said he, 
 looking at Scott, I really believe there are more fools in scarlet 
 than in any other colour. I'd rather have laid in bed all day 
 — a thing I detest after sunrise," continued Trumper, " than 
 have asked him to join our hunt, for he's certain to make a 
 mess if he comes. He's just one of those sort of daft bodies 
 that can't hold their tongues, and must always be doing. 
 Gently, Cottager — good dog," added he ; "I know where she 
 is better than that," continued he to Cottager, who was 
 feathering on the grassy side of the road. " If that stupid 
 man had hallooed them fox dogs away," continued Trumper, 
 " as he did ours, there'd have been an end of the thing ; but 
 there's one great advantage of hare-hunting, that you need 
 never give her up — never as long as a hound can own the 
 scent." 
 
 " And when they can't, you begin to prick her, don't you .?" 
 asked Scott. 
 
 " That's as may be,'' replied Mr. Trumper ; " We never dig her 
 out, at all events ! " 
 
 " She doesn't give you a chance," replied Scott, as Trumper 
 hastened to conclude the dialogue by getting out of hearing. 
 
 They soon reached the fallow where puss and they had parted 
 company, and certainly it seemed a most unpromising specula- 
 tion trying to recover her. Even the redoubtable Twister and 
 Towler could make nothing of it, though she was plain enough 
 
38 SAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 to prick where the water had left a sandy wash on the furrow 
 ends of the poor, undrained land. 
 
 Trumper's keen eye saw these plainly enough, though his 
 paternal aifection made him anxious to transfer the credit of 
 the feat to the noses of the now mute pack. 
 
 At length even pricking failed. 
 
 Puss, with a tact often displayed by hunted animals, had 
 selected an enclosure so cold, so bleak, so barren that nothing 
 but a few water-weeds grew upon it, and of those there were 
 only barely sufficient to hide her track. 
 
 Trumper pulled up as the hounds got upon it, feeling quite 
 incompetent to form the least opinion as to whether she was 
 on, or sideways, or back, or down, or where. 
 
 Twister, however, thought she was on, and a greenish spot of 
 land on the rising ground, towards the middle of the enclosure, 
 yielding something that acted upon his frame like a scent, Mr. 
 Trumper moved forward, and Twister spoke to her at the 
 hedge-row. 
 
 They were now again upon a large fallow, and Trumper felt 
 the difficulty of picking the cold scent with the danger of 
 starting a fresh hare. However, he went on, eyes well down, 
 in hopes of seeing something. 
 
 The day, having changed for the worse, was now getting 
 raw, and the ceremony of hunting by inches, though very 
 interesting to masters, is anything but exhilarating to 
 strangers : at last, having come to about a dead lock — not a 
 hound being able to own the scent, or to carry it a bit further 
 — Scott ventured to suggest that it was all " u. p." 
 
 " Gad, now do you know, I thought you'd be saying that," 
 replied Trumper, starting round. " I never saw a fox-hunter 
 yet that didn't think it was time to shut up as soon as they 
 were run out of scent." 
 
 " We've been walked out," replied Scott. 
 
HAWBUCK GBANQE. 39 
 
 " Very true,-" retorted Mr, Trumpor, " very true," repeated 
 he, "and that makes me think she won't be far off ; Gad, sir, 
 she's under your horse's nose at this moment 1 " added he, 
 " Hold hard ! while I draw the hounds off, or they'll spoil 
 her." 
 
 Trumpcr then drew the hounds away, and looking a little 
 ahead Scott saw what at first looked like a clod, but which, on 
 closer observation, proved to be poor puss. 
 
 " To be, or not to be," was the question, — a live hare or a 
 dead one. 
 
 " Save her ! " whispered Scott, " save her 1 she's a good-un, 
 and will give us a gallop another day. Mercy's all that's 
 wanting to make the day's sport perfect." 
 
 " Nay then 1 " rejoined Trumpcr in astonishment, as he still 
 kept drawing the hounds off, " I thought you fox-hunters were 
 all for blood." 
 
 " So we are," said Scott, " so we are — but not hares' 
 blood." 
 
 " Well, then, I'll humour you," said Trumper, " and let her 
 live ; but you must allow she was well hunted." 
 
 " Never saw any thing better in my life ! " exclaimed our 
 friend. " It was a most wonderful performance." 
 
 "Wide difference between fox-hunting and hare-hunting, 
 you see," observed Trumper, fishing the bugle from the bottom 
 of the bed-gown pocket, and giving it a twang. 
 
 " Come away, good dogs ! come away 1 " hallooed he, as if 
 he was giving the game up for lost. 
 
 *' You should never give a hare up," said he, " when you 
 come to those sort of solemn stops, for, ten to one, she's not far 
 off- A fox would be far off, and the longer you persevere, the 
 further you're left behind ; but come," continued he, briskly, 
 " we've had a good day's sport. You lost the first run, to be 
 sure, which was an uncommon good one, as good a one as ever 
 was seen ; but this hasn't been a bad-un, and now, suppose you 
 finish the day by dining with us." 
 
40 UA^BUGK GEANQ2. 
 
 " With all my heart," replied Scott. 
 
 " Goose and dumplings," observed Trtimper ; " goose and 
 dumplings : suppose you can dine oflF them ? " 
 " Nothing better," said Scott, " nothing better." 
 " Lots of onions I " added Trumper, " lots of onions ! " 
 " That's your ticket," replied Scott, " that's your ticket." 
 
 They soon got upon the Edge-hill Road, and the longer they 
 travelled the smaller the pack became, one hound cutting oif at 
 a stile, another at a gate, a third at the cross-roads, all making 
 for their respective homes. 
 
 There are two things in this world that there is seldom any 
 mistake about — the smell of a fox and the smell of roast goose. 
 Even the most unsophisticated in sporting matters, though 
 they may not think it prudent to exclaim " I smell a fox," as 
 the peculiar odour crosses their noses on the pure air of a 
 hunting morning, yet never assign the effluvia to any other 
 thing ; while in the matter of roast goose, the veriest igno- 
 ramus has no hesitation about it. 
 
 It so happened that Mr. Scott winded the savoury bird ere 
 he viewed the buildings at the back of Jollyrise Farm, which 
 are shut out from view at the back approach by a row of 
 gigantic hollies, then in the full luxuriance of the deepest green 
 and the reddest berries. 
 
 " I smell goose ! " exclaimed Scott, at the turn of the road. 
 
 "You may say that," replied Trumper, ^'four on 'em, I 
 expect." 
 
 " You go the whole hog in the goose way," observed Scott. 
 
 "A goose to two's the allowance," replied Trumper ; "there'll 
 hardly be that to-day ; but you needn't make yourself uneasy 
 on that score, there'll be plenty for us all." 
 
 The out-buildings, forming an ample square at the back of 
 Jollyrise House, were like Mr. Trumper himself — large, roomy, 
 and substantial. The beasts in the fold-yards revelled in the 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 41 
 
 cleanest straw, and if tlicre was the slightest smell of any sort, 
 it was entirely overpowered by that of roast goose. 
 
 What surprised Mr. Scott most was some half dozen gigs and 
 dog-carts, all drawn up under a shed on entering. 
 
 " What do you do with so many gigs, Mr. Trumper ? " 
 asked he. Before, however, he had time to get an answer, the 
 trampling of the horses' feet drew out as many attendant 
 clowns, who forthwith assisted their masters to alight. They 
 had brought their " drinking carts," as they call them, in 
 exchange for their hunters. 
 
 After a bucket of gruel a-piece, the latter took their 
 departures home. Trumper, having boxed Golumpus, pro- 
 ceeded to cast an eye round the buildings to see that all was 
 right. 
 
 " Come, Tom, come 1 " exclaimed Mrs. Trumper from the 
 long staircase window commanding the landing and angle of 
 the staircase, in which she now appeared full length, in a black 
 silk gown and cheiTy-coloured ribbons to her cap, looking most 
 blooming and buxom. " Come, Tom, come ! " repeated she, as 
 she saw her husband wandering from filly to foal and from 
 heifer to cow. 
 
 They all then made for the back kitchen, where towels and 
 basons, and boot-jacks and slippers waited their pleasure, 
 superintended by a nice fresh-looking maid, in a blue cotton 
 gown, with crisp cork-screw ringlets dangling down the sides 
 of her merry healthy cheeks. 
 
 The party were presently divested of their tops, and now 
 appeared in most comfortable woollens and slippers. After 
 running the joint stock comb through the lightish crops of 
 straggling hair, they waddled into the parlour, where they were 
 greeted by the " missis." 
 
 This was a low wainscoted room, situate on the right of the 
 front door on entering, with one window looking to the soutb 
 
42 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 and the other to the east, the latter commanding a view of the 
 twisting Auborn water, and the well-wooded Greyridge Hills 
 beyond. The walls were profusely decorated with rare hunts 
 in every stage and variation of the sport, from the turn out 
 from the kennels down to " Who whoop ! " There were hares 
 sitting, and hares running, and hounds finding their own hares, 
 and people finding the hares for them, and hounds hunting, 
 and hounds viewing, and hounds at fault, and hounds hitting 
 her off again, and hounds running into her, and hounds catch- 
 ing her, and hounds baying her. 
 
 Then there were stuffed hares in cases on the mantel-piece 
 and about the broad skirting boards of the walls, with inscrip- 
 tions detailing the exploits of each, and sometimes the names 
 of the favoured few who were out. Long before Scott had 
 made the circuit of the room, however, the well roasted geese 
 came hissing in hot from the spit, and each man paired off with 
 a partner for one. 
 
 The Eev. Timothy Goodman having said grace, they all 
 set to with the most rapacious and vigorous determination. 
 
 For people who are fond of goose (and who is not ?) a greater 
 treat could not be devised. There was no taking the edge of 
 the appetite off with soup, or fish, or patties, or cutlets, or side 
 dishes of any sort ; but they sat down to dine off the one thing 
 they expected. This, too, was done in the fairest, most 
 equitable way imaginable ; for instead of a favoured few getting 
 the breast and tit-bits, leaving nothing but gristly drumsticks 
 for late comers, each man had his own half goose, and could 
 take whatever part he liked first, without eating in haste and 
 fear that the next favoured cut would be gone ere he could get 
 at it again. All, too, dining off' goose, and eating most pro- 
 fusely of stuffing, none could reproach the other with " smelling 
 of onions." 
 
 Silence appeared to be the order of the day both morning 
 and evening, for with the exception of a voice occasionally 
 hallooing out " Beer I " scarce a word passed, until the dishes 
 
HAWBUCK ORANGE. 43 
 
 presented a most beggarly account of bones. Beer they might 
 call it, and beer it might look like, being both light and bright, 
 but it was uncommonly strong and heady to take. 
 
 Let the French talk of their vtn ordinaire or pure St. Juiien 
 claret, with considerable body, at 28s. a dozen : what is it 
 when compared with the vin ordinaire, the malt and hops wine 
 of old England ? — a quart of Trumper's beer would sew up the 
 best Frenchman that ever was seen. We are quite sm'e we 
 have tasted bottled ale that would be prized before champagne 
 if it was only as dear. How few people appieciate still cham- 
 pagne ! It is the fiz, the pop, and the cream that makes 
 sparkling champagne such a favourite, and good bottled ale has 
 all those concomitants. 
 
 Trumper, having made a most exemplary onslaught on his 
 half goose, and washed it down with many potations of malt 
 liquor, at last threw himself back in his semicircular chair, and 
 bellowed out the word " Beandy." Mrs. Trumper imme- 
 diately dived into her pocket, and beckoning to the maid, gave 
 her the key of a cupboard formed of one corner of the room, 
 from whence she produced a most liberal sized blue glass spirit 
 stand with the names, " Hollands," " Rum," " Brandy," in 
 gilt letters round the bottle necks. 
 
 " Take a thimbleful of brandy, Mr. Scott, after your goose," 
 said Trumper, appealing to our fi-iend ; and forthwith the 
 little maid brought him a large wine glass on a papier mdche 
 stand with a hare painted on the bottom, and proceeded to 
 help him. " Stop ! " exclaimed Scott, when she had got it 
 half filled. 
 
 " Nay," roared Trumper in disgust, " what's the top of the 
 glass made for, d'ye think ?—^fin it up, woman " — and the 
 woman did fill it up. 
 
 " I drink to you," said Trumper, tossing off a like quantity 
 with the most perfect ease. 
 
 " Mild as milk," observed he, smacking his lips as he pu!! 
 down the glass. 
 
♦4 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 The floodgates of conversation now began to be loosened, 
 and each man having drunk to his goose partner, began asking 
 his neighbour to take a drop — so the drops went round. 
 
 The dumplings now came rolling in — ten dumplings on ten 
 dishes and five boats full of sauce. Apple dumplings are the 
 order of the day, but the apple crop having failed they had 
 recourse to currant dumplings, approaching very near to plum. 
 
 Cheese followed these, and then they cleared the old oak 
 table and drew it towards the fire. The party ranged round : 
 biscuits and filberts constituted the dessert, and " glasses " 
 formed the beverage. Mrs. Trumper stood in for a tumbler of 
 something and water, and when she retired, the little maid 
 again appeared, and diving into the cupboard, produced sundry 
 clay pipes, a large tobacco box with a hare hunt on the lid, and 
 several little round boxes with sand in the bottom, which she 
 distributed among the party. 
 
 " You don't object to baccy, I suppose ? " observed Mr. 
 Trumper, filling his pipe. 
 
 " Not a bit," replied Scott, taking a pipe and doing the like. 
 
 A solemn reverie followed, each man smoking and apparently 
 either thinking or dreaming. 
 
 " I did wrong in leaving her," at last said Trumper, breaking 
 silence, at the same time knocking the ashes out of his pipe. 
 
 Thereupon they all began to throw their tongues, and they 
 hunted that hare over again. 
 
 Then Timothy Goodman reminded them of a similar run 
 they had had twenty years before, when they killed at Little 
 Gaddesden, after having " all but " given her up. Then Harry 
 Beanstack recalled another, and Ben Bragg a third. More hot 
 water was then called for, and brought. More cold also — more 
 sugar ; and then more brandy — more rum ; and the hoUands 
 being exhausted, its patrons had recourse to gin. They then 
 began to get noisy — one talked of his horse, another of his 
 hound, a third of himself, a fourth of his farm, and Gosling, 
 who had lately married for the third time, talked of his " bran 
 
••THERE'S NOTHING CAN COMPARE." 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. . 47 
 
 new wife." Then they would drink her health, and some one 
 proposed " all the honours," which being duly responded to, 
 some of them found that resuming their seats was rather a 
 difficult matter. Toasting, having begun, went on briskly, 
 and then singing commenced. The songs were various, but all 
 in honour of the hare. The one that gave most satisfaction 
 had for a chorus — 
 
 " There's nothing can compare 
 To hunting of the hare," 
 
 which they kept hammering away at, laying the emphasis on 
 to the nothing can, 
 
 " There's nothing can compare," 
 
 till they got it so high that no type could convey an idea of the 
 din, save the great capitals used by some of the " He-who-runs- 
 may-read " advertising wine or " Reform-your-tailor's-bills" 
 fraternity. 
 
 Suffice it to say, that our friend Scott felt the fumes of the 
 spirit for three whole days after, and the ghost of — 
 
 " There's nothing CAN compare 
 Tu hunting of the hare " — 
 
 houiits him ?'ill. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 A CHOKER. 
 
 Mr. Scott's noble friend — for, like most rustics, he has one 
 noble acquaintance, whom he dignifies with that title when he 
 is coming it strong — Mr. Scott's noble friend, Lord Lionel 
 Lazy tongs, son of the Marquis of Fender and Fireirons, says 
 that when Lady Lazytongs' maid calls him on a hunting 
 morning, and he halloos out to know " what sort of a day it 
 is," the invariable answer he gets is '* A bad morning and very 
 cold:' 
 
 The question seems superfluous ; for few men, let alone a 
 tender delicate maid, are capable of forming an opinion whether 
 the weather is favourable for nunting or not. 
 
 We never ask any questions, but somehow there are certain 
 indications that give us an idea as to what sort of a day it is 
 before we get to the finishing touch of the toilette. One's 
 razors give the first indication of a raw ungenial atmosphere ; 
 and an eye into the fields or towards the road shows how the 
 country people are clad. If the carters have their duffle coats 
 on, and the poor turnip pullers their thick shawls wrapped 
 across their breasts, it is a sure sign of a raw unkindly atmos- 
 phere — an atmosphere warranting the warm-backed waistcoat, 
 if not the lambswool and fleecy-hosiery also. 
 
 The November of 1846, to which season the following adven- 
 tures of our friend Mr. Scott are confined, was the worst 
 hunting November that perhaps ever was known. It was 
 more like a bad March than the glorious, sloppy, burning 
 scent sort of weather peculiar to that month. November is 
 
HAWBUCK ORAXGE. 49 
 
 generally the freshest, greenest spot on memory's hunting 
 waste, but the one in question will be remembered more as a 
 nasty, liavsh, windy, mutton-broth, cold-in-the-head, sliivering- 
 shaking sort of aflair, than for the sterling qualities asso- 
 ciated — iu a sportsman's mind at least — with November's 
 existence. 
 
 The fact is, the year lS-46 was a month in advance of itself 
 all the way through, and we had November in October. 
 
 There was very good hunting in October in many counties 
 — that is to say, the huntsmen and whips had very good 
 hunting. 
 
 We will describe a November day of 1846, for the benefit of 
 posterity, should the plates save our work from the trunk- 
 maker or butter-man. 
 
 On Monday, the 16th, Mr. Neville's hounds met at Horndeau 
 Toll-bar, midway between the toAvns of Scrapetin and Skinflint, 
 and having scarcely recovered from a half-suppressed, half- 
 cured, agueish sort of cold, which had prevented his taking the 
 field before, Mr. Scott was anything but pleased at the duh, 
 unblooming look of the clipped horse's coat, when he went into 
 the stable, confirming the suspicions he had indulged in while 
 dressing, of its being a nasty cold day. 
 
 When he got upon the road he found his worst fears con- 
 firmed, for the mudscrapings were dry on the north side, and 
 the whole surface of the turnpike gave indications of its being 
 a cold drying day. 
 
 The horse didn't like it, and champed the bit, and set up 
 his back, as though anxious to warm himself with a gallop. 
 
 There are some days of so dubious undefined a character, 
 that one may ring the changes with the people we meet between 
 a "fine day" and a "bad day" with the probable chance of 
 success with each, but it would have required an extremely 
 complaisant person to agree that this was a pleasant day — a 
 nice day, or a day deserving any of the various forms of 
 phraseology denoting approval of the weather It was an arid 
 
60 HAWBUCK ORANGE. 
 
 drying day, with jnst sufficient wind ta send the cold cutting 
 air through one's carcase. Even fox-hunters — of all men the 
 most merciful and least hasty in condemning a day — could 
 only observe " that it mifjht be better than it looked." A day 
 certainly may be so bad as to be good for nothing but fox- 
 hunting, but these are generally of the sloppy order, not your 
 withering, dust-raising sort of days. Moreover such a day in 
 November is perfectly discreditable, for the least one can 
 expect is to come home with one's feet well wet up to the 
 ankles, from the slushiness of the ground, 
 
 A scarlet coat is generally considered a better specific against 
 cold than the stoutest double-milled broad-cloth or extra strong 
 Saxony ; but on this day its charms were gone. Mr. Scott 
 shivered as he went along. The few men he overtook were 
 flopping their arms, or had their mouths tied up in shawls or 
 wavats, as though they were coming from the dentist's. The 
 greetings were of the desponding order, as if each thought he 
 'Tould be better at home. If Tom had been ordered by the 
 Horse Guards, the Admiralty, the Home Secretary, or any one 
 in authority, to turn out on such a day, how he would have 
 grumbled ! What a pretty kick up he'd have made. Kever- 
 theless, there he was, trotting along, trying to delude himself 
 into the belief that it was pleasure. 
 
 It must be a marvellous day, or a wonderful country, when 
 the advertisement of a regularly established pack of fox-hounds 
 fails to bring some one. When he got to the toll-bar, Tim 
 Bilk, the collector, had half filled his white apron pocket with 
 coppers, and it was gratifying to see some one looking happy. 
 The hounds did not, neither did the horses, while the quick 
 movement, and the thumping of hands against thighs, plainly 
 told how cold it was. A dro}) hung to old Ben the huntsman's 
 nose, which, as he chased it away with his worsted mitten, was 
 quickly succeeded by another. Still many people did not seem 
 to think it so cold as it was, simply, we believe', because it was 
 early in the month of November. Had it been about Christmas. 
 
EAWllUCK GRANGE. 01 
 
 they would have exclaimed against waiting, and showered blcos- 
 ings on the heads of all late-conievs. Mr. Neville, we may 
 observe, did not even send a horse on ; and there we think 
 he showed he had not hunted so many years for nothing. In 
 the absence of the Master a Regent is generally appointed, and 
 some time was consumed by old Ben in expectation of some one 
 either appointing himself or being appointed by the field. As, 
 however, a Regency imposes the propriety of staying with the 
 hounds till the end of the day, it did not seem in request, and 
 at last they put into cover without one. 
 
 The only drawback to Horndean is its proximity to the 
 towns of Scrapetin and Skinflint. These at times pour forth 
 rather a troublesome population. As a harbour for foxes, as a 
 good place to get away from, and as a cover commanding a 
 run, if a fox does but get clear, it is second to none in the 
 country. Had it been a moderate sort of meet Scott would not 
 have troubled it, but there is no such thing as staying away 
 from Horndean. The cover is about a mile long, with all sorta 
 of lying, timber, plantation, underwood, gorse, broom, fern, 
 every accommodation, as the lodging-house keepers say. The 
 deepest and strongest part is at the end where they meet, the 
 whole hill, or rather precipice side, being covered with gorse in 
 every stage of health and every variety of growth, open here close 
 there, middling elsewhere, with occasional slides of bluish slate 
 or bare patches of ground, giving the occupants on the opposite 
 side a fine panoramic view of Reynard's peregrinations. The 
 bunnies, too, are plentiful, and many a capering yard w^nnd 
 goes home on his "three and sixpence a side," with the fill 
 conviction that one of these dotting, popping, burrowing little 
 beggars, is the animal he has hired his horse to come out to 
 see hunted. 
 
 " Talbjho ! " exclaimed Tom Scott. " I declare there he is, 
 bounding out of yon thick patch of gorse, straggling up to the 
 hill-top ; and now he comes banging down the side like a 
 rocket. Tallyho ! Tallyho ! Confounded old fool that T am ! 
 
62 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 I declare I am just as keen about seeing him as I was the first 
 time out, and that's a quarter of a century ago," added our 
 friend to himself. 
 
 What commotion tlie hunt has created in the lately un- 
 tenanted valley ! The hills are clustered with spectators, and 
 the few leafless ashes by the road-side are crowded with boys. 
 All are agog with excitement, all straining their-eyeballs, in the 
 hopes of seeing him, and most of them looking the wrong way. 
 Even Bilk has left the gate in charge of his niece, and stolen 
 away to see the find, 
 
 " There's a better scent than I thought," said Scott, eyeing 
 the pack flying together. Now they pour down the steep hill- 
 side, right on the line bold Eeynard has taken. What a 
 crash ! what a melody ! The old gorse bushes snap under 
 their weight, and the green masses shake and tremble with 
 their bustling. " They'll have him out before long," said 
 Tom, and then he began hugging himself for coming. "Never 
 does to stay at home because the morning doesn't look well," 
 said he, cocking up a leg and drawing his girths : " shouldn't 
 wonder if we have a run ; and then, how vexed all the fellows 
 will be that haven't come ! " 
 
 And now "hats off" further up, shows that Reynard is 
 viewed, but the second whip being there prevents any noisy 
 ebullition of delight. The hounds are working on the line and 
 Till soon be at the spot. He's on, by Jove ! horses' heads 
 turn to the west, and rising shoulders bob above the opposite 
 wall to where Scott is — he cuts away through the old estab- 
 lished gaps on his side of the dean, for there never was a fox 
 cover yet without its regular way all round, though few people 
 care to learn more than one side. 
 
 AVhat a clatter the roadsters make on the opposite side ! and 
 how they hurry on regardless of the hounds ! — yon gentleman 
 in the linen trowsecs on the runaway chestnut is going at 
 score. 
 
 In vain the huntsman shouts, in vain the whip imprecates — 
 
i3mm 
 
 
 3 
 Z 
 
 H 
 (A 
 
 lU 
 
 s 
 
 > 
 < 
 
 < 
 
 z 
 
 ee 
 
 01 
 
 E 
 H 
 
 Z 
 
 o 
 
 z 
 < 
 
 01 
 
 -] 
 
 H 
 Z 
 
 tu 
 o 
 
 s 
 
 H 
 
HAWBUCK ORANGE. 53 
 
 on, on, he goes, liko CJilpin, iuid, in all i»roltiil)ility, with a similar 
 result. 
 
 They say that every vvoinan has one chance of being 
 married, and every fox one chance of breaking cover, and 
 we beh'evc this fox had every intention of going, if it 
 hadn't been for this genius. There is a narrow gully near 
 the west end of the dean that nine flying foxes out of ten 
 emerge by, fticing as fine a tract of open country, chiefly 
 pasture, as eye can traverse, but the chestnut got there first, 
 and Reynard declined following, A fox, like a sovereign, 
 must be first or nowhere. It's all nonsense depriving him of 
 his precedence — people who go out hunting must make up their 
 minds to let the fox go first. 
 
 A cold east wind shivered a chill of disappointment, as the 
 field, on turning their horses' heads to the now baffled hounds, 
 met it careering up the valley. The warmth of excitement 
 seemed to die out all at once. The hounds even seemed dis- 
 appointed, and came lagging along, now on the scent, now off", 
 in a far different style to what they had flown with the first 
 outburst of joy, produced by a close proximity to the brush. 
 Who doesn't know the result of such a mishap as this ? AYho 
 doesn't know the blighting influence such a catastrophe has on 
 the spirits of the field ? how what might have been the finest 
 day that ever was seen, becomes tainted with the title we have 
 placed at the head of our paper ? 
 
 The sportsmen were presently all back in their places, just 
 like people who had gone out of a French theatre between acts. 
 There was old Ben with a fresh drop on his nose, yoicking his 
 hounds, himself and his horse embedded in gorse — there was 
 the second whip again standing erect in his stirrups, looking 
 out for a view — and Tom, the first whip, was back on our 
 friend Scott's side of the dean, ready to attend Reynard away 
 should he be inclined for a trip to the south. 
 
 Up and doAvn, and round about, the hounds worked him, 
 the scent getting weaker, and the ground getting worse, the 
 
54 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 more it was foiled. Now they'd give it up, and now they 
 wouldn't ; now Ben viewed him, and now Joe, but Tom and 
 Mr. Scott, who sat on the opposite side, saw that the chance of 
 getting him away again grew worse and worse. 
 
 " Some may call this fox a coward," said Scott to himself, as 
 he sat eyeing the proceedings, and ruminating on the mutabili- 
 ties of the chase, "but he certainly has no right to that title 
 for both his performances this day. According to the common 
 doctrine of courage, he who flies at once is a coward, and 
 viewed in that light, Eeynard would be censured for doing 
 what we want him. He started away at once, and if the linen 
 leggings interposed, that was no fault of his, nor should he 
 be blamed for keeping where they do not come. I'm not 
 sure," continued ho, "but it requires more courage to 
 stand the efforts of those two-and-twenty couple of slapping 
 hounds in that small hill, than to fly the country, and take the 
 chance of sheltering hedge-rows, friendly woods, and other 
 contingencies. Yet we call the fox a coward for not running 
 away. The doctrine of fox courage is not clearly defined. 
 The doctrine of cold is, though ; " continued he, sneezing and 
 shrugging up his shoulders as the keen wind took him across 
 the back. 
 
 " Thank God ! there's old Ben putting his horn to his 
 mouth at last," exclaimed he, and the clear shrill noise sounded 
 through the country. The willing hounds gladly left the 
 unkindly gorse, and came straggling up to Ben's horse's heels. 
 
 "If it wasn't that I have broken into the day, and shouldn't 
 be able to settle to anything after, I'd go home," said Scott to 
 himself ; " for there's no sure find within four miles of this, and 
 the day is getting colder, and the wind higher," Moreover 
 the day, without being absolutely stormy, was just boisterous 
 enough to prevent hounds hearing, and consequently bad 
 enough to prevent hunting. 
 
 The choice now lay between Hunter's Oak Spinney and 
 Kenley Gorse — the one being in Scott's way home, the other 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. bb 
 
 oufc of it. Of course they chose the one out of it, and afte» 
 four miles, trot, trot, bump, bump, at that most uncomfortable 
 postboy pace that hounds jog from cover to cover, they 
 arrived at the gorse just in time to see two shooters emerge 
 from it. 
 
 We need hardly say they drew it blank ; indeed, after 86 
 much gorse work, we were only surprised that Ben drew it at 
 all ; but huntsmen must make out a day somehow when 
 master is absent, and that with as little unnecessary disturb- 
 ance of country as possible. 
 
 Farmer Buckwheat then came up, and assured Ben that he 
 bad seen a fox an hour before rolling on his neighbour Rush's 
 fallow, — a piece of intelligence that Ben eagerly availed himself 
 of, and drew the hounds across and across as though he really 
 expected to find him. 
 
 That performance being over, and eleven red-coats remaining, 
 nine of whom lived to the north, Ben announced his intention 
 of drawing Parkham Bush Dean, a most impracticable cover, 
 to the south — impracticable at least in as far as getting foxes 
 away is concerned — an intimation that acted like lightning 
 upon the field, causing the red-coats to stop short, those who 
 bad comforters in their pockets to tie up their mouths, those 
 who had warm gloves to produce them from their horses' girths, 
 and all to make preparations for cutting home, — declaring that 
 they had had enough, and that it was the most beastly day they 
 had ever been out in. 
 
 Cold, dejected, cheerless, dispirited, and chilled, our friend 
 sought his solitary home, and having got rid of an hour in the 
 stable, at last found himself in the old red morocco chair with 
 cane sides, that has grown old, and tattered, and shabby in 
 his service. There, as he dozed over the fire, with the 
 melancholy light of a pair of mutton fats, he reviewed the flight 
 of life, and glanced at the prospect of the future. 
 
 " Hunting," said he, " has been the balm and charm of ray 
 youth — it has solaced the seclusion of my summers, and da- 
 
66 EAWBUGK GRANGE. 
 
 lighted the retirement of my winters ; but, hang it, if this 
 November is to be taken as a sample of what's to come, it's 
 precious little use persevering in the line." 
 
 Thereupon he gave a tremendous sneeze. 
 
 " What a fool I was to go out on such a day ! " continued 
 he, burying his face in a capacious bandana, "/ar more likely 
 to increase a cold than to cure one." A-ivJiitz — a-ivhitz — a- 
 whitz — " regularly in for it, and nobody to nurse one. Poor 
 Lydia Clifton ! If it hadn't been for this hunting I'd have 
 married you long since." A-ivhitz — a-whitz — a-ivhitz. 
 " James ! " hallooed he to the boy he now heard fistling in the 
 passage, '* take a foot-bath full of hot water up-stairs directly 
 — boiling ! d'ye hear ? I really think I'll give up hunting and 
 marry her still," added Tom, rising from the morocco chair, 
 " for it's no use keeping horses for such work as this." So 
 saying, he stumped up-stairs, to parboil his feet and think over 
 Llic pro's and cuu's of matrimony. 
 
CHAPTER iV. 
 
 A CHEERER. 
 
 A chosen few alone the sport enjoy ! " 
 
 HE next day was so 
 deuced overcast and 
 bad that our friend 
 didn't venture further 
 than the stable, or Ave 
 really believe he would 
 have ridden over to 
 Snailswell, and ended 
 a nine years' courtship 
 with an offer. As it 
 was he lay at earth, 
 watching the rows of 
 drops stringing them- 
 selves together like 
 illumination lamps on 
 the window frames, the 
 raw drizzling rain glid- 
 ing down the panes, 
 and the heavy spongy 
 clouds rolling them- 
 selves like bed hang- 
 ings round the opposite hills. A more ungenial day, perhaps, 
 was never seen. Even in the country it was scarcely light, and 
 what those poor benighted folks who live in towns must have 
 
 AS UNGENIAL DAY. 
 
68 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 Buffered "baffles the comprehension."- The glass had run 
 itself down to nothing, and everybody said they were in 
 for " weather." The wind rose towards night, and dashed 
 the now swelling drops against the casement with redoubled 
 fury. 
 
 Scott fully made up his mind, as he turned into bed, to be 
 done with hunting, and to settle quietly down to matrimony. 
 " It's no use persevering in a sport when one hasn't, weather to 
 enjoy it in," argued he, considering what he should do with his 
 horses, " She's a nice little creature," continued he, pulling 
 the bedclothes up to his snuffling nose, " and although she 
 hasn't much money, yet she's so careful that her management 
 would be quite as good as a fortune." So saying, he dozed 
 away to sleep, and dreamt of bells ringing, ribbons flaunting, 
 beer flowing, fiddles scraping, girls dancing, farmers feasting, 
 " three times three and one cheer more ! " 
 
 How different everything looked the next morning. The 
 dreary, foggy, water-charged clouds had cleared away, and been 
 succeeded by bright, smiling, sunshiny weather. 
 
 The landscape was just like a newly cleaned picture. What 
 yesterday was all blotch, mystery, and confusion, to-day stood 
 forth most luminously distinct. Nay, beauties appeared, that 
 a stranger would have said had been added — Oakhope spire, the 
 herd's white cottage on the Compton Hills, and the sky-line 
 breaking fringe of beech, crowning the summit of Blackdown 
 Moor. All nature seemed to rejoice in the change. The cattle 
 grazed freely in the fields instead of sheltering behind trees and 
 hedge-rows, the labourers doffed their jackets to their work, 
 children played bareheaded abont the cottages, and the horses 
 in the stable had acquired a silky gloss on their late dull un- 
 kindly coats. 
 
 The hounds met at Hollyburn Green, twelve miles by the 
 road, nine by the " crow." Our friend certainly had no inten- 
 tion of hunting when he went to bed — none whatever ; indeed 
 he had fully determined, if his cold was well enough, to ride 
 
HAWBUCK GkANGM. 60 
 
 over to Snailswell ; but we must add that he did not anticipate 
 so fine a day. 
 
 " Saddle old Barbara," said he to Will Sleekpow, wko was 
 preparing for exercise, "and you ride the colt on as far as 
 Ratchburn Mill, and then take the fields for Ilollyburn Green, 
 till I overtake you ; " with which directions Tom hurried back 
 to dress and breakfast. 
 
 Will seemed rather surprised, but, like a sensible servant, he 
 proceeded to do what he was told, — a very indispensable quality 
 for a person calling himself a servant. 
 
 What a difierent sort of day it was to the last 1 Instead of 
 a drying, pinching, hide-bound sort of feeling, it had all the 
 soft, fresh, bland luxuriance of spring. Quite a day for 
 taking the creases out of one's face. The ground was well 
 saturated with wet, and the old mare went snorting, and 
 bounding, and trotting along as if in equal enjoyment with 
 her rider. 
 
 The observation is as old as the hills, that we seldom appre- 
 ciate anything till we lose it, and the truism holds good with 
 hunting as well as with other things. The two previous days 
 had been so wretchedly bad, and the glass had given such little 
 indication of amendment, that few of the field had looked upon 
 hunting this day with any sort of confidence. Indeed the 
 boisterous night had well-nigh quenched the hopes of even the 
 most sanguine, and few had thought of giving any hunting 
 orders on going to bed. Tarquinius Muff had turned in, at 
 eleven, without a word on the subject ; Blatheremskite had done 
 the same at twelve, having taken an hour's snooze in his arm- 
 chair after his brother was gone, and all the " easy ones " had 
 gone off in a similar way. 
 
 The consequence of all this was, that though they didn't 
 muster so strong as they would have done had the previous 
 weather been fine, yet those who did come were mostly of the 
 right sort, and all were in the high glee of joyous excitement 
 and expectation. Perhaps a slight cause of exultation might 
 
 F 
 
60 Hawbuck gjrange. 
 
 arise at the eircumstance of there being so many absentees ; 
 for though fox-hunters are all most desperately loving and 
 sociable when together, yet there are very few who can't put up 
 with the absence of a cocktail — nay, there are some who even 
 hke to have a crow over a comrade. There was what might be 
 called a good field ; numerous enough to be pleasant, and not 
 overcrowded. No fox-headers by profession, no linen-trowsered 
 young gentlemen, with yard-wands for whip-sticks, no grooms 
 on rearers, no horse-breakers on kickers, no young farmers on 
 runaways : there might be fifteen scarlets and a dozen blacks. 
 For the real pleasure of hunting we hold that to be quite 
 enough. When you have just the cream of a hunt, people 
 settle into places in a run quite naturally, without the jostling, 
 sorting, and winnowing incident to a crowd. Old Mr. Neville 
 came bustling along almost first, as if his absence on the last 
 day had set the razor of his keenness on edge. Old Ben's fea- 
 tures as he trotted up the green, with the spicy, blooming, 
 bitch-pack at his chestnut horse's heels, had relaxed all the 
 keen rigidity of muscle that contracted them on the Horndean 
 day, and he was now swelled out to his natural size, looking like 
 an elderly cherub on horseback. 
 
 Tom Scott overtook Sleekpow between Ratchburn Mill and 
 the meet, and got the young horse in a very cool and collected 
 state ; nor was his equanimity disturbed by the sight of Scott's 
 red coat, nor yet by the cantering and splashing past of Tom 
 Muffinmouth and his cousin, Bill Bullfinch, on their cover 
 hacks. When Scott mounted he felt wiry and strong under 
 him, light and pleasant in hand, and altogether as if he would 
 go. It is a great thing for rider and horse to start pleasantly 
 together. Another great advantage is, not having time to 
 quarrel between the start and the meet. This is one of the 
 great advantages of a cover hack. When a man rides his own 
 horse " on," a diflFerence of opinion is very apt to arise on the 
 road, particularly on that most important of all points, whether 
 he shall walk or trot ; and as it is painfully true that a man 
 
n AW BUCK GRANGE. (J I 
 
 may see too much of his best friend, so it is equally so that he 
 may have too much of his best horse. Thougli quite a man for 
 the morning, and always at cover as soon as the groom, Scott 
 likes sending on, not only as a great saving of valuable temper, 
 but also as a certain means of getting two horses well exer- 
 cised. 
 
 But to the spor.t, for the field are on fire, and eager for the 
 fray. 
 
 The eager hounds would scarcely wait for the dismissing 
 cheer and wave of old Ben's hand, as they approached the 
 accustomed corner of Heatherside Plantation, and disdaining 
 all make-believe drawing, dashed on to the thick of the lying 
 on the projecting banks, fi'om whence they had so often un- 
 kennelled the "varmint." Old Columbine's deep tongue, 
 which no rate or whip crack ever followed, infused joy into the 
 field, and hats were fastened down and pressed firmly on the 
 brow, and reins gathered up, ere three whimpers had escaped 
 her. Hoic ! Hoic ! cheered old Ben, kicking and jagging the 
 chestnut through the brushwood of the cover ; but the pack 
 needed no monition — the old bitch's tongue was quite enough 
 to draw them to her like lightning. Master Reynard was on 
 the alert, and had left his sheltered couch at the cheer 
 following the second note, being strongly of opinion that 
 the noise he heard was very like what had disturbed him 
 about three weeks before, when he had deemed it prudent 
 to visit the distant cover of Neverbreak Forest, whence 
 indeed he had only lately returned, finding, greatly to his 
 discomfort, that his earth had been usurped by a badger in 
 his absence. 
 
 Tremendous was the outburst of melody as the pack reached 
 the now vacated kennel, and powerful the scent that its late 
 occupant left, as he brushed through the faded fern and brown- 
 ing heather of his dry warm quarters. If he had any doubts at 
 all as to what was going on, they were speedily dispelled by a 
 loud, clear, full " Tally-ho 1 gone away: " from the far end of 
 
 F 2 
 
62 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 the cover, proclaiming thafc, having run , its ntmost limits, he 
 had taken his departure, 
 
 " It's the old hoy ! " exclaimed Tom Bowles, the first 
 whip, whose halloo had just been heard — he broke at the 
 very same place he did before, and crossed the field at the 
 same spot. 
 
 " Yonder he goes ! " added he, viewing the fox travelling 
 evenly away over the opposite hill. 
 
 The pack tied on the scent, and went away in a style that 
 would have funked the directors of an insurance office, if they 
 had done a policy on Reynard's life. There was mischief in 
 the cry. " Hold hard, gentlemen ! for one minute," exclaimed 
 Ben, pulling up short to get the hounds well away ; and that 
 minute being freely accorded, he started off at a canter, and all 
 did the same. 
 
 There wasn't a fence worth speaking of for the first five or 
 six fields, so that the riders had time to get their horses well in 
 hand and settled in their stride before business began. 
 
 A fallow field brought Tom Scott's five-year-old to his bit, 
 and having once dropped upon it, he went as steadily and col- 
 lectedly as possible. 
 
 " He's a hundred guineas' worth," exclaimed Scott, as he 
 shot over a fliglit of hurdles like an arrow ; and that was 
 putting sixty pounds on at once, for the only time he had 
 ridden him before he was so crazy and " tail first " at his leaps, 
 that he would have taken forty for him — forty ! even though 
 he had bred him, and no one ever breeds a horse that isn't 
 occasionally worth a hundred. Hundreds are easily talked of, 
 but difficult to realise out of a dealer's yard. But this is no 
 time for a dissertation on dealing ; for the hounds, after racing 
 past Dewlish and over the large open fields of Risborough Lord- 
 ship, are now making the wooded banks of the Brentwater echo 
 with their melody. 
 
 " Hold hard, gentlemen ! " halloos Mr. Neville, from behind, 
 adding, us the obedient field pulled to the summons, " I've seen 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. f]o 
 
 more foxes headed at that point tliaii ut almost any other la 
 the country." 
 
 "Tallyho ! Yonder he goes ! " added he, viewing him from 
 the rising ground on which he had stationed himself. 
 
 Another minute, and the hounds were out also, the scent not 
 being quite so good in cover as it was in the open. 
 
 " Now he's away for Neverbreak Forest ! " screamed Mr. 
 Neville, shortening his reins, "and let those catch 'im who 
 can ! " 
 
 So fair an invitation, so sportingly given, caused every man 
 to settle himself in his saddle, and to hug his horse by the head 
 as though he were bent on destruction. 
 
 The bitch-pack are terribly fast, and take a deal of catching 
 at most times. This day seemed likely to put something extra 
 to their pace. 
 
 A cloud that had overcast the sky cleared away at the 
 moment the fox broke from the end of the belt of wood at the 
 water side, shedding a halo o'er the scene, and disclosing to 
 those who had time to look ahead the dreaded Neverbreak 
 Forest in the extreme distance. It could not be less than six 
 miles in a straight line — a mere trifle to stag-hunters, who 
 know nothing under twenty, but a space admitting of many 
 pleasing variations in the up and down life of matter-of-fact 
 fox-hunters. To heighten the interest of the scene, the line to 
 the forest seemed to lie up the broad green valley of Grassmere, 
 a valley as famous for fattening oxen as it is favourable to scent. 
 The pollard willows through the centre indicated the "pre- 
 sence " of water, as the chemists say, even if the sun had not 
 lit up the broad patches of it here and there, and shown the 
 white bridges at the foot crossings. The mere mention of the 
 forest acted as a stopper on some of the field, so famous is it in 
 the fox-hunting history of the country for tremendous runs, 
 heavy fencing, deep galloping, desperate swimming, confounded 
 cramming — all the funking fireside attributes of hunting — as if 
 there were not big places in all countries, if people only look 
 
64 HAWBUCK GBANGE. 
 
 out for them. If the forest had been ' such a regular " kill 
 bull," Old Ben must have died of it long ago, for he's been 
 riding towards it and from it once a month at the least during 
 the season, for the last thirty years ; and when Scott saw him 
 slide down a steep bank, and turn the corner of a flight of 
 rails, that appeared to him impassable, he thought, as he 
 followed him, that he was very likely to ride a good many 
 more. 
 
 The bruisers and would-be bruisers, of course, kept up the 
 bottom with the hounds, and when great Captain Rasher, with 
 a mouthful of moustache, came to the first sedgy watercut 
 dividing the meadows, and saw the valley was not the smooth- 
 sailing race-course he expected, he would have had no objection 
 to turn back, if Tom Muffinmouth hadn't come up full tilt, 
 causing his second charger hunter to blob right in, where he 
 was immediately joined by Muffinmouth and his horse, the 
 whole stirring up the black bog earth like a gigantic 
 mash. 
 
 '* It's very odd," said Old Ben, who was now careering along 
 the sound bank through the familiar line of gaps, " that gentle- 
 men always will ride into those bogs. I dare say I've seen a 
 hundred horses floundering in them, first and last, and yet we 
 never come this way without some one trying them. Forrard ! 
 forrard!'''' continued he, cheering on his hounds, notwith- 
 standing they were beating him as it was. " Forrarding " 
 with huntsmen, and " hissing " with grooms, are things they 
 get so into the way of, that many of them can't help 
 themselves. 
 
 If extreme pace lasts, a run can't last. That is a truism 
 worth remembering by pullers-up and people fancying them- 
 selves about to be beat by the pace. Up the Grassmere Water 
 Meadows the pace certainly was extremely good — so good that 
 the hounds ran nearly mute ; but as they neared the neck 
 where the meadows run up into a ravine, some few found time 
 and wind to throw their tongues ; and most welcome were the 
 

 ■' f 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 67 
 
 notes, borne hack on the soft light breeze. A momentary 
 clieck at the top let in the successful followers on either side of 
 the valley, while a mixed tail of blacks and reds dotted the line 
 of country over which they had come. The lathered horses 
 now stood panting and blowing, and shaking their tails, after 
 their exertions, whilst the red-faced, perspiring sportsmen durst 
 not dismount to ease them. " Bless us, what a pace ! " " Did 
 you see Mallinraouth in the bog ? " " Who was t'other 
 chap ? " " Where's my groom ? " " You've lost a shoe." 
 " Have I, by Jove ? It's all dickey with me, then ! " 
 were the exclamations that burst forth, while Ben bustled 
 away to the well-accustomed point, to get the pack on with 
 their game. 
 
 Up the steep dean-side then they scrambled, and after 
 squeezing through a stiff and very scratch-my-face fence, they 
 found themselves in a large fallow, with the hounds lob, 
 lob, lobbing across, now mute, now dropping a note, but 
 pointing for the forest, now a conspicuous object in the rising 
 foreground. 
 
 Old Ben began kicking the chestnut into a canter to get the 
 hounds across the fallow as quickly as possible, well knowing 
 the importance of killing the fox in the open. Not that he 
 ever expresses a doubt of catching him in cover, but he prefers 
 the publicity of the plain. He is all for fair play, especially 
 when there's a burning scent. 
 
 The rivalry of riding was now about over, all being satisfied 
 that if their horses got into the deep rides of the forest, they 
 would want all the "go" they could save for them, and trotting, 
 and holding, and easing, and furrow-seeking, and headland- 
 riding, became the order of the day. 
 
 Mr. Swillbut, the brewer's, great gaunt brown horse 
 Molasses, who had given indications of a stiff neck down 
 below, had been so fairly pumped out by clambering up the 
 rough brushwoody dean, that he lay down on the fallow just 
 outside the stiff fence, and so awkwardly did he repose 
 
68 HAWBUCK ORANGE. 
 
 himself, that the few horses behind had to leap over him, 
 or force a fresh breach through the lofty, newly switched, 
 almost impenetrable fence. 
 
 Still the desire to save their horses was outweighed by anxiety 
 to kill the fox in the open, and nobody regretted to hear the 
 light musical notes of the bitches again swelling to cry as 
 they got upon a large, rushy, old pasture, causing the field 
 to get their horses by the head, and urge them again into a 
 canter. 
 
 The thing had now got so select that there would be honour 
 and glory enough for them all, consequently, those who '^ never 
 open gates," and never " pull down fences," now began to do 
 both, and those who always open and pull down, now did so the 
 more. 
 
 So what with one, and what with another, they about dis- 
 pensed with leaping altogether. It was, " I'll get off if you'll 
 hold my horse ! that's a good fellow ; I'll do it next time," or 
 "You'd better get off and lift it," as Tom Bowles was fumbhng 
 at a chained gate. 
 
 This, however, is all under the rose, the stiffest fencing and 
 the hardest riding being always, by courtesy, supposed to come 
 last. 
 
 So they went on from field to field rejoicing. 
 
 After skirting Birkshaw coppice, and taking a look at Cran- 
 field farm buildings, Reynard did not find such accommodation 
 as induced him to desert his original point for the forest ; but 
 a colley dog chasing him, pumped out the little balance of 
 wind he had left ; to recruit which he shortly after lay up in a 
 hedge-row, from whence, after the usual flash forward and 
 feathering flourish of the pack, he was soon elevated in tlie 
 arms of Old Ben before the admiring eyes of " glorious seven," 
 each trying who could who-hoop loudest. 
 
HA WB UCK G 7? A NQE. 
 
 69 
 
 The following- may l)e taken as a siiinjilo of tlic nsnal vnriffl 
 account?! that attend a n'ood run : — 
 
 Ileal (listiinoc, cig'lit ujilcs. 
 Ileal time, forty-five mimites. 
 Checks, one. 
 Heavies up, four. 
 Lights, three. 
 
 'J'elling- distance, fourteen. 
 Telling time, one hour. 
 Checks, none. 
 
 The result of onr friend Tom's ride was, that he repriced the 
 vouuo; 'un at ] 50?. 
 
 W^ 
 
 
 CHASED BY A eOLLEY. 
 
 \ 
 
CHAPTER V, 
 
 LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS 
 
 Delighted with his day with Mr. Neville, pleased with the 
 performance of the five-year old, in love with all the world, 
 particularly with his sweet charmer Lydia Clifton, our friend 
 gave his horse to Sleekpow, with an intimation that he should 
 want Rough Robin the next afternoon, being fully determined 
 to ride over to Snailswell, and finish the matter off-hand, 
 whether he gave up hunting or not. 
 
 " It's time I was married," said he, stamping the con- 
 glomerated mud off" his soaked boots, and casting an eye down- 
 wards on the stained and spattered cords. 
 
 "It doesn't follow," continued he, as he opened the back 
 door, and hurried into the house, " that I need give up hunting 
 the first year at all events, or perhaps not even the second, or yet 
 the third ; " and if anything was wanting to clench his deter- 
 mination about matrimony, it w^ould have been the fact of his 
 stumbling over one of those abominable tape-women's baskets 
 that had been left in the passage, while the owner carried on 
 the usual promiscuous barter with the females — ribbons for 
 rabbits' skins, shawls for suet, tape for tea, and so on. 
 
 It's very odd, but bachelors always use twice as much tea as 
 married people ; at least they pay for twice as much. 
 
 A letter with a large seal lay on the entrance table — 
 a seal so large that, had it been in black, Tom would 
 have thought all the crowned heads in Europe had demised 
 together. 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 71 
 
 " Who can this be from ? " exclaimed he, eyeing Lhe spread - 
 ing-many-quarfcered shield and crests, surmounted by a coronet. 
 He broke it and read as follows : — 
 
 " Dawdle Court. 
 
 "Dear Mr. Scott, — The Tear Devil Hounds meet at 
 Ecclesford Green, near here^ on Tuesday next, and we shall 
 be glad if it ivill suit your convenience to come on Monday and 
 stay till Wednesday, ivith 
 
 " Yours, very truly, 
 
 "Lionel Lazytongb. 
 
 "To Thomas Scott, Esq., Hawbuck Grange." 
 
 "What the deuce can have come over him now?" exclaimed 
 Tom, as he read it ; "his lordship has been living at Dawdle 
 Court these three seasons, and never got further than a card, 
 or a call, or a hope that I'd come to him at that most undefined 
 period 'some time,' and now he breaks out in a downright 
 invitation to stay." 
 
 No man is more keenly alive to the extreme absurdity of 
 people visiting out of their own station of life, or censures it 
 more severely in their neighbours than Tom does ; after which 
 our readers will not be surprised to learn that he looked out his 
 best boots, &c., and wrote to say he would go. 
 
 The premature closing of a winter's day, but little aided by 
 the slender horn-like circle of the young and rising moon, saw 
 him before the massive pile of Dawdle Court, whose heavy out- 
 line, he, however, forsook in favour of the stables, into whose 
 spacious yard he rode with an " at home " sort of air. 
 
 It is not every man that can face the silk-stocking smartness 
 and lace-daubed splendour of a front-door entrance ; but between 
 the denizen of the stable and the fox-hunter, there is a somo- 
 
72 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 thing in common that prevents the latter feeling distrait. 
 Though our walk in life has not been either lofty or extensive, 
 we are free to confess that we have seen lackeys who looked 
 quite as much like gentlemen as their masters. "Small blame to 
 their masters for keeping them," as Paddy would say ; but it is 
 inconvenient for a stranger to scrape and bow to the servant : 
 equally disagreeable to take the lord for a lackey. We, there- 
 fore, like the stable. We like to ride quietly in and ask the 
 groom, or coachman, or the postilion, or the anybody connected 
 with horses that we see moving about, if Sir John, or Sir George, 
 or my lady are at home, and then, if we get an answer in the 
 negative, we just ask them to take charge of our cards ; and if 
 they say " yes," why we see our horse put up ourself, and so 
 save old Patepowder, the porter, the wickedness of the oaths 
 he might let fall as he hobbled away with him from the front 
 door. Seeing the horse housed oneself, also, gives one time to 
 rectify any little derangement of dress incurred on the road, 
 stamp oif the mud sparks, pull up one's collars, comb out one's 
 whiskers — all extremely proper and allowable, but which a 
 modest man would feel a delicacy in doing at a front door, with 
 all the eye windows of the house full upon him, and no saying 
 how many pair of bright roguish eyes within, criticising his 
 movements. We do not know a more nervous situation for a 
 shy man than to place himself in the pillory of public observa- 
 tion, before a large house full of company in the country — 
 luncheon time, say — when all the ladies are together, giving a 
 loose to their tongues and their appetites. Unfortunate young 
 man ! Should you be accused of sweethearting anyone, how 
 they would pull you to pieces, especially if you were " booked." 
 There wouldn't be a feature but what they would condemn, or 
 a sin in the whole catalogue of crime but what they would lay 
 to your charge. 
 
 There is an adva:;tage in riding direct to the stables, when 
 one goes to stay all night, even though the shades of night 
 would protect one from idle curiosity. One sees what sort of 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 73 
 
 accommodation one's horse gets ; sees what sort of screws they 
 keep of their own ; and so while away an hour that might be 
 very lieavy in the house. The best ginger beer that ever was 
 bottled won't fiz above a certain time. 
 
 Well, Tom Scott rode into the yard, as we said, with a "rest, 
 soldier rest," sort of feeling, and also with the pleasing convic- 
 tion that in the course of his ride he had earned an enormous 
 appetite. 
 
 It was four o'clock, stable hour, and the horses, after being 
 stripped, strapped, and watered, were now in the full enjoy- 
 ment of their corn, standing up to their bellies in clean 
 wheat straw, as shown by numerous lanthorns hanging from 
 ceilings. 
 
 The trampling of his horse's feet drew a shirt-sleeved helper 
 or two to the doors, and one more venturesome and less afraid 
 of fresh air than the rest, keeping his head out sufficiently long 
 to receive the shot of a question, Tom ventured to ask " where 
 his stable was ? " 
 
 " We don't take in osses ere, old boy : it ain't a livery 
 stable," replied the man, taking our friend for a groom. 
 
 " Hush ! " exclaimed a voice behind, pulling the speaker 
 back, "it'll be Mr. Scott ; I've just sent his servant on." 
 
 A very orthodox, roundabout, stud groom, then came for- 
 ward with a lanthorn, and casting the light over Tom, 
 lest he might compromise his consequence by misplaced 
 politeness, observed, with a touch of the hat, " Mr. Scott, I 
 believe ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Tom, adding, " would you have the kindness 
 to show me my stable." 
 
 "I sent a helper on with your servant, not half an hour 
 since," replied the groom, " and he's not returned yet ; but I'll 
 endeavour to get some one to take this," continued he, ringing 
 a small bell. 
 
 "Don't you take in horses ?" asked Tom, as the little tinkler 
 ceased sounding. 
 
74 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 "Why — no — yes — no — not exactly here," hesitated the 
 groom; "at the Lazytong Arms, close by, just outside the 
 park. Excellent accommodation — kept by an old coachman of 
 ours — Esau Broadback — two-year old oats — sweetest hay that 
 ever was smelt." 
 
 " But if the park is as wide that way as it is the one 
 I've come," replied Tom, " it will be a precious distance, and 
 how am I to manage for want of a servant ? I have only a 
 groom." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Lampoil, the groom of the chamber, will manage 
 all that for you, sir," replied he, at the same time turning to a 
 group of helpers, whom his ring had drawn together ; he 
 inquired of one, whom he designated Mat, "What he was 
 doing ? " and receiving the usual answer, " Nothing," he 
 ordered him to saddle Usurper, and " lead this ere orse over to 
 the Arms." 
 
 " But if it's close by, what's the use of taking out a horse ? " 
 asked Tom. 
 
 " He'll be none the worse of a little exercise," replied the 
 groom. 
 
 " Nor Mat, either, perhaps," observed Tom. 
 
 Not being quite satisfied about the locality of the Arms, and 
 the moon now giving a more available light, Tom thought he 
 might as well consume part of the two hours and a half that 
 still separated him from dinner, by riding the old mare to her 
 quarters ; accordingly he set off, accompanied by Mat on 
 Usurper, a thorough-bred hack with a bang tail down to the 
 hocks. 
 
 It was not without a longing look that Tom took leave 
 of the Dawdle Court stables, feeling satisfied that, however 
 good the " Arms' " ones might be, they could not beat the 
 " Court." 
 
 Taking in horses has almost become the sole perquisite of 
 the poor, at least those that the world call "poor," though they 
 often have more to spend than those that the world call "rich." 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. lb 
 
 Men in our friend Tom Scott's class of life, never think of 
 separating " man and horse." If they can't take in both, 
 they send word, clearly showing that " not " taking in, is the 
 exception. 
 
 There are some places of such convenient distance tliat they 
 stretch or contract like telescopes, according to the wishes of 
 the party. "We have known the same place both two miles and 
 four in the month of the same person. The Scotch talk 
 of their miles and a bittick ; but their miles and a bittick 
 are not a bit more undetinable than an Englishman's 
 '* close by." 
 
 Although enlivened by Mat's agreeable conversation, who, 
 not having heard the groom's orders to take over Tom's mare, 
 concluded by Tom going that he was a fellow servant, was both 
 inquisitive and communicative, informing Tom, " what he 
 had," and anxious to know Tom's wages ; our friend found the 
 " close by," a long way. When one expects to arrive at a 
 journey's end every minute, distance stretches out amazingly. 
 Even on an ordinary beaten road, travelling the last mile is 
 often the longest. The meanderings of the road through the 
 park seemed as if they would never end, and views and vistas, 
 that might be very beautiful by day, were anything but inter- 
 esting on a winter night, illumined only by the fitiul gleams of 
 a crescent moon. 
 
 At last Tom and his conductor reached the noble lodge, and 
 following the turnpike road upon which they now got, the 
 creaking of the glittering sign containing the Fender and Fire- 
 iron Arms, as it swung to and fro in the little garden before 
 the house, at last proclaimed Tom's journey done. 
 
 Following Mat, he presently found himself in the soft 
 bedding of a farm yard, the little panes of glass for windows in 
 the encircling buildings, emitting gleams of light indicative of 
 occupants within. 
 
 " Have you bespoke a stable ? " asked Mat, halting in the 
 middle of the straw yard. 
 
 6 
 
76 HAWBUCK GEAJS(^£. 
 
 *' No," replied Tom : *' I thought his lordship took in 
 horses." 
 
 " I fear you'll come badly on, then," said Mat, *' for they've 
 only six decent stalls, and they seem to be all full." 
 
 " Holloa ! " exclaimed he, giving a loud, shrill, shilling 
 gallery sort of whistle, which had the effect of awakening a 
 man in an open-doored building to a sense of their presence, 
 who, on coming forward, proved to be Sleekpow. This worthy 
 was in the usual state of mental depression, of a groom who 
 hasn't got the best stable. " He was sure he didn't know what 
 they should do. The stable wasn't fit to put a dog horse in, 
 let alone such horses as ours ; " and after divers lamentations 
 he led the way into a sort of a cross between a stable and a 
 cowhouse — not very good to be sure, but a place that might 
 have been a great deal worse. The ceiling was very low, and 
 formed of loose rafters for the support of hay ; but that was a 
 deal better than no ceiling, or a roof with holes in it ; and 
 though the stalls were merely formed of swing bars, that is of 
 little consequence with horses that know each other. The 
 stable was warm and dry, and there was plenty of clean straw ; 
 and the hay being- last year's (1846), it was almost superfluous 
 smelling it, for it was sure to be good. 
 
 However, having humoured Sleekpow by joining in his 
 grumble, and admitting all his objections to be valid, Tom 
 proceeded to worm it out if he knew whose horses were there. 
 
 " There's Captain Tipthorn and Mr. Blobditch, Major 
 Tinhead, and a gentleman, whose name he forgot, Squire 
 Muffinhead, or something of that sort. 
 
 " The hounds met at Ecclesford Green, but where that was 
 he couldn't tell ; Esau Broadback, the landlord of the Arms, 
 who knew as much about hounds as coachmen generally do, 
 stating it to be two miles, while Major Tinhead's groom 
 declared it was four." However, two or four was no great 
 matter ; so ordering Sleekpow to bring the mare in time for 
 the four, Tom retraced his steps through the park, and was 
 
WHAT TIME DO WE DINE?" ASKED HE. 
 
 g2 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 77 
 
 surprised to find himself back at Dawdle Court in " no 
 time." 
 
 "What time do we dine ? " asked he of one of the bedizened 
 flunkeys who rushed to his assistance as he entered, and per- 
 sisted in stripping him as if he hadn't a hand of his own. 
 
 " Dinner's ordered at seven," replied he, with an emphasis 
 on the " ordered." 
 
 Having possessed himself of Tom's hat, gloves, whip-stick, 
 and paletot, he handed him over to a pump and pantaloon 
 gentleman in a cataract of white linen, who guided our friend 
 along a labyrinth of passages, lighted in the true pick-up-a-pin 
 style, to the library. 
 
 Here Tom found his noble host, booted and breeched, in the 
 midst of an admiring circle whose peculiar costume indicated 
 sportsmen in mufti — cutaway coats, fancy neckcloths, striped 
 vests, cord pantaloons, and so on. They all seemed as if they 
 had come on horseback, and hadn't got the straddle out of 
 their legs yet. 
 
 His lordship, who, in addition to boots and breeches, was 
 attired in a smart new pea-green cut-away, was exhibiting his 
 long length before the fire, in the true British style, — a lap 
 over each arm, — detailing for the third time the splendour of a 
 hare hunt he had been engaged in ; which narrative he was 
 kind enough to break off — though he had nearly hunted puss 
 to destruction again — as Tom entered, in order that he might 
 edify him with it from the beginning. 
 
 " Gad, Mr. Scott," said he, after mutual salutations were 
 over, and he had moved a little to the left to give Tom a smell 
 of the fire, " Gad, Mr. Scott," said he, " d'ye know, I was so 
 pleased with your account of the Goose and Pudding Hunt 
 that I wrote up to Tattersall to buy me a pack of harriers, and 
 I've been out with them to-day for the first time, and I do 
 assure you I never enjoyed anything more. We met at Furzey- 
 
78 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 down," continued he, " about three miles and a-half from here, 
 and found a hare by Clipston Clump, who Avent as straight as 
 an arrow to Gatley Coppice, from whence, sinking the wind all 
 the way, she ran to Silverspring, skirting the plantations at 
 Stover, then on to Frogley Glen, where there was a slight 
 check — not more than five minutes, hardly so much— owing to 
 a flock of sheep ; however, we hit her oflF again, when the 
 hounds flew like pigeons over those fine large pastures to 
 Hackthorn, skirting Rookley Bog, and she was finally killed in 
 the middle of Broadfield village, just by the blacksmith's shop. 
 I dare say you know it, Mr. Scott — close to the public-house — 
 the sign of the Frugal Spinster." 
 
 Here Tom managed to intimate that he didn't know the 
 country. 
 
 " Ah, if you don't," continued his lordship, without drawing 
 breath, " my friend Captain Windeyhash here does," — as if 
 Windeyhash's knowing it was the same as Tom ; and on his 
 lordship went again, talking of hunting, and riding, and foiling, 
 and casting, and crashing, till the announcement of Colonel 
 Buckskin again brought him " to." 
 
 Having got himself settled among them, much after the 
 fashion of a lost hound casting up, Buckskin essayed to show 
 his perfect ease by observing on his lordship's boots and 
 breeches. 
 
 " At it," his lordship went again, beginning with the find at 
 Clipstone Clamp, and hunting the hare, with variations, 
 through all the places before mentioned, running out into a 
 long dissertation on the comparative merits of Pelhams and 
 snaffles, each of which he had been trying on the horses he had 
 ridden that day. This, too, in defiance of the gong, whose 
 last boom had long died out, and been succeeded by the light 
 notes of a musical clock chiming a quarter to seven. 
 
 Still his lordship rattled away, talking of scent, and skirting, 
 and nicking, and babbling, and leaping, and creeping, and 
 flying, and bruising, and rasping, and racing, and ramming, as 
 
07Z- yfl^i^te^ 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 79 
 
 jf there was no such thing as dinner in the wind, at all events, 
 as if his sporting keenness had completely subdued the keenness 
 of his appetite. 
 
 At last Lampoil, the white-breasted gentleman Tom had 
 encountered on entering, appeared at the door, followed by a 
 flunkey with a tray full of flaring wax lights ; which appeared 
 to draw his lordship's attention to the fact of his not having 
 dined, for whisking one up with a flourish that sent the 
 accumulated wax all over his leather breeches, he transferred 
 the rest of the company to Lampoil, and proceeded to show 
 Tom to the " blue room." 
 
 " Gad," said his lordship, again sticking his back to the 
 fire, after going through the usual evolution of showing the 
 bell, the boot-jack, &c., "those are capital hounds of mine, 
 and I'm very much obliged to Tattersall for buying me 
 them." 
 
 " Suppose we take a turn with them to-morrow," continued 
 he, after a pause. 
 
 " We are going out with the Tear Devil hounds, aren't we ?" 
 asked Tom, turning the airing shirt at the fire by way of giving 
 his lordship a hint that they ought to be dressing. 
 
 " Ah, true ! " replied he, with an air of a man awaking out 
 of a reverie, " to-morrow the Devils meet at Stallington Hill, 
 nineteen miles from here, but that's nothing with two good 
 hacks." 
 
 " Ecclesford Green you told me in yonr letter, I think," 
 observed Tom. 
 
 " Ah, true ! " rejoined his lordship, " Stallington's on 
 Saturday — you're right ; to-morrow is Ecclesford Green, and a 
 deuced bad place it is too." 
 
 Just as he gave Tom this pleasing piece of intelligence the 
 tower clock chimed seven, and observing that he " supposed 
 they ought to be dressing," his lordship lounged out of the 
 room, having now enlightened Tom as to the meaning of the 
 footman, in saying that dinner was " ordered " at tlia^ hour. 
 
80 BAWBUGK GRANGE. 
 
 "What a queer bitch it is," said Tom, as his lordship's gaunt 
 figure disappeared through the doorway. 
 
 "He seems to be keen about hunting too," continued he, 
 running his proceedings and conversation through his mind ; 
 for we should inform the reader, that though we called him 
 "Tom's noble friend" in a former chapter, yet Tom knew 
 very little of him, his acquaintance having commenced by 
 helping him out of a bog at the close of last season, when his 
 lordship had paid Mr. Neville's hounds a flying visit of 
 inspection with a very liberal stud of very fine horses — nearly 
 as many as would have done for hunting a country twice a 
 week. 
 
 Not having a confusion of coats to bother him in a choice, 
 Tom was not long at his toilette, thanks to the footman, who 
 had laid all things out for him. 
 
 When he got into the spcaious drawing-room, redolent of 
 fragrance and gilt, and decorated to the highest pitch of 
 French art, he found Lady Lazytongs with her lazytongs 
 cocked on the sofa, who gave Tom the sort of distant bend 
 that some ladies give their husbands' friends. 
 
 Fortunately Sir G-eorge Stiffnecke, a neighbouring knight of 
 immense pretension, had arrived, and was doing the pohte in 
 his usual ponderous style, in which effort he was presently 
 aided by Captain Windeyhash, a sort of general hanger-on of 
 the house. 
 
 The whole party having at length assembled, and some 
 having looked at their watches more than once, his lordship at 
 last strolled into the room with the air of a man who had had a 
 good luncheon at three, for though the eflFerveseence of the 
 hare hunt was still in full froth when Tom arrived, it had been 
 over about two, and the hounds back in kennel by three. 
 
 However remiss his lordship might be about dinner, it was 
 gratifying (o see that he was still tenacious of the character of 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 81 
 
 the sportsman, for lie was now elaborately got up in the full- 
 dress uniform of the Dazzlegoose Hunt. In the dress depart- 
 ment even Lady Lazytongs seemed to take an interest, for she 
 beckoned his lordship towards her, that she might have a 
 nearer view of the richly-braided gold fox with a silver tag on 
 the crimson velvet collar of his beetroot-coloured coat. 
 
 Having eyed him up and down, and turned him round, as a 
 child would a doll, she again sunk on the sofa, with the 
 observation that she supposed he " might as well ring for 
 dinner." 
 
 His lordship then strutted away in his rose-coloured 
 breeches and white silk stockings, looking uncommonly like a 
 mountebank. 
 
 Dinner was shortly after announced. 
 
 What pen could do justice to that meal ? Who can 
 describe the noble apartment, the ponderous plate, the splendid 
 chandeliers, the glittering sideboard, the light and tasteful 
 confectionery, the crystal-like glass, the snow-like diaper, the 
 beautiful flowers — above all, the sparkling wines and rich and 
 varied dainties ? 
 
 Not Tom Scott, certainly. Nevertheless, he did pretty fair 
 justice to the victuals, as who would not that had breakfasted 
 at eight and tasted nothing since ? 
 
 Indeed, to tell the truth, he ate so much, and of such variety, 
 potage a la conifesse, or soup made of Countess, turbot a la 
 Hollandaise, or Dutch turbot, with sauce we don't know what, 
 " hors-d'c&uvres " of all sorts that came in the way, to say 
 nothing of two cuts at a leg of mutton basted with devil's 
 tears, followed by a slice of " dindonneau a la Nelson " or 
 nautical turkey, a turn at a " salade de grouse a la Soger,'' 
 in addition to Nesselrode pudding, creme a la vaniUe, Charlotle 
 Russe, and other trifles, that he was dreadfully afflicted with 
 the nightmare, and fancied that old Louis Philippe and all his 
 sons, with their wives, were squatting on his stomach together. 
 But we anticipate. 
 
82 HAWBUCK GRANGE 
 
 When the ladies retired — for there were two or three besides 
 Lady Lazytongs — they had another burst about hunting from 
 his lordship, who threw back his beetroot-coloured coat aa 
 though he were going to make a " clean breast of it." 
 
 He had all the talk to himself, and never did Scott hear 
 man run on so about horses and hounds, and the system of 
 kennel. 
 
 " Out upon Nimrod ! " said Tom, who in his swell quarterly 
 dinner at Melton — and that, too, after a splendid run — tells 
 us the subject of hunting was never once mentioned. 
 
 " Here have I been training myself," continued he, " for 
 civilised society upon a similar basis, and now I find my Lord 
 Lionel Lazytongs, son of the Marquis of Fender and Fireirona, 
 blazing away like an engine." 
 
 Tom then tried to get a word in sideways, but the steam of 
 his lordship's eloquence was still too strong, and he resumed 
 the position of listener. 
 
 Nor was Tom sorry ; for his lordship talked well, and 
 apparently to the purpose, and having seen hounds and 
 countries that Tom only knew by name, what he said had the 
 advantage of novelty, though it might want the charm of 
 personal participation. What runs he told them of ! What 
 leaps he described ! What brooks he cleared ! 
 
 As he went on, he built up places with knives, forks, and 
 spoons, and introduced finger-glasses and tumblers till he 
 brought the very places before their eyes. Then he criticised 
 this master and that — compared one great establishment with 
 another, and described their respective countries, till Tom almost 
 regretted not living nearer so great a luminary. 
 
 Like all great talkers, however, we are concerned to add that 
 he did not circulate the liquor. 
 
 Had Captain Windeyhash, who most needlessly acted the 
 part of showman, or trotter out, leading his lordship on to his 
 stories, and helping him out with the lame ones, devoted him- 
 Belf to the circulation of the bottle instead, it would have been 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 83 
 
 quite as agreeable to the guests. However, "time aud the 
 hour against the longest day," and the same able adversary 
 conquers the longest evening too. 
 
 When they got back into the drawing-room, the covey of 
 company was broke, and then for the first time Tom had an 
 opportunity of saying a few words as to the morrow. 
 
 The first person he addressed was Major Tinhead, whom he 
 had seen out with Mr. Neville's hounds once or twice. 
 
 " Hope you've brought your best horse," said Tinhead, after 
 a common-place or two, " for it's a desperate country — stiffest 
 in England, isn't it, Blobbey ? " continued he, catching that 
 fat gentleman by the elbow, as he waddled along, coffee-cup in 
 hand, to a sofa. 
 
 " Oh, tre-men-dious country," replied Blobditch, giving his 
 head a solemn shake. " I always say that the man who can 
 ride across our country needn't be afraid of any country 
 in the world ! " With which compliment to himself, he 
 proceeded on his journey. 
 
 Tom got a similar account from Captain Tipthorn ; indeed 
 they all seemed bent on the usual course of frightening the 
 stranger. 
 
 Music and cards in the drawing-room, with billiards and 
 naps outside, filled up the evening, till at last it was bedtime, 
 even for my lord. 
 
 The ladies had retired shortly after Sir George StiflFnecke 
 took his departure, and wine and water having filled up the 
 interstices of the stomach, Lampoil again made his appearance 
 in front of an illumination. 
 
 " Good nights " being exchanged, each man hurried off with 
 his candle. 
 
 His lordship's politeness induced him to accom.pany Tom 
 again to his bed-room, where, having stirred the fire, he 
 established himself in his old position, and again began 
 " harping on his daughter." 
 
 He forgot they were going out with the Tear Devil hounds, 
 
84 HAWBUCK aRANGE. 
 
 and talked of the Currant-jelly dogs as - if they were going to 
 have a turn with them. 
 
 " Ah, true," replied his lordship, in answer to Tom's 
 observation, that it was the Ecclesford Green day. " True, I 
 forgot. Let me see, then," continued he, ruminating. 
 
 " You and I'll breakfast together at half-past nine," said he, 
 after a pause, " and then we shall be quite independent of 
 every one. I hate bothering and waiting for a family break- 
 fast on a hunting morning," added he. 
 
 " So do I," Tom would have added, but his voluble lordship 
 did not give him time. 
 
 "At half-past nine, then, precisely " continued his lordship : 
 " in Dian's Bower, the room to the left of the library as you 
 enter." 
 
 " So be it," replied Tom. 
 
 " I'll tell Lampoil to have breakfast ready to a minute,^^ said 
 he. " How is your time by mine ? " asked his lordship, pro- 
 ducing a most diminutive " Geneva " watch, about the size of 
 a half-crown piece, from his waistcoat pocket. " I'm now 
 half-past twelve," said he, turning its little pale face towards 
 Scott. 
 
 " And I am twenty-five minutes past," said Tom, showing his 
 grandfather's great gold turnip. 
 
 Au revoir, then," said his lordship, extending a brace of 
 fingers, repeating as he left the room, " Then, mind, half-past 
 nine to a mijiute ! " 
 
 " Louis Philippe," as we said before, having established 
 himself and family on Tom's stomach during the night, in 
 consequence of the miscellaneous dinner he had eaten, Tom 
 did not require much calling in the morning. Indeed he 
 heard every hour strike after three, about which time the 
 heavy monarch and party soused themselves down. He suc- 
 ceeded in dislodging them about four ; but between that hour 
 
HA yy BUCK GRANGE, 86 
 
 and five tlicy returned with redoubled force, and Tom dreamt 
 that the old fat Queen Mother of Spain actually sat herself 
 down on his mouth. 
 
 So he battled and struggled on till it was light. 
 
 It was eight before day was fairly established, and, thinking 
 it was no use interrupting the house-maids, Tom just lay in 
 bed until within three-quarters of an hour of the breakfast 
 time that his lordship had appointed, which he knew would 
 enable him to be down to the moment. 
 
 " Is his lordship up ? " asked our friend of the jean-jacketted 
 lackey who brought him up his hot water. 
 
 "I don't know, I'm sure, sir," replied he ; " I've not seen 
 his lordship's A'alet yet." 
 
 " He'll be sure to be up," thought Tom, bounding out of 
 bed at the recollection of the evening talk and the overnight 
 injunctions. 
 
 " Some men are only punctual in hunting matters," con- 
 tinued Tom, lathering away at his chin. 
 
 So he proceeded in his dressing. 
 
 Boots certainly don't carry well in saddle-bags, and Tom 
 never understood the value of the fisherman or bishop's sort 
 until this morning. You can take and stamp them into 
 saddle-bags just as you would a pair of dirty stockings, and 
 they'll unfold as smart and bright as ever ; but woe betide 
 the tops that have not elbow room to themselves. Tom's 
 turned out only "so so," when he came to inspect them by 
 daylight, and he knew it would be worse than useless asking a 
 six-foot figure footman if he could remedy the little irregulari- 
 ties of putty powder they presented. Besides, he had not 
 calculated his time to allow of recommodes, as the French say, 
 so he just pulled them on as they were. 
 
 Tom had some difl&culty in finding the Hall of Dian ; but 
 when he did, he found that it was rightly named. 
 
86 HAWBUCK GBANOE. 
 
 It was a comfortable-sized room, small in comparison with 
 the magnificent entertaining ones he had been in over night, 
 but what would be considered a very good room in a moderate- 
 sized house. It was square and lofty, with richly ornamented 
 panelled walls, and fuU-lcDgth portraits in each compartment. 
 
 Those who have remarked the various representations of 
 Her Majesty and Prince Albert, or indeed those of any other 
 illustrious individual, will excuse Tom's getting half way 
 through the series before he discovered that they were all Lord 
 Lionel Lazytongs. 
 
 Above the richly-carved white marble mantel-piece his lord- 
 ship stood beside a grey horse in the morning costume of the 
 Dazzlegoose Hunt — bright, apricot-coloured coat, white cravat, 
 etriped buff vest with black binding, white cords, and longish 
 top-boots. 
 
 Next it, on the left, he appeared in scarlet on a gallant bay, 
 careering over an open country which, with the exception of a 
 couple of swallows, he seemed to have all to himself. 
 
 The third represented him about to do a little fantastic toe. 
 Dressed in the evening dress of the Swell-boys' Hunt — 
 lavender-coloured coat, with rose-coloured linings, richly 
 embroidered white satin waistcoat, with white kerseymere 
 shorts and white silk stockings, he stood drawing on a pair of 
 pink kid gloves before an opening door, which disclosed a cut- 
 glass chandelier above sundry satin petticoats, whirling about 
 with white-legged gentlemen. 
 
 In a larger piece between the windows he appeared on 
 horseback again. He was in the act of changing a white 
 hack for a black hunter, in the imaginary dress of Master of 
 the Buckhounds, an office he had bespoken for himself on 
 the coming in of the Tories. Scene — Ascot Heath — the 
 Grand Stand crowded with ladies, perfuming the air with 
 their pocket handkerchiefs. Artist — of course, Frank Grant. 
 
 On the door-side of the room his lordship appeared in three 
 panels — one clearing such a gate as never was seen, in the 
 
HAWBUCK ORANGE. 87 
 
 brimstone-coloured coat of the Tear Devil ITunt ; another 
 riding like fury at a thing like an arm of the sea ; and a third 
 cantering past the statue of Achilles on his return from a day 
 in the Yale of Aylesbury, with Baron Eothschild's Staggers. 
 This was by Count D'Orsay, and was done to commemorate 
 the feat of his lordship having ridden " all the way there and 
 back," There were a couple of niches vacant on the side 
 opposite the window, one of which will most likely soon be oc- 
 cupied by him in the pea-green cutaway and leathers of the 
 hare hunter. 
 
 Altogether it was a regular sporting apartment, and only 
 wanted breakfast, and a little knowledge of hunting on the 
 part of some of the artists. Not but that there were symptoms 
 of breakfast in the shape of a snug round table near the fire, 
 garnished with a profusion of plate, but, as yet, there were no 
 eatables. 
 
 Tom took another hasty round of the pictures, but still there 
 was no indication of breakfast. 
 
 He then proceeded to stare out of the window to see if he 
 could gee anything in the hunting line, and again returned to 
 the fire and began to inspect the polished ivory handle of the 
 bell-pull. 
 
 It was now a quarter to ten, and he began to be seriously 
 uneasy. 
 
 " Surely his lordship, so keen and precise overnight, can't 
 have changed his mind," thought he. And then he began to 
 wish his lordship had let him breakfast with the rest. 
 
 " Perhaps there would be no great harm in ringing the bell 
 and asking if breakfast was going on elsewhere," continued he, 
 laying hold of the knob, when just as he was going to turn it 
 down, the well-known " clonk, clonk, clonk," of spurs in the 
 passage arrested his hand, and drew Tom's eyes to the door. 
 
 It was his long lordship, who now came forward to greet 
 
68 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 him, but not in the dress Tom expected at that advanced hour 
 of the morning. 
 
 Instead of the coat and waistcoat of the fox-hunter, he was 
 enveloped in a long flowing blue and silver brocade rote de 
 cJiambre, confined at the waist with enormous blue and silver 
 cords with tassels as big as bell-pulls. He had a heap of letters 
 in one hand, and the Times, Post, and Morning Chronicle 
 tucked under his other arm. 
 
 " Gad," said he, with a knowing look, " I really think the 
 ministry won't stand. It's clear there's a split in the 
 cabinet. Old story — Grey and Palmerston — Grey and 
 Palmerston — don't like each other — don't like each other. 
 What do you think, Mr. Scott ? " 
 
 " Hang'd if I know," said Tom ; " don't care either, so long 
 as it don't come a frost." 
 
 " Ah, true," replied his lordship. " That reminds me we are 
 going to hunt ; better have breakfast, perhaps — better have 
 breakfast, perhaps ; " so saying, he gave our old friend the bell 
 a hearty peal. 
 
 " Well, but," resumed he, taking a dressing-gown lap over 
 each arm, and placing himself in his favourite position before 
 the fire, " you're a Tory, ain't you ? " 
 
 " Dash'd if I know what I am," said Tom ; " it makes 
 precious little odds what men like myself are. I tvas a Tory, 
 or Conservative, or whatever you call it, and joined the 
 golemouches in abusing the Whigs, and /iooraying Sir Robert ; 
 but I've thrown up politics, and devote myself to draining, and 
 d ning him instead." 
 
 " Ah, well," rejoined his lordship, with a smile at the mixed 
 occupation, ''well, but you'd like to see the Whigs out, of 
 course," eyeing himself in the Master of the Buckhounds picture- 
 
 " Not if it was to let Peel in again," replied Tom. " I hate 
 the sound of his name." 
 
 Just then in came Lampoil, followed by no end of footmen, 
 with tea and cofiFee, muffins and meat, and eggs and ham, and 
 
// A WBUCK G li A NGE. 
 
 89 
 
 potted game, to which Toin had hardly ,t,fot a fair start before 
 the noisy clock struck ten. 
 
 " Is that nine or ten ? " asked his lordship, as it was still on 
 the strike. 
 
 LORD LIONEL IN HIS FAVOURITK POSITION. 
 
 " Ten, my lord," replied Lampoil, who, with two footmen, 
 were doing all but eat their breakfasts for them — handing 
 everything that was within reach, and so on. 
 
 " The hounds meet at cl€i'e?i, I presume ? " said Tom, 
 
 trembling for the answer. 
 
 u 
 
90 BAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 " A quarter fo,'" replied his lordship ; " we're in plenty of 
 time ; they're dose bijy" saying which he again had recourse to 
 The Post. 
 
 A dead silence followed, broken only by the noise of their 
 jaws, as they worked away at the viands. 
 
 '' I'll be with you in five minutes," at last said his lordship, 
 drawing himself slowly from under the table, and handing Tom 
 the newspapers. " Send for the hacks," said he to Lampoil. 
 
 " Hachs ! " repeated Tom, as his lordship clonked out of the 
 room, " I thought it was close by." 
 
 " So it is," replied Lampoil, " at least what his lordship calls 
 close by — four or five miles, perhaps ; his lordship thinks 
 nothing of eighteen or twenty — desperate man on the road." 
 
 " It's to be hoped he finds hacks for his friends," observed 
 Tom, not relishing the idea of galloping the old mare to cover, 
 and huntinsc her after. 
 
 It was full half-past ten ere his lordship re-appeared, and 
 then he had to get his sherry flask filled and his pocket stuffed 
 with sandwiches and o-ine-erbread nuts. 
 
 Just as they were crossing the great hall on their prolonged 
 departure, her ladyship was descending the spacious staircase 
 followed by her youngest child in the nurse's arras. 
 
 '* Oh, Lionel ! " exclaimed she, without taking the slightest 
 notice of poor Tom, "Avhat have you got that fright of a neck- 
 cloth on for ? " 
 
 " Fright! " repeated his lordship, " why Jowett sent it down 
 as the newest fashion ; he says George Ringlets wears it with 
 the Queen's, Ikau Sai'snct with the Duke, and I don't know 
 who else besides." 
 
HAWBUCK QRANOB. 91 
 
 " Never mind who wears it," snapped her ladyship, " yelloW; 
 with black spots, don't become //ou, so pray take it olf." 
 
 " But I shall be keeping Mr. Scott waiting, my dear," replied 
 his lordship, intimating Tom's presence by laying hold of his 
 arm. 
 
 *' Oh, Mr. Scott won't mind waiting a minute or two, I'm 
 sure," replied her ladyship, deigning him a sort of bow at last. 
 
 "Well, if you wish to have him all spotted like a leopard," 
 said her ladyship, with a significant glance and shake of the 
 head, as her spouse still hesitated, " you'll go as you are." 
 
 His lordship then commenced a rapid ascent of the staircase, 
 taking three steps at a time. 
 
 We don't know whether ladies look upon neck-cloths in the 
 same light as they do their own ribbons — things that can be 
 changed in a minute — but we can assure them neckcloths are 
 much more serious affairs. It was full five minutes ere the 
 clank of his spurs announced his lordship's arrival on the land- 
 ing in a skyblue satin cravat, instead of the proscribed yellow 
 and black spots ; and though we could have changed in half the 
 time, yet for his lordship we don't think it was long. 
 
 " Will this do, my dear ? " asked he, buttoning his waistcoat, 
 and adjusting his shirt-collar, as he descended the staircase, 
 and hei- ladyship having received the parting kiss for her 
 assent, and the child having lisped its " Ta, ta," our sportsmen 
 at last found themselves among the body of the servants in the 
 outer hall. 
 
 If they had been two Daniel Lamberts they were going to 
 hoist on to their horses by sheer strength, they could not have 
 required more. Numerous as they were, however, the opening 
 door disclosed more outside. 
 
 There was Tom's plummey, over-night friend, the stud- 
 groom, in his brown cut-away, toilinette waistcoat, drab 
 kerseymeres and gaiters, ready to take the cover hack from an 
 
 H 2 
 
98 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 attendant in fustians the moment his lordship appeared, and 
 there was a swell groom in leathers and livery, whose gold-laced 
 hat alone would have furnished half an outfit for Sleekpow. 
 
 That worthy individual's face showed the displeasure he felt 
 at having been kept three-quarters of an hour on the gravel, 
 his vexation being heightened, perhaps, by numerous little 
 anecdotes he would pick up relative to his lordship's pace on 
 the road, and the distance they had to go. 
 
 *' It's five miles," groaned Sleekpow, handing Tom the mare, 
 with which dread intelligence the clock tolled the quarter. 
 
 " "We haven't much time to spare," said his lordship, who, 
 having now mounted a prancing grey barb, was 
 
 " Provoking the caper that he seemed to chide," 
 
 to the admiration of her ladyship, who was pointing out "Pa's" 
 feats to the child, and also to the edification of sundry house- 
 maids and dolly mops looking out of the windows above. 
 
 Having performed in a style that would have done honour to 
 Astley, or to the Champion at a coronation, he at length kissed 
 his kid-gloved hand, and sticking spurs into the barb, dashed 
 off in a gallop. 
 
 " D — n the fellow ! How does he ever suppose I can keep 
 pace with him ! " exclaimed Tom, gathering the old mare, who, 
 thoroughly disgusted with her long wait, was now kicking and 
 imitating the feats of the barb. 
 
 " You had better get forrard, sir," said the groom, coming up 
 full canter, hands well down, as though he was setting to for a 
 race. 
 
 " His lordship rides venj fast," added he, shooting past. 
 
 " Well, this is the most confounded wild-goose chase I ever 
 rode ? " exclaimed Tom, as his lordship charged a flight of 
 rails, followed by the lad, who could now hardly get forward in 
 time to unlock the private park door. 
 
UAWBUVK GRANGE. 93 
 
 Having passed this and so cleared the park, tlicy wore no\v 
 upoii the road, a place not at all suited to Tom's old mare's 
 legs, which, though sound in the soft, are only what Sleelcpow 
 calls rather " crambley " on the hard. 
 
 " Gently, old lass," continued Tom, patting her neck, to try 
 and get her to ease herself down to a trot, " gently, old lass ; 
 it's no use fretting ; you are both hack and hunter to-day." 
 
 But the old mare's monkey was up, and she clattered and 
 battered along as if she had two or three sets of legs at home. 
 
 Finding he would take as much out in fretting as he saved 
 in restraining her, Tom at last let her go, and Wideopen Com- 
 mon shortly intervening, he kept his lordship in view, and 
 sailed away at what would have been called an " excellent 
 pace," had hounds been running. 
 
 Afte:' clearing the common, they again got upon the road, 
 and meeting two or three cover hacks, Tom saw the hounds, at 
 all events, had come. 
 
 In close shaving, either for railway time, or dinner-time, or 
 fox-hunting time, or indeed almost any time, it is bad policy 
 stopping to ask questions, for if one is not past time already, 
 the stoppage may make one so. The only plan is to " keep 
 moving," and hug oneself at each person one gets past, with- 
 out hearing, " Ah ! the train's gone ! " or, that most appalling 
 sound of all, " Thetfre away ivith Mm ! " 
 
 Tom got past three return grooms with a stare from two 
 and a touch of the hat from the third, and, following his 
 noble friend with his eye towards the rising ground, up which 
 their course now lay, we saw him dash among a dark crowd 
 on the hill-top, dismount, and in the twinkling of an eye 
 disappear on the other side. 
 
 " That's all very well," sighed Tom, " for a man with a 
 stable full of horses ; but I, who ride my own to cover, can't 
 afford to blow it on the road." 
 
 So saying, he eased the old mare down into a trot, and just 
 jogged up to the group on the hill with as unconcerned a face 
 
94 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 as a inaa in scarlet can assume, when the hounds have gone 
 away with their fox. 
 
 " You're o'er late, sir ! " said a kindly-disposed horsebreaker> 
 with a shake of the head, as he backed his three-year old out 
 of Tom's way ; " they fimd directly they put in, and have 
 been away with him this ten minutes." 
 
 " The deuce they have ! " exclaimed Tom, pulling up in full 
 panoramic view of the scene — Deep Dean, where they found 
 him, the end at which he broke, the still open gate through 
 which the field had passed the bothering brook, the kindly bridge, 
 and the boundless expanse of noble country over which they 
 were now careering. 
 
 Nothing could be finer. 
 
 " 'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view," wrote the 
 poetic Campbell, speaking of general scenery, and surely it 
 holds good with fox-hunting scenery too, for distance reduces 
 the leaps, so as to make all countries look pleasant and practic- 
 able. This one did so particularly, and the last brimstone- 
 coated whip seemed to glide over tlie plain, as he took on the 
 tail hounds, as though there was nothing bigger than a water 
 furrow. 
 
 Poor Tom was never so vexed in his life ! He could havo 
 cried, if no one had been there. " All that hanged neck- 
 cloth ! " exclaimed he. 
 
 " There was a gentleman just before me," observed he, as 
 soon as he recovered his articulation. 
 
 '* Ah, that's my lord," replied the breaker, with a sneer, 
 " You mustn't follow himy 
 
 " Why not ? " inquired Turn, as his lordship's brimstone- 
 coloured coat now appeared careering on the line. 
 
 " Hoot ! he just rides after anything," replied the man. " All 
 he cares for's a gallop." 
 
 " But he rides hard," observed Tom, looking at his 
 
n Air BUCK GRANGE. V.b 
 
 lordtshij) crashinij; at a \)\\f fence with an (ipen ^"-atc close at 
 hand. 
 
 " Oh ! he'll ride hard enough," rei)lied the man, witli a 
 knowing leer, for there are few better-informed persons in 
 these matters than horsebreakers. " He'll ride hard enongli," 
 repeated he, " especially if there are any ladies looking on ; for 
 his great pleasare is in dressing np and showing off ; and lu; 
 certainly does make as good a tnrn-ont as any nobleman in the 
 land. He had two as hue horses here this morning as ever 
 was seen, the one he's riding, and the one his pad groom's on 
 with ; and last Wednesday he had two horses witli these 
 hounds, and two witli the Dazzlegoose, and managed to be 
 with both packs without seeing a run with either. He's a 
 rum 'un's my lord." 
 
 H^-^'^ 
 
 CRASHING AT A BIG FENCE. 
 
CHAPTER Vl„ 
 
 TUE GOLDTEAP ARMS. 
 
 " i!'ou were out of luck," observed Esau Broadback, Tom's 
 host, or rather his horse's host, as Tom arrived on foot on the 
 morning after the Ecclesford Green day, with the intention of 
 getting his horse to go home. 
 
 " Yes," grunted Tom, with the tone of a man who doesn't 
 want to be questioned. 
 
 "You might get a day to-morrow," observed Broadback, 
 with the sagacity of an innkeeper towards his own interest. 
 " The Stout-as-steel hounds are within reach." 
 
 " Where are they ? " inquired Tom. 
 
 "At the Bridge of Bevis Mount, about ten miles from 
 here," replied Broadback. 
 
 "Ten miles!" hiccuped a drunken voice, "it's more like 
 twenty ! " 
 
 This was Tom's friend the horsebreaker, who had been 
 drinking ever since they parted, and had got through a half- 
 crown Tom gave him, and several of his own to boot. 
 
 " It won't be above fifteen, anyhow," resumed Broadback, 
 amending his geography. 
 
 Fifteen's as good as fifty, in Tom's estimation at least, in as 
 far as sending on in the morning is concerned, and if a man 
 has to move his horse from one country inn to another, he may 
 as well be sociable, and go too. 
 
 It so happened that our friend Tom had a great desire to see 
 the Stout-as-steel hounds, having heard no little of them in 
 
HAW BUCK GRANGE. 97 
 
 his early days. They were orit^iiiiilly a miner's pack, hniitiiig 
 the beautiful but hilly rcyiun ho lavounibly known to ali 
 tourists and scenery hunters as the Kiss-sky Mountains. The 
 pack has been in existence above a century, not exactly as an 
 advertising one, with a huntsman and wiiips, but a good useful 
 cry of dogs, never under five, and sometimes as high as ten 
 couple. After towling about the valleys, and the bases, and 
 the middles, and the summits of the mountains, with the 
 usual pony and pedestrian fields of " peep-o'-day packs," they 
 got a piece of vale country, which they gradually extended, 
 and in the course of time came out in type, looking (upon 
 paper) as big as the best. At length they got weaned from 
 the view-hallos and cow-liorns of the miners, and under the 
 mastership of Tom's late cousin, Simon Squander, who in the 
 handsomest manner ruined himself by keeping them, they 
 acquired considerable renown. 
 
 After his death (which took place some ten years ago, and 
 was caused, as many of our readers will recollect, by his drink- 
 ing a glass of oxalic acid in mistake for gin, being at the time 
 rather overcome with brandy), the hounds floundered on for 
 some time in the hands of a committee, and at length passed 
 into those of Captain Cashbox : a gentleman, who, we beheve, 
 was caught at the " Corner," and most likely adopted on the 
 strength of his name, though, if he was, it has turned out a 
 failure, the captain's talent consisting in walking into other 
 people's cash-boxes, and saving his own. 
 
 This little episode will explain why it was that Tom was 
 anxious to see the Stout-as-steel hounds ; an anxiety that 
 caused him to ponder in the stable, and consider whether, now 
 that he had got so far, he had not better go a little further. 
 and gratify his inclination. 
 
 The meet, the bridge at Bevis Mount, sounded quite familiar 
 to his ear, or rather, perhaps, looked quite familiar to his eyes — 
 just as familiar as the " Devil's Dyke " or " Telscombe Tye " of 
 the old Brighton or Brookside harriers, look to the eye of a 
 
98 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 Sussex squire. Indeed, the column of " Hunting Appoint- 
 ments " is not the least interesting one in the papers, and 
 through its medium one estabMshes a sort of hunting acquain- 
 tance with all the packs in the kingdom, assigning to each meet 
 such a country as we think the name indicates, and not 
 unfrequently indulging in an imaginary run from it. If the 
 mesmerisers would only invent a process for taking off one's 
 thoughts when half asleep, we could produce some astonishing 
 runs, far better than anything we can write. 
 
 Bat to our friend Tom. 
 
 Having taken a look at the map in the traveller's room of 
 the Lazytong Arms, and run his eye from the great greasy 
 thumb-mark denoting the " here we are " of Dawdle Court 
 into the intricacies of the hills, Scott saw that Bevis Mount 
 was quite beyond distance for a morning's start ; but observ- 
 ing the town of Sludgington on the line, which he remembered 
 to have heard his late cousin extol, our independent friend 
 determined to dispense with the services of Sleekpow, and go 
 " bags and all," feeling that it would never do to return to 
 Hawbuck Grange without being able to tell Mr. Neville and 
 " their chaps " what sort of dogs either the Tear Devil or the 
 Stout-as-steel ones were. 
 
 That point being settled, he was very soon on the back of 
 the old mare, and after divers twistings, and turnings, and 
 crossings, and missings, and askings, the curtailed proportions 
 of a winter's day found him gazing at the chubby tower of 
 Sludgington Church. 
 
 Having cleared the toll-bar, he presently entered the 
 town. 
 
 It consisted of one long, narrow street, formed of all sorts of 
 houses, and cottages, and shops, and premises ranged in a most 
 higgledy-piggledy state of confusion — a good house here, a bad 
 one there, a dirty cottage next, a public-house after it ; then a 
 
HAWBUCK an A NO E. 99 
 
 coy freestone-faced mansion, retirinc^ within its own iron rail- 
 ings, followed by a smithy adjoininjif a cowshed. The street 
 was one continued bed of hard, loose whinstone, whose rough- 
 ness and sharpness was only relieved by a plentiful covering of 
 cold, bleak-looking nnid. 
 
 In passing along, Tom could not help thinking, if the old 
 mare was to fall, what a state her knees and his clothes would 
 be in. Fortunately no such catastrophe befell Mr. Scott, and 
 a ragged urchin with a ladder having lighted a glow-worm 
 sort of oil lamp, a little in advance of where he rode, he 
 deciphered the words " Goldtrap Arms " below one of those 
 resplendent shields that indicate the great man of the 
 country. 
 
 In truth the sign w'as a perfect extinguisher on the house, 
 making it look like a boy in a man's hat. However, there it 
 was, and being about the centre of the town, there w-as no 
 doubt about its being the head inn, even if Tom's friend with 
 the ladder had not proclaimed it. 
 
 He did more, he rang the bell for the ostler. 
 
 There is no saying, if our friend was advertising, in " Grand- 
 mamma," the Sunday Times, or any of the matrimonial 
 mediums of communication, what compliments he might pay 
 to his person, but in this bid of confidence with our numerous 
 readers we don't care admitting that it isn't everybody that 
 takes Tom for a gentleman. 
 
 So on this occasion Sam Beer, the ostler, answered the 
 summons in a way that plainly showed he thought our 
 traveller and he were about equals — at least would be, if the 
 latter had his Sunday clothes on, instead of a pair of rotten- 
 looking fustian trousers, a tattered waistcoat, and a very dirty 
 shirt. Top-boots having about devolved entirely upon fox- 
 hunters and servants, a man perhaps may be excused not 
 knowing " which is which," without the red-coat ; at all events, 
 Tom consoled himself with that supposition. 
 
 " Stop all night ? " said Sam, laying hold of the reins, aa 
 
100 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 Tom rode under the wretched low archway, (filled with unwashed 
 gigs, empty barrels and hens) leading into the close contracted 
 passage of a stable-yard. 
 
 " Yes," replied Tom, adding, " you've room, 1 sup- 
 oose ? " 
 
 " Plenty of room ! " replied the man ; and truly, when Tom 
 fighted on a veteran dung-heap at one stable door, and saw the 
 broken panes and gaping deals of the other, he didn't wonder 
 at it ; and he almost wished he'd brought Sleekpow, when he 
 saw the place, as well to relieve him from the trouble of 
 superintendence as to teach Sleekpow not to grumble unneces- 
 sarily in future. 
 
 Having loosened the saddle-bags and chucked them over on 
 the far side, in the way that guards and other disinterested 
 parties deal with luggage. Beer gave Tom the mare to hold, 
 while he slunk into the kitchen in search of a candle. 
 
 After two unsuccessful attempts to bring it past the draught 
 of the gateway in his hands, he had recourse to an old hat, and 
 at last succeeded in planting it triumphantly against the wall 
 in a holder formed of its own grease. 
 
 He then led in the old mare, and commenced the usual 
 chilling, temper-trying, fistling and fumbling of the slovenly 
 slatternly stableman. 
 
 AVe have often thought, when at places of this sort, of 
 Nimrod's account of the metamorphose a pair of boot-trees 
 turning out of his buggy effected in the manners of the land- 
 lord and servants of an inn he drove up to in Scotland — Kelso, 
 we think, — during his " Northern tour," and the tip of a 
 scarlet coat-lap peeping out of the corner of the saddle-bags, 
 which we omitted to mention were taken into the kitchen when 
 Beer went for the candle, operated similarly in Tom Scott's 
 favour. 
 
 Cornelius Cake, the landlord, having been a gentleman's 
 servant — a haroJiefs we should say — butler to Sir Digby Gold- 
 trap, whose arms his house bears, thought himself a judge of 
 
hAWIirCK CRANdE. 
 
 ]01 
 
 gentlemen ; and, bcinijr sfi'Ufk with tlic cloth, ('nine into tho 
 stable to see who had brought it. 
 
 Tom saw as plainly as if Cake said it, that lie was bothered 
 with his appearance, not knowing- whetlier he was master or 
 man. 
 
 He glanced first at Tom's boots, then at his bottle-green cut- 
 
 
 " COCLD HUNT A LITTLK, I SHOULD THISK." 
 
 away, with bright buttons, and having carried his observations 
 up to his hat, without having come to a satisfactory conclu- 
 sion, he turned his attention to the old mare. 
 
 " Nice nag you've got there," said Cake, in a careless sort of 
 way — " could hunt a little, I should think, that nag." 
 
 " A good deal,'' replied Tom, adding, " that's just what I 
 keep her for." 
 
102 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 " Indeed ! " replied Cake, with a toucli -of liis 1i,ifc and a Iott 
 bow. 
 
 " I want to see the Stoiit-as-steel hounds to-morrow — how 
 far is the Bridge of Bevis Mount from here ? " 
 
 " Bridge of Bevis Mount — Bridge of Bevis J\rount," muttered 
 Cake quickly, as if he knew the place so well that he quite 
 forgot it. " How far is the Bridge of Bevis Mount from here, 
 Beer ? " asked he of the ostler. 
 
 " Bevis M-o-u-n-t, Bevis M-o-u-n-t," drawled the dawdler ; 
 " Bevis M-o-u-n-t ? " repeated he—" W-h-o-y, it'ill be up 
 'mong hills, 1-o-i-k-e, away by Gussingen," waggiiig a hand in 
 the air as if jwiuting to it. 
 
 " Ah, I know," replied Tom, walking away in search of the 
 saddler. 
 
 Having found that functionary, and learned all about it, lie 
 was presently stamping the cold, slaty mud off his boots 
 in the doorway, beneath the blaziug sign of the Goldtrap 
 Arms. 
 
 " This way, Sir, if you please," exclaimed Cornelius Cake, 
 rushing out of the little back parlour commanding a view of 
 the entrance, throwing open the black door of the little parlour 
 on the right, in whose pittance of a grate smoked and spluttered 
 some white-ashed, slaty-looking coals. 
 
 Though the best room, it was small and low, papered witu a 
 tasteless, repulsive-looking, dark-green paper, carried half way 
 down the wall, the part below the skirting-board being white- 
 washed. We sometimes see papers so hideously ugly as to look 
 as if they had been made for a premium. 
 
 On the wall opposite the windows, and above the wooden 
 mantel-piece, which latter was decorated with paper fans, spars, 
 card-racks, china-poodles, and other dust-catching articles, were 
 portraits of Tom's host and hostess — Cornelius and Mrs. 
 Cake, 
 
 They were evidently by the same hand, most likely acquired 
 in the usual way of inn portraiture, — some travelling artist 
 
HAIVBUCK GMANGJi. 103 
 
 painting out his bill. On no other supposition can wc account 
 for the wonderful tendency publicans have to '* run to 
 portrait." 
 
 How hard, and cold, and solemn, and vulgarly like himself, 
 Cornelius looked down upon Tom from his gilt frame ! 
 
 When he brought in candles, he had brushed up his hair to 
 the picture point, and arrayed himself in the snuff-coloured 
 coat with the velvet collar and black waistcoat of the 
 portrait. He only wanted the amplified neckcloth, with 
 the butterfly brooch, and red cord watch guard, to be 
 perfect. 
 
 " I should like to have some dinner," said Tom, after Cake 
 had deposited the candles, and let down the scant drab window 
 curtains, trimmed with red gimp. 
 
 " What would you like, sir ? " inquired Cake, with the air of 
 a Lord Mayor's cook. 
 
 " What have you in the house ? " replied Tom, anticipating 
 the usual variety — mutton chop, beefsteak — beef steak, mutton 
 chop. 
 
 " There's soup, sir ; mutton broth, at least. Fish — fish, sir, 
 I'm afraid's not very fresh — not what I could recommend. 
 You could have a fowl or a duck, and a nice little French dish 
 to follow." 
 
 " French dish ! " exclaimed Tom, as the Dawdle Court 
 banquet, and Louis Philippe night-mare flashed across his 
 mind. "French dish ! what, i/ou haven't a French cook, have 
 
 you ? " 
 
 "My lady's a Frenchwoman," replied Cake, speaking of her 
 in the true Debrett style ; " my lady's a Frenchwoman ; " as if 
 that was enough to constitute a cook. The fact was, Cornelius 
 had been butler, and Madame Cake lady's maid to Sir Digby 
 and Lady Goldtrap, and — but our readers will anticipate the 
 rest. 
 
 " Well ; I'll have the broth, and a fowl, and a French dish 
 to follow," said Tom. 
 
104 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 "Any sweets?" inquired Cake! "Sir Digby always took 
 sweets." 
 
 " Yes ; you may let me have a nice little French dish of 
 sweets, too," replied Tom. So saying. Cake departed to 
 execute the order. 
 
 Tom had revisited the stable, fed the mare, seen his bedroom, 
 opened the window, drawn the stuffy blue check curtains, 
 stared up the street, examined the portrait of Madame Cake, 
 and thought how the light, tasteful spirit of French elegance 
 must have shuddered at the harsh matter-of-fact looking cap 
 and brown silk gown in which she was daubed, ere the bump 
 of the tray against the weak door announced that it was about 
 time to take his seat : — the oaths at a dinner of this sort are 
 frequently taken after. 
 
 Having deposited the little basin of mutton broth before 
 Tom, Cake, with a napkin-covered thumb, lifted the little delf 
 lid off with the flourish of a man uncovering a glittering tureen 
 of many hundred ounces weight. 
 
 " "What wine will you please to take, sir ? " asked he, giving 
 the hock glass a push against the other two to draw Tom's 
 attention to their presence. 
 
 It's a fearful thing when a man's consequence entails a 
 variety of wine-glasses upon him at an inn. 
 
 Had Tom brought Sleekpow, he would have attributed the 
 misfortune to him, concluding he had been telling where they 
 had come from. As it was, he was obliged to put it down to 
 the superior refinement of his host over himself. Indeed, we 
 know men who keep servants to teach them what they ought 
 to do. 
 
 Tom wouldn't give twopence a gallon for hock, so he humbly 
 replied that he'd take a pint of sherry. 
 
 " Some of Sir Digby, I s'pose, sir," replied Cake. 
 
 " Of course," said Tom ; and away he went for the 
 liquid. 
 
 The mutton broth, or pot barley and water, was execrable ; 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 105 
 
 and Tom had dropped the spoon in the plate in despair ere 
 Cake came back rubbing a tiny decanter with a napkin. 
 
 " You'll find this very fine wine, sir," said he, holding it up 
 to the candle, and smacking his lips as though it were most 
 luscious. 
 
 He then helped Tom to three quarters of a glass. 
 
 " Sir Digby always calls this my golden particular," added 
 he, setting it down. 
 
 A bad dinner and a loquacious waiter are evils that no man 
 can stand jointly ; so Tom intimated, by a lateral motion of 
 the spoon in the plate, that he was ready for the *' follow," as 
 they say at the Clubs. This was old Cock-a-doodle-doo ! 
 
 If possible, it was worse than the broth, being black, 
 and hard, and dry, and tough, — a very old chanticleer 
 indeed. 
 
 Cake saw it wouldn't do, and proposed making a grill of it. 
 " Sir Digby was very fond of grills," said he, as if that was 
 enough. 
 
 Tom didn't care much about it, having an eye to the nice 
 little French dish that was to follow ; so he said, " Perhaps 
 you may as well bring in the next dish ? " 
 
 " Certainly, sir," replied Cake, whisking away both fowl and 
 plate. 
 
 The precipitancy of the remove made a gap in the 
 series, and left Tom a little time to speculate on the next 
 " follow." 
 
 He wondered what it would be, — " Blanqiietle de veau aux 
 champignons,'' " Cote de Bceuf ct la Bonne Femme,'' or perhaps 
 game dressed in some peculiar way — " Escalopes de Chcvi-euil" 
 or " Faisan d, la Feregtieux." 
 
 " One wouldn't expect French cookery in a house of this 
 sort," observed he, looking at the most perfect public-house 
 appearance of the little parlour and its appurtenances ; but 
 there's no saying what one may meet with in this world. 
 
 Just then Romebody threw open the door, and in rushed 
 
 I 
 
106 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 Cake with a round vegetable dish, encircled in a napkin, 
 clasped in both hands. 
 
 This he set down with a noise betokening the most perfect 
 confidence in its contents. 
 
 " Hot plate ! hot plate ! " exclaimed he, as if a moment's 
 delay might be fatal to the feast. 
 
 He hfted the lid, and lo ! four great fat, greasy mutton 
 ahops, slightly sprinkled over with bread, appeared. 
 
ttkt/ce^ (Z'PZ^oy ^e^ i^/jM£^ 
 
CHAPTER VIT. 
 
 THE GOLDTRAP ARMS ; OR, TROTTING IIIM OUT. 
 
 SED as onr friend 
 Tom Scott is to the 
 solitude of his own 
 chair, still there was 
 such an utter un- 
 homishness in the 
 solitude of the Gold- 
 trap Arms, that he 
 could not compose 
 himself to his ac- 
 customed nap after 
 dinner. He was so 
 vexed with the nice 
 little French dish, 
 and also with a 
 great Yorkshire 
 pudding of an 
 omelette that followed, that he would not listen to his host's 
 advice about a bottle of curious old port, that " Sir Digbv 
 greatly commended." He therefore had some hot water and 
 sugar, and took his revenge on the bad sherry by making it 
 into negus before Cake's face ; — the most practical reproof that 
 can be given an innkeeper. 
 
 The musical cuckoo clock struck seven as the hot water 
 came in, hinting by its provoking monotony what a long weary 
 
 evening it would be. 
 
 I 2 
 
 A MORNINO GALLOP. 
 
108 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 Who would keep a cuckoo clock that didn't wish to be driven 
 mad ? 
 
 This was the slowest, prosiest, most unlike a cuckoo, cuckoo 
 clock that ever was heard. It did not seem to travel above 
 four miles an hour. First it began with a shivering sort of 
 jingle among the works as if they were all loose together, and 
 were in a devil of a hurry to be oflF; then came a jinghng 
 tune, followed by a clap caused by the opening of the wooden 
 shutters through which the stupid bird emerged on to its board, 
 shouldering its wings, and beginning " Cuckoo ! " " Cuckoo ! " 
 " Cuckoo ! " " Cuckoo ! " at intervals of a couple of seconds ; 
 60 that what with the tune, the noise, the notes, and the 
 striking, the clock was scarcely ever quiet, — a perfect 
 nuisance. 
 
 Finding he couldn't sleep, Tom began to exercise himself 
 about the little room. Below the portrait of Mr. Cake hung 
 some book-shelves, containing the usual miscellaneous selection, 
 or rather collection, of an inn library — three old copies of 
 "Boyle's Court Guide," "Drysdale's Sermons," many numbers 
 of the " World of Fashion," a monthly magazine of the courts 
 of London and Paris, " Le Cuisinier Royal, ou, I'Art de Faire 
 la Cuisine," " History of New York," " The Courser's Com- 
 panion," two volumes of the " Gentleman's Magazine," 
 a well-thumbed " Baronetage," and an old " Post Office 
 Directory." 
 
 " What dissatisfied mortals men are, to be sure," mused 
 Tom. " Last night, and the night before, I was grumbling 
 and growling (to myself) at the bother of company, and the 
 long-winded stories and hunting eloquence of my noble host, 
 whereas to-night I am fit to cut my throat for want of some- 
 body to speak to. What creatures of impulse we are, too," 
 continued he, adjusting himself in an uneasy easy chair before 
 the fire, and cocking a foot on each hob. '* Only last Saturday 
 I fully determined to go over to Snailswell, and make the long- 
 delayed offer to Liddey instead of which I am first tempted to 
 
HAWBUCK GliANQE. 109 
 
 Dawdle Courb, and now, of my own voluntary free will, have 
 come on this wild-goose chase to Sludgingfcon, to be bored with 
 the monotony of a cuckoo clock, and wearied with the hum, 
 pipe-tapping, and distant jollification of the kitchen guests. 
 Oh, this hunting ! this hunting ! what a deal it has to answer 
 for. It is odd " (continued he) " what a vast of idleness one 
 can stand at home, and yet how oppressive it is away. At 
 home, I just chuck myself into the easy chair after dinner, and 
 fall into a reverie, a hunting, a draining, or a castle-building 
 speculation, as naturally and easily as possible ; whereas here I 
 can neither compose myself to sleep, nor to dream, nor to do 
 anything. If I thought yon repulsive, clotted-looking ink- 
 stand had anything but a black bog of ink in it, and a stumped 
 pen, split up to the feather, I'd take a letter-back and concoct 
 an offer to Lydia " (continued he) ; "but who ever found both 
 a pen and ink in an inn inkstand that would write ? " Strange 
 to say, curiosity tempted him to get up and examine this stand, 
 and finding that a veterinary surgeon might pass the pen, and 
 that a few drops of sherry would revive the ink, Tom devoted 
 that quantity of drink to it, and was presently in possession of 
 very " go-able " materials. 
 
 Our fair readers will doubtless now be anxious for the offer 
 produced under such inspiriting circumstances ; but, alas ! for 
 the mutability of a sportsman's intentions ! In sorting his 
 letter-backs, he pulled out the one containing Lord Lazytongs' 
 invitation, which operated like the make-believe pills of the 
 doctors on people who have nothing the matter with them. 
 Finding he had got something to do he forthwith began trying 
 to shirk it, and, resuming his seat before the fire, with one leg 
 up and the other down, returned to the visit at Dawdle Court, 
 recalling the flow of words that proceeded from his noble host's 
 lips, and all the wonderful performances he narrated. Their, 
 Tom thought how needless an appendage such a man as 
 Captain Windeyhash was to his lordship, who was so well able 
 to run himself out ; and at last his thoughts settled into the 
 
no HAWBUOK GRANGE. 
 
 channel, that at slower or at faster intervals produced the fol" 
 lowing current of ideas : — 
 
 "Trot him out," thought Tom ; ay, that's a proceeding 
 adapted to bipeds as well as quadrupeds. " Trot him out 
 again, Joe ! that's to say, show him off, and see if you can't 
 catch a flat. There is just the same sort of thing among 
 Christians, and whether it is done in the palpable way of the 
 horse exhibitor, or the apparently natural though oftentimes 
 studiously arranged impromptu depends altogether on the skill 
 of the one party and the docility of the other." 
 
 And here, leaving our friend in his arm-chair for a few 
 minutes, we may say that we " back " the observation. 
 " Trotting him out " is a very common recreation ; and though 
 it requires the fine and delicate hand of the fly-fisher, yet we 
 frequently see it attempted by the clumsy fist of the mere 
 di'edger. In truth, the office of " trotter-out " requires a con- 
 siderable amount of skill, knowledge, and observation ; tact in 
 drawing stealthily on the line of the joke or story, ajiprising 
 the individual without preparing the party, knowledge of the 
 humour, we might say the caprices, of the " trottee," and 
 observation of the time most appropriate for introducing the 
 subject. What can be worse than a sulky " snub " instead of a 
 " rise," or a still-born joke shattering itself among a cast- 
 ii'on-faced company ? Poor old Matthews used to say that if 
 he came on to the stage and saw his friend L — d — 's imper- 
 turbable features, and great silver-rimmed spectacles fixpd upon 
 him, it was such a damper that he could hardly raise his spirits 
 to go on with his " At home." 
 
 There are two ways of trotting a man out, just as there are 
 two ways of trotting a horse out. There is the trot to display, 
 and the trot to expose. We don't know that many men object 
 to being trotted out for admiration, provided the case is not too 
 palpable, or the audience one before whom the " trottee " has 
 too recently appeared. The " trot-out " to expose is seldom 
 undertaken by any but ill-natured I'ools, fellows with gumption 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. Ill 
 
 enough to see, but not charity enough to help, the amiable 
 weaknesses of the world — fellows who say, " See how I'll trot 
 old Goodfellow out after dinner ; " and because the kind, 
 meek old man doesn't kick them, they fancy he doesn't see 
 what they arc after. We have all some pet story or other 
 that we like telling, and are we to be branded as " twaddlers " 
 because some gentleman has heard us tell it before ? The 
 fault is his for being present again, not ours for telling 
 it. 
 
 This, of course, applies to natural, appropriate, impromptu 
 stories, not to your " lug-him-in-neck-and-heels " sort of jokes. 
 These latter fall more in the department of the regular profes- 
 sional, or hcensed trotter-out. 
 
 A regular licensed trotter-out should keep a day-book, and 
 enter the performances of his Magnus Apollo, registering the 
 stories he tells, the jokes he uses, how they were brought out, 
 and the audience before whom he appeared, so that he may not 
 "trot him out" before the same parties again too soon. A 
 story, hke a fox-cover, should be allowed a certain rest before it 
 is disturbed again. In this respect a town trotter-out has a 
 great advantage over a country one, for, with the large and 
 varied field of the metropolis, the same story may be come 
 upon or trotted out very often without running the risk of fall- 
 ing into that dreadful wet blanket, a dead silence, an " I think 
 I've heard that before " — or the still more bearish and unfeel- 
 ing " That's meant for wit, is it ? " 
 
 What can be more chilling than a set of hard, dry, matter- 
 of-fact features, contracting into a sneer instead of a snort at a 
 joke ? Blessings on the man, say we, who will help a lame 
 dog of a story over a stile with a laugh. We can forgive any- 
 thing in furtherance of fun, except the petty larcenist who sells 
 another's jokes or stories, and murders them in the telling. 
 Silvester Blubberhead is a great hand at this. Most families 
 keep a sort of first and second class company, into which 
 bachelors are thrust indiscriminately, just as it suits the ecu- 
 
112 HAWBUOK GRANGE. 
 
 venience of the table ; but Blubberhead, tying a better neck- 
 cloth, if anything, than our funny friend Tom Sparks, and 
 wearing both studs and rings, has rather the " call " of 
 him, as they say at the "Corner," and Tom frequently fol- 
 lows in the second class train, picking up the scraps and 
 remnants of his own good stories, just like a cook after a 
 crockery crash. 
 
 Blubberhead, however, comes more under the denomination 
 of a proser or a twaddler than a trotter-out. Joe Slowman may 
 be classed under the same head. Joe will swear a man to a 
 secret that he swore him to twelve months before, and that 
 most likely a secret Hot worth knowing. 
 
 Still, "trotting out" is worthy of cultivation as a liberal 
 science, and is capable of utilitarian as well as of mirthful 
 application. For instance, a host and hostess at either end of 
 a long table, with a Birnham Wood of an epergne or a round 
 of ship beef between them, screening not only themselves but 
 shutting out half the company from a knowledge of what their 
 respective " pieces of resistance " are, may usefully trot each 
 other out thus : — 
 
 i/r. Blowout. "■ What have you got there, my love ? " 
 
 Mrs. Blowout. " Ten chickens and a tongue my dear. 
 Vr^'hat have you down there ? " 
 
 3Ir. Blowout. " Round of beef, my love." ^ 
 
 So champagne " stinters " might invent a " trot out " instead 
 of that horrible holding of the bottle to the light : but that 
 being an unworthy application of the art, we shall leave them 
 to contrive a form for themselves. 
 
 Trotters-out for admiration are generally kind, obliging 
 sort of people. With no great talents themselves, or perhaps 
 with an over modest estimate of what they have, they yet lend 
 themselves to the amusement of society, by showing off others 
 who they think have more. Those who are in the secret may 
 see a professed trotter-out " touting," as it were, for a story 
 laying the bait, dining the progress of the soup, that is to 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 113 
 
 brin? in the rich "gutiaw" of a laugh after the first glass of 
 chainpagnc. London party-givers understand the doctrine of 
 " trotting-out " so well that they never think of separating a 
 joker and his accoucheur. Indeed, the professed punster 
 wouldn't stand it. Have me, have my friend, Orlando Burst 
 sides. 
 
 It is derogatory to a wit to act the part of a retriever. 
 
 We have seen this sort of cut-and-dried trotting-out at- 
 tempted in the country, but it is not adapted for general use, 
 and this reminds us that we are taking — if not the words out 
 of Tom's mouth — at all events the thoughts out of hia 
 head, who the obliging reader will have the kindness to 
 consider as still dozing in his arm-chair, with much the 
 same thoughts passing through his head that we have been 
 detailing. 
 
 The most flagrant case of premeditated " trotting-out " I 
 ever witnessed, thought Tom, beginning to grapple with partic- 
 ulars, was that of poor Jerry Goldfinch, of Bumpkin Lodge. 
 Jerry had the vanity to marry the daughter of a dilapidated 
 baronet, and having nothing but her pedigree to regale on, she 
 is extremely tenacious of maintaining her dignity ; and awful 
 were the rages she used to get into when her claims were not 
 recognised and allowed. When she first came into the county 
 she spoilt two or three dinner parties by declaring she had the 
 cramp in her stomach when she was not taken out first, and 
 monopolised all the hot plates to apply them to it, instead of 
 letting people get their victuals upon them. All this, of 
 course, was visited on poor Jerry's head when he got home. 
 " Poor spiritless wretch, to see his wife used so ; " " not fit to be 
 called a man," and so on. By-and-bye, Jerry, who had been 
 bred to the bar, started what he would call a " beautiful fic- 
 tion," a sort of " leader of the gallop," or " trotter-out." This 
 was a sneaking, grinning, wriggling, old bachelor, of the name 
 of Rufus Slackbags, who goes the round of country parties just 
 as an organ-grinder's hat goes the round of street ones. The 
 
114 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 following was their mode of proceeding ; it is much in the 
 style of the old thimble -riggers : — 
 
 The company being assembled, Jerry and Slackbags would 
 get together in the thick of the covey, and start a controversy 
 respecting the date of some real or imaginary baronetage, which 
 Jerry would carry on in the loud argumentative style so dis- 
 tinctive of the lower order of the bar ; while Slackbags, on his 
 part, maintained his position with a greater degree of tenacity 
 than is usually shown by gentlemen fishing for dinners. He 
 would say, that " Sir Mark was a baronet of yesterday, a baronet 
 of yesterday — ^yes, a baronet of yesterday ; " speaking as if he 
 held new baronets in the utmost contempt. Cunning Jerry 
 would then take the other side, and maintain the antiquity of 
 the title ; and so they would wrangle and battle on till they got 
 general attention drawn to themselves, — a thing not at all diffi- 
 cult to do, just before dinner, especially in the country. " Well, 
 but my good friend," Jerry would rejoin, sotio voce, as if his 
 delicacy rather made him shy of proclaiming it before company, 
 — " well, but my good friend," he would repeat, his voice rising 
 as he saw the plot ripen, " I Tcnoiu you are wrong, and I'll tell 
 you why. In the first place," continued he, applying the fore- 
 finger of his right hand with a flourish to the palm of his left 
 — " in the first place, I married the daughter of a baronet. 
 My wife, Mrs. Goo-o-o-oldfiuch," — for he puts no end of o's 
 in — *' my wife, Mrs. Goo-o-o-oldfinch, is the sixth daughter 
 OF Sir Martin Moonshine, of Sunbeam-court, in Somer- 
 setshire, AND " — " Please, sir, dinner's sarved ! " exclaims old 
 Berlins, throwing open the door ; and away goes the happy, 
 smiling, smirking, Mrs. Goldfinch, with the host, minus the 
 cramp in her stomach. 
 
 I'm sure, thought Tom, draining his tumbler of negus, I saw 
 that " cross " come off half-a-dozen times, till Mrs. Goldfinch 
 got her precedence fairly established. 
 
 The greatest " sell " I ever heard m the way of a " trot-out,** 
 continued Tom, as he brewed himself another, was that by my 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. lin 
 
 old friend Mr. Trumpcr, of Jollyrise, of the ffreat Mr. Tar- 
 quinins Muff, of Muff Hall. Trumper doesn't like Muff — 
 never did, indeed. Long before Tarquinius hallooed him on to 
 the fresh bare, and insulted his harriers by calling them beagles 
 (or beggles, as Trumpcr pronounces it), he used to fight shy, 
 and talk of him as " that man Muff'," " Noodle Muff," and so 
 on. 
 
 Somehow, Muff doesn't see it, or doesn't fancy it possible for 
 any one to be insensible of the importance of his acquaintance, 
 and he patronises Trumper extensively. He thought to show 
 him off to his friend Major Tinhead, of Blocksby, at the last 
 meeting of the Stumpwicket Cricket Club. 
 
 At the previous meeting Mr. Trumper had been discussing 
 the merits of Mr. Neville's and the Teardevil countries, when 
 he entered into a very long and interesting discussion, showing 
 how by the omission of certain great woodlands in one, and the 
 drainage of certain great tracts in the other, an excellent coun- 
 try might be formed of the two ; to all of which " Muff" said 
 " ditto," as though most thoroughly appreciating and approving 
 the doctrine. Trumper then favoured us with some of his 
 "hunting reminiscences," — what he did long, long ago, much 
 in the style of Nimrod's popular work of that name ; and 
 altogether the party spent a most agreeable and instructive 
 evening, as the newspaper reporters would say. "Well, the 
 next meeting being the last, and consequently the best, 
 each member had the privilege of feeding a friend, and 
 the strangers being placed next their hosts in the seats of 
 honour at the top of the table, our thinker sported Trumper, 
 and Tarquinius brought Tinhead, the couples sitting opposite 
 each other. 
 
 Tarquinius having " wined " with Mr. Trumper, and done all 
 that a gentleman in diamond studs could be expected to do by 
 an old drab-breeched farmer, tried to trot him out during 
 dinner, beginning with the subject that had brought him out 
 before. Trumper kept snorting and tucking in bis dinner, 
 
116 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 giving monosyllabic answers and most likely angry looks, 
 varied occasionally by a kick of Tom's shins under the table, 
 just as if he were spurring a horse to get away from a humbug 
 out hunting. Tarquinius, however, was too dense to see any- 
 thing of the sort, and attributed Trumper's indiflference to 
 devotion to his dinner ; and after the usual loyal and patriotic 
 toasts had gone the rounds, and the tight-lacedness of eloquence 
 had dissolved into the freedom of a circle round the fire, 
 Muff began again before the now diminished audience. Never 
 was such a man set to tickle a trout as Muff ! His action was 
 just like the ungainly gambol of a cow compared to the smooth 
 glide of the race-horse. Instead of getting something fresh and 
 'ticeing him up another stream, he tried the old bait that 
 Trumper had already refused to nibble at. He went out 
 of his way in the most forced, self-evident manner, and 
 interrupted an argument on draining to lug in that of hunt- 
 ing. And he would have it in, too, despite the efforts of 
 the Rev. Timothy Goodman, the chaplain of the Goose and 
 Dumpling Hunt, who, seeing the perplexity of his great 
 patron, tried hard to restore the current of conversation to 
 its former channel. 
 
 " Don't you think, Mr. Trumper," asked Tarquinius, appeal- 
 ing directly to our friend, " that Neverbreak woods are a great 
 drawback to Mr. Neville's country ? " 
 
 "Well, but if a two-foot drain will carry," interposed 
 Goodman. 
 
 " At all events, don't you think we could easily afford to give 
 them to the ? " 
 
 " The Elkington system of draining,"" again interposed the 
 parson. 
 
 " Well, but now there's no man knows more about hunting 
 or the country than you do, Mr. Trumper," observed Muff, 
 throwing out an arm, and raising his voice high above that of 
 the chaplain, "and I'm sure there's no one whose opinion we 
 all respect more : might I ask now, for the sake of information. 
 
HAWBUCK GEANGE. 
 
 117 
 
 what is your opinion of the general character of this country iis 
 a hunting one ? " 
 
 Tha-t was a point-hhmk question, and put so Ibrcibly and 
 
 >' THINK OF THE COrXTRV — ARLK BOG ! ' 
 
 publicly that ^lutT hugged himself at having at length [)inned 
 him, and thought how his promise to Tinhead of trotting out 
 Trumper was about to be fulfilled. He was, however, reckoning 
 without his host. Trumper, who had had recourse to a pipe by 
 way of parrying ^[ufTs importunities, sat some seconds after 
 
118 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 the question was put, with his keen eye glistening, and a smile 
 on his countenance, which Tarquinius construed into an ar- 
 rangement of thoughts, and expected the same extensive obser- 
 vation and luminous discussion he had listened to before, 
 showing how the Grassmere vale was very fine, and the Roxley 
 Hills -^ery heavy, and the Tew Woods very troublesome, and 
 so on, all of which he thought would impress Tinhead with 
 a due sense of his (Muff's) great importance as a sporting 
 character. 
 
 Instead of this Trumper sat "" tvhif, tvhif, ivhiffwg,'''' until 
 silence could no longer be maintained without rudeness, when 
 knocking the top ashes out of his pipe on the hob, as if he were 
 going to begin, he looked Muff in the face, and uttered these 
 words, "Think of the country — arle bogT amid the outrageous 
 laughter of the party. 
 
 " And yet Trumper will trot when he's properly handled," 
 mused our friend Tom, still sipping at the tumbler. 
 
 " A great deal," continued he, "depends on the skill of the 
 leader in the matter of a trot-out. A man will trot quite 
 freely with one person and yet be perfectly restive in the hands 
 of another. Nay, I have seen men trot themselves out who 
 would " shut up " directly if the trot was attempted by 
 another. Trumper may be quoted as an instance of this sort. 
 He has a joke that has laughed off half the waistcoat strings in 
 the country, which he lies in ambush for with the most perfect 
 malice prepense that ever was witnessed. It is the chorus of a 
 hunting song, not the old — 
 
 " There's nothing CAN compare 
 To hunting of the hare ! " 
 
 but a regular ballad, built by the local bard of the country in 
 honour and glory of Trumper himself, descriptive of his super- 
 lative qualities, his keenness — his gameness — the worth of his 
 hounds, with the usual flourish about his love of the poor and 
 all that sort of thing, the chorus of which is — 
 
HAWBUGK GRANGE. 119 
 
 ** May Trumper live a thousand years, a thousand years, 
 May Trumper live a thousand years, 
 And I be there to see." 
 
 This is the stock song of a certain set in our country ; the 
 farmers sing it, the ale-houses roar with it — it comes belching 
 out of the beer-shop doors — the clods hum it at the smithy, and 
 altogether it is just as well known as the cross in the market- 
 place. If I have heard it sung once in Trumper's presence, I 
 have heard it sung fifty times, and have often wished for the 
 pencil of Thackeray to sketch the delightful complacency with 
 which he sits listening to all the handsome things that are said 
 of him. But richer far is the twinkle of his eye and the sly 
 chuckle of his face as he prepares to let off the well- accustomed 
 joke. It is a fine piece of acting. The first time over he 
 merely puts on a wise face and cocks his ear as if surprised at 
 the proposition, and considering whether if he is to take a lease 
 certain, he may not as well ask for twelve or fifteen hundred 
 years. Then he listens while the song recites the stoutness of 
 his horses and the mettle of his hounds, when he begins fidget- 
 ing his great patent cords about in the arm-chair, as if unable 
 to sustain the idea of separating from the darlings at any 
 time ; but when the chorus again bursts forth, limiting him to 
 a paltry 
 
 " Thousand years," 
 
 his feelings quite overcome him, and starting from his seat, he 
 exclaims at the top of his voice. 
 
 "I don't like to be stinted!" 
 
 amidst the uproarious plaudits of the delighted company. 
 Hooray ! hooray ! hooray ! hooray ! Reader ! what say you 
 to " One cheer more for old Trumper ! " Hooray ! 
 
 " Confound it," continued Tom, rousing up with the excite- 
 ment produced by this last recollection, " I'll be hanged if I 
 
120 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 won't put these thoughts upon paper — make an article for 
 Bell's Life, the Quarterly Kevlew, or some of the periodicals." 
 So saying, he snuffed the thick-wicked cauliflower-headed 
 candles, stirred the fire, arranged his paper, and when he had 
 got all ready he found his thoughts had tuken flight and he 
 could not catch any of them. 
 
 He therefore went to bed instead. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE STOUT-AS-STEEL HOUNDS. 
 
 People who fancy all the dirt and discomforts of life are 
 centered in large towns, have only to visit the small one of 
 Slud£^ington to satisfy themselves of their error. One would 
 think that a place through which a two-horse coach can barely 
 pay its way thrice a week, would be tolerably free from the 
 noise and din of bustling places ; but not even the " White 
 Horse " in Fetter-lane, or the old " Bull and Mouth," in their 
 noisiest, dirtiest, most coaching times, could surpass the dis- 
 quiet of the Goldtrap Arms. Long before daylight Mr. Scott 
 was aroused by the roll of carts, and the most unearthly yells 
 proceeding from the drivers to their horses ; a sort of guttural 
 sound, that seemed to come up from their very stomachs, much 
 like what one hears aboard a steam packet. Having once com- 
 menced, the nuisance was repeated every half-hour or so, either 
 at the front or the side of the house, both of which passages 
 his bedroom commanded, until it seemed as if all the carts in 
 the world were grinding about the Goldtrap Aims. Sleep with 
 such a noise was impossible ; even if his old friend the cuckoo 
 clock had not kept jingling, clattering, and chiming, in the 
 intervals unoccupied by the carters. He was curious to see 
 what could cause such commotion, and availed himself of the 
 first dawn of day to look out of the window to see what sort of 
 a morning it was, and look what the carts were loaded with. 
 Of course they then suspended operations for a time ; and 
 having tired of staring at the closed shutters of the chemist's 
 opposite, and the sign of " Isabella Jenkins, licensed dealer in 
 
122 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 tea, coffee, tobacco and snuflp," at the side, he again crept into 
 bed, thinking the transit was past, and he might yet sleep off 
 the head-achey discomforts of the night. No such thing, how- 
 ever. Just as he was dropping into a doze, jingU, jingle, jingle, 
 went the works of the old cuckoo clock, bang flew the doors, 
 out pounced the bird, and cuckoo ! cuckoo ! cuckoo ! sounded 
 with the most provokingly prolonged monotony. "When it 
 ceased, two cats on the top of Isabella Jenkins' house com- 
 menced a serenade that was enough to disturb the whole 
 town. 
 
 " Flesh and blood can't stand this ! " cried Tom, turning 
 deliberately out of bed and groping for his razor. " I'll abate 
 two nuisances at once ; " so, stealing quietly on to the stair- 
 case where the clock was, he very soon returned with its 
 weights in his hand, leaving the cuckoo to flounder itself down 
 it its leisure. 
 
 Up then went the window, and hang ! hang ! went tbe 
 weights at the cats, causing them to start in the midst of a 
 most uproarious frolic, and run belter skelter over the pantiles 
 in contrary directions. 
 
 Singular as it may seem, notwithstanding the constant noise 
 the thing kept up in the house, neither Cake nor Madame 
 missed it ; at least Scott heard nothing about it, and the house 
 is too small to allow of any commotion without it being heard 
 " all over." He heard no observation about the cuckoo clock 
 having suspended payment — no sudden exclamation, "Law 
 me ! what's got the cuckoo clock weights ? " nothing, in fact, 
 to indicate anything " out of the common." Nor was there 
 anything in the bill, though it had almost every imaginable 
 item printed, from pipes and baccey down to ginger beer. 
 
 When one gets into a place, how it magnifies, and how one 
 feels part and parcel of it ! Though there never was a more 
 contemptible place than Sludgington, still, like a vapouring 
 bully, it had forced itself into something liiie importance ; anc'. 
 it was only when three or four strides of the old mare took 
 
EA WB UCK G]IANGK 
 
 VS^ 
 
 Scott clean out of it up the road towards the liills, that he 
 was satisfied what a regular " cock-o'-iny-thiunV) " place it 
 was. 
 
 "flesh and blood can't stand this!" 
 
 How beautiful everything looked— magnificent, we might 
 say, — the noble mountains, in all their pure and placid gran- 
 deur, swelling over each other till the snow-clad points of the 
 highest seemed to touch the very sky. The goats and sheep 
 
124 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 browsing on the sides looked like mere specks ; while the bells 
 of the cattle lower down kept up a lively jingle, as each motion 
 in feeding set them agoing. The road was well calculated for 
 showing off the scenery ; now winding round the hill bases, 
 now past some stupendous steep, with naught but stunted trees 
 starving in the rocky desolation around ; now skirting some 
 gentle slope up which the plough had ventured as high as the 
 depth of soil would carry ; now past some wooded dell at the 
 base of adjoining hills, down whose rugged course the mountain 
 torrent flowed in gentle, sparkling streams. All about was so 
 pure and healthy — such a contrast to little cramped Sludg- 
 ington. The white farm-houses, the rose-twined, heather- 
 thatched cottages, the rustic bridges, the very rustics them- 
 selves, all had a clean wholesome look, far different to the 
 frowsy ostler and people Scott had left at the Goldtrap Arms. 
 The incompatibility — to make use of a fine term — of combining 
 real romantic scenery with first-rate hunting, is, perhaps, the 
 only drawback to the chase, and certainly the two have hitherto 
 been denied to all countries we have seen. Those wags of all 
 wags, " the Warwickshire wags," as the song calls them, used 
 to boast of the picturesque beauties of their " shire ; " and 
 " picturesque " is a very proper term to apply to them, being 
 chiefly of the tame tractable order suited to a picture — beauties 
 that look better in a picture perhaps than in reality. But the 
 grand mountain scenery of the Welsh side of our island, where 
 the sagacious reader will of course see our friend's travels 
 lie, defies the power of the artist ; and however good their 
 pictures may be for recalling the scene, they fail of conveying 
 an idea of the bold realities of the land to parties who have not 
 been there. 
 
 But we are turning artist instead of sticking to our text — 
 the Stout-as-Steel Hounds. Scott had penetrated some five or 
 six miles (according to time, for they don't sport milestones) 
 into the bowels of the mountains ere he saw any indication of 
 hunting. Having pulled up at a cross road a little beyond a 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 126 
 
 Binall row of wliito cottages, to try and decipher a washed-out 
 finger-post, a halloo and a wave of a hand to the left from a 
 man that Scott's red coat had brought to the door, put him on 
 the right line ; and presently Scott saw his guide take the 
 same direction by the fields, followed by a large black and tan 
 hound, whose deep-mouthed baying, as he jumped and frolicked 
 about his master, was echoed back by the surrounding hills. 
 After the man's politeness in directing him, our friend could 
 not do less than court his society ; so he pulled up to a pace at 
 which the man would easily overtake him. 
 
 He was a stout young fellow dressed in the conical hat, 
 red and green embroidered flannel jerkin, cord breeches, blue 
 stockings, and laced boots of the hill country. 
 
 '* You were going the wrong way," said the man, as he over- 
 took Scott. 
 
 " Yes," replied Scott ; " how far will it be fi-om here ? " 
 
 " Not above half an hour," replied the man, putting his best 
 leg first. 
 
 " You're taking your dog to assist the hunt, then ?" said Tom, 
 looking at his black and tan comrade. 
 
 " Ay, Muffler, can't do without Muffler ; can they, old man ? '* 
 asked he of the hound, clapping him on the back in return for 
 the look up he gave on hearing his name. " The captain has 
 no dog in his pack like Muffler," added the pedestrian. 
 
 " And yet he has some good ones, I suppose ? " observed 
 Tom. 
 
 " Ay, but he always sells the best," rejoined his companion ; 
 " he's o'er fond of money's the captain." 
 
 So Tom and his new friend journeyed on in the usual un- 
 reserved freedom of fox-hunters, the captain's character not 
 improving as they went. 
 
 " Yon's the bridge," at last exclaimed Scott's compauion, as 
 a sudden turn of the road brought them full upon the beautiful 
 
126 HAWBUCK GBAJ^GJU. 
 
 valley sketching away to the foot of -the lofty Bevis Mount. 
 The sun was lighting and sparkling up the broad expanse 
 of the shallow streams, which narrowed about the centre, 
 where a low bridge of many arches was thrown. This 
 bridge carries the cross road over the valley, from the left 
 hand side of which Mr. Scott's guide intimated the hounds 
 would come. 
 
 Already the rough battlements and the greensward at either 
 end of the bridge gave indications of the coming sport. Groups 
 of foot people, mostly in the costune of Scott's companion, 
 mingled with the horsemen, among whom were already a slight 
 sprinkling of red coats. 
 
 Tom and his companion were presently among them. 
 
 After a fairish wait, " here they come ! here they come ! " at 
 last burst from a dozen voices, as a hound or two in advance 
 emerged from the mountain pass, followed by a scarlet-coated 
 horseman, surrounded by the body of the pack. Nothing could 
 be more beautifully picturesque than this sudden emergence 
 from an unknown land, as it were, — nothing more lively than 
 the gay colours of the group contrasting with the sun-bright 
 scenery of the mountain pass. 
 
 *' But what long ears the horses have ! " exclaimed our 
 friend Tom as they approached, and a sidelong glance 
 showed them flopping about. " Horses ! great heavens, they^re 
 mules ! " 
 
 And so they were — great, dark, glossy-coated, mealy-legged 
 mules. 
 
 ' Well, I think ! " exclaimed our friend. " What will Mr. 
 Neville say ! The master and servants of the Stout-as-Steel 
 hounds mounted on mules ! " 
 
 The cavalcade advanced at an ambling sort of pace, and the 
 whole were presently within scanning distance ; at least for 
 people with the use of their eyes, though half the world 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 127 
 
 should be put under " Titmarsh " * to learn how to see 
 things. 
 
 Captain Cashbox,the master, was a distinguished officer in the 
 horse marines, and he still retains some of the characteristics of 
 that anomalous service. 
 
 "" Avast there! avast! " exclaimed he, as the hounds neared 
 the bridge, and he wanted to turn aside to " heave anchor " on 
 the green. 
 
 He was a fierce, square built, chuckle-headed-looking little 
 chap, with a coarse black fringe of beard all round his face, and 
 the gills of a blue striped shirt turned down over a gaping mohair 
 stock, with the dickey strings staring out behind. Scott couldn't 
 help thinking what an admirable study he would have made for 
 the sign of the Saracen's Head on Snow Hill. Though the day 
 was serenely fine, scarce a cloud hanging round even the highest 
 mountain top, he yet sported a shining glazed hat, and had a 
 black oilskin cape tacked on to the brass-bound pommel of his 
 saddle. His coat was the old uniform one of the hunt in Mr. 
 Squander's time — scarlet with dark blue collars and cuffs ; a 
 mixture that looks better than it reads, at least the portrait 
 Scott had of his cousin in it does not look amiss ; but how 
 Stultz or Nugee would have laughed at the grotesque contor- 
 tions of the captain's cut. Coat, it could hardly be called, it was 
 more like one of those respectable, old gentlemanly articles 
 of dress called a " spencer," with short square laps tacked on. 
 It was plentifully sprinkled with buttons, not even omitting 
 some at the bottom of the laps ; which would afford great 
 satisfaction to the captain's seat when he happened to alight 
 upon them of a sudden. He had a boatswain's whistle attached 
 by a blue ribbon to a button hole, and carried a telescope in a 
 spare stirrup leather across his shoulder. His waistcoat was 
 made of seal skin, and what little breeches were visible above a 
 
 * The clever author of a "Journey from Cornhill to Grand Cairo," 
 kc, who saw more in a month than most travcllcis see in a j-car. 
 
I'JB HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 pair of gaping, green-lined, fishermen's, boots, fastened up at 
 the side like overalls, appeared to be of canvas or unbleached 
 duck. The boots had a miserably harsh, hackney-coach-head, 
 lack-lustre look, which was unnecessarily heightened by his 
 Britannia metal looking spurs, being newly rigged out with 
 patent leather straps with broad pads. The mules we have 
 already spoken of as fine animals of their sort ; while between 
 Enoch, the old huntsman, and the hounds, there was a striking 
 similarity of appearance. The hounds were of a breed now 
 rarely seen, save in hill or mountainous countries, being bright- 
 coloured, wiry-haired, rough-muzzled animals, combining the 
 power, mettle, and endurance of the fox-hound, with the hard- 
 bitten pertinacity of the terrier. Enoch Tiphill was just such 
 another looking piece of goods. A little, light, wiry, grey- 
 muzzled, keen-visaged old man, looking as though you might 
 trundle him down, mule and all, from the top of Bevis Mount, 
 over rocks, crags, precipices, and points, without hurting. The 
 memory of man runneth not to the contrary when other than 
 Enoch hunted the Stout-as-Steel hounds. In Mr. Squander's 
 time he had a little mountain-bred grey mare, on which he 
 performed such feats of activity and daring as could only be 
 equalised by a chamois, or by the enterprising Mr. Gomersal 
 in the character of Timour the Tartar, Napoleon Bonaparte, or 
 some such vigour-requiring service. 
 
 "We once heard a gentleman who had wandered into a strange 
 country, give an account of the establishment he there found, 
 and as it contrasts with the opinion our friend Tom passed 
 upon the captain, we will repeat it here. After speaking 
 favourably of the meet, the field, and the style of country, the 
 gentlemen entered upon the more dehcate one of the master 
 and establishment. " The hounds," said he, "were really very 
 good-looking animals, and in very good condition, the men 
 were smart, clean, and well mounted ; in short," added he, 
 " there was nothing ridiculous about the establishment until 
 they threw off '. " 
 
UAWliUCK GRANGE. 129 
 
 So let it not Ue said of the Stout-as-Steel ! Let not Captain 
 Cashbox's incongruous garments prejudice a hunt that Scott's 
 cousin, Squander, spent the best part of his fortune in support- 
 ing. But let us away to the liills, and enjoy the brief sunshine 
 of the hour ! 
 
 The Captain having eyed Scott with the suspicious curiosity 
 masters — with the fear of pen-and-ink men before their eyes — 
 regard strangers, until they are recognised by some of the field, 
 honoured him with a touch of his glazed hat, as he saw him 
 shaken hands with by two or three of his members ; after 
 which he jocosely observed, that he "supposed they might 
 weigh anchor." 
 
 Scott then for the first time began to look for the cover. 
 Woods there were none, at Ipast none with any lying ; what 
 little apologies of trees there were, scattered on the more 
 rugged parts of the hills, being so open at the bottom as to 
 show all the stones in which they were stuck, and though 
 there might be patches of gorse here and there, they did not 
 seem large enough to hold much temptation to a fox. 
 
 " What do we draw ? " asked Scott of one of his friends, 
 whose face he knew, but whose name he either never knew or 
 had forgot. 
 
 "Oh, just draw the hills," replied the interrogated, nodding 
 his head towards a great plum-puddingey-shaped one, with some 
 fern and brushwood about the middle, towards which Enoch was 
 steering with the hounds. " Foxes lie all about," added he. 
 
 So Enoch seemed to think, for he steered all ways as if trying 
 for a hare. 
 
 " You don't pay much for cover rent in this country, I 
 imagine," said Scott to his friend. 
 
 " Nor for damage either," replied he. 
 
 "They've got a scent," continued he, shortly after, as the 
 bounds began feathering towards the fern and brushwood on 
 the before-mentioned hill. 
 
 " Ay, yon shepherd by the fire on the opposite hill views 
 
130 
 
 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 him," added he, just as the outburst of melody from the pack 
 proclaimed they had found the fox. 
 
 Down the hill reynard came pouring with his great bushy tail 
 whisking in the air, as much as to say, " I don't care a copper 
 for any of you ; " and hard upon him followed Enoch, full tilt 
 on his mule, with tin'ee couple of hounds, Enoch blowing his 
 horn, and screechino: like an owl for the rest. 
 
 HE C'LEAEED THK TIIOH STONE WALL. 
 
 They came pouring over one another like a waterfall I 
 
 The fox got such an impetus that he cleared the high stone 
 wall and burn at the bottom of the hill like a greyhound, and 
 commenced the ascent of the opposite hill with a stoutness that 
 looked like wind and condition, 
 
 " Hooray ! " cheered a party of miners, at a fire on the crags 
 towards which he was pointing, causing him to alter his line, 
 and run the hill side. 
 
 The hounds having once got together, there was no further 
 
HAWBUCK OR A NO E. 131 
 
 call for hooping or hallooing, or blowing the horn. Away they 
 weutata pace that showed how good was the scent, and howhope- 
 less the attempt to follow them. Eclipse himself could have 
 done nothing on the rough, stony, steep mountain sides ; and the 
 hounds streaming away in full cry, with old Enoch toiling 
 along on the mule, furnished an apt illustration of the fable of 
 the hare and the tortoise — the further he went, the further he 
 was left behind. 
 
 " This ivay ! this -way ! " screeched little Cashbox, in a 
 8tate of excitement bondering on phrensy. " This way ! " 
 repeated he, ramming his mule down a rutty hill-side, and 
 working his arms like a telegraph. So the field rattled and 
 clattered away in his rear, for his mule was in a good humour, 
 and went at a pretty good bat. They soon got into the valley 
 of Dol Velin, along the margin of whose bright stream a 
 broken track -road ran, for there are few places so uncivilised as 
 not to have roads of some sort, if people could but find them 
 out. This most accommodating one led them straight through 
 the mountains, on the left range of which the hounds were 
 running with a breast-high scent, to the astonishment of the 
 goats and sheep, and ponies, herding on the sides. 
 
 Though the devious course of old reynard, now ascending, 
 now descending, now going straight ahead, was in their favour, 
 still the pace was too good to allow of much halting to look. 
 The Captain, who led the way with his telescope set, occasionally 
 indicated, as he put it to his eye, which hounds were leading ; and 
 after they had pursued the chase in this peculiar way for some 
 five miles, the Captain having given the foreground a good 
 raking, proclaimed that he saw the fox himself. " He's tried 
 the great earths at Stetley Crags, where the fire is," said he, 
 halting and holding the telescope in the direction of the far-ofif 
 fire, " and is now stealing down the hill among the sheep and 
 cattle." 
 
 Just then a movement among some distant dots indicated 
 the fox's whereabouts, and presently the hounds came pouring 
 
132 
 
 HA WB UCK G E A NG E. 
 
 down upoa the spot followed by a drove of ponies, who seemed 
 to join the chase to show how soon they would be beaten off. 
 
 The hounds were well called the Stout-as-Steel, for they ran 
 as hard now after traversing so many miles of rough moorland 
 country as they did at first. Let stag-hunters say what they 
 will, five miles hard running is no joke. 
 
 I'ni.I.OWI'-.n BV HIS OLD ENEMIES, THE CROWS. 
 
 The field had now a perfect panoramic view of the chase, 
 without more trouble than they would be put to at the Diorama, 
 or any London show. A splendid sun lit up the wild mountain 
 scenery, while a slight tinge of frost rarefied the air, bringing 
 distant objects near, and causing the music of the hounds 
 to fall like thunder on the scene — reverberating like Mons. 
 JuUien's band of a hundred and twenty performers at a " Bal 
 Masque." 
 
HAWBUCK ORANGE. 133 
 
 Present!}' they had fox and all in view, and beautiful it was, 
 watching the unerring truth with which the pack followed his 
 every twist and turn and bend. There he was creeping and 
 stealing along, not at the high galloping defying pace at which 
 he started, but coolly and collectedly, as though conscious of 
 the work he had to do. 
 
 So he returned about a hundred yards below the line he had 
 taken in going, followed by a large flock of his old enemies, 
 the crows, who kept a noise up overhead second only to that of 
 the hounds behind. Luckless reynard, when so pursued, for 
 you rarely escape destruction I 
 
 So it was this day. The striving pack gained on him just 
 as one race-horse gains on another. The fatal view at last 
 ensued ! A dodge, a snap, and a cataract of hounds as usual 
 ended the scene I 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 mr. jenkins jones. 
 
 *• Who-hoop ! " 
 
 " Who-hoop ! that's a queer way of beginning a chapter, Mr. 
 Author ! " 
 
 '* So it is, Mr. Reader, but you'll have a good many more of 
 them before you are done." 
 
 Our last left the Stout-as-Steel hounds in the act of running 
 into their fox on the Ikr hill-side, the field viewing the feat 
 across the water. Not a soul appeared near them, but ere the 
 " worry " was complete, old Enoch dropped as it were from the 
 clouds, and dived into the middle of the pack. To be sure the 
 latter part of his descent was visible enough in the shape of a 
 red thing sitting as it were on the back of a rabbit, sliding on 
 its hind quarters down the mountain. 
 
 Having reached the pack, up went the fox, and baying leaped 
 the hounds, the group forming a lively speck on the wide 
 expanse of mountain scenery. 
 
 Few people are willing to admit that a fox has been killed, 
 unless they see him — at all events seeing him seems to add 
 considerably to their satisfaction ; and away Captain Cash- 
 box cut, followed by the field, for ocular demonstration. 
 Through the water splashed the mules, over great boulder 
 stones, enough to throw down an elephant, across the 
 rushy, rugged bottom, and now up the steep hill-side 
 — clatter, clatter, clatter, they went among the loose rumbling 
 stones — blob, blob, blob, they floundered on the unsound 
 ground beyond. 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 136 
 
 ** \VJio-hoop ! ^^ each man exclaimed, on pulling up within 
 "ware-horse" distance of the huge fox, now hanging his head 
 before the pack in all the terrors of grim death. ** Who-hoop ! " 
 yelled little Cashbox, putting his finger in his ear, as though 
 he were afraid of deafening himself. " Wiio-iioop ! " screamed 
 he, still louder, throwing himself off his mule and rushing up 
 to Tiphill for the fox. If the Captain had gone on all-fours, 
 and hunted and killed the fox himself, he could not have taken 
 greater credit to himself for the feat. The hounds might kill 
 him, but who brought the hounds ? Captain Cashbox — and 
 therefore to Captain Cashbox belonged the honour and glory 
 of the day. 
 
 Having got the fox from Enoch, he held him up for some 
 seconds above his head, in the manner of a " Poses Plastique " 
 master, until his little arms tiring, he threw him flop on the 
 ground. 
 
 " He's a terrible length from the snout to the stern," 
 observed the "nondescript little man, stooping and measuring 
 the fox with his whip. 
 
 Without announcing the longitude, he proceeded to divest 
 him of his appendages. 
 
 Off went the head. 
 
 " There's the head of a traitor ! " exclaimed the Captain, 
 holding it up. 
 
 Then came the pads, and, lastly, that noblest trophy of them 
 all — the brush ! 
 
 " Allow me, sir," said he, strutting out in the most grotesque, 
 puss-in-boots style, towards where Tom Scott stood, "to present 
 you, sir, with the brush of one of our mountain breed — sir, a 
 real ' stunner,' sir, as my friend, Joe Banks, would say, sir. 
 Sir, I'm extremely glad, sir, to see you out with my hounds, 
 sir ; hope, sir, I shall often have the pleasure, sir — shall be 
 most happy, sir, to present you with our button, sir." 
 
 Flattered by so much attention, especially from a man that 
 he did not expect any from, Tom incontinently replied, od 
 
136 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 receiving the brush, that he would be most proud to receive 
 the button, and weai- it wherever he went. 
 
 Scarcely were the words out of his mouth, than the Captain, 
 having dived into the trunk of his fisherman's boots, produced 
 a packet, from which, having blown the silver paper, he 
 exhibited a complete set of large buttons, to which having added 
 a pinch of small ones from his seal-skin waistcoat pocket, he 
 handed the whole over to Scott, observing, that " he might 
 send him a Post Office order for the four guineas when he got 
 home, and that he would be most happy to have his name down 
 as a subscriber also." 
 
 " He's done yoii''' whispered a gentleman, with a smile and a 
 wink, as the little varmint waddled back to his mule, and pro- 
 ceeded to what he would call " hoist himself on deck," by the 
 aid of a rusty, most disreputable-looking stirrup. 
 
 " I don't know that," replied Tom Scott, with a grunt, think- 
 ing the Captain might, perhaps, get the buttons back instead 
 of the Post Office order. 
 
 "Well, we've had a very good run — at least, the hounds 
 have," observed the stranger, who had now brought his 
 horse alongside. " Are you staying in this part of the 
 country ? " 
 
 " Why, yes — no — yes — not exactly," replied Scott ; " the 
 fact is, I ivas on this side of the country, and, wishing to have 
 a look at these hounds, lay at Sludgington over night." 
 
 " I pity you," exclaimed the gentleman ; adding, " I wish 
 you'd come to me. Where are you going to now ? " inquired 
 he. 
 
 " Don't know till I get back — perhaps stay there again " 
 
 " Come to me," rejoined he ; " we shall be most happy to see 
 you — you've plenty of time," added he, showing our friend his 
 watch, which wanted a quarter to one. 
 
 " You are very kind," replied Scott, feeling little disposed to 
 undergo the persecution of Cake and the noise of the Goldtrap 
 Arras again, though the cuckoo clock nuisance was abated 
 
EAWBUCK GRANGE. 137 
 
 — adding, ** I shall be very glad to avail myself of yonr 
 ofTer." 
 
 " That's right ! " said the stranger, closing the bargain by a 
 shake of the hand : " we dine at six, and there will be a stable 
 ready for you," So saying, he turned up a road the reverse of 
 the one that he pointed out as Scott's, and tickling his horse 
 with the spur was speedily out of sight. 
 
 One person in a hurry is very apt to put another person in r 
 hurry, and Scott began to trot too, without knowing why. 
 
 " Gently, old girl," at length said he, easing the old marfe 
 down into a walk, to enjoy the scenery, the winding mountain- 
 road having brought him before a fresh range of hills. Just 
 then it flashed across his mind that he didn't know who his 
 friend was. 
 
 " Well, that's the stupidest thing I ever uid in my life," ex- 
 claimed he, dropping the rein, and giving his thigh a hearty 
 •xlap. " I thought I knew him because he knew me, and I have 
 ao more idea who he is than the man in the moon." 
 
 Scott then went back to the turn of the road to see if any of 
 the field were behind, but they had all dispersed on their dif- 
 ferent routes — the horsemen by the roads, the foot people by 
 the mountain tracks. 
 
 "Well, never mind," said he, turning short round again, " I 
 can describe him — round-faced, ginger hair, rather stout, hunts, 
 says he lives near Sludgington. Oh, Cake, or the saddler, or 
 the postmaster, or the blacksmith, or any of the wise men oi 
 the place will be able to tell me who he is." So saying, he re- 
 lapsed into enjoyment of the scenery, until the road at length 
 opened upon the vale. 
 
 Sludgington formed a not unpleasing feature in the land- 
 scape now that Scott regarded it with an unprejudiced eye. 
 Its church tower, its clump of trees, its white dovecote to the 
 right, the now sun- glittering mill-pond on the left, even tha 
 
138 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 very smoke and outline of the houses, made an agreeable break 
 on the tame monotony of the flat vale beyond. The cold, 
 black, whinstone mud made him shudder, though, as he got into 
 the street again ; nor were his feelings soothed by having to 
 ride on the rough M'Adam to make way for a long line of 
 slate carts passing through with the produce of the neighbour- 
 ing quarries. 
 
 " Who is it that lives near here, and hunts with the Stout-as- 
 Steel hounds ? " asked he of the hostler, as he gave him the 
 mare to be fed while he packed up his traps ; " who is it that 
 hunts and rides a clipped horse, and wears black boots, not 
 fishermen's boots like Captain Cash box's, but Bishop's boots 
 coming up to the knee-pan ? " touching the whereabouts on his 
 own leg. 
 
 " "Who is it that h-o-u-n-t-s and rides Bishop's boots," 
 drawled out the muzzy idler. 
 
 " No ! no ! rides m Bishop's boots, black jacks," retorted 
 Scott ; "■ rides a clipped horse, and lives somewhere about 
 here." 
 
 " Why, I should say that would be Mr. Jenkins Jones," 
 replied the man ; " he has a clipped horse." 
 
 " But can't you be sure f a geuLleman with gingery hair. 
 Has Mr. Jenkins Jones gingery hair ? " 
 
 " Why y-e-a-8 ; I should say he has," replied he, " and rides 
 a clipped horse." 
 
 " Where does he live ? " asked Scott. 
 
 "At Down House, about six miles fi'ora here," replied the 
 man. 
 
 "Ay, that's him," said our friend, leaving the stable, and 
 running into the house. "Jenkins Jones, of Down House, is 
 the man ; " indeed, I fancied I heard somebody call him Jones 
 out huntinsf. 
 
 What with the bother of packing, waiting for the bill, and 
 
THE OLD WOMAN DIDN'T KNOW WHERE IT WAS. 
 
 l2 
 
HAWBUCK GRANOB. 189 
 
 then for the horse, the limited allowance of a winter's day 
 began to give indications of declining ere Scott got sufficiently 
 near the residence of which he was in quest, to gain any decided 
 information from the few country people and mountaineers he 
 met as to its precise distance and locality. One man told him 
 it was three miles, another that it was two ; and an old woman 
 that he overtook, driving a flock of geese, and who said she had 
 lived in the countiy all her life, didn't know where it was at 
 all — had never heard of Down House before, or of Mr. Jenkins 
 Jones either — had heard of a Mr. Thomas Jones, but he lived 
 at Frengford, at the back of the hills, but he had been dead 
 many years, and " of course," she said, " it couldn't be him." 
 
 A woodman, however, that Scott next met, was better 
 informed, and after running the words " Jenkins Jones, Jones 
 Jenkins, Jenkins Jones," backwards and forwards on his 
 tongue, as a lady runs up and down the notes of a piano, he 
 directed him through a pass at the low end of the mountain 
 range. 
 
 Having trotted through it just as night began to close in, he 
 came upon a wild, undulating down countiy — open, spacious, 
 and far-stretching. Here and there dark patches, occasionally 
 indicated by the fitful gleam of a passing light, denoted human 
 habitations, but the extreme distance was completely lost in the 
 clouds. 
 
 To heighten the confusion of the scene, the road, as he had 
 been warned by the woodman, resolved itself into a mere race- 
 course sort of track, whose line was marked by little chalk-heap 
 mounds thrown up on the turf. 
 
 The springy down, so tempting under ordinary circumstances 
 for a canter, was now traversed slowly for fear of losing the 
 thread of the heaps, and having to pass the night on the wide 
 dreary waste. 
 
 " It must be a primitive place, indeed," thought Scott, riding 
 close inside the line of chalk heaps, " where a track like this 
 serves alike for carriage, cart, and bridle road. No fear of 
 
140 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 having one's rest disturbed by the rumbling of carts, the yells 
 of drivers, or the music of cats, as it was last night." 
 
 A bigger wave of land that the mountain throe had rolled 
 further inwards, obtruded just as the fast-falling shades of night 
 began to make him wish to be at his journey's end ; on reach- 
 ing the top of which the lights from a house ensconced among 
 trees appeared within a couple of hundred yards, and the quick 
 eye of the mare presently caused her to halt at a light iron gate, 
 dividing the lawn from the downs. 
 
 The clatter the gate made in swinging to and fro, caused an 
 outburst of barking and yelling from the kennel, while the 
 raising and hurried dropping of the curtain of a low-windowed 
 room on the ground floor showed that the inmates were aroused, 
 and ere he had dismounted at the sash-windowed door, a shirt- 
 sleeved groom had rushed round from the back of the house to 
 take his horse. 
 
 A glass door, while it is pleasant and cheerful in summer, has 
 the advantage in winter of letting a guest see who is coming, 
 and the bright burning oil lamp discovered our friend's host 
 now attired in a comfortable suit of plaid instead of the cloth 
 and leather of the foxhunter. 
 
 How we pity people who lived before " tweeds," railways, and 
 writing directions on newspapers, were invented ! 
 
 The gentleman shaded his eyes with his hand and shut them 
 as some people do who want to have a good look at one ; but a 
 momentary glance produced an " Oh, Mr. Scott, ia it you ? I'm 
 glad to see you," confirmed by a cordial shake of the hand. 
 
 Scott then proceeded to " hang up his hat." 
 
 " You've brought your nightcap, I hope," observed the 
 gentleman as he helped Scott off with his paletot 
 
 While this was going on in the passage, Scott overheard the 
 following nursery dialogue in the parlour : — 
 
 •' Little Jack Horner 
 Sat in the 1 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 141 
 
 " Where did little Jack sit, ray pet ? " 
 
 " Pie," lisped the child. 
 
 "No, my darh't^^, not in the pie,''* responded the questioner. 
 
 " Let me introduce my friend Mr. Scott, my dear," inter- 
 rupted the host, throwing open the door of a cheerful-looking 
 room, and disclosing a beautiful dark-eyed lady, with a lovely 
 little child half on her lap, half on the table, studying the inter- 
 esting career of the gentleman aforesaid. 
 
 An attempted rise, with a sweet smile mingling with a half- 
 suppressed laugh, at Jack Horner's novel position, made Scott 
 feel quite at home, and he readily accepted his host's offer of an 
 arm-chair by the brightly burning fire. 
 
 As Scott looked at him he thought it was lucky he had been 
 able to give some other account of him beyond a mere descrip- 
 tion of his person, for hunting things made such a difference in 
 men's appearance that it is not always easy to recognise them 
 in others. The gentleman, however, speedily touched on the 
 grand ice-breaker of conversation " the run of the morning," 
 and his wife having gathered up the child's toys, consisting of 
 a jumping mouse, a Macassar oil bottle, a tin kettle, a tatter 'd 
 doll, and an illuminated copy of " Jack ITorner," departed with 
 her treasure in her arms. 
 
 Scott soon found he was in capital quarters. Indeed he re- 
 collected to have heard from some of "their hunt" who had 
 strayed so far out of the world as Mr. Neville's men consider 
 the hill country, that there were some "capital fellows" in it, 
 which, in current sporting phraseology, means, men who are 
 glad to see their friends without any fuss ; or, as in Scott's 
 case, men who are glad to see fox-hunters at any time. 
 
 There certainly is a wonderful freemasonry among fox- 
 hunters. There is no letter of introduction equal to the few 
 words, " This man's a sportsman." It is far superior to any 
 formal application to be allowed to recommend one's particular 
 friend Mr. Augustus Fitznoodle, eldest son of Sir Augustus 
 and Lady Fitznoodle, who was a daughter of Hugh fifth Eur) 
 
142 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 of Bigacres, to their attention in the way of a " ticket foi 
 soup," as these unfortunate documents are sometimes termed. 
 But we are getting off the line, and must be running into our 
 subject. They had a capital dinner, some famous mutton 
 broth, with meat in it, thick and strong ; a well-crimped piece 
 of cod with oyster sauce, a leg of dark-gravied four-year-old 
 Welsh mutton, followed by a woodcock and a dish of nice hot 
 mince pies, assisted by sherry and iced champagne at dinner, 
 and a bottle of fine old port and a devilled biscuit after. 
 
 The next morning, as they sat at an equally good breakfast, 
 Scott saw a fustian-clad groom arrive on a horse at exercise, 
 and presently a note was brought in, which his host, after 
 perusing, presented to him with a smile, saying, " This refers to 
 you." Thus it ran : — 
 
 "Dear Jones, 
 
 " Have you see?i anything of Mr. Scott of Haivhuck 
 Grange ? He promised lo come to me yesierdayy and has 
 never cast up. 
 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 "Jones Jenkins." 
 
 " Good God, ain't T at Mr. Jones Jenkins's now ? " exclaimed 
 our friend. 
 
 " Why, no," replied his host, laughing ; " my name is 
 Jenkins Jones, his is Jones Jenkins. I saw you had made the 
 common mistake last night when you came, but was not going 
 to deprive myself of the pleasure of your society by telling 
 you." 
 
 " You are extremely kind, I'm sure," replied Scott. " I did 
 think, when I saw you, that your hair had got darker, but I 
 attributed it to the shade of the lamp, or to not having seen 
 you with your hat off." 
 
 " Oh, I assure you, it's nothing uncommon," replied his host. 
 
HA WB UCK GRANGE. 
 
 143 
 
 " nothing uncommon at all ; wc get each other's letters and 
 parcels, and i>apers, and all sorts of things. A Frencinnan 
 brought a bill iV»r a musical clock here the other day, and 
 insisted upon my paying it. It was directed a Monsieur Jones 
 Jenkins,' In vain I protested that my name was Jenkins 
 Jones. ' Vel, sare,' said lie, ' it shall be all de same — dey have 
 jost put de Jones before de Jenkins ; you are de man.'' 
 ' Nonsense ! ' said I, sportiug the old joke, ' there's just as 
 much diflPerence between Mr. Jenkins Jones and Mr. Jones 
 Jenkins as there is between a chestnut horse and a horse 
 chestnuc' " 
 
 MR. JENKINS JONES AND THE FRENCHMAK. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 HOMEWARD BOUND. 
 
 Taking leave of his kind host ai d hostess at the Down 
 House, Tom Scott again mounted the old mare, " homeward 
 bound," as Captain Cashbox would say. 
 
 He had not got above a couple of miles on the high road 
 before he was overtaken by a man on foot, going at a pace 
 known only to fugitives, servants who have been loitering at 
 public-houses, or people in pursuit of sport. Urgent or exciting 
 must be the cause that spurs a pedestrian past a horse. Never- 
 theless the individual shot ahead, and that without look or 
 observation. 
 
 " He's a good'un to go," said Scott to himself, eyeing the 
 quick short steps with which he got away from the old mare. 
 He was a square-built, bow-legged, stiff little fellow, not at all 
 of the cut that one would imagine a " Hookey Walker." His 
 dress was puzzling, as well as his pace. It consisted of a 
 brown duffle frock coat, black and white plaid trousers, with 
 drab gaiters, and he carried an oil-skin-covered umbrella under 
 his arm ; quite a town turn -out — at all events, not a " week- 
 day " one in the country. 
 
 " I wonder what the buffer is," said Scott, watching him as 
 he stepped along. " I'll be bound to say he can't keep that 
 pace up long," continued he. Still he trudged on, and Scott 
 followed, thinking, as he rode, that he had the best of it. 
 
 Presently the pedestrian began to look about him, first over 
 one hedge, then over another, as though he wanted his nurse, 
 or an excuse for bolting. 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 146 
 
 "What now, old \u>y ?" said Scott, eyeing the proceeding; 
 *'you surely have no business in the fields." 
 
 He seemed to be of a contrary opinion though, and, coming 
 to a weak place in the hedge on the left, he popped over the 
 rail that protected it, and forthwith commenced a rapid ascent 
 of the hill. 
 
 He was quickly out of sight, leaving Tom to pursue his 
 road and ruminations together. 
 
 About a mile farther on, where a mountain pass runs into 
 the Netherdew turnpike, our traveller was struck with a vast 
 concourse of people coming down, some on foot, some on horse- 
 back, some in gigs, some on mules. " A foot-race," said he to 
 himself, eyeing the numbers ; " the Llandogget Stag against 
 the Bob-Daniel Flyer, or some such fun ; " and he fancied he 
 saw the poles and ropes with which they were going to stake 
 off the turnpike, 
 
 " Or'd, hang it, no ! they are a set of dancing-dogs or 
 monkeys," exclaimed he, as the red and gaudy jackets of the 
 animals and the yellow flag of one of the leaders became 
 apparent, " What queer creatures they must be in these parts ! " 
 continued he ; " only fancy a bevy of great men turning out 
 after such animals ! " 
 
 Notwithstanding this denunciation, he pulled up to have 
 a look at them himself, and h-e was so lost in astonish- 
 ment at seeing that the whole party were English, instead of 
 the white-teethed, ohve-complexioned Italians, the general 
 attendants of monkeys and dancing dogs, that he was right in 
 the middle of the cavalcade before he saw the animals were 
 greyhounds — greyhounds in all the pomp and paraphernalia 
 of race-horses, coloured hoods, quarter-pieces, and bottle-carry- 
 ing leaders, " Gad," thought he, " what ' a go ' it would be if 
 they were to bring a pack of foxhounds to the cover side in 
 clothing ! " 
 
 It's odd if a fox-hunter gets into a crowd of sportsmen, 
 within half a hundred miles of home, without being recog- 
 
146 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 nised by some one ; and from the hetjerogeneous assemblage 
 of shooting-jacketed, and great-coated, and duffle-coated, and 
 cloaked, and shawled, and paletoted, and trousered, and Tagli- 
 onied, and jack-booted, and overalled, and fiddle-case booted, 
 and gambadoed, and umbrella-handed horsemen, a voice from 
 a complete mountain of mackintosh exclaimed, " Halloa, Tom 
 Scott ! is that you ? " 
 
 " Jfs me ! sure enough," exclaimed our friend ; " but who 
 the deuce you are beats my comprehension ? " 
 
 " Don't you remember Charley Travis ? " replied the 
 questioner, lowering his comforter, and raising a puddingy 
 plaid off his brow, so as to display a pair of large boiled-goose- 
 berry-looking eyes staring out of a great red harvest-moon of 
 a face. 
 
 " Charley, my boy ! " exclaimed Scott, starting at the 
 familiar name and the change that time had eflFected on its 
 bearer. "Charley, my boy, how are you? I'm delighted 
 to see you," and thereupon they rung a requiem over the 
 twenty years that had elapsed since they met, and aroused 
 the spirits of no end of " larks " that had flown with the time. 
 
 Upon the evidence of so much cordiality, divers of the 
 sporting gents lifted their hats and caps to the stranger, 
 indicating that our traveller's friend Charley was "some- 
 body," and that a portion of his greatness was reflected upon 
 Tom. 
 
 " I shouldn't have known you," said Scott, looking at the 
 man mountain he now rode beside, and recalling the smart 
 slim youth he had parted with. 
 
 " Nobody does," replied he, " nobody does — my leg's as big 
 as my whole body used to be," shoving out a great woollen-clad 
 mackintosh-cased limb, terminating in a black and red list 
 slipper. " Do you remember when I squeezed through the pot 
 of Miss Gammon's chimney, and descended amongst all the 
 bread and butter misses at their tea ? " asked he. " Couldn't 
 do that now, by jingo ; no, nor ride 8 st. 7 lb. as I used to do. 
 
BA WB UiJK G R A NG E. 147 
 
 However, never mind ; I am delighted to sec you aj^ain, old 
 fellow. Tell me now what's brought you into this part of the 
 world ? " 
 
 " Ah ! still as fond of hunting, still as fond of hunting as 
 ever, are you ? " observed he, after listening to a narrative of 
 where Scott had been. 
 
 " Just the same," replied Scott, " just the same. If any- 
 thing, the older I get, the bigger fool I get. I should think 
 hunting couldn't do you any harm," added he, looking at his 
 friend's puily face. 
 
 "Bless you, my dear Scott," shivered he, "*Y loould kill 
 me. Consider, my dear fellow, what a mass of complaints, 
 what a lump of corruption I am. Look at the chalk 
 stones in my hands," continued he, pulling off a sable 
 glove. " It takes two men to put me horseback. Hunt ! 
 Suppose I should be spilt ! I should never get up again — I 
 should lie kicking on the broad of my back like a sheep or 
 a bull frog ! " 
 
 " But what's made you gouty, old boy ? " asked Scott. 
 " Your parents were healthy, and you had nothing of that sort 
 in your youth." 
 
 "ir<^c?/.'" exclaimed he, earnestly, ^' you know I hadn't 
 — never a moment's illness of any sort. As long as I was 
 starving on a hundred a year I was the healthiest and 
 happiest mortal alive ; but the moment the money came, 
 down came a whole bevy of ills, and I became one mass of 
 disorders. Stevens ! " exclaimed he, " is it time to take my 
 pills ? " 
 
 While the individual thus appealed to was supplying his 
 wants, it flashed across Scott's mind that the hero he was 
 addressing had been changed into a baronet, and that Charley 
 Travis of former days was now Sir Charles Munchington, 
 having been most unexpectedly metamorphosed one morning 
 while shaving by a fourpenny glass in a barrack-room at 
 Gibralttir. 
 
148 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 " I'm afraid you live too well, Sir Charles," said Scott, as the 
 Baronet gulped down the last of the pill's. 
 
 "Live! my dear fellow, I wish you saw me live ; if rice 
 puddings and soda water are living, then I do live. But, talking 
 of that, come to me to-day after coursing." 
 
 " Thank you," said Scott, *' but I'm expected at home." 
 
 " What, you're married, are you ? " asked he. 
 
 " Why, no ! yes ! no ! not exactly ; but the fact is, I'm out 
 of linen — got my last shirt on." 
 
 " Oh, I'll find you linen, and be shot if I don't take a glass 
 of wine, too, for'auld lang syne.' I'll lend you shirts and 
 shoes, and everything, for I have them of all sizes since I began 
 bo magnify, till I think Daniel Lambert and I might now go 
 partners in a wardrobe." 
 
 We trust the reader will believe Mr. Scott sincere in saying 
 that he had every intention of going home that day. Indeed 
 he wished it ; for, independently of being out of linen, he was 
 extremely short of other things, and a man feels the want of 
 trifles that he does not appreciate when at hand. Besides, he 
 wanted to see how things were going on, whether the red cow 
 had calved, or any of the young horses got lamed. Still, what 
 could he do ? Here was an old friend whom he had not seen 
 for twenty years, gouty and unwell, yet willing to take a glass 
 of wine with him. Prudence said "No," but inclination said 
 " Ay," and accordingly " ay " had it. 
 
 " Come and see a course," said Sir Charles, as the cavalcade 
 turned off the road through a gate into some extensive pas- 
 tures ; "you don't know what fun it is, and we are getting 
 near a tie," added he. 
 
 Tom had a pretty good idea though, for he once kept a 
 greyhound himself, and a more daft, mischievous, useless beggar 
 was never seen. It used to do nothing but run a muck at the 
 poultry, and sheep, and foals, and practise feats of agility 
 through the windows. Worse still, the insensate brute was 
 continually losing itself, and cost him no end of half-crowns 
 
UAWBUGK GllA2iGE. 140 
 
 for ousting up, until lie was lurtuuiite enou,u;li to see the animal 
 enticed a\vay by a mugger-man, ft'om whose care there is 
 seldom much escape. The fellow thought he'd got a 
 prize. 
 
 Scott followed the motley group, which had now been 
 joined by his pedestrian friend, into the field, and a couple of 
 dogs were stripped of their hoods, and spectacles, and quarter- 
 pieces, and put in the slips. They then made a circuit of 
 the enclosure, following the important Mr. Marksman, the 
 judge, with the rear brought up by a most miscellaneous 
 rabble of foot people, interspersed with brandy-ball and 
 lollypop merchants, the usual concomitants of pedestrian 
 crowds. 
 
 They ranged that field and another, and l)cat a bank-side, 
 and then crossed a nice trout-stream on to some water meadows 
 beyond. 
 
 " Let us stand here and see the course," said Sir Charles, 
 sheltering under the lee of a tumble-down building, from one 
 of those heavy, cutting, rattling hail-storms that so disconcert 
 lazy house-maids with bright grates. Patter, patter, patter it 
 came, rattling down upon the harsh dry mackintosh, making 
 the large bullets bound again. 
 
 Before it was well over, at least before they had fairly opened 
 their daylights again, a shout proclaimed the course begun, 
 and, looking across the water, Scott saw two great snake-like 
 animals stretching and striding away over the plain after an 
 unfortunate little driblet of a thing, that evidently had a very 
 poor chance with them. It w'ent away stoutly at first, to be 
 sure, and there was little sensible advantage so long as it ran 
 straight ; but the moment it began to swerve, the superiority 
 of the followers was evident. 
 
 So it went twisting and turning, the efforts becoming 
 " smaller by degrees and beautifully less." 
 
 Sir Charles was in ecstasies ! He jerked, and he jumped, 
 and he worked his arms, and bit his lips, and hung to one side, 
 
150 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 just as a cockney does in a cab that he thinks is about to 
 capsize. " BeauiifvX course ! " exclaimed he ; " ^eawtifiil 
 course ! " as the dark dog turned the poor drab thing to the 
 left, and the light dog sent it right ahead again. " Finest 
 course I ever saw in my life ! — finest course I ever saw in 
 my life ! " ejaculated he, as the hare made straight for a 
 gate. 
 
 "By Jove, that's well done ! " said he, as the dogs cleared it 
 together. " Noav for the tug of war ! " 
 
 They were now upon a seed field, and gaining painfully upon 
 poor puss. First one strider turned her, then the other, the 
 poor thing's energy contracting with each effort, till the dark 
 dog shot a length in advance, and chucked her right up in the 
 air. 
 
 Then up hurried the field, the victor all glee, the loser all 
 glum, while water-bottles and clothing were produced, and 
 another brace of dogs had their spectacles taken off and were 
 put in the slips. 
 
 So they went on from field to field, coursing and killing, and 
 losing and missing, amid the betting and cheering of the 
 company. 
 
 At last the course came on deciding whether the owner of 
 the dark dog or a red one was to have the honour of keeping a 
 pewtery-looking cup for the year, and of sacking a certain 
 number of sovereigns in the shape of stakes. We dare say 
 there was as much as ten pounds at issue ; and if there had 
 been a million, there couldn't have been more noise. " Five 
 shillings on the Dusty Miller ! " exclaimed a great, fat, 
 butcherified-looking fellow, in blue woollens or tweeds, mopping 
 the perspiration from his brow, which he had managed to 
 acquire in the "trot" of the last course — a thing that none 
 but a twenty-stoner could accomplish with such an atmos- 
 phere. 
 
 . "I'll lay a shilling on the Miller! I'll lay two! I'll lay 
 three I I'll take three to two ! " exclaimed another. 
 
BAWBUCK GRANGE. l&l 
 
 " I'll lay you half-a-crown to two sliillini^s, Jubbins," replied 
 Popkins ; and the quantity and nature of the betting showed 
 that there Avould be a great demand for silver after the 
 course. 
 
 The awkward part of betting on a course seems to be that 
 there is no w^y of regulating the race. It isn't like a trial of 
 speed between horses, for twisting and turning seems to have 
 quite as much to do with winning as the straightforward fly. 
 So it was here. After much to do they at length got a satis- 
 factory hare ; but, after the usual bowling about, the victory 
 was declared in favour of Bright Star, Dusty Miller, for some 
 unapparent cause, being non-suited, though an inexperienced 
 courser would have said that he followed suit quite as stoutly 
 as his competitor. 
 
 Amidst cheers for the victor the scene closed, and many of 
 the field availed themselves of the opportunity afforded by 
 pulling out their purses to pull out their pocket-handkerchiefs 
 too, for it was intensely cold. 
 
 On reaching the village of Leighford, Sir Charles abandoned 
 his cob, and a brougham, with post horses, was presently at the 
 Greyhound Inn door, in which he insisted on seating Scott, and 
 carrying him off to his residence. 
 
 It requires a strongish intimacy to accompany an invalid 
 with no better prospect than what the baronet had held out ; 
 but friends decrease so, as we get on in life, that it is cheering 
 to put one's hand into the back shelf of time, and pull out an 
 old one, altered, dusted, and damaged though he may be. If a 
 chap is a good fellow at twenty, there's little chance of his 
 being a bad one at forty ; and, barring his ailments, Sir Charles 
 was just the same hearty cock Scott had parted with twenty 
 years before, when he sailed for India. Alas ! the then gay 
 stripling was now the premature old man. 
 
 It was just light enough, as they dashed across the ornamen- 
 tal bridge, over the swan and fowl-swarming water, and dived 
 among the undulations of the deer-stocked park, for Scott to 
 
 M 
 
152 ti AW BUCK GBANGK 
 
 see that his friend had " lit on his Jegs ; " and when they 
 stopped, with a jerk, under the wood-paved Gothic porch of 
 the ancient edifice, and two neatly dressed footmen responded 
 to the sound of the bell, it was evident there was what a literary 
 appraiser would estimate at " ten thousand a year.'''' Nobody 
 that has " any thing " has less, thanks to the liberal talent of 
 Mr. Warren. 
 
 " I don't keep these fellows to look at," said Sir Charles, as 
 he sidled from his seat in the brougham on to their crossed 
 arms, and was carried bather-woman fashion into the house, 
 ordering one to get the room nest his ready for Scott, and the 
 other to tell the groom to see after our friend's mare, which was 
 coming with his cob. 
 
 " Oh, doctor ! " groaned the baronet, as they placed him on 
 a couch, in a perfect snuggery of a room ; " ah, doctor ! " 
 groaned he, to a little white-headed old man, in knee-breeches 
 and buckles, who Scott could have sworn was the doctor if he 
 hadn't been so addressed ; I'm dreadfully exhausted — very ill 
 indeed!^' 
 
 " Indeed, Sir Chorles, I'm sorry to hear that. Sir Chorles,'"" 
 replied the little gentleman, advancing solemnly to his patient, 
 at the same time pulling up a great noisy watch by a sort of 
 jack-chain, to which was appended many seals, as if he was 
 going to feel his pulse. 
 
 " Oh, no ; it's not physic I want — it's not physic I want ! 
 I've taken all your pills and the blue draught into the bargain," 
 exclaimed the invalid. " I want something to restore me — to 
 revive me, in fact." 
 
 " Well, Sir Chorles," mouthed the man of medicine, " suppose 
 you have a little water gruel," looking mysteriously at 
 Scott. 
 
 "D — n your water gruel !" screamed the invalid ; "why, 
 what an inhuman monster you must be to want me to take 
 water gruel on the very day I've fallen in with Tom Scott, 
 after an absence of nearly twenty years ! " 
 
HAWBUCK GliANGL. 
 
 163 
 
 "Well, Sir Chorles," respondefl little blacklegs, taken rather 
 aback, " what would you like to have, Sir Chorles ? " 
 
 ^\r 
 
 ^r 
 
 ^-^ 
 
 " I dok't keep these fellows to look at." 
 
 " — Hang it ; I want you to recommend, man ! " continued 
 he, precisely in the tone that he used to blow up the waiters 
 and landlords of the inns wlien they did.i't please him. " I 
 
 m2 
 
164 RAWBUOK GMAJSHJE. 
 
 want you to recommend, man. What's the use of being a 
 doctor if you can't tell what's good for me ? " 
 
 The little man was quite abashed. 
 
 " Do you think a glass of maraschino would do me an) 
 harm ? " at last asked Sir Charles. 
 
 " Oh, not the least — none whatever," replied the doctor^ 
 glad of the suggestion — "at least, that's to say if you don't 
 take more than a glass, or two,'''' added he, seeing the brow 
 begin to lour. 
 
 " And a slice of pate de foie gras, perhaps ? " continued Sii 
 Charles. 
 
 "You might find benefit from it," replied the doctor, 
 " especially if your stomach's empty, and it wants an hour yet 
 to dinner," continued he, looking at the watch, which he still 
 fumbled in his hand. 
 
 " Stomach empttj,^'' growled Sir Charles ; " why, now, is it 
 likely a man would eat if his stomach wasn't empty ? At 
 least /know /wouldn't." 
 
 " And bring two or three dozen oysters, and some pale ale," 
 exclaimed Sir Charles, as the servant was going, after receiving 
 the above orders ; adding to the doctor, " Oysters are whole- 
 some enough, at all events, I hope ? " 
 
 " Nothing more ^o, Sir Chorles," replied the man of 
 medicine. 
 
 "A beaker of burgundy would be right after the pate, 
 wouldn't it ? " asked he in continuation. 
 
 " It would give tone to the stomach, Sir Chorles, especially 
 If you have rather overdone yourself with exercise." 
 
 "Well, then, my good fellow," interrupted the patient, 
 '* will you have the kindness to go into the cellar for it yoiir- 
 Belf, and see and wrap it properly up in flannel, so that it 
 mayn't get chilled by the way ? " 
 
 With such a " whet " the reader will conjecture what the 
 dinner was like ; nor will it, perhaps, be necessary to point out 
 why Sir Charles is not as healthy as he was with his hundred a 
 
HAWBUCK ORANGE. 156 
 
 year, to prevent rich people parting with their money for fear 
 of getting like him. Should there be any alarmists, however, 
 Mr. Scott says he can take a few sackfuls, which may either 
 be sent to Hawbuck Grange, or left with the publishers of 
 this work. The accommodating reader will now have the 
 kindness to suppose our friend Tom Scott returned to the 
 former place. 
 
CHAPTEK XI. 
 
 THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 
 
 DOUBTFUL days— 
 
 that is to say, days 
 on which one does 
 not know whether 
 to go to hounds or 
 stay at home — are 
 great bores. To 
 be sure, a native 
 has no great busi- 
 ness to be bothered 
 by them, seeing 
 that he has no 
 need to " turn 
 out" on other than 
 undoubted days, 
 and can chop over 
 to his other occu- 
 pation should a 
 °^° ^^^- day seem unpro- 
 
 pitious ; but in a sport-stinting season, even natives are very 
 apt to try and get a day that, in a favourable winter, would be 
 rejected. Gentlemen who leave their homes for the purpose of 
 hunting are fairly excusable for going sliding and slipping to a 
 meet. Not but that even fhey had better stay at their lodgings 
 and read the " Annual Register," or whatever work of light 
 reading they have brought with them. 
 
EAWBUCK GRANGE. 157 
 
 Speaking of tlic season, 184G-7, our friend Scott, after pre- 
 facing his observations by declaring that he "doesn't wish to 
 say any tiling unhandsome of the weatlier, or of anyltody," 
 denounces it as " the most tricky, capricious, unliands(jme 
 season he ever remembers." "It is not the frost and snow 
 that I complain of," says he, " though we had enough of them 
 in all conscience, but it was the dirty, deceitful, delusive sort 
 of changing that kept raising men's hopes, apparently for no 
 other purpose than ' dashing them to spinage.' " 
 
 Of course he spoke of the weather in Mr. Neville's country, 
 but we believe it was pretty much the same all over. After an 
 inordinate quantity of frost and snow, from the end of 
 November to the beginning of January, there was a slight 
 cessation, and the wide-awake ones actually got a few days' 
 hunting in some countries. At the end of the first week, how- 
 ever, just as all the packs were again blooming into advertise- 
 ment, back came the frost, harder, if possible, than ever, 
 accompanied by a fresli f;^ll of snow ; and again, about the last 
 week of the month, they both disappeared, and hunting was 
 resumed with all the advantages of first-rate scent, to be 
 again stopped on the 31st, by the return of frost and snow. 
 Tlien look at that little snuffling, shabby month of February, 
 one that in ordinary seasons we reckon as the second best 
 hunting one of the year. It came in, of course, with a white 
 coat and an icicled nose, when all of a sudden, on the night of 
 the 4th, it turned to a thaw, the west wind got up and cleared 
 the country of snow in an incredible short space of time, when 
 lo ! as all the snow-broth yet floated on the fields, back came 
 the frost on the 7th, caking it on the top, to the damage, if not 
 the destruction of the wheat crops, and then a fall of snow 
 succeeded to keep all snug. Now that we call very unhand- 
 some — unworthy of the great and enlightened eighteen hundred 
 and forty-seven ; it's as bad as kicking a man when he's 
 down. 
 
 Not being fond of doubtful days, Tom Scott missed a run or 
 
158 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 two during the first interregnum, and paid dearly for it by the 
 persecution of Muff & Co., who happened to be out. Indeed, 
 he could hardly get their township books through at the next 
 meeting of the board of guardians, from first Muff, and then 
 Tinhead, and then Tinhead, and then Muff", bursting into 
 exclamations about it. 
 
 " Thomas Felix Badman, relieved in kind — two kicks and a 
 basin of barley water," read the clerk. 
 
 " Major ! do you recollect that splendid cast the hounds 
 made of themselves at the four cross roads ? Just as we came 
 to Briarly Dell, where the fox had met the sheep in the face, 
 and made them ' right about wheel ? ' " inquired Muff 
 (Tarquinius), who was in the chair, of his docile friend 
 Tinhead, who stood warming himself before the fire. 
 
 " Ellen Draggletail told she must behave herself better, or 
 she'll get no more ginger," continued the clerk. 
 
 " Ah, but did you see them at Heathhanger Bridge ? " asked 
 the major : " I don't think I ever saw hounds behave better." 
 
 " January 3. — Mark Scrimagour received into the house at 
 four o'clock without any hat, and a pair of shocking bad 
 breeches — lent him a cap and a pair of union trousers," read 
 the clerk. 
 
 " The fox had run the parapet," observed Tinhead, " and 
 when khe hounds came up, of course they " 
 
 *' January 4. — Mark Scrimagour refused to scour the candle- 
 sticks, because he had not had enough sugar in his milk at 
 breakfast." 
 
 " Hang his sugar," snapped Tinhead. 
 
 " By the way, Mr. Scott, what got you ? " inquired the all- 
 important Tarquinius Muff, throwing open his blue paletot, 
 and displaying an acre of chest, bespangled with studs and 
 encircled with chains. " I thought you were one of the ' never- 
 say-die ' sort," continued he — " a regular sacre matin man for 
 the chaf!se, as the French say." 
 
 Tlie hounds had had good sport, an hour and twenty minutes 
 
nA Wn UCK ORANGE. 159 
 
 one (lay, and a very sliarp twenty minutes tlie second ; and if 
 Tom luul had an hour and twenty minutes to compose it in, 
 he'd have said somethin<jj to MufF as sharp as the last run ; as 
 it was, he pai'ried his impoi'tunitics by pretending to be 
 desperately busy with the accounts, inwardly resolving not to 
 give him a chance of crowing over him another time. 
 
 The foregoing took place on a Wednesday, and an opportunity 
 was afforded on the Friday. Mr. Neville always advertises his 
 hounds, in doubtful times, putting " weather permitting " at 
 the top of the advertisement. This is a good plan, for though 
 masters may say that it is always understood they hunt the last 
 advertised meets, or meet at the kennel the first hunting day, 
 we can assure them there is no such regular understanding in 
 the world, and people don't like running the double chance of 
 " weather permitting," and hounds being " somewhere else " 
 too. Advertising costs nothing ; the trouble to " masters " is a 
 mere trifle, while the convenience to the country is very great. 
 Localities vary so. The frost sometimes strikes a particular 
 district, while a neighbouring one is wholly untouched. We 
 have seen a difference of three weeks' iiunting between adjoin- 
 ing countries — hounds being at a stand-still in the one, while 
 they were going on, with sport too, in the other. Sea-side 
 tracts are often quite huntable, while inland and particularly 
 upland regions, are perfectly unrideable. Again, we have seen 
 the reverse of this. We have seen a sea-side country bound up 
 in iron frost, while hounds met, hunted, had sport, ay and 
 killed their fox, ten miles inland. At least we were told so, for 
 we didn't go to see. It was rather a singular circumstance, for 
 we got within four miles of the meet before we turned back, 
 having got our horse from the groom, who had turned too. 
 The ground certainly was so hard where we changed that we 
 could scarcely find fault with the man for turning ; but being 
 so far on the road, and the horse wanting work, we thought we 
 might as well go on, which we did, till we came to the house of 
 a friend, who persuaded us it was perfectly ridiculous going ; 
 
160 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 the meet being the highest, coldest, bleakest, most frosL- 
 catching place in the world. He wouldn't go for any money. 
 So we sat an honr or two with him, in the course of which 
 the horse caught cold, and we returned home with a sora 
 throat. 
 
 These sudden changes and capricious visitations defy all 
 calculation. The only serviceable observation that can be 
 made, is the situation of the kennel, and whether it is in a 
 country liable to be suddenly fi'ost-stricken or not, so as to 
 prevent hounds leaving it : for though hounds may be 
 entrapped into a frosty country out of a soft oue, yet there is 
 seldom much chance of their leaving a frosty one in search of 
 a soft one. " Too hard,''^ the huntsman will say the first thing 
 in the morning, and that settles the business of the day. 
 
 It is odd that few days are so bad but that some one will 
 appear at an advertised meet. Even though they go sliding and 
 skating at the imminent risk of their limbs, if they mount 
 their scarlets, they will mount their horses too. They get their 
 rides at all events, and their horses exercised ; and even should 
 the hounds come, they know thep have no occasion to ride a 
 yard unless they like. It is another matter, however, with 
 the huntsman and whips. They must follow their hounds, 
 and despite the cavillings and grumblings of fault-pickers and 
 hole-finders, we maintain that hounds far oftener throw ofp 
 when they should not than refuse when they ought. 
 
 There is no pleasure in hunting in a frost. None whatever. 
 Far better stay at home, and read the " Post Office Directory,' 
 " Annual Kegister," or any work that is not encumbered with 
 a plot, than go picking one's ground so as to keep where the 
 sun has struck, leaving a yard measure behind each hoof on 
 pulling up. Men who leave their homes for the purpose of 
 hunting must occupy their time in some way or other, and 
 those who can't read are perhaps excusable in accompanying 
 hounds. It is of no use contending with the elements. It is 
 poor work shivering at a meet, calculating whether hounds will 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 161 
 
 oome or not — mao^niCyino; old women's red petticoats ii)to 
 " pinks," and flocks of sheep into hounds. 
 
 There is a sort of desolation attending doubtful days, unlike 
 the concomitants of regular seasonable hunting ones. Long 
 before one gets to the meet — whatever country it may be in — 
 one sees something indicative of hunting on a real hunting 
 day. A lad riding faster than his horse, a countryman with a 
 stick, pacing along at a very different rate to what he would 
 be going if he were carrying a message from his master ; the 
 imprints of light-shod horses on the grassy road sidings, or 
 careful grooms clustering at the doors of the Red Lion or 
 Barleymow, taking their early glasses as they loiter to cover ; 
 but on a doubtful frosty morning, all doors are closed, no one 
 turns out that can help it ; master rides his own horse on, and 
 saunters round by the farm, or the factotum's, or some place or 
 other to kill time and see what effect the sun has as he goes. 
 If you arrive at the meet at the right time, the chances are 
 there is nobody there, and you begin to fear you have mistaken 
 the day. The children stare with astonishment ; and one urchin 
 bolder than the rest at length ventures to ask if the " hunds 
 be a coomin to-day?" That's just what tjou vfant to know. 
 A quarter of an hour elapses and still no symptoms of hunting. 
 Your watch perhaps may have stolen a march, or the clocks 
 may vary. If it's at a village, however, the clocks presently 
 undeceive you. A miller comes past, riding on his sacks ; 
 you ask him where the hounds come to when they meet there, 
 and he assures you he knows nothing about them — millers 
 never do — they are the most uninformed race of men under 
 the sun. Some people, however, have the knack of knowing 
 nothing, and the way they preserve their ignorance is truly 
 astonishing : they should have a patent for it. " Ar doau't 
 know " — " Ar carn't tell " — are the invariable drawls after a 
 good stare. Ask a cockney boy where such a street is, and he 
 tells you in a minute, or slangs you well ; but a yokel can't 
 declare his ignorance without exposing his stupidity. 
 
162 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 But we are reversing the order of, things, and converting a 
 real Tom Scott day into an imaginary one, instead of making 
 an imaginary day look as much like a real one as possible. 
 We began by deprecating doubtful days, and showed how Tom 
 had missed two runs during the brief interregnum of January 
 by adhering to the doctrine, and now we propose showing, a 
 very common case if people would but admit it, how Tom was 
 piqued into going by a man — a gentleman we should say — of 
 whose hunting capabilities he has no great opinion. Mr. 
 Neville's Hounds met on this day at the village of Thornfield, 
 on the north side of their country, not a bad rough sort of 
 meet, and one whose woodlands are favourable and accommo- 
 dating for hounds, especially in frosty weather. Still it is a 
 place Tom very seldom goes to, nor would he have thought of 
 it, but for the Growings of Tarquinius MnflF, and the fear of 
 giving him another opportunity. Independently of that, Tom 
 had employed some of his leisure frost in riding over to Snails- 
 well once or twice, and though we are not at liberty to mention 
 (except in strict confidence, of course) what passed between 
 the fair Lydia and him, yet we may say, that it had been so 
 far satisfactory as to induce him to make a fresh appointment 
 at each leaving. " I'll ride over again on Sunday," or " I'll 
 look in upon you again as I'm passing to Edge-Hill on 
 Monday ,"'he would say, for he carried on the courtship more 
 by " innuendo " than by the old point blank, " If you love me 
 as I love you," &c. Indeed, to tell the truth, Tom is rather a 
 cautious cock, and thought if he could but get his own consent, 
 that of the lady would follow as a matter of course. We have 
 already hinted that she would not have any money, but this 
 deficiency Tom had at length induced himself to overlook ; 
 but thinking that a woman who w^as to be a " fortune in her- 
 self," ought to be sound and all right, he had lately stuck at 
 the matter of her teeth, whose beautiful pearly whiteness he 
 thought " too good to stand." Upon this point he determined 
 to take the opinion of his friend Mrs. Sylvanus BluflF. a lady 
 
.// A \y II UCK tin A N(iE. 
 
 163 
 
 j:freat in the medical art, and it was until her decision was 
 obtained that he now huni;- " off." All that, however, will 
 hereafter more fully and at larj^^e appear, as the lawyei'S say, 
 though we believe if the frost had lasted steadily, Tom would 
 have dropped (piietlyinto an euti-agemcnt, an offer at all events, 
 for the visits were getting both more frequent and longer, 
 
 OUR Ol.n FRIENTi DOrTOR PODGERS. 
 
 «vhen the upbraidings of Muff nettled him into taking advan- 
 tage of an apparent change in the weather. 
 
 80 now to the day named at the head of the page. The 
 previous one felt like frost, and the morning of this one was 
 decidedly frosty, but having been called for hunting Tom got 
 up, and having got up he got breakfast, and having got break- 
 fast he got on to his horse, and though his hoofs made that 
 ringing sort of sound peculiar to horses and well-built London 
 carriages on hard roads, he speculated on the influence of the 
 sun and the favourableness of the woodland bottoms, and 
 
164 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 proceeded on his road as we have described up to the conversa- 
 tion with the miller. Therefore that part of the sketch may 
 stand as " part of the bill." 
 
 As the miller slouched out of sight, and Scott rode back- 
 wards and forwards on the village bridge, a pair of leather 
 breeches hove in sight — not the genteel cream-coloured things 
 of modern times, but a pair of good old-fashioned yellow ochres, 
 ^vhose owner was further encased in a black dress coat, a black 
 satin stock, and dingy lack-lustre boots. 
 
 It was our old friend Doctor Podgers, on his fat black pony, 
 master and nag counterparts of each other. 
 
 On ordinary occasions a doctor may be in boots and breeches 
 without signifying a hunt, but a rich grandfather-looking 
 silver-mounted hunting whip^ and a ribbon to his shaved black 
 hat, committed him beyond all extrication. 
 
 " Good morning. Doctor," said Scott ; " do you think the 
 hounds will come ? " 
 
 Doctor (raising his hat to the extremity of the ribbon). 
 " Upon my word, sir, I don't know. What do you think ? " 
 " Why, I think so of course, or I shouldn't be here." 
 " It's very cold. Do you think the frost is going to hold ? " 
 at length Scott asked, rather ashamed of his tartness. 
 
 Doctor. " Upon my word, sir, I don't know. What do you 
 think ? " 
 
 Though a man may " trot " himself into a belief that there 
 will be hunting, the sad reality of " standing " generally 
 produces a candid opinion. 
 
 Scott could not but admit that the ground about was very 
 hard, that the atmosphere was very frosty, and the only chance 
 there was of hounds coming seemed to be the possibility that it 
 might not be quite so hard or so frosty in the neighbourhood 
 of the kennel. 
 
 The only alleviating circumstance there is in a case of non- 
 hunting is the coming of the hounds, which shows that a man 
 is not so wide of the mark as he would otherwise appear. 
 
nAlVBUCK GRANGE. 165 
 
 Inclccfl, it almost amounts to a case of " bit]^ foolism" boincr 
 there without them, and Scott strained his eyes and cocked his 
 ears up the Gunnerton Road, in hopes of seeing them or of hear- 
 nig one of those knowing notes that fall so musically on the ear, 
 so symptomatic of hunting, so unmistakable for anything else. 
 
 It was all in vain. 
 
 There was a crack of a whip, but it was a cartman's — there 
 was a holloa, but it was from a boy frightening crows. There 
 is no more similarity between these and the gQumne thing than 
 there is between the jovial mirth of the village school broke 
 loose upon the green and the determined tallyho of the man 
 who has been thrown into convulsions by viewing the fox. 
 
 Scott began to be rather ashamed of having come, especially 
 as he could not but feel (though of course he would not admit 
 it to anybody) that he had been rather " talked into it " by 
 Tarquinius Miiif. 
 
 Just as he thought of MufF, his other greatest abhorrence of 
 life, Dolores Bro-wn of Bleakhope, cast up. 
 
 There are some people in the world whose looks or whose 
 manners are so raelancholily lugubrious as to make one 
 unhappy to see them, and Dolores combines both these un- 
 fortunate qualities. He is the most unhappy-looking wretch 
 that ever was seen. He is a sort of ill-omened bird, for 
 people say they never have sport when he is out. Some 
 people's jolly good-natured phizzes set one agog and cheer one 
 up, but Dolores never does anything but depress the spirits. 
 It isn't his nasty looks alone, but he is an ill-conditioned 
 ci-eature into the bargain. Nobody ever heard him say a good 
 w^ord of any one without his adding as much spite as counter- 
 acted the praise. He may be called a praising detractor, onl\ 
 he does much more in the detracting than in the praising line. 
 He is a grumbling, dissatisfied, cantankerous animal, never 
 happy but when he's miserable. He has always some fault to 
 find, some hole to pick, or some misfortune to forebode. The 
 master of the hounds is generally his stock victim. He, poor 
 
166 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 man ! never does anything right. After the master, the hunts- 
 man comes in for his maledictions, and then the whip. It is 
 gratifying to know that Mrs. Brown takes her " change " out of 
 him at home. There, he daren't say his " soul's his own," and 
 we have often heard it suggested that he comes out hunting to 
 escape her. "Whatever his motive may be, it is a frequent 
 observation that Dolores Brown never brings luck. A doubt- 
 ful day seems just the sort of one for him to cast upon. 
 
 If we had a Daguerreotype machine we would sketch him 
 as he sits under the stunted, crooked, decaying ash tree, and 
 impale him on our page ; but that not being practicable and 
 our friend " Phiz " not being at hand, we will just do what we 
 can with the pen. 
 
 Dolores is a farmer — a large farmer — he keeps four or five 
 draughts, and has two or three thousand sheep herding on the 
 downs about his appropriately-named residence of " Bleak- 
 hope " — one of the highest, coldest, most exposed places in the 
 country. Still, as if by a frolic of nature, there is some good 
 land upon it, and, cold as he looks, Dolores is supposed to be 
 warm. To look at his nasty, lank, straggling, sandy-coloured 
 hair, impoverished whiskers, and clay-coloured cheeks, you 
 would fancy he was the follower of some noisome trade instead 
 of a wholesome out-of-door-living farmer. He may be any age 
 from thirty to fifty ; indeed, one often sees far fresher-looking 
 men at sixty or even seventy. His features are hai'sh and 
 sharp, and there is a cunning watchfulness about his little 
 watery grey eyes. 
 
 His clothes are as unwholesome looking as his person. His 
 napless, low-crowned hat is all glue-stained round the band, the 
 marks widening out in front into a thing like a chimney- 
 sweeper's badge. The frost makes the hat's browning hue 
 more apparent. A good hat is about the only thing that looks 
 well on a frosty day, and if anything will bring a thaw it surely 
 Is the temptation a new one offers to Jupiter Pluvius. 
 Dolores' coarse draggling gills are guileless of starch, and his 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. Ifi? 
 
 washed-out, blue-striped neckcloth, dirty, twisted, and knotted 
 iuto what the French call a " Tyburn tye," exposes, rather than 
 covers, his long scraggy neck. The greasy collar of a brown- 
 ing black cut-away coat, and the frayed top of a shabby striped 
 waistcoat, appear above a seedy, well-worn brown tweed, 
 slightly slit up behind for the saddle, and covering the greater 
 part of the hard, crackey -looking patent cords, and almost 
 black top-boots in which his spindle shanks are shrouded. 
 
 His horse was a bay, until it was clipped and singed into a 
 dun-duckety sort of mud colour. The cold makes the unever 
 jagging of the scissors and the blotches of the singer more 
 apparent, for badly clipped greys are the only horses that will 
 stand the searching investigation of a frosty day. This horse 
 is a sour - headed, sunk - eyed, cock-throppled, ewe-necked, 
 ragged-maned beggar, though with some apparent breeding 
 about him. Light feeding seems the order of the day both 
 with horse and master, and despite the laziness of the season, 
 Dolores has contrived, by the substitution of bran mashes and 
 boiled turnips for corn, to keep his horse's girth in much the 
 same moderate compass as his own. Between its ragged, 
 rubbed-out tail and Dolores' shabby, straggling locks there is a 
 striking resemblance, and altogether, what with the bother of 
 the little doctor, the nastiness of Dolores, and the unpromising 
 appearance of the day, we hope the considerate reader will 
 excuse Tom Scott slipping up to the sign of the " Haymaker " 
 to get a glass of brandy and water. 
 
 Hark ! here come horses ! Three red coats heave in sight 
 on the sheep-walk road, visible as they pass the gaps and bits 
 of walls built into the ragged hedge, where the village and pedes- 
 trian depredations have extinguished all hopes of the quicks 
 being permitted to grow. 
 
 The sight of red coats is cheering. " No knowing but the 
 hounds may come yet," said Scott to himself, as he returned, 
 
168 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 feeling like a giant reft-eshed, " throw off, have a glorious run, 
 old Dolores be trundled into a black bog, and the hounds run 
 into their fox on the hill above Hawbuck Grange." 
 
 " The horses' hoofs sound louder than I hke," continued he, 
 cocking his ear to the east wind, " forbiddingly keen ; " but no 
 sportsman ever forgets that the celebrated Billesden Coplow run 
 took place under similar unfavourable circumstances. 
 
 The tramp of horses approaches. 
 
 What a noise the riders make ! Their jabber sounds on the 
 clear frosty air as if they were close by, though they are still a 
 quarter of a mile off. " Hah ! hah ! hah ! " what a laugh. 
 There it is again ! " Haw ! haw ! haw ! " deeper and deeper 
 still. " He ! he ! he ! " a third volley. The hounds must be 
 coming, and they know it. There goes the baccy ! Smoking 
 and all. How clear that puff by the gate curled up in the 
 pure air :' Lord, how they laugh ! That must be a capital 
 joke, for they are all " haw ! haw ! hawing ! " together. Who 
 can they be ? 
 
 " As' I live," exclaimed our friend Scott, " the Muffs, and old 
 Tom Tinhead ! " 
 
 Fortunately Scott made the discovery just in time to enable 
 him to slip back to the sign of the " Haymaker," from the cow- 
 shed at the end of which he surveyed the scene and overheard 
 the conversation. 
 
 Up came great " Muff Tarquinius," as Trumper calls him, 
 full fig, in a spick and span hat, new bright scarlet coat, with 
 the corner of a white cambric handkerchief peeping out of the 
 breast pocket, a sky-blue satin cravat, embroidered with roses 
 and lilies, a roll collar waistcoat, most unexceptionable leathers, 
 and shining jack boots, set off with bright heavy spurs, run- 
 ning most desperately to neck. Tarquinius Muff is an im- 
 mense man ; we dare say he rides eighteen stone, and sits full 
 souse on his horse, for all the world like a five thousand a year 
 man, as he is. Could he have been certain that the hounds 
 would not come he would not have had a care, in the world, for 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 169 
 
 he was '* y-ot up " for the drawing-room and not for the cover 
 side. Just the man for a frosty day. 
 
 Bad as old Muff is we really think he is better than his 
 brother, Blatheremskite. Blathercmskite affects the coach- 
 man ; but his favourite " Rover " and " Telegraph " being off 
 the road, he mourns their glories in the dress of a coachman, 
 which he cleverly adapts to all the pursuits of life. His 
 shining silk hat is " as round as a cheese, and as flat as a 
 flounder." His hair is close-cropped, and his white shawl 
 cravat is secured by a massive gold coach-and-four pin, forcing 
 its way above the step collar of his long, coachman-cut, rough, 
 drab velvety - looking waistcoat, with a double row of flap 
 pockets. His stout, india-rubber cloth, strait-cut, cuffless 
 scarlet, is a compound of stitching, back strapping, and flaps. 
 The narrow collar has a strong double hem, the seams behind 
 are back strapped, and there is a curious device of strength 
 just above the waist buttons, looking as though he expected a 
 trial of strength with the garment generally, or a game of 
 "pull devil, pull baker," with the laps. The outside pockets 
 are guarded with ample double-stitched flaps, out of the mouth 
 of one of which what he would call a " bird's eye fogle ' 
 appears, while the other has got a decided drag downwards 
 from the frequent occupation of his hand. The front buttons 
 are firmly set in on a separate strip of cloth, and about the 
 centre of the breast is a small sort of watch-pocket, as if he 
 had to time himself constantly. The broad greenish-coloured 
 patent cord breeches, buttoning in front with mother-of-pearl 
 buttons, come a long way down the leg, where they at last meet 
 a pair of receding tops, the length of the breeches and the 
 shortness of the boots producing the observation from Tom 
 Bowles, the first whip and wag of the hunt, that " he supposed 
 Mr. Blatheremskite paid double price for one and half price for 
 the other." The long tops are of the roseate tint, and the 
 thick double soles are of a texture to resist any quantity of wel ; 
 all very well for a coachman paddling about a coach in sloppy 
 
 n2 
 
170 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 weather, but perfectly unnecessary for *ven the most inveterate 
 " leader over " of a fox-hunter. His action, as well as his 
 dress, is that of the coachman. He holds his reins, and works 
 his arms, as if he were on the box ; and, altogether, he is about 
 as great a snob as the great historian of " Snobs " himself could 
 wish to draw. 
 
 " Hallo, doctor ! " exclaimed Muff to our friend of the yellow 
 ochres, as the trio turned into the road, " halloo, doctor ! at it 
 again; keen dog, keen dog, very." 
 
 Doctor Podgers acknowledged the compliment by raising his 
 hat to the limit of the hunting string. 
 
 " Where are the hounds ? " asked Muff. 
 
 " Not come," replied the doctor. 
 
 " Not come ! " retorted Muff ; " why what's happened ? " 
 
 " I think it will be the frost," observed an earthstopping game- 
 keeper, touching his hat, and cracking an ice-star with his staff. 
 
 " Frost ? " exclaimed Muff ; " there's no frost to hurt." 
 
 " None whatever ! " assented Blatheremskite, breaking an 
 upshot column of smoke against his hat brim. 
 
 " Oh, they're sure to come," rejoined Muff, after a pause, 
 hoping they wouldn't, adding, " there's no frost in the ground, 
 none whatever." 
 
 " It's hard here," observed the gamekeeper, tapping his hob- 
 nailed shoes against the ground. 
 
 " Oh, but that will give by twelve o'clock ; see what a sun 
 there is overhead," continued Muff, looking up at the heavens. 
 
 " They can't plough," observed the keeper, thinking to 
 clench the argument. 
 
 " Ah, that's because they won't," replied Muff, turning to 
 Brown with a " what do you think of the matter, Mr. Brown ? " 
 
 Of course Brown, like all men at a meet, thought hounds 
 were " sure to come ; " but mere opinion not having the effect 
 of drawing them, after about ten minutes consumed in smoking 
 and flopping their arms, the conversation began to take a 
 downhill turn, derogatory to the hounds and their management. 
 
EAWBUCK GRANOE. 171 
 
 "Well, this is the slowest thing I ever saw in my life," ex- 
 claimed Muff, as his fears were quieted on recofrnising Tom 
 Muffinmouth's face under a hunting cap, instead of that of one 
 of the servants coming as he feared with the dread intelligence 
 that the hounds would be there at twelve. 
 
 ** Well, this is the slowest thing I ever saw in my life," re- 
 peated he, tendering Tom the unusual compliment of a hand ; 
 for Muff tries to combine the courtesy of the candidate with the 
 open frankness of the fox-hunter. 
 
 " What ? " inquired Tom, blushing, thinking Muff meant 
 that his new sugar-loaf-shaped cap was the slowest thing he 
 ever saw in his life ; nor would it have been far from the mark 
 if he had said so. 
 
 " The hounds not coming," replied Muff, with ill-feigned 
 disgust ; Tom MuflRnmouth assented, notwithstanding his blue 
 nose and red-rimmed ears gave striking evidence of the severity 
 of the frost. 
 
 "Neville's getting too old," observed Muff, with a toss of the 
 head and flourish of the hand. " One doesn't like to say any- 
 thing in disparagement of an old man who has been a good one 
 in his time," continued he, " but, between you and I, it's about 
 time he was laid on the shelf." 
 
 " Old Ben's all bedavered, too," observed Dolores Brown 
 with a sneer ; " he never rides over a fence if he can get any 
 one to pull it down. He set all my South Downs wrong the 
 other day merely because he wouldn't ride over a hurdle." 
 
 With this and similar conversation the next quarter of an 
 hour was beguiled, the perfect incompetence of the whole 
 establishment becoming more clearly developed as the discus- 
 sion proceeded, until, like Gil Bias's mule, it seemed all faults. 
 A successor, who lived more in the centre of the country (like 
 Muff), was faintly hinted at, and having allowed the discussion 
 to run up to appropriating point. Muff adjourned the meeting, 
 and, attended by his staff, Blatheremskite and Tinhead pro- 
 ceeded to Honeybower Hall to lunch and flirt with the Miss 
 
172 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 Oglebys — for, shocking to relate, such is the lamentable desti- 
 tution of country society, that these fine girls are forced to 
 tolerate the Muffs, while Tinhead is pawned off on the old lady. 
 
 As they disappeared in the distance, Scott came sneaking out 
 of his hiding-place, intending to be off too, when a joyous 
 " Yonder they come ! yonder they come ! " diffused pleasure 
 over the faces of the hitherto disappointed-looking countrymen 
 who had been losing a day in hopes of a hunt. We always pity 
 a countryman under such circumstances. Strong must be the 
 passion for hunting that induces a man to sacrifice his total 
 income for that day for the pleasure of the chase, " Little 
 think the great men," as Mr. Canning's friend of humanity 
 said to the needy knife-grinder, when interrogating him about 
 his misfortunes, " little think the great men," say we, " mounted 
 on their spicy steeds, with cigars in their mouths, and good 
 dinners in view at the end of the day, how much better they 
 are off than the poor pedestrian, who returns leg-weary and 
 worn to his home, without even the usual humble fare his 
 labour would have procured him." 
 
 The cynic may say he had no business out hunting ; but 
 sportsmen will take a kinder view of the case, and feel for the 
 man whose ardour has carried him into a pleasure that he can- 
 not afford. Let sportsmen do more ! Let them put their 
 hands in their pockets and give them a shilling. 
 
 Money thus bestowed is not always wasted, as we will prove 
 by an incident that happened to our friend Scott last season. 
 He was riding over a half-finished bridge on the " Grand Gam- 
 mon and Spinach Junction Railway," when the taskmaster, 
 timekeeper, overlooker, or whatever they call the man in 
 authority, exclaimed, as the hounds caused the navvies to pause 
 and look up from their work, *' Come ! drop it at once, or stick 
 to it ! " causing a struggle between duty and inclination, end- 
 ing, however, in the general triumph of duty, and return to the 
 digging. Two men only out of above forty threw down their 
 Bpades, and, mounting their flannels, set off" after the hounds. 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 173 
 
 " You are fond of a \\\\nt then ? " said Scott, as they came 
 running past them. 
 
 " 'Deed am I, your honour ! " replied the first, whose good- 
 natured open countenance proclaimed him an Emeralder, even 
 before he spoke. 
 
 " Well, then, I'll give you a shilling," said Scott, handing 
 them each one. 
 
 " Long life to your honour 1 " exclaimed one. 
 
 " Sure you're a worshipful jontleman," observed the other. 
 
 After crossing the railway they came upon the rich vale of 
 Grassmere, rich in agricultural possessions, lavish in black 
 bogs, and renowned for the width and bottomlessness of its 
 drains. What persuaded old Ben, who was merely going from 
 cover to cover, to cross it, we don't know, but the field were 
 presently at a cut that set the " f unkers' nerves a-shaking," as 
 the song says. It wasn't a large place, but it was a deep one, 
 and the three or fc^r first horses breaking the somewhat under- 
 mined banks, it began to look wider and wider, till Tarquinius 
 Muff's famous water-jumper, Harlequin, coming up full tilt, 
 made a regular " stand and deliver," shooting his luckless rider 
 overhead in the muddy water. 
 
 Splash, splash, blob, blob, up and down, backwards and 
 forwards, Muff went, now calling out for help, now emptying 
 his hat, now fishing for his whip, now feeling for his gloves, in 
 the dripping, forlorn, drowned-rat, pitiable-looking state of an 
 extinguished exquisite, setting those who had got across laugh- 
 ing, and those who were on the wrong side wishing " they were 
 well over." 
 
 There wasn't a man there but whose horse would have taken 
 the cut (according to their own accounts), if Tai'quinius's had 
 not set them the example of refusing, and diverting it was to 
 see the half resolute, half timid way some of them rode at it, 
 pretending to " shove," but in reaUty holding for a crane. 
 
 " None but the bold deserve to clear the brook," and unless 
 horse and rider are well agreed upon the point and go at it reso* 
 
174 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 lutely, it is far better to tie the whipthpng to the snaffle rein, 
 and lead over, or to blob in and out, anything rather than a 
 '* stand and deliver," or a mutual recumbency in the bottom. 
 We don't know a more humiliating sight than a man " rocking- 
 horsing it " in a brook — now the head up, now the tail, now 
 the tail, and now the head — till they either struggle out (per- 
 haps on the wrong side), or part company, the horse perhaps 
 setting off on an expedition of its own to discover the source or 
 defluxion of the stream. 
 
 Scott was riding the "young-un," the chestnut, a sweet 
 horse, well worth a hundred to any of our readers, but with the 
 common complaint of well-bred young-uns — rai/ther given to 
 bucking at water. In getting away from Coldbrook Gorse one 
 day after just two rounds that showed there was a rare scent, 
 and the crash and music of the bitches had raised any little 
 remnant of pluck to its highest pitch, when, careering down 
 the grass-field on the north side of the cover, Scott came upon 
 Tarquinius Muff's former bed of roses before he knew where he 
 was. He was up in his stirrups though, and seeing master 
 Reynard travelling away at a very business-like pace over a 
 famous large pasture, he dropped the " Vincents " into the 
 young-un, giving him a shake of the head, as much as to say, 
 " Look what you're after." 
 
 Down they came upon the brook. 
 
 Tom thought nothing in the world could prevent their being 
 over, when, lo ! up bucked the young-un, Tom doesn't know 
 how high, and dropped right into the middle of it. If he had 
 only stretched himself to the extent that he rose, he would have 
 cleared two such places. 
 
 But we will draw the curtain over the remainder of that 
 scene, and proceed to " Brook No. 2." 
 
 With a lively recollection of the misfortunes of No. 1, Tom 
 contemplated the scene at No. 2 with anything but pleasurable 
 emotions. 
 
 The " young-un " had not seen water since his immersion. 
 
o 
 
 u 
 o 
 
 m 
 
 r 
 
 H 
 
 a 
 z 
 o 
 > 
 cu 
 
 03 
 
 o 
 z 
 
 > 
 -J 
 u. 
 
 S 
 
 r 
 
 H 
 
 z 
 
 u 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 175 
 
 though he set up his back and snorted as he came up as if he 
 had a perfect recollection of it. Cold-blooded water leaping, 
 especially on a cold day, is always to be deprecated, and Tom 
 was just going to practise what we preach, by knotting the point 
 of his whip to the rein, and leading over, with " lots of line," 
 when his Irish friend nudged his elbow. 
 
 " Sure, your honour, I'll ride him over for you," said Paddy. 
 
 "Will you?" said Scott; "but are you sure you can 
 ride ? " 
 
 " Arrah, by Jasus, and is it myself you ax that question on ? 
 Sure I was groom to the great Squire something, of some- 
 thing Castle, who kept a stud of forty horses, besides milch 
 cows, and a dacent sprinkling of pigs." 
 
 With this his friend began poking his high-low into the 
 stirrup, and having got the reins clubbed in his hand, in the 
 true " hang-on-by-the-head " style, he was presently in the 
 saddle, and turned away to get a run at the brook, so as to take 
 it flying. And very flying-like he looked, his wild hair strag- 
 ling away from beneath a muffin cap, his loose flannel jacket 
 filling with wind, and his red and green garter ends flowing 
 about the saddle flaps as he went. 
 
 Having taken a liberal distance, he forthwith began kicking 
 and talking to the horse, increasing his speed and raising his 
 voice as he went till he got him full gallop, when, with a 
 flourish of his arm and a wild hier-r-r-o-s-h sort of shout, he 
 sent him flying many feet beyond the foremost hoof -mark across 
 the cut. 
 
 " Eide mine over, Paddy ! and I'll give you a shilling ! " 
 " Eide mine over, Paddy, and I'll give you half-a-crown ! " 
 shouted several. 
 
 " Sure but I'll be losing the hunt if I do," replied Pat, dis- 
 mounting and running away. 
 
 There's a long story by way of parenthesis, supposed to be 
 told on a frosty morning while waiting for hounds. We had 
 jn?'- got to the outburst of joy that proceeded from the group 
 
176 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 of pedestrians as old Ben and the hounds appeared, rounding 
 Wenburg Hill in the distance, after giving the field a somewhat 
 long wait, that looked very like not coming. The bustling 
 pace at which they approached, while it looked very like busi- 
 ness, would have cut our story through in the middle, if we had 
 been allowed no longer time for the telling it than intervened 
 between the view and the arrival. 
 
 " Gently, Rantipole ! hie hack ! " rated Tom Bowles, as 
 Rantipole dashed in advance to seek for her master in the 
 crowd. 
 
 " Here again, hounds, here again ! " exclaimed old Ben, with 
 a whistle and wave of his hand, pulling up short at a gate to 
 take the hounds into a grass field. 
 
 " Good morning, Ben," said Scott, thinking that looked like 
 throwing off — " What are you going to do ? " 
 
 " Oh, I suppose we shall hunt, Sir," said Ben quite gaily, 
 with a touch of his cap as he spoke. 
 
 " Is Mr. Neville coming ? " asked Scott. 
 
 " No, Sir, but he said we had to hunt, if we could. • It'll do 
 the hounds no harm." 
 
 *' Foxes nouther," observed Tom Bowles. 
 
 " Tom Scott nouther," added our hero, cheered by the 
 intelligence. 
 
 "We hav'n't been here since cub-hunting," observed Ben, 
 " and the foxes want routing out sadly. There were three 
 litters hereabouts, and the farmers are beginning to complain 
 of the poultry. In such a season as this we must just take 
 every day we can get." 
 
 " It's a bad season," observed Scott. 
 
 " Shocking ! " rejoined Ben, with a solemn look and shake of 
 the head. 
 
 " I see the sessions are coming on," observed Tom Bowles, 
 " and they are advertising for people to send instructions for 
 indicting prisoners. I wish some one would send instructions 
 for indicting the weather. Talk about ether," added he, " for 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 177 
 
 cutting folk's heads off when they're asleep, without hurtin' of 
 them, I wish they'd etherise me, and let me sleep during a 
 frost." 
 
 It is odd how people " turn up " at a meet of hounds, let 
 the hour be what it will. The select party had not consumed 
 above five minutes in this sort of conversation before half-a- 
 dozen horsemen of one sort and another appeared. 
 
 Tom Griston and Giles Clapgate, both farmers, turned out of 
 the Falcon, while Mr. Sheepskin of Bossall and Mr. Randall 
 of Reay came riding together, and then there was Tom Muffin- 
 mouth, and Podgers, and the earth-stopping gamekeeper, who 
 had now got upon his pony. Best of all, Dolores Brown had 
 taken his departure in the wake of the MuflFs, the whole swear- 
 ing that hounds not coming was the " slowest thing " they 
 ever saw in their lives. 
 
 " Well I suppose we may as well be going," observed Ben, 
 eyeing the workpeople going home to their dinners, adding, 
 *' it's twelve o'clock by these clocks, it seems, though I should 
 say it was half past twelve by the day." 
 
 So saying, he whistled his hounds together, and trotted out 
 of the field to the cover. 
 
 This was a chain of woodlands, beginning at the village of 
 Thornfield, and stretching into a wider range about two miles 
 further on, where a wild and broken sort of country intervenes 
 between the vales. Rossington Wood comes in here, a sort of 
 amphitheatre, formed of wooded hills round an area of warm, 
 well-cultivated land, just the sort of place for a doubtful day. 
 In went the hounds. 
 
 They had not been in cover ten minutes before Tom Scott 
 saw by the increased motion of Ben's shoulders and heels, that 
 there was a scent afloat, though no hound as yet having spoke, 
 Ben did not care to break the silence. 
 
 At last, a low short whimper, more of a catch than a note, 
 brought out a " have at him, Brilliant, old boy ! " and presently 
 Brilliant threw his tongue in a downright " I'll stake-my- 
 
178 HA WB UGK GUA]^' GK 
 
 reputation-there's-a-fox " sort of way, ,that convinced Ben 
 there was one, though none of the others taking it up, Mr. 
 Sheepskin, the solicitor, hinted that it was in consequence of 
 Ben's cheer, and muttered something about its "not being 
 right to lead hounds in that way." 
 
 Brilliant presently dropped another note still deeper, that 
 old Ben cheered to the echo ; and first one and then another 
 joined in the proclamation, upon which Sheepskin observed, 
 *' if there wasn't a fox they ought all to be sus. per coV 
 
 " Hoic ! hoic ! forrard ! forrard ! " screamed old Ben, and 
 with one twang of the horn he went scrambling and tearing 
 through the wood regardless of branches, briars, breeches, and 
 boots. 
 
 What a crash they made ! There were five-and-twenty 
 couple of hounds, and every hound throwing his tongue, 
 making the woods echo and re-echo to their music. 
 
 They soon got to where the full width of the woods made it 
 advisable to keep inside, when the softness and splashiness of 
 the rides satisfied Tom Scott that old Ben had done right in 
 throwing off. The horses sunk in the ground as they went, 
 and threw the clay and mud about in a manner that was quite 
 delightful considering the frost. Scott got stained in a way 
 that would have done credit to November, and Sheepskin's 
 great splay-footed black horse put his foot in a trod that sent 
 the yellow water squirting up into his master's face, and nearly 
 blinded him. 
 
 " You've got six-and-eight pence worth there, I think, Sir," 
 said Tom Bowles, cantering past, as Sheepskin sat mopping his 
 face, dyeing a cheap white silk handkerchief yellow. 
 
 How much finer, wilder, and more natural is the cry of 
 hounds in a large, resounding wood, than the close, suppressed 
 muffle from a small, confined gorse. Artificial covers are 
 doubtless useful, but they detract sadly from the fine, riotous 
 spirit of hunting. Our friends had a rare chivey to-day. We 
 don't know how many foxes they viewed, but if the hounds 
 
HAWBUCK G R ANGE. 179 
 
 changed they must have done it very quickly, for they were 
 never off their noses. It takes a good deal of persuasion to 
 induce a fox to leave a wood of several hundred acres, especially 
 a wood where the travelling is more favourable to him than to 
 the hounds, and possibly nothing but the fact of his having 
 been hunted before, and being about as good a judge of pace 
 as a Newmarket " tout," could have induced him to be satisfied 
 with the two rings that he made of the amphitheatrish ground 
 before he proceeded up the Dean to the west of it. 
 
 There he was viewed by the foot people, " an enormous big- 
 un ! " and " dead beat," of course ; and as he was getting into 
 more circumventable covers, and the scent was first-rate, Mr. 
 Sheepskin expressed his opinion that he was as good as 
 " realised." 
 
 It is seldom that anybody says a good word for a fox, but 
 this certainly was a most accommodating one ; for instead of 
 taking the high ground, and sending the field skating and 
 sliding about at the risk of their limbs, he ran the bottoms, 
 and those he selected with considerable judgment. He took 
 them up Apedale Dean, through the Buckland Bog, and past 
 the Decoy at Casterton, scarcely crossing a dozen inclosures the 
 whole way. His line was then Swinbrook Plantations, where 
 he hung a bit, having been headed by some shooters, and 
 probably driven from his point, for he took down the little 
 valley of the Dingle, and was presently into Hardingham 
 Plantation. 
 
 One loses one's latitude and longitude so desperately out 
 hunting, especially in cover, that Scott had no idea which side 
 of the plantations they came out at, or where they were going, 
 further than that some well-hung green gates, and better 
 cultivated land, betokened prosperity. 
 
 They clattered through the gates, making the hard ground 
 resound with their horses' hoofs, while the frosty air was filled 
 with the cry of the pack, now running frantic for blood. 
 
 The nimble and accommodatingly disposed reader will now 
 
180 HAWBUCK GEANGE. 
 
 perhaps have blie kindness to transport him or herself 
 to Honeybower Hall, and imagine the Muffs palavering 
 the young ladies, while old Tom Tinhead is billeted on 
 " Mamma." 
 
 We need not trouble them with their balderdash ; how they 
 abused " old Neville," and ridiculed the idea of hounds not 
 coming, and how Tarquinius talked of "taking the country 
 himself if they didn't make him represent it," and so on, as 
 being matter quite as easily imagined as described. For that 
 piece of leniency, however, we must request the reader — 
 non-luncheon eater though he* may be — to accompany the 
 party to the parlour, where the usual savoury hashes are 
 commingled with jellies, roast potatoes, and cold fowls — 
 Hie-sos-sos-sos-sos ! 
 
 " Hark ! " exclaimed Muff in the middle of a merry 
 thought : " I thought I heard the horn," continued he, 
 rising and going to the bay window which opens to the 
 ground. 
 
 Muflf was right. It was old Ben sounding a requiem over 
 his fox in the park on the east side of the hall, a view that 
 never having taken of it before caused Scott not to recognise 
 it, till Muff stepped out of the window on to the lawn. 
 
 " Why, there's Mr. Muff ! " exclaimed our friend as he 
 recognised Muff's great white stomach between his black jacks 
 and red coat. 
 
 " So it is ! " replied Ben. " This will be Honey-bower 
 Hall, I dare say," observed he, looking at th^ house, with the 
 right of entry air of a Fox-hunter. 
 
 Ben had now got the brush and head in hand, and the pads 
 being distributed, up went the fox and down it came rolling 
 right into the jaws of the whole fifty hounds. 
 
 " Who-hoop ! tear Mm and eat Mm. ! Who-hoop ! " 
 
 * Ladies are always luncheon eaters, so we need not put "she' 
 here. 
 
^^yfuy^yt^/,d€^ -^^ C^i^^^^ 
 
tlAWBUCK GRANGl. 181 
 
 " I'll tell you what, Tom," said Scott to the whip as soon as 
 the latter had satisfied himself with hooping and screeching 
 while the hounds worried the fox, "I'll tell you what, I'll 
 five you a guinea if you'll go and present Mr. Tarquinius 
 Muff with the brush," pointing to Muff as he stood at 
 the window, surrounded by the ladies, like a cock of the 
 midden. 
 
 "I'll soon do that for nothing," replied Tom, taking the 
 brush from the huntsman, and shuffling away in the crab-like 
 fashion of a whipper-in, up to the house. 
 
 "Please, sir,''' said he, touching his cap, as he saw a frown 
 o'erspreading Muff's ample face instead of the smile that 
 usually irradiates a man about to be honoured. " Please, sir, 
 Ben has made free to send you the brush, and is sorry you've 
 missed the run." 
 
 "Is Ae.?" sneered Muff. "I feel much flattered by his 
 condescension," at the same time sticking his hands under his 
 coat-tails to remove all idea of his accepting the offer. 
 
 " Pray where is Mr. Neville ? " asked he, after a pause. 
 
 " He's not out, sir," replied Tom, with another touch of the 
 cap. 
 
 " Not out ! " exclaimed Muff. " You don't mean to say 
 you've thrown off without him ? " 
 
 " Master said we were to hunt if we could, and there was 
 anybody there." 
 
 " Well, and who have you had ? " asked Muff. 
 
 " Oh, there's Mr. Scott, and Mr. Sheepskin, and Mr 
 Brown, and Mr. Randall of Reay, and several others," replied 
 Tom. 
 
 " They are not owners of covers, I think," snapped 
 Muff. 
 
 " Hazelhanger belongs to Mr. Scott," observed Bowles. 
 
 " Well, you know your orders best," observed Muff 
 
 o 
 
182 
 
 HA IV B UCK Gil A XGE. 
 
 pompously, " but if you were my servants, I should say you 
 had done extremely wroug in throwing off on such a day, 
 especially to such a field, disturbing such an extent of 
 country ;" whereupon he gave a loud hem, and returned with 
 the ladies to the luncheon, repeating as he went, " extremely 
 wrmg, indeed!'''' 
 
 " Vain his attempt who strives to please them all I "' 
 
 '"'^rC-m^f^'^'i.j^^'' 
 
 '£aipy 
 
 IvHO fTRivE^T' 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE BAD MEET. 
 
 " Oh ! yau — au — Neville's at the chase. Monday," puffed 
 great Captain Rasher through a mouthful of mustachios in his 
 barrack-room at Scrapetin, as he read the county paper. 
 " SJuCnH go — never get a run — confounded woodland place — 
 up to one's horse's hocks all the day in mud and clay — bad for 
 curbs " — with which observation the man of war settled the 
 matter ; and being the hunting authority of the regiment, of 
 course all the subs followed suit. Lieutenant Scrimagour 
 denounced it as the most uncivilised place that ever was seen ; 
 and little Cornet Muttonjaw, who is just weaned and entered to 
 hunting, swore " he wouldn't go if anybody would lend him a 
 horse and give him five pounds into the bargain." 
 
 So they settled the matter in barracks. 
 
 " I sha'n't hunt to-morrow, William," said Tarquinius Muff, 
 strutting into his stable at the four o'clock feeding time, with 
 his friend old Major Tinhead, to show off his stud. It's the 
 most confounded nasty place to get away from that ever was 
 seen, and a very likely one for an accident. Strip that horse 
 Tom," said Muff to helper No. 1, who had just replaced the 
 clothing, " and let the major see him." 
 
 " There ! " exclaimed Muff, as the lad swept the highly- 
 finished richly-lettered clothing over the horse's quarters 
 again. " There,^' repeated he, extending his right arm, " I 
 call that shape. You may go up to him," continued he, 
 seeing the major stand in the vacant way people do when 
 called upon to admire a horse in a stable, " you may go up to 
 
184 HAWBUCK aUAJ^'GE. 
 
 him — he's quite quiet ; " whereupon Tinhead availed himself 
 of Muff's liberality, and squeezed up the stall till he got beside 
 the servant, when he underwent the usual penalty of spanning 
 the horse's knee, grasping his pastern, admiring his loins, and 
 criticising his colour. 
 
 Muff then rewarded him by making him do " ditto " by 
 another, and so on through the five ; four hunters and a hack 
 being Muff's complement, though one would do all his work. 
 We need scarcely say that Tinhead is Muff's toadey. He 
 looks like a toadey — a little shrivelled, parchment-faced, 
 precise, old-maidish sort of animal, that nine men out of ten 
 would take a dislike to at first sight without knowing why. 
 
 " You may exercise the horse to-morrow, as well as the 
 mare," said Tom Talkington to his half groom, half flunkey, 
 " I sha'n't go to that beastly Chase — was nearly smothered in 
 a bog the last time I was there." 
 
 " What horse will you ride to-morrow, sir ? " asked Joe 
 Beans of his master, Mr. Muffinmouth, as the latter came in 
 from coursing. " To-morrow ! " exclaimed Muffinmouth, " to- 
 morrow — what's to-morrow ? " 
 
 "The Chase," replied Beans. 
 
 "The Chase be hanged," replied Muffinmouth, turning on 
 his heel as though it were not worth a thought. 
 
 Every country has its proscribed meet — its place that 
 " Nobody thinks of going to," which redeems itself every now 
 and then by some tremendous run, drawing all the chatterers 
 back, to be choked off by degrees, and Abbeycroft Chase is the 
 " beastly place " of Mr. Neville's hunt ; not that it is a bad 
 place, looking at it as far as the interests of hounds are 
 concerned, for it is sporting-like and spacious, and lying on 
 the verge of two countries, is always full of foxes belonging to 
 each. In short, it is one of those sort of places that require 
 routing out every fortnight or so, in order to be sure of 
 finding foxes in the smaller ones. Its great imperfection 
 undoubtedly is the absence of fences and leaps, which are 
 
HAWBUCK ORANGE. 186 
 
 hardly compensated for by sundry terrific bogs tliat dye a, red 
 coat blaclc in no time. Still that is not the sort of excitement 
 Cnpt. Rasher, Cornets Muttonjaw and Shaver, or such like 
 cocks, delight in ; they want a cutting whip, and a line of 
 flags through four miles of stiff country, with a break-back 
 brook in the middle. 
 
 Long life and two necks to each of them, say we ! 
 
 Neither is the out-of-the-way locality of the Chase, nor the 
 wild sylvan beauty of its scenery, attractive to men like the 
 Muffs, who prefer basking in the sunshine of sloping lawns, or 
 the gentle undulations of the deer-stocked parks of turreted 
 towers. 
 
 If a large extent of rideable woodland, with wildness and 
 boldness at every step, has any charms for fox-hunters. Abbey- 
 croft Chnse ought to rank high ; and though too many foxes 
 undoubtedly lead to changing, still if hounds have the luck to 
 get settled to a good one at starting, and there is anything of a 
 scent, he must either fly or be twisted up in cover. 
 
 If it were a favoui'ite place its situation would be convenient 
 for the commingling of the apricot-coloured coats of the 
 Dazzlegoose Hunt with the British scarlet of Mr. Neville's ; 
 but save just after some redeeming run, which is most likely 
 magnified to stag-hunters' measure who, we are sorry to say, 
 often lie (under a mistake, of course, as Lord Byron said), they 
 seldom muster more than ten or a dozen, independently of 
 farmers. 
 
 But we will take Monday's meet as a sample. 
 
 It was almost the first real hunting day our friends Tom 
 Scott and Co. had had after the most disreputable season of 
 1846-7, turned the Tattenham Corner of 1847 and as Tom got 
 on to his hack, he felt the sort of spring glow that almost 
 persuades one into growing. The colt's coat had a kindly 
 glossy hue, which underwent no change on opening the stable 
 door, though he stood immediately opposite. A horse's coat 
 furnishes a pretty good criterion of the state of the atmosphere. 
 
186 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 far better than one of those curious old instruments in hottlea 
 which profess to show everything, though, if they are all like 
 ours, they only show the purchaser's stupidity in buying them. 
 
 " The Chase " is an unmeasured fourteen miles from 
 Hawbuck Grange, to do which Tom allows himself two hours 
 and a half. When he got to where the Gal ton cross-road joins 
 the Hardingham turnpike, he saw by the great splay footmarks 
 on the lifting mud, that the hounds were " on," and he 
 presently got a glimpse of a red coat passing a gap in a 
 plantation beyond. Hounds' feet certainly do not show to 
 advantage in sticky soil, and nobody would have thought that 
 Mr. Neville's round ball-footed dog pack would have left such 
 great slovenly-looking imprints behind them. 
 
 The meet was at a beggarly farmhouse just on the confines 
 of the Chase ; a farm that has brought more people on the 
 parish than all the rest of the township put together. 
 
 When our friend arrived, he found even Mr. Trumper's 
 attention was drawn from the powerful pack, now stretching 
 and rolling about on the soundest part of the much plunged 
 green, to the picture of misery and desolation before him. 
 
 " Did you ever see such a place, Mr. Scott ? " asked 
 Trumper, pointing to the dilapidated house, with the windows 
 pasted over with paper, or stuflFed full of straw and old hats. 
 " Just look at those stacks," added he, pointing to three or 
 four crooked half-covered corn stacks, slipping out of their 
 ropes, on which the pigeons, poultry, and sparrows were 
 regaling. 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Trumper," exclaimed Mr. Neville, 
 bustling up on his hack, and shaking hands with our hero ; 
 adding, " I'm very glad to see you out with m?/ hounds." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," replied Mr. Trumper, making his 
 obeisance. 
 
 " And how are your hounds going on ? " asked Mr. Neville, 
 for he is one of the few masters of foxhounds who are not 
 jealous of harriexx. 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. * 187 
 
 "Oh, middling well, sir, thank you," replied Triimper ; "we 
 began our season early, and had some good running up to the 
 end of November, but we've done nothing almost since." 
 
 " Nor we," replied Mr. Neville, " nor we ; nothing, at least, 
 to speak of. Runs that we should have thought nothing of 
 last year are magnified into splendid ones this." 
 
 " Ay, that'll be your fine pen-and-ink gentlemen, I presume," 
 said Trumper; adding, "I've been suffering a little in that 
 way myself. I'll goose and dumplin them," continued he, with 
 a shake of the head. 
 
 " You've got the old horse still, I see," said Mr. Neville, 
 eyeing our friend Golumpus. 
 
 " Ay, the Yorkshire horse," replied Trumper, lifting his long 
 green lap up so as to show the horse's great round barrel, 
 adding, " good horse, varry." 
 
 " What a size he is ! " observed Mr. Neville. 
 
 "I don't like to be stinted," replied Trumper, quite 
 incontinently. 
 
 " I know you don't," rejoined Mr. Neville, with a smile. 
 
 " What age is that horse, now ? " inquired Mr. Neville, after 
 a pause. 
 
 " He'll be seventeen this grass," repHed Trumper. " This is 
 his tenth season, and he's as fresh as a four-year-old." 
 
 " You didn't begin riding him till he was seven, I think," 
 observed Mr. Neville. 
 
 " He wasn't broke till he was six," replied Trumper, " but 
 then he comes of a good sort — a M'Orville — all the M'Orvilles 
 are natural hunters, and you save a season or two that way. 
 Mr. Mutf Tarquinius wanted to buy him," added Trumper ; 
 *' indeed he sent his groom for him with a blank cheque for me 
 to fill up, and very much astonished the man was at not getting 
 him away. ' Do you think he is strong enough to carry your 
 master ? ' asked I. 
 
 " * Indeed I think he is,' rephed the man, cautiously. 
 
 " * Then I think he's strong enough to carry me,' added 1 j 
 
188 HAWBUCK GliANGE. 
 
 ' so I won't part with him.' Tarqiiinius has never been quite 
 friendly with me since," added Trumpcr. 
 
 " Whose horses are those ? " asked Mr. Neville of a 
 diminutive tiger who now rode round the corner of the stack- 
 yard with a couple of splendid animals, just as Mr. Neville had 
 exchanged his hack for his hunter. 
 
 " My Lord Lazytongs'," replied the lad with a touch of his 
 hat. 
 
 " And whose are those ? " asked Mr. Neville, as two more 
 hove in sight. 
 
 " My Lord Lazytongs', too," replied the speaker. 
 
 " What's his lordship going to vide four ? " asked Mr. Neville, 
 with a smile. 
 
 " No, sir, those are for Captain Windeyhash," replied the 
 lad. 
 
 " And where are they coming from ? " asked Mr. Neville. 
 
 " From Dawdle Court, sir," replied the lad. " We are from 
 iN'ewbolt this morning." 
 
 " Dawdle Court ! " exclaimed Mr. Neville — " why, that's 
 thirty miles off." 
 
 " Five-and-twenty, sir," replied the groom, who had now 
 come up, having given the benefit of his superior weight to the 
 Windeyhash detachment. 
 
 " They'll never come,'' whispered Scott, remembering the 
 Ecclesford Green day. 
 
 " We must wait a few minutes," observed Mr. Neville, " for 
 gentlemen Avho are coming so far." 
 
 " Is his lordship riding ? " asked Mr. Neville of the groom, 
 after a pause. 
 
 " He comes in the carriage as far as Danebury Hill, sir," 
 replied the man, " where there are hacks waiting to bring him 
 on to Newbolt, and there are fresh ones again at Newbolt." 
 
 " Humph," considered Mr. Neville, meditating how long he 
 ought to wait for gentlemen who had made so much 
 preparation. 
 

 ■mil .,; 
 
 
HAWBUCK GHANGE. 191 
 
 " Do yon think they'll come ? " asked he, after a pause and 
 a lapse of some minutes. 
 
 " Why, I should think so, sir," replied the groom. '* Our 
 orders were very particular — half-[)ast ten to a minute ; 
 it's a quarter to eleven now," added he, pulling out his 
 watch. 
 
 " Is there any one at Dawdle Court ? " asked Mr. Neville. 
 
 " Oh, yes, sir ; the house is full of company. Indeed, I 
 know his lordship wants to be back at half-past two, to shoot a 
 match." 
 
 '' The deuce he does ! " exclaimed Mr. Neville ; " then I think 
 I'd better throw off, and have a fox on foot for him against he 
 comes." So saying, he gave the usual jerk of his head to 
 old Ben, and -the glad pack at length bounded away to Ben's 
 whistle. 
 
 " Shoot 1 " said Mr. Trumper to Scott, as the latter came 
 alongside, adding — "That's the queerest style of hunting I 
 ever heard of. I should have thought fox-hunting was 
 amusement enough for any man for one day." 
 
 Before they reached the first straggling brushwood on the 
 rising ground of the " Chase " that the hounds condescend to 
 draw, a brimstone-coloured coat was seen sailing through the 
 fields below at a very first-rate pace. 
 
 " Crash " the wearer went through a rotten wattled hurdle ; 
 " sivich " he divided a hve thorn fence ; " down " he sent a 
 row of rails, and so the wearer went careering triumphantly 
 on till he was most ignominiously brought up by a sheep 
 net. 
 
 "That'll be my lord," said Mr. Trumper, eyeing his 
 lordship's long legs working away at the nag to make it face 
 the nets. " He'd better leave that game alone," added he, 
 with a shake of the head, as the animal turned tail to the 
 stakes. 
 
 Tootle, tootle, tootle ! blew Mr. Neville on his horn, to let his 
 lordship see where the hounds were ; for there was a direct 
 
192 RAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 way up from the euclosures into the chase, through a most 
 conspicuous new white gate, but Mr. Neville's intimation had 
 just a contrary effect to what was intended, and converted the 
 affair of the nets into a sort of " eyes-of-England-are-upon- 
 you " point of honour. Seeing he was observed, his lordship 
 was more determined to take the nets, and making a consider- 
 able semicircle, ha again charged them most stoutly. 
 
 No ; deuce a bit ! the horse wouldn't have them, and round 
 went the tail as before. 
 
 A third charge ended in a similar result. 
 
 Just as his lordship's hack turned tail for the fourth time, 
 the biggest fox without any exception, that Tom Scott ever set 
 eyes on, crossed the glade towards which they were riding in 
 the most haughty, disdainful, arrogant manner imaginable. 
 He had his head in the air, and his brush in the air, and went 
 careering along just like a colt turned into a strange field. 
 He sniffed the air, and threw his head about, as much as to say, 
 " What the deuce do you mean, you disorderly dogs, by 
 disturbing a gentleman in this way ? " As yet nothing but the 
 horn had been heard. 
 
 " Tallyho I " screamed Mr. Neville, enlightening him on 
 the subject, when down went the brush, and away shot the 
 owner across the open, amid the tallyhos, and screams, and 
 screeches of the field, till a fiiendly copse screened him from 
 view. 
 
 How the dog pack made the welkin ring, as they scored to 
 cry, and every hound owned the scent ! Echo answered echo, 
 till one might have thought there were a hundred couple of 
 hounds at work. 
 
 " Moij 0-oies ! " exclaimed old Trumper, sucking in the 
 melody, " but that's /-o-o-wu'." 
 
 Screech ! screech ! went the horn, " crack, crack," went the 
 whips, but there wasn't the slightest occasion for either, only 
 servants are afraid if they don't make a noise, people may 
 think the hounds kill the fox and not they. 
 
HA (V BUCK GRANGE. 193 
 
 They now dived into the thick of the Chase, where lofty 
 forest trees suppHed the place of stunted oaks, and crags and 
 rocks appeared hurled promiscuously around. 
 
 The riding, though not bad, at least not bad for woodhmd 
 riding, required a sharp eye both above and below to keep the 
 riders' heads on their shoulders for the trees, and their horses 
 on their legs for the bogs. 
 
 The Chase bogs are a very peculiar kind of bog ;* not that 
 nervous, protracted blob, blob, blob, " deeper and deeper still," 
 of moors and heaths, but deep, black, over-head-and-ears-at-once 
 sort of places that a horse should clear in his stride. Some of 
 them are awfully deep, though not very holding, a late occupant 
 looking more like a man out of an inkstand than out of a mud 
 cart. To be sure the places are tolerably marked by the 
 unhealthy green, and yellow, and grey moss on the stunted 
 birch trees, as also by the hassocky ground and coarse reedy 
 grass about, but strangers are seldom satisfied of the real 
 importance of a Chase bog until they have fathomed one 
 After that they ride to a '* leader," as they all did to-day. 
 That leader was old Ben, who has a sort of map of the bogs in 
 his head. How he sailed away to be sure, hopping over them 
 just like water furrows, trusting as much to his voice as his 
 reins for making his old mare leap. Horses are much like 
 sheep in the leaping line, when one begins, the rest generally 
 follow ; much in the same strain, too, as will often have been 
 observed by men whose horses have made tremendous leaps 
 over " nothings," merely because the one before them leapt 
 wide. Ben had the best of it, barring the risk, for before they 
 had gone very far, the black daubs, and spots, and stains on 
 the white breeches and ties showed who rode behind and who 
 didn't. It was no time for stopping, however ; indeed we 
 question that any horse worthy the name of a hunter would 
 have submitted to be pulled up with such ravishing raii-io 
 
 • "New Foresters." 
 
194 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 before him. If he did, we are sure tiie man on his back 
 wouldn't deserve to be called a sportsman. Forrard ! they 
 went, making every bunny on the ground and tom-tit in the 
 trees quiver with fear. 
 
 We often wonder whether there is such a thing in the 
 world as a man whose heart wouldn't leap into his mouth at 
 the sound of a pack of hounds in full cry. We should think 
 not ; at least, if there is, we should be very sorry to back a 
 bill for him. To-day would have been a grand one to try him. 
 
 None of the field who were out seemed deficient in sporting 
 spirit, for they went at a pace that might be called truly awful 
 — awful considering the squire traps, trees, and other con- 
 tingencies. 
 
 There was no time for politeness — no time for saying, " Take 
 care, sir, or you'll be getting your eyes scratched out," or, 
 " Mind what you're after, sir, or you'll be getting your head in 
 your hand ; " it was every man for himself and the mud take 
 the hindmost. If the hounds ran musically, the field rode 
 mute. And here let us pause to pay a tribute of respect to dog 
 packs generally. There is something fine and noble in the 
 appearance of the great strong animals, and theirs is a far 
 honester, more substantial, John Bullish style of hunting, than 
 the quick sharp whimper and cut away of the bitches. The 
 dogs seem to say to the horses, " Come along, my hearties, and 
 let us enjoy ourselves together," while the bitches seem as if 
 they were always wanting to steal a march upon the nags, and 
 to have all the sport to themselves. The dogs look grand and 
 noble ; something to " fill the eye," as Trumper says. 
 
 Away, away, away the field went, now alongside of the 
 hounds, now behind, now perhaps a ledle before. Reynard 
 picked his ground with judgment. 
 
 A check at last ensued. 
 
 "He's into the enclosure 1 " said old Ben, eyeing BriUiant 
 
HA IV BUCK GliANaK 195 
 
 jumping at the high palings — " i/ooi over ! they go," hallooed 
 he as a whole bevy of hounds charged the palings in line, 
 
 " He's down ! " cried Ben, holding his hand in the air for 
 silence whilst he listened for the sound of their tongues in the 
 dean. 
 
 " They're on him again ! " (added he, as a slight whimper 
 burst into full cry). 
 
 " Get together hounds ! get together ! " hallooed Tom Bowles, 
 cracking his whip, though there wasn't a straggler to be seen. 
 
 "We must be inside," observed Mr. Neville, hustling along 
 with a great patch of black mud on the side of his hat that 
 looked for all the world like a cockade. 
 
 " There's a bridle-gate just below," observed Ben, who knows 
 every point and pass in the countiy. 
 
 They were presently at it; — a nasty place it was, too, as 
 most wood bridle-gates are — boggy and plungy, with a paft* of 
 most resolute posts for a hot horse to dash his rider's legs 
 against. 
 
 " One at a time, and it'll last the longer ! " exclaimed Mr. 
 Neville, cocking up his knees to avoid a collision. 
 
 " ril lead,'" observed Mr. Trumper, throwing himself from 
 the now lathered Golumpus. 
 
 " Why, what a mess you're in, Beaney ! " observed Trumper, 
 eyeing Beanstack's desperately bespattered front. 
 
 " Am I ? " replied the now purple-faced Beanstack ; " I 
 can't be much worse than yourself ; look at your breeches ! " 
 
 The time for estimating dilapidations, however, was not yet 
 come, and having all blobbed through the gateway in some 
 fashion or other, and Mr. Trumper having climbed on to 
 Golumpus again, they now found themselves in a bettor 
 managed part of the Chase. In lieu of the natural straggling 
 glades and rotten inundations of land, they were among regular 
 grassy rides, diverging in all directions through thriving 
 plantations, whose open bottom afforded every facility to 
 the chase. 
 
196 HAWBUCK GBANGE. 
 
 The hounds pushed their fox through as straight as an 
 arrow. 
 
 " If there's half such a scent in the open as there is in 
 cover," observed Mr. Neville, " we shall have him in hand in 
 ten minutes." 
 
 " Hark ! he's down!^'' exclaimed he, as a sudden burst of 
 melody to the left proclaimed the fox had turned at last. 
 
 " He must break," said Mr. Neville, turning too, " or be 
 killed in cover. Hark ! I believe they have him," added he, 
 as a sudden lull ensued. 
 
 " No, he'll be away," said old Ben, spurring his horse into a 
 canter, and making for the spot ; adding, " I'll be bwnd he's 
 just slipped back at the woodman's cottage below." 
 
 A loud, long, shrill tallyho ! almost instantly confirmed Ben's 
 surmise, and on scuttling away to the gate they found the 
 second whip with his cap in the air, in the high state of 
 excitement lads are generally in who have " viewed the fox." 
 
 '* Hoo-p ! Jioop ! hoop ! " screamed he, turning his horse, and 
 sweeping his cap towards the ground on the line the fox had 
 gone. 
 
 Out poured the hounds ; crash came Ben, horn in hand, 
 through the wattled fence ; and the scene-shifter having 
 changed the slides, the second act of the drama commenced in 
 the open. 
 
 What an open it was, too ! And how the top of the rising 
 ground, up which the fox had gone, favoured the view ! After 
 hugging and holding up the hill, they looked upon the rich 
 vale of Brightwell, the vaunted "crack" of the Dazzlegoose 
 country. Large grazing grounds stretched away in fertile 
 greenness, while what arable land there was showed sound and 
 brown on the surface. There is something fine in running 
 slap into an adjoining country. It is a sort of sporting formj, 
 which enables us to compliment our friends on the sport they 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 197 
 
 nnu-illinoly afford us. The old spirit, in fact, that instij^ated 
 the Pytchley man of old to exclaim to his horse, as the fox 
 went away into Leicestershire — 
 
 " Now, Contract," said Dick, 
 
 " But we'll show these d — d Quornites the trick." 
 
 Loving and sociable as fox hunters undoubtedly are in the 
 aggregate, still there is always a strong feeling of jealousy 
 between neighbouring packs. On this occasion the Dazzle- 
 goose men began to hustle their horses and show in front as 
 the hounds pointed for their vale, as though they thought it 
 incumbent on them to do the honours of the country. 
 " Eecumbent " — one of them — Dick Jellyhead — very soon 
 was, for his trouble. The fox having taken the old Swinbrook 
 road, for a couple of hundred yards, which runs parallel with 
 the hills from whence they had all just descended, the hounds, 
 after running that distance nearly mute, suddenly burst into 
 chorus on the grassy side of the road next the vale, and in 
 another instant they flew over the fence, formed of a bank 
 with a hedge on the top, into the adjoining pasture. 
 
 The fox had run the inside of the fence, and there was a 
 gate from the road into the field a little before, but Jellyhead, 
 disdaining such chicken-hearted work, pulled his hairy-heeled 
 steed across, and shoved him at the bank. 
 
 Perhaps there is not a more promising way of getting a fall 
 than pulling a horse up short, and shoving him away from his 
 companions. Independently of this, Jelly's horse didn't look 
 like a flyer. We don't want to buy him, therefore we have no 
 interest in disparaging him ; but we shall convey an idea of 
 the style of the animal when we say that he was a sort of horse 
 that a dealer would declare "looked solitary without the gig at 
 his tail " — a good machiner ; thirty pounds' worth, perhaps. 
 
 One sometimes sees an affinity between rider* and horse ; 
 
 ** Sir Robert Peel, for instance, stamps about on a bay, the counterpart 
 of himself. 
 
198 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 indeed we have seen them alike in the face, and between Jellj- 
 head and his there was a decided similarity of cut. They were 
 both stout, square, clumsy-made looking creatures, and the 
 broad cut of Jellyhead's laps corresponded with the square 
 dock of the horse's tail. This resemblance was painfully 
 apparent when, having mounted the fence, the laps flew up in 
 response to the tail, the master " spread-eagling " as the horst 
 went down on his head on the far side — a melancholy example 
 of disappointed " show off." Fortunately the ground was soft, 
 or there is no saying but such a head as " Jelly's " even might 
 have suffered. 
 
 When the rest of the sportsmen got into the field by the 
 gate, they found him busy pulling his head out of his hat, with 
 the unconcerned air men assume when the crown lies at their 
 feet. The insensate author of the misfortune was grazing 
 quietly at the hedge-row, just as if nothing had happened. 
 This, too, in spite of the hounds pouring up the side of the 
 field, pointing straight into the vale in defiance of all conjectures 
 that the fox was back to the " Chase." 
 
 Leaving the open for the vale is like leaving the camp for 
 the thick of the fight ; but no one seemed at all concerned at 
 the change. Even Mr. Trumper, who declines leaping 
 altogether, pounded along on Golumpus, as though he had 
 perfect confidence in getting through. Indeed the field soon 
 resolved themselves into a sort of mutual assistance society, and 
 keeping with the hounds was all they looked to. The rest of 
 the apricot coats took warning by their fellow, and discon- 
 tinued the pioneering trade. 
 
 Good farming is certainly a great promoter of hunting. 
 Instead of high, rough, ragged, briar-choked, water-soughe(^ 
 fences, through which a horse can scarcely bore, and which 
 occupy no end of ground, our friends now got among nice, 
 level, well-laid, well-pleached fences, that a horse could both 
 see his way " on and off." The total absence of hedge-row 
 timber, too, aided the sight, which would otherwise have been 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 199 
 
 rather impeded by the extreme flatness of the land. What a 
 change of opinion we have seen in the matter of heJge-rovv 
 timber ! We remember when the wise ones used to counsel a 
 man to stick trees in his fences at every yard, and used to 
 calculate to a fraction what they would be worth at the end of 
 the world ; whereas now " ]\Iechi * and Co," teach us to shave 
 our fences as close as our faces. All fox hunters are Mechiites 
 in that matter. 
 
 The burst of the early part of the chase had now settled 
 down into a good hunting run — not a scent-diminishing run, 
 but a good holding steady pace, that looked like micchief. 
 Every hound threw his tongue, and first one and then another 
 took the lead — a most sporting, mud-stained, varmint-looking, 
 working-like pack they were, as they bustled and carried the 
 scent amongst them — not one would go a yard without it. 
 
 When they got upon grass, they ran hard, but master 
 Reynard seemed to have preferred the light land of the fallows, 
 indeed rather to have gone out of his way for them. 
 
 This caused a division of opinion as to his point, Mr. Neville 
 fixing Linton Woods, while Ben and Mr. Trumper stood up 
 for the main earths at Castlebar. 
 
 These main earths are a drawback upon running a fox into 
 a neighbouring country ; for if he reaches them, there's an end 
 of the matter so far as his brush is concerned ; and a fellow 
 sitting, straddling, and " whohooping," cap in hand, as though 
 he were full of delight, over a main earth, is a poor substitute 
 for the joyous, upstanding, baying of the " fox in hand " of a 
 kiU. 
 
 Mr. Neville was right, and Trumper gladly acknowledged 
 the superiority of his judgment. If the fox had any doubt on 
 the point himself, it would appear to have been settled in his 
 
 * Mr. Mechi,the celebrated cutler of Leadenhall Street, and of Tiptree 
 Hall, in Essex, is one of the great authorities of the day on farming. 
 His " experience in drainage " is excellent. 
 
 p2 
 
200 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 mind in the course of his progress up a- lung- slip of rubbish- 
 ing wood, between a turnip field and a fallow ; for on getting 
 to the end of it, he put his head straight for the woods, despite 
 the rising ground over which he had to travel. 
 
 " Yonder he goes ! " exclaimed Mr. Neville, viewing him 
 somewhere, though " where " nobody could tell but himself. 
 
 Some people have a wonderful knack at viewing foxes, and 
 think those desperately " dunch " who don't see them. 
 
 " Where ? " exclaims one. 
 
 " Why there — there to be sure ! " replies the viewer, as if 
 the fox's line, was set out like a railway. 
 
 Our friend hadn't much " where "-ing to-day, everybody 
 being satisfied that Mr. Neville knew a fox from a cur, and the 
 hunting of the hounds held out every expectation that they 
 would shortly have a closer inspection of the one they were 
 after. Moreover, a few of the nags had begun to sob, and Mr. 
 Trumper thought it well to take the castle off the elephant, and 
 lead up the hill. 
 
 On reaching the rising ground, after easing their horses, 
 grinning and holding on by the manes up the hill, they all saw 
 the fox sailing away down the other side towards the river. 
 Nor did his pace and action give much prospect of speedy 
 relief to the now panting and perspiring steeds. On the con- 
 trary, he went high, and though he had lowered his standard, 
 he kept on at an even pace that looked very like lasting. 
 
 The hounds hunted him as true as beagles over the wretched 
 starvation land that he had now chosen for his course, stuff 
 that one would be sorry to take at two-and-sixpence an acre- 
 Little advantage was perceptible on either side, so long as they 
 kept on the high land, but when the fox descended, and ran 
 the river margin, the hounds evidently gained upon him, until 
 Dangerous and Hannibal caught view, when, as if by magic, 
 the whole pack flew from their noses to the worry, and rolled 
 one over another with their victim into the river. 
 
 " God bless us, what a f-o-i-n-e run ! " exclaimed Mr. 
 
{^a/zJiu/ny^Ui^m^e/iy 
 
 
 i^^e^y-PZO^T.^^iyTy^l^^l^TTMy: 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 201 
 
 Trumpcr, pulling up, his horse and himself all running down 
 with sweat. The lathered Golumpus gave himself a hearty- 
 shake, as much as to say to his master, " Why don't you get of!", 
 you great slush-bucket ? " 
 
 Mr. Trumpet then plunged down, and the scraping of his 
 whip-stick under the horse's belly was followed by a regular 
 flow of water. 
 
 How different the poor dripping rat-like fox looked us he 
 was brought out of the river to the dashing, staring, brush- 
 whisking, high-going flyer they had started with an hour or 
 so before — an hour, a glorious hour ! What a deal had been 
 compressed into that time ! The field had done a week's work 
 in it. 
 
 How variously we estimate time ! We knew a man who 
 went to a dentist's to get his dinner set overhauled, and after 
 having been some twenty minutes in the chair he went away 
 declaring he had been three hours. And he was a man of 
 veracity too, but doubtless calculated the time by the pain. 
 So with a run. The ground we go over, the incidents of each 
 moment, the change of scene, the varieties of pace, all tend to 
 magnify the time — especially if there happen to be two or three 
 checks, when every minute is like a half hour, except when 
 one's nag is rather blown, or there is a big leap that we don'i 
 yet see how to avoid. 
 
 " One hour and ten minutes, exactly,'" observed Mr. Neville, 
 shutting his gold hunter against his cheek. 
 
 "<So," replied Mr. Trumper, "I thought it had been 
 more." 
 
 "Well hunted he was," said Mr. Neville, alighting from 
 his horse. 
 
 " Oh tvell ! " rejoined Trumper in ecstasies. 
 
 " What an old villain he is ! " exclaimed Ben, opening the 
 fox's mouth as he lay distended on the ground. "He's hardly 
 a tooth in his head. He's had many a turkey pouli, I'll be 
 bound." 
 
202 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 Ben then proceeded to the usual ceremony of decapitation, 
 de-paditation, and brush-i-tation. 
 
 " Give me that ! " said Mr. Neville, as Ben was proceeding 
 to pocket the yet dripping brush. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Trumper," said he, wringing it out, " you often 
 send me a very fine hunted hare — let me present you with the 
 brush of the animal I hunt." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," said Mv. Trumper, receiving it with a 
 low bow. " I'll put this in a glass case, and write the partick- 
 lars below it." 
 
 " Ay, you may say it was a ' ticJder,' " observed Mr. Neville. 
 
 " So it was ! " replied Trumper, " a reglar one." 
 
 The pads were then distributed to Jellyhead and the Dazzle- 
 goose gentlemen, who in the harmony of the kill buried the 
 jealousies of country. 
 
 It was carried unanimously that he was a good fox, had 
 shown them a good run, over a good country, and Ben very 
 truly observed, that he was just as likely to be one of Mr. 
 Neville's foxes as one belonging to the Dazzlegoose country. 
 
 So the mixed field parted in the greatest harmony. 
 
 Let us now take a glance at the absentees. 
 
 " Aw — ^yaw — aw — they say Neville's had a run," said 
 Captain Rasher, throwing his cap into the corner, as he rolled 
 into the mess-room in the tight-laced ease of a full-figged 
 heavy. 
 
 " I don't believe it ! " exclaimed Lieutenant Scrimagour. 
 
 " Aw — yaw — aw — why I don't much," said Rasher, twirHng 
 his resolute mustachios, a process that he generally has recourse 
 to when short of ideas, 
 
 " People tell such lies about hunting," observed Major 
 Tinhead, who had done somebody out of a dinner, it being 
 band day. 
 
 " They do," exclaimed little Cornet Muttonjaw. 
 
3 
 O 
 >« 
 
 H 
 Z 
 
 cu 
 
 <0 
 
 EU 
 
 u 
 
 H 
 01 
 
 -] 
 
EAWBUVK QRANQE. 203 
 
 " There isn't one man in fil'ty knows what a run ought to 
 be," said Tinhcad. 
 
 " Aw — yaw — aw — I defy them to have a run from such a 
 place as that Chase," observed Rasher ; adding, " It suits old 
 Neville and old Ben, and a few old pottcrers of that sort ; 
 but who the deuce could take any pleasure in such riding ? " 
 
 Captain Rasher then resolved the mess table into a model of 
 the country, making the plateau-stand in the centre do duty 
 for the Chase, and the lamps and wine-coolers to represent the 
 Linton "Woods, Castlebar earths, and covers generally, from 
 which premises he made the most satisfactory deduction that 
 it was utterly impossible for hounds to have a run — a position 
 that he established to the satisfaction of all, just as the tawdiy 
 mess-waiter came in with the soup. 
 
 Next day Tarquinius Muff having come into town to see his 
 aunt, get his hair cut, or something of that sort, met Rasher 
 in the High Street, sabre-tache swinging, heel-spur ringing, 
 bonnet staring under, as usual, and confirmed the opinion. 
 
 The verdicts of the others, our readers will perhaps excuse 
 our entering on the " record." 
 
 They were generally delivered in the laconics, " Oh my ! " 
 " No go ! " " Not possible ! " " Won't believe it ! " 
 " Hookey Walker ! " " Tell it to the marines ! " and so on. 
 
 We may, however, add, that our fi'iend Tom was so delighted 
 with it, that he wrote a long account of it to his lady-love, 
 instead of one of the three-cornered laconics with which he 
 generally favoured her. 
 
CHAPTER XIII, 
 
 THE BLANK DAY. 
 
 AT HOKSS' 
 
 IT'S four years since 
 last February, 
 though our 
 friend Tom 
 says he re- 
 members it as 
 if it were but 
 yesterday, so 
 rare are the 
 calamities of 
 blank days in 
 the catalogue 
 of his mis- 
 fortunes. 
 The Duke of 
 Tergiversa- 
 tion, having 
 the Prince of 
 Cled, and several other great 
 
 galvanizing," had written to 
 
 Spankerhausen, Mynheer Von 
 Dutch swells, whom he wanted 
 Lord Harry Harkaway to bring his unrivalled hounds to Fast- 
 and-Loose Castle, on that most forlorn of all forlorn specula- 
 tions, the " chance " of finding a. fox. 
 
 Dukes are people that generally have their own way, let them 
 be ever so unreasonable ; and even if Lord Harry had been 
 inclined to object to trashing his hounds and horses such a 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 206 
 
 distance, the offer of hospitality to himself and establishment 
 would have caused him to think that he might as well avail him- 
 eelf of the opportunity for paying the duke and duchess a visit. 
 
 Accordingly the hounds were advertised to meet at Fast-and- 
 Loose Castle on "their" day of the week, with a non-hunting 
 one on each side of it, though what that day was, we don't 
 pretend to say, dates and distances being things we seldom 
 trouble our head about. 
 
 It was the first season of Lord Harry's hunting the country, 
 the hounds having just come out of Yarnshire with the usual 
 high-flown renown of new packs. 
 
 Fast - and - Loose Castle, indeed the whole Tergiversation 
 territory, had long been looked upon as extra-parochial in the 
 hunting-line, neither Sir Charles Wildblood nor his predecessor 
 Lord Heavysop ever having thought it worth while to play at 
 drawing his grace's covers a second time. Not but that his 
 grace is a patron of fox-hunting, a patron in his own peculiar 
 way, — just as he is a patron of racing, to uphold which, he 
 keeps two or three wooden-limbed brutes that go the rounds of 
 the district. Fox-hunting he looks upon in much the same 
 light as racing ; a sort of artwisement of the hour, that requires 
 no care or consideration during the rest of the year. He 
 therefore gives bounds leave to draw his covers, on certain set 
 days of the season — the 15th of December, the 15th of 
 February, and again on the 15th of April, provided none of 
 those days fall on a Sunday, in which case, the hunt stands 
 adjourned to the Monday. 
 
 But the system will develop itself with the narrative. 
 
 The talk people make about anything new, especially any- 
 thing new in the hands of a nobleman, made Tom Scott take a 
 fancy for seeing Lord Harkaway's hounds, and though the 
 distance from Hawbuck Grange is great, five and thirty miles 
 to the kennel, yet the town of Barkeston being within easy 
 distance of the castle, by lying out a couple of nights, he could 
 easily accomplish his object, especially as, like Lord Harry, he 
 
206 HAWBUCK GBANGE. 
 
 could kill two birds with one stoiie — get a liuut, aud pay a 
 visit to his old friend the Rev. Peter Blackcoat, the worthy 
 rector of Barkeston. 
 
 Accordingly Tom arranged it so. 
 
 It was not until he got to Barkeston that he heard the exact 
 state of the fox question. His grace having lately made one of 
 his periodical changes of politics, Tom thought he had very 
 likely turned over a new leaf in the hunting book too, and that 
 things were going to be different. 
 
 " I am afraid you've come on a forlorn hope," observed Peter 
 Blackcoat, wringing Tom's hand, as he met him at his neat 
 parsonage gate. 
 
 " How so ? " asked Tom, fearing the whole thing was put 
 oflF. " The duke hasn't changed his mind, has he ? " 
 
 " Oh, no," replied his friend ; " the thing is to take place ; 
 that's to say, there's to be a grand spread of a breakfast, cherry 
 brandy — cheese, and so on — but as to finding a fox, there isn't 
 such a thing in the parish." 
 
 " The deuce there isn't ! " exclaimed Tom ; " then what are 
 the hounds there for ? " 
 
 " Oh, just for the duke to show them to his friends. He's 
 got a lot of great barge-built Dutchmen there, who can't speak 
 a word of English, and he'll persuade them that the hounds are 
 his, and that Lord Harry is a sort of retainer of the castle, and 
 BO they'll go back to the place from whence they come, and tell 
 all the great boundless burgomasters and fellows what a 
 tremendous great man the Duke of Tergiversation is." 
 
 " The deuce 1 " exclaimed Tom, wishing himself home again. 
 
 " Nay, don't look glum," replied the parson, patting the 
 mare's neck. " I dare say the gamekeeper will manage some- 
 thing in the shape of a fox. All the world will be there, and it 
 won't do to disappoint a whole country side." 
 
 " Manage somethmg in the shape of a fox, my dear Peter ! " 
 exclaimed our friend, in disgust. " You don't think a fox is 
 like a coat, that you can have to order and turn out when you 
 
HAWBUCK ORANGE. 207 
 
 want it ? Believe me, my dear fellow, ii lux is very like what 
 the young ladies, bless them ! say of love ; there is but one 
 real love, though there may be a liuiulrcd di'ff'erent copies of it ; 
 so there is but one right sort of fox, though there may a 
 hundred imitation ones." 
 
 This very philosophical observation brought Tom to his 
 friend's stable door, a comfortable three-stalled edifice, with a 
 gig and harness room adjoining. 
 
 We never get into a parsonage house without thinking if it 
 wasn't for writing the weary sermons, we'd like to be a parson 
 ourself. They are always so snug, and have such capital port 
 wine ! 
 
 But we will pass over the feeding and friendship, and 
 proceed at once to the festival. 
 
 Tom's friend said the thing that was true. As he rode away 
 in the morning through the usually quiet little town of 
 Barkeston, all heads were at the windows, those who were to be 
 left behind looking wistfully after those who were going, and 
 one-horse chaises and two-horse chaises were loading and 
 driving away with mirthful parties, to say nothing of an 
 omnibus full inside and out. There were Mrs. and the two Miss 
 Sugarlips in their yellow phaeton, driven by young Mr. 
 Whateley, the rising apothecary ; and there were Mr. Luxford, 
 the bookseller, and " his lady," as the genteel ones call their 
 wives ; Mr. Kidd, the hosier, rode with Mr. Holmes the 
 saddler, while their respective ladies, with some seven or eight 
 children between them, followed in the public "private" 
 landau of the Duke's Arms. The duchess — that is to say, the 
 landlady — had just been confined, and couldn't show. Never- 
 theless every horse they had, both from the hotel and the farm, 
 was in requisition, and grtat was the demand for saddles 
 bridles, and tackle generally. 
 
 The plot thickened as Tom proceeded until the road swarmed 
 again. More gigs, more horsemen, more horsemen, more gigs, 
 and pedestrians without end. 
 
208 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 The most astonishing thing, however, was the appearance of 
 a troop of yeomanry that came jingling and clattering down 
 the Heckfield-lane on to the turnpike, in all the pomp and 
 terror of cart-horse cavalry. 
 
 " Who^s dead, and wliaVs to pay ? " exclaimed Tom Scott, as 
 a most insignificant little officer, almost extinguished by his 
 horse-tailed helmet, was borne against him by a great pulling 
 powerful black mare, who seemed fully intent upon running 
 away with him. 
 
 " Co-o-o-m-e and s-s-e-e, old b-o-y," ejaculated the victim 
 pretending to be quite at his ease. 
 
 " Why, Billy Bobbinson ! is that you ? you little unfor- 
 tunate devil ; what have you been about now, that they have 
 dressed you up in that way ? " exclaimed Tom. " Who looks 
 after the shop when you are out soldiering ? " But Billy was 
 deaf to the inquiry, and the troop rattled on as if they were 
 going to quell a rebellion or extinguish a fire at the least. Little 
 thought Tom that they were the Duke of Tergiversation's 
 cavalry going to form a hunting guard of honour on Mynheer 
 Von Cled and Co. ! 
 
 Our friend Tom had never seen Tergiversation Castle except 
 from the Cockington Fort road, where it is visible in the usual 
 style of castle visibility, towers above trees, and a flag above 
 towers. Its ground dimensions he had no idea of, neither did 
 he care much, seeing he was not likely to be wanted inside. 
 
 The castle certainly had a very imposing appearance, when 
 he got the whole concern mustered in one grand view — body, 
 wings, giblets and all. There was great liveliness and anima- 
 tion apparent, both inside and out, quite relieving the austere 
 frownings of the cloisters, and the heavy Gothic architecture of 
 the building. 
 
 Powdered footmen, in gorgeous plum - coloured liveries, 
 bedizened with silver lace, with massive covered dishes, pushed 
 their way among " gentlemen's gentlemen " and heavy-looking 
 moustached Dutchmen, who seemed as if they had nothing 
 
U AW BUCK GllANGR. 21 1 
 
 whatever to do but smoke ; while occasional glimpses of the 
 " real quality " might be caught through the plate-glass 
 windows of the receiving rooms, and good steady studies made 
 of ladies' maids staring out of the windows or disporting them- 
 selves on the leads and tui-rets above. 
 
 The spacious court-yard behind presented a curious medley 
 of war and pastime, soldiers and fox-hunters. The yeomanry 
 had dismounted, and were busy rectifying the little derange- 
 ments of dress and appointments incident to the march. 
 Those whose saddles had threatened to come over their horses' 
 ears for want of the crupper were now slamming them back in 
 their places ; others were scraping the frothy sweat off the 
 stinking, hairy-heeled brutes, while some were combing out the 
 manes and tails of theirs, by way of trying to make them look a 
 little decent. There was a strange contrast between the 
 cumbrous, misfitting uniforms of the ploughman soldiers, and 
 the trim neatness of the hunting and stable servants. Never- 
 theless, the former seemed very well pleased with themselves, 
 and clamped and strutted about the yard in their heavy jack- 
 boots, dragging their noisy sworda after them, looking about for 
 admiration from the maids. 
 
 The hounds were advertised for eleven, but that hour had 
 long passed without any indications of a move. To be sure, a 
 little after eleven, sundry footmen emerged from the castle, 
 bearing trays, covered with cakes and biscuits, with bottles of 
 sherry and glass jugs full of water for the schedule B people 
 outside, while bread and cheese and ale, with something in a 
 most profane looking black bottle, circulated fi-eely among the 
 troopers and trampers at the back. The servants of the hunt, 
 being billeted in the castle, surveyed the scene in easy indolent 
 attitudes from the stone steps leading from the offices into the 
 court-yard, and criticised each comer just as the first-class 
 company criticised the outsiders fi'om the windows in front. 
 
 Little Billy Bobbinson, with his face all flushed with liquor 
 and tight girthing, conveyed the first symptoms of active 
 
 Q 
 
^12 HAWBVCR GEANGE. 
 
 animation by floundering along tiie stone, passage in his iron- 
 heeled jacks, with his spurs draggling and his sword banging 
 and nearly tripping him up as he went, to give the word of 
 command for the men to " prepare to mount." Billy is the 
 most unfortunate-looking little object that ever was manu- 
 factured into a heavy dragoon, being split up far too high — all 
 legs, and no body. Still Billy was in great force. He would 
 not have exchanged figures with Hercules, nor his rusty, mis- 
 fitting, dragging, lace-tarnished scarlet with green facings, or 
 his parchment looking leathers and lack-lustre jacks, for the 
 outfit of the youngest and smartest officer in the Life 
 Guards. 
 
 " Prepare to moujit ! " hallooed little Billy from the top of 
 the steps, standing on one leg and putting his right hand 
 to his mouth, so as to convey the sound right among the 
 soldiers. " Prepare to mount I " repeated he in a still 
 louder tone. 
 
 " Hurrah for the cornet ! " exclaimed Tom Curlin, the half 
 drunken farrier, tossing ofi^ a third potation from the black 
 bottle, and " Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! " was shouted and 
 repeated from all parts of the yard. 
 
 Billy the hatter and Billy the soldier are very different 
 people, and he does in his red coat what he would never think 
 of doing in his black. Seeing Scott standing in the desolate 
 way a man does outside a great house waiting for hounds, he 
 came with a patronising air of one with the entree, and 
 asked if our friend wouldn't "walk in" adding his con- 
 viction, " that the duke would be extremely happy to see 
 him." 
 
 Tom didn't think the duke would ; and not knowing what 
 practical jokes some of Billy's half-drunken heavies might 
 play on the old mare if he went to try the experiment, he 
 contended himself by saying, that " he had breakfasted," and 
 was anxious to know whether it was to be " a fox-hunt or a 
 review ? " 
 
TJAWH'K.'K GRANGE. 
 
 213 
 
 "Oh, it's a fox-himt," replied Billy, quite j,n'aveiy, adding, 
 confidentially, " the fact is, tvc are here as a guard of honour 
 on the prince." 
 
 PREPARE TO MOUNT ! 
 
 ''To prevent the fox sating him, I suppose," said Scott, as 
 puss-in-booLS waddled away to get his men mounted. 
 
 All ihis gathering, p.nd quartering, and liquoring, and 
 soldiering, so unlike the " real thing," was anything but 
 encouraging i nor did the prospect appear brighter when 
 
214 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 sundry postillions in bullion-laced, plum-colonred jackets, 
 spic and span leathers, with tasseled caps, and glass-blown 
 wigs, emerged from the servants' hall, -whips in hand, and 
 wended their ways to the coach-house department in the 
 adjoining court to where the soldiers were. 
 
 Presently the tramp of horse announced something coming, 
 find a light blue landau, drawn by six blood bays with their 
 manes full of ribbons, followed by a barouche and four, drew 
 up in the inner court, for the "army," as the Irish call a 
 handful of recruits, to arrange themselves around, so as to 
 proceed in proper form to the front. 
 
 This was no easy matter ; for few of the honest Dobbinses 
 being accustomed to such lord mayor's shows, they flew in all 
 directions as the postillion wormed his leaders among them ; 
 and more than one heavy dragoon measured his length on the 
 ground. A wicked wag, too, whom Billy Bobbinson had 
 rather " done " in the matter of a hat, had figged the old 
 black, Avho began lifting her hind quarters as he mounted in a 
 sort of cross Ijetween a kick and the action of a dancing horse 
 at Astley's. Drink ! all glorious drink, however, had strung 
 Billy's nerves, and he rebuked her, and jagged her in a way 
 that plainly said, "■ he wasn't the Billy he was when he 
 came." 
 
 At last they all got mounted and under way, and a brandy- 
 nosed trumpeter having made the castle courts echo with his 
 battered instrument, Billy Bobbinson gave the order "to draw 
 swords," and having got his own great cheese toaster hoisted 
 over his shoulder, the cavalcade proceeded to join the greatly- 
 increased crowd in front. 
 
 It was now twelve o'clock — "our great-grandfathers' 
 dinner hour," as Nimrod said in "The Quarterly" — and they 
 had not yet started to find the fox. The day, we should 
 observe, though bright, was clear and cold, with certain 
 indications of frost in the air, just sufficient to make people 
 thump their hands against their thighs, and urge their horses 
 
HA IV BUCK GRANGt:. 216 
 
 into little backwards and forwards trots before the castle, by 
 way of j^iving tlie iniiiates a hint tliat tliey ouj^iit to be 
 comine:. 
 
 After numerous folse alarms, at last one of those nn- 
 mistakeable moves was perceptible in the castle, and ere the 
 lumbering heavies had got themselves into "attention," a rush 
 of servants threw back the great doors, and the Prince of 
 Spankerhausen appeared, with tiie Duchess of Tergiversation, 
 in feathers and sky-blue satin, on his arm. The pi'ince was a 
 full-sized, stout, heavy-shouldered, enormously big-chested 
 man, with a great meaningless yellow face, little ferrety blue 
 eyes, straight sandy-coloured hair, and bushy mustachios. He 
 was dressed in a half uniform, half-hunting sort of costume, a 
 cocked hat and feather, a double-breasted red hunting coat, 
 buttoned up to the neck, with leather breeches and jack-boots, 
 and wore a small couicau de chasse at his side. The Duke of 
 Tergiversation was dressed in the costume lie used to pretend 
 to hunt in when a young man, a loose bed-gowny frock coat, 
 yellow-ochre leathers, coming low down the calf, and very 
 short mahogany-coloured top-boots. 
 
 Having stood on the stone step inside the portico for a few 
 seconds to show themselves becomingly to the crowd, the 
 prince handed the duchess into the landau, in which she was 
 followed by Mynheer Von Cled, who, as our readers are aware, 
 is encumbered with a cork leg. Two other swells having 
 filled the back seats, the landau moved on, to allow th.e 
 barouche to take up the ladies, Chop and Change, and a party 
 of juveniles. The prince, having seen them all in, mounted 
 his Flemish prancer, sheep-skinned, netted, tasseled, and capa- 
 risoned according to the custom of his country, and the duke 
 taking his place on the right, and Lord Harry Harkaway on 
 the left, the army placed itself so as to keep a space open for 
 the great guns to ride at their ease. The brandy-nosed 
 
216 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 trumpeter announced their departure on his instrument ; the 
 emblazoned flag on the tower was lowered, so that all the 
 country round might know that the Duke of Tergiversation 
 and Co. had gone forth to give battle to the foxes. Minute 
 guns began to boom from the battlements. Amid all this 
 sporting magnificence, the party proceeded in state up to 
 Tower Hill, which commands an extensive view of the park 
 and neighbouring country. 
 
 Lord Harry Harkaway quitted the curious cavalcade as it 
 reached the foot of the hill, to join his poor neglected hounds, 
 now wending their way with the servants in the bottom, his 
 lordship wearing the dejected air of a man under orders to 
 make a fool of himself. 
 
 "Well, this is the ruramest go I ever saw," observed his 
 lordship to Tom Tiptop, his huntsman, as he reached the 
 latter. 
 
 " Oh, it's all my eye, my lord," replied Tom, taking off his 
 cap ; " there hasn't been a fox here these five years ; " adding, 
 " they are going to turn down a brace of things on the other 
 side of the hill that have been in a sack these three days, poor 
 things." 
 
 "The best thing would be to make a drag of one of them," 
 observed his lordship. 
 
 " I beheve it would," replied the huntsman, " and so be 
 done with it at once, and then we might draw homewards, for 
 it'll be night before we get away, if we don't." 
 
 The humbug then commenced by drawing several belts of 
 plantations, and clumps of trees and tufts of brushwood, 
 scattered and dotted about the park, from whence issued 
 hares, pheasants, rabbits, deer, wood pigeons, partridges, 
 tomtits, every thing except a fox. Meanwhile, his grace 
 availed himself of the opportunity for pointing out to the 
 prince and Mynheer Von Cled the vast extent of his 
 park and territory, and the most remarkable of the distant 
 views. 
 
EAWBUVK GRANGE. 217 
 
 Here, LhcR', and (jvciy where, Lord llarkiiwiiy tried wiLli a 
 patience and perseverance deserving of a better fate. At 
 length he neared Gullington Wood, where fox No. 1 had to be 
 turned down. Turned down he had been ; bub the supine 
 keepers having omitted to spring the rabbit traps, they found 
 poor reynard in one of them, when a hound very quietly 
 finished him. 
 
 Clumps and belts intervening between Gullington Wood and 
 Poppington Dean, and his lordship anticipating no better luck 
 with the second fox, he desired his pad-groom to drag the 
 carcass of the one they had killed at the back of the hill, while 
 the company were staring and gaping in front. " Just drag 
 him alongside your horse," said his lordship, " keeping on the 
 far side of all the plantations and places, so that they mayn't 
 see you, and after making a good round of the park, finish 
 in old Absolom Brown, the keeper's garden, by the South 
 Lodge, where we can bury him, if the hounds won't eat 
 him, and come out with the Ijrush and pads, and all things 
 proper." 
 
 This was a very good instruction ; for though " No. 2 " did 
 raise a cry in cover, the melody was very soon terminated by a 
 kiU, which his lordship seeing, he out with his horn and blew 
 for hard life, w'hile Tiptop and the three whippers-in set up 
 such screeches and yells, and made such cracks with their 
 whips, that the w-hole cavalcade seemed to be suddenly 
 electrified, and soldiers, and fox-hunters, and gigs, and 
 carriages, and omnibus, and grooms,* and prince, and dnke and 
 duchess, and Mynheer Von Cled, were all mixed up in a 
 minute in one glorious state of indescribable confusion. 
 
 " Yonder he goes," roared Jemmy Fitznoodle. 
 
 " Hold hard ! " screamed Tom Craw^ley. 
 
 " Halt 1 " roared Billy Bobbinson. 
 
 '* Go it, ye shavers ! " exclaimed Jack Hobler, pushing 
 through the crowd, as all eyes were strained after his lordship, 
 in hopes of viewing the fox. 
 
2J8 HAWBUCK GBaNGE. 
 
 The hounds poured out of cover, down went their sterns, 
 and out came the music, as they crossed the line of the drag, 
 and settled like a swarm of bees on the scent. 
 
 Away ! away ! away ! went the field, the bold dragoons 
 mixing up with the rest, leaving the prince to look after 
 himself, while gigs, and cars, and phaetons, and landau, and all 
 strained over the green sward as best they could. It was a 
 splendid burst ! 
 
 The prince's Flemish punch even seemed to catch a little of 
 the infection, and gave two or three squeals and hoists up 
 behind, indicative of what he might do if his highness did not 
 loose his head a little. This the nag accomplished just as the 
 Duke of Tergiversation, who had been nearly capsized by a 
 dog-cart, came alongside, and suggested that they ought to be 
 getting forward if they meant to see the sport. 
 
 On then they bumped together in about equal enjoymejit of 
 the run, which was dexterously prolonged by sundry doubles, 
 that would have led the knowing ones to think it was a hare if 
 Jemmy Fitznoodle had not had ocular demonstration of the 
 brush. 
 
 At last the conical roof of old Absolom's thatched cottage 
 was seen peering from among the laurels and evergreens in 
 which it is stuck ; and when the great guns arrived, it was 
 announced to the duke, who put it into French for the prince, 
 that the fox was at bay in the garden. 
 
 Great were the rejoicings thereat, great the exultations of 
 each party on coming up "piping hot" to the finish. 
 " Glorious run 1 splendid sport ! finest sight that ever was 
 seen." 
 
 " Who shall say there are no foxes at Fast-and-Loose 
 Castle ! " exclaimed his grace, wiping the perspiration fi'om 
 his brow. 
 
 " Who, indeed ! " echoed Jemmy Fitznoodle, adding, " This 
 is the biggest one I ever set eyes on ! " 
 
 " Who-uoop I " screeched Lord Harry Harkaway at last. 
 
HAU'IJUCK GRANGE. 219 
 
 pokini]^ his way under tlie ivy-twined arcli of the little garden- 
 gate, with the brusli and pads high in hand. 
 
 " Who-hoop!" echoed half a hundred outside. 
 
 " Give the brush to the prince, my lord ! " exclaimed 
 the duke, as the outburst of joy subsided — " give the brush 
 to the prince, my lord : he rode like a hero and deserves 
 itl" 
 
 His grace then interpreted the compliment, while the great 
 phlegmatic Dutchman sat on his horse looking as unconcerned 
 as a cow. Mynheer Von Cled got a pad, (rather an equivocal 
 compliment, considering his deficiency in that line,) and the 
 compliments and congratulations being at length exhausted, 
 the duke capped the performance by exclaiming, " ]\Ty Lord 
 Harry ! you'd better come to the castle and have a little 
 refreshment after your fatigue." 
 
 Lord Harry thought otherwise, and having paid the last 
 tribute of respect to poor reynard's remains in the garden, he 
 groped his way through the now squeezing and jostling crowd 
 to his horse, which having mounted, the brass music of the 
 horn and bugle drew off their respective cohorts, the hunters 
 passing outside the park, while the soldiers again formed 
 into something like line to conduct the heroes back to the 
 castle. 
 
 In ten minutes the lately distracted park had resumed its 
 usual placid grandeur. The grey-headed green-coated gate- 
 keeper rolled the heavy iron gates back as the last donkey cart 
 took its departure, closing the fox-hunting scene, let us hope, 
 *' for ever and for aye." 
 
 " Well, but Where's your blank ? " we fancy we hear the 
 reader say. " You've killed a brace of foxes ! how's that ? 
 that's no blank ! " 
 
 Gentle reader, we admit it ; it wouldn't be a blank to some, 
 but it was to Lord Harkaway and many of the gentlemen who 
 " harkaway " with him. "Will you, however, take it seriously 
 amiss if we tell you that all this is merely preliminary Lo the 
 
220 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 " blank day ? " We hope not, for unless you close the book, 
 you have all your medicine to take yet. 
 
 Perhaps, however, unlike Lord Harry Harkaway, the reader 
 may require a little refreshment after such a run, so we will 
 reserve the real blank for another chapter. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE BLAXK DAY — (continued). 
 
 THE Duke of Terf^iver- 
 sation's park - wall 
 encroaches so on the 
 township voad out- 
 side, that the field 
 was lengthened into 
 somethinti' like inih- 
 tarj line until they 
 cleared its precincts. 
 Indeed it was not 
 until they got upon 
 the liberal width 
 and grass-sidings of 
 the Cockington Fort 
 road, that Tom 
 Scott had an oppor- 
 tunity of diviLg 
 into the melee, and 
 seeing " who was who." Others had been in the same 
 predicament, for Tom had not advanced far into the crowd of 
 horsemen, ere he was hailed l\y some of the " best fellows under 
 the sun," exclaiming, in the wild outbm'st of surprise, 
 " Damme, here's Tom Scott ! " " What the deuce has brought 
 you here, old boy ? " " AYell, Tom, did you ever ? " " Xo, I 
 never ! " and so ou. alluding to tiie recent Fox and Goose 
 exhibition in the park. 
 
 ANTHONY Tl'GTAIL. 
 
222 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 Despite the retirement of the prince, and the carriages, and 
 the cavahy, and the costermongers, there was still an immense 
 field : from a hundred and fifty to two hundred horsemen at least. 
 The country papers of the next week, who devoted three columns 
 and a half each to the details of the pageant, " Grand Sporting 
 Pageant at Fast-and-Loose Castle, in honour of his Serene 
 Highness the Prince of Spankerhausen and the great Dutch 
 merchant Mynheer Von Cled," declared there were a thousand 
 — a thousand, exclusive of the handful of yeomanry, whom 
 they magnified into " two hundred of the flower of tlie 
 country." 
 
 And here we may observe, how much better it is for a 
 respectable paper to have a regular cut-along correspondent, 
 who sticks to the truth, and tells what he sees, calling things 
 by their proper names — fools, fools — humbugs, humbugs — and 
 so on, instead of one of your word-sprawling gentry, who are 
 perfectly bewildered when they come to handle a hunt, and 
 who only make absurdity more ridiculous. 
 
 Who doesn't remember the mess they made when her 
 Majesty went out at Belvoir, and again when glorious Tom 
 Smith* revisited the green haunts of Leicestershire ! 
 
 But to the adjourned hunt. 
 
 " Why didn't you come in to breakfast at the castle, Mr. 
 Scott ? " asked Sir George StiflPenecke, who had got straggled 
 all the way down to the "duke's," and was still prosecuting 
 the chase, notwithstanding his grace's return, in hopes of 
 gaining an appetite for dinner. "Why didn't you come in to 
 breakfast at the castle ? " repeated he, adding, " The duke 
 would have been happy to see you." 
 
 " I dare say would he," replied our nncourteous Tom ; "just 
 as happy as I am when I find a straw. Dukes are only for 
 
 * Thomas Assheton Smith, Esq., one of the best sportsmen the world 
 ever saw. This scene, we are happy to hear, is in course of redemption 
 by the unrivalled pencil of Mr. Grant, and we hope the public will be 
 favoured with an engraving of it. 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 223 
 
 Riich ;:rcat men as yourself, Sir George," added lie, tliinking to 
 sinoobh over the roughness of the former part of the speech. 
 
 ''Well, but his grace is extremely affable and condesending, 
 I'm sure," rejoined Sir George. 
 
 " Oh ! devilish affable — especially about election times," 
 replied Tom. " Then one may expect a visit from his agent, 
 Mr. Saucyjaw, with his forty-horse power of impudence, 
 reminding one of the breakfast, and his grace's condescension, 
 and saying that his grace having just discovered ' black's 
 white,' hopes Mr. Scott won't object to voting in the affirmative ; 
 and if one refuses, the duke storms and fumes as if he had 
 been robbed of his birthright. I don't buy my groceries quite 
 so dear, Sir George," added Tom : " if great men wish to 
 retain their influence over little ones, they must be 
 consistent." 
 
 Sir George was rather posed, for he's a short-noticed Jem 
 Crow-er himself. 
 
 The Stilfenecke conversation was here interrupted by a most 
 dislocating thump on the shoulder from Tom's very sincere, but 
 very heavy-fisted friend, Foxey Wollop, of Tod House, a ginger- 
 haired gentleman, with a coarse cane-coloured beard, and a 
 strong cross of the fox in his face. 
 
 " "Why, what the deuce has brought you to this scene of 
 absurdity ? " inquired Wollop, after lie had followed up the 
 blow by nearly crushing Tom's fingers in his vice of a 
 hand. 
 
 "■YoM may ask that," replied Tom, wringing his tinghng 
 hand against his horse's side : " I came to hunt, but we don't 
 always get what we come for." 
 
 " Indeed we don't," replied Foxey Wollop. *' However, if 
 you'll come home with me, I'll tell you what you'll get, and no 
 mistake — you'll get a cut off a beautiful round of beef, three 
 weeks in the salt, with the gravy springing out of the centre, 
 like a fountain, and a pie or a pudding, or something of that 
 Bort." 
 
224 EAWBUGK GRANGE. 
 
 "That's a very good oiler," said Tom, "but at present I'm 
 for the fox, et prefer ca nihil.'''' 
 
 " Oh, fox ! we shall find no fox," replied Wollop, with a 
 smile, " unless it is such another as we had in the park." 
 
 " That's a pity," said our friend, " for I've come a long way 
 to see these hounds, and should like to have a round with them 
 of some sort." 
 
 " Ah ! then you must come another day ; or, I'll tell 
 you what do — stay over to-morrow with me, and hunt 
 Saturday at Crashington brake ; a sure find, and a capital 
 country." 
 
 " Can't," replied Tom with a shake of the head ; " got to be 
 at home ; but tell me," added he, " what are they going to 
 draw now ? " as a whip opened a gate on the left of the road, 
 for the hounds to pass into a field. 
 
 " Oh ! it will be Thorneyhalf Dean, one of the duke's," 
 replied Wollop ; " one of the duke's — might as well draw the 
 turnpike — Lord Harry, I suppose, thinks he may as well make 
 a day of it, and go through the form." 
 
 Nevertheless, " a lively-faithed " field ranged themselves 
 orthodoxly for reynard to break : the whips scuttled to their 
 respective points, and the swell huntsman yoicked his hounds 
 into cover, and stood erect in his stirrups eying the Dean, as 
 though he really expected to find. 
 
 " Have at him there, good dogs ! " holloaed he ; " yoicks, 
 wind him ! yoicks, push him up ! " and then he gave his own 
 patent note, something between a screech and a demi view- 
 holloa ; a cheer, however, that we are sorry to say is not 
 reducible to paper. 
 
 Most huntsmen have a pet noise of their own, and that was 
 Mr. Tiptop's. 
 
 While this make-believe work was going on, Gurney Sadlad 
 came up grinning from ear to ear, with a " I say, Scott, old 
 boy, they've been hoaxing the ' cretur ' that you are the Duke 
 of Devonshire, and we want you to carry on the joke." 
 
RAWBUGK ORANGE. 228 
 
 " 'lliey've been what ! " exclaimed Tom in astonishment. 
 
 "Hoaxing the 'cretur:' you know the 'cretur,' don't 
 you ? " inquired Sadlad, " Everybody knows the ' cretur,' Toe 
 Tugtail. Well, they've been hoaxing tlie * cretur ' that you 
 are the Duke of Devonshire, and we want you to let us intro- 
 duce him to you in form." 
 
 "Nonsense," replied Tom ; adding, "/ can't do Duke at 
 short notice — / can't personate the Duke of Devonshire, a man 
 I never saw in my life." 
 
 "Oh! that's nothing," rejoined Sadlad; "the 'cretur' 
 never saw him either ; therefore you'll be matched in that 
 respect." 
 
 The gentleman thus indicated, although then a perfect 
 stranger to Tom, was so well known by the field as to make 
 them suppose he must at all events have heard of him ; and so, 
 lest we should fall into a similar error with the reader, we will 
 here give a slight sketch of him from the knowledge Tom 
 afterwards obtained. 
 
 Toe Tugtail, whose real name is Anthony, Anthony 
 Tugtail, Esq., derives his appellation, either from the natural 
 abbreviation of his name, or fi-om a propensity the unkind onea 
 say he has of making people's acquaintance through the 
 medium of their toes. He is a watering-place bird, and has 
 mustered an extensive acquaintance by a dexterous application 
 of his foot. If he sees a ring formed round a quadrille, or a 
 staring circle environing a set of peticoat-whirling waltzers. 
 Toe elbows his way in till he gets beside the party he wants to 
 know, when dropping his hat, or his glove, or his handkerchief, 
 he contrives to touch the person, which is immediately followed 
 op by ten thousand apologies, and a sort of imperceptible 
 glide into conversation respecting the performances, the lights, 
 the music, the any thing that happens to be handy. The 
 foundation of the acquaintance is thus laid. If it is a " don," 
 off goes the hat the first time Toe meets him alone ; but if Toe 
 is in company, he tries the familiar half nod of a bow, and 
 
226 HAWBUCK ORANGE. 
 
 says. " That's my Mend, Sir John, or Sir Tom, or Lord 
 Harry." 
 
 liefore Tom Scotfc had time to arrange his thoughts or ideas, 
 he saw a move among the horsemen about twenty yards lower 
 down the hedge, and presently a little wizened, ugly old man, 
 in a rusty old scarlet coat and moleskin breeches, backed a 
 mealy-legged, mealy-muzzled, fiddle-case headed, bay horse out 
 of the rank, in answer to Sadlad's summons, who had gone 
 half way back to give it. 
 
 Scott had a good view of him as he came primming himself 
 up, and certainly he did not seem undeserving of the name of 
 the "cretur." It was visible at a glance that he dyed his hair ; 
 indeed it does not require a conjurer to see that, for a practised 
 eye may almost tell what o'clock it is by the various shades a 
 dyed head assumes during the day. The pheasant-coloured 
 tint of the " cretur's " showed that it was long past 
 noon. 
 
 Scott had observed Mi'. Tugtail in the park ; indeed he 
 saw him come out of the castle close on the Prince of 
 Spankerhausen's heels, but from seeing him running a 
 muck, first at one great man, and then at another, Scott had 
 concluded he was either a great man himself, or an attache to 
 one at all events. That " birds of a feather flock together " 
 holds as good with peers as with pigeons. 
 
 Sadlad, we should observe, is one of those harum-scarum 
 creatures whom it is no use being angry with. He will have 
 his joke, let what will be the consequence ; and even if our 
 friend Tom had had presence of mind to ride away, we dare say 
 Sadlad would have followed with Tugtail at his back. It was. 
 therefore, perhaps best to surrender at discretion. Sadlad'g 
 was the fault, Tom's the misfortune. 
 
 "My lord duke, will you allow me to present my particular 
 friend, Mr. Tugtail," said Sadlad in a sonorous voice, and the 
 most respectful manner, extending his right arm a little behind 
 to where his particular friend came ci'eeping along. 
 
HAWBUCK GUANGK 227 
 
 The "cretur's" hat made an aerial sweep, fiiiisliinn; at the 
 spur. 
 
 " Great pleasure in making Mr. Tugtail's acquaintance," 
 replied Tom, raising his hat, string high. 
 
 "Your grace is very fortunate in the day," observed the 
 "cretur," after a grin. 
 
 " Very,'''' replied Tom, not knowing whether he meant in the 
 sport or the weather. 
 
 " It was a splendid run, indeed," said Tugtail. 
 
 " Oh, splendid,''* rejoined Tom, looking at the creases in 
 Tugtail's coat and the moth-holes at his breeches' knee, and 
 wondering how long it was since they had been aired. 
 
 Tivang — twang — twang ! went Lord Harry's horn ; screech 
 — screech — screech ! went Mr. Tiptop's too, who was not to be 
 done out of his blow. 
 
 " To him, hounds — to him ! — get awag ! " hallooed the men, 
 cracking their heavy thonged whips. 
 
 "No go, here, I'm afraid, my lord duke," observed the 
 " cretur," with pretended concern. 
 
 " I'm afraid not," replied Tom, gathering his reins, thinking 
 to escape from the listening, laughing, gaping, giggling, 
 crowd. 
 
 Vain hope ! Whenever Tom turned, the " cretur " was at 
 his heels ; worse still, the crowd followed to hear the fun. 
 How he did be-duke, and be-grace and be-lord him 1 
 
 From Thorneyhalf Dean they went to Cressingham Copse, 
 another cover of Tom's noble brother Tergiversation's. As 
 they proceeded, the wicked author of his misfortune rode up 
 alongside, and whispered into his ear, " PitcJt into him." 
 
 ^'Daren't,''* replied Tom ; "he'd have me up for an 
 assault." 
 
 " I don't mean that," said Sadlad, " but cram him icell.^* 
 
 *' Your grace hasn't much hunting in Derbyshire, I think," 
 interposed the "cretur," crushing up on the other side of 
 Tom's horse. 
 
228 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 " Not much," replied Tom, thinking the cretur might know 
 more of Derbyshire than he did. 
 
 " Noble place, Chatsworth ! " observed Tugtail, confirming 
 Tom's worst suspicions that he had been there. 
 
 ** Why, yes it is ; and yet I don't know," replied Tom, 
 doubtfully, as if there were things he didn't like about it, or 
 his modesty prevented his praising what was his own. 
 
 " Oh, splendid place ! " rejoined Tugtail encouragingly ; 
 " splendid place, indeed ! " 
 
 " You've been there, have you ? " asked Tom. 
 
 "Oh, yes," replied Tugtail; "as a sight-seer I mean — 
 merely to see the place, you know, your grace." 
 
 " I hope I shall have the pleasure of seeing you there as a 
 guest next time," observed Tom, with true ducal condescension. 
 
 The " cretur " nearly kissed his ugly horse's ears. 
 
 Having " done the polite," Tom made him a sort of half 
 bow, as if going to talk to some one else, and got his mare 
 jogged into a trot, which, by dint of spurring, he worked far 
 into the yet remaining crowd, ere he again ventured to look 
 over his shoulder. 
 
 "By gar, there was Monsieur Tonson again!" Tonson, 
 followed by a longer tail than before, all laughing, he-he-he-ing, 
 haiv-haiv-hatu-ing, " you donH say so "-ing, as if they would 
 split their sides. 
 
 "Your grace was building your pointer kennels the last 
 time I was at Chatsworth," said the "cretur," bringing his 
 horse alongside again, to the displacement of Gurney kSadlad, 
 Foxey Wollop, and some other wicked wags who had ci'owded 
 round Tom Scott to prompt him. " Let me see, when would 
 it be ! I was staying at Matlock. Ah, well, it's immaterial ; 
 but I ventured to suggest tliat the floors should be made of 
 asphalte, which was then just coming into vogue." 
 
 " And they are made of asphalte," replied Tom, " and very 
 much obliged I was to the gentleman who made the sugges- 
 tion, and most happy I am to have an opportunity of thanking 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 229 
 
 him personally," continued Tom, tendering him his hand, to 
 try if he couldn't shake him off that way. 
 
 No go ; the " cretur " stuck to him like a leech, and shoved 
 poor Sir George Stiffenecke aside, as if he were the veriest 
 plebeian under the sun. Ungrateful man ! There are times 
 when even the knight is ardently worshipped, 
 
 " Your grace has splendid shooting at Chatsworth," observed 
 the " cretur." 
 
 "Pretty well," replied our newly-jumped up duke ; "pretty 
 well ; nothing compared to what I shall have ; " adding con- 
 fidentially, " I have an idea in my head that, if carried out, 
 will make the sporting at Chatsworth one of the finest things 
 under the sun." 
 
 " Indeed, your grace," observed Tugtail with well assumed 
 interest. 
 
 " I'm going to substitute peacocks, ostriches, cassiowaries, 
 and other eastern birds, for our common-place pheasants and 
 partridges. "What think you of a peacock battue or an ostrich 
 hunt ? " asked Tom. 
 
 " Splendid ! magnificent ! " exclaimed Toe, as though he 
 could hardly contain himself. 
 
 " I will tell you what my idea is," continued Tom, lowering 
 his voice, "but this, of course, is between ourselves, and in 
 strict confidence ; but my idea with regard to Chatsworth is 
 this — it's a fine place, no doubt, and the present mansion has 
 its advantages, but I think I could Orientalise the Avhole 
 thing, and combine every English comfort with Eastern mag- 
 nificence." 
 
 " Indeed, your grace," said Tugtail, all attention. 
 
 " My idea is .this — but of course it goes no further — to buy 
 the Pavilion at Brighton, and place it on the site of the present 
 house, or to take the Pavilion for a model, and try to improve 
 upon it." 
 
 "It would have a very fine effect, indeed, your grace," 
 interrrpted the " cretur." 
 
'^:io HA yy BUCK grange. 
 
 '* You kaow the Pavilion, then ? " asked Tom. 
 
 " Oh yes, your grace," replied he ; "I frequently go to 
 Brighton ; was there last summer — stay at the York, on the 
 Esplanade, close by the Pavilion, you know." 
 
 The " cretur " had the advantage of Poor Tom again, for 
 he has never been there, and his only acquaintance with the 
 Pavilion is through a picture on his old housekeeper's workbox, 
 where it certainly looks like a most gingerbread affair. 
 
 "Well," said Tom, determined to brazen it out, "I'm in 
 treaty for the thing, and I think I shall get it too. The Queen 
 evidently doesn't like it ; but it doesn't do for a purchaser to 
 appear too keen. We all like good bargains, and royalty is 
 not exempt from the feeling." 
 
 " I should think her Majesty would be too happy to give it 
 to your grace," observed the "cretur," "especially to ornament 
 80 fine a site as Chatsworth." 
 
 " I don't know that," replied Tom. " You see if she was to 
 give me the Pavilion, some one else might take a fancy to 
 Buckingham Palace, or St. James's ; not that I think any one 
 is likely to trouble either of those ; but still the principle is the 
 same, and she might be left houseless, which would be unbe- 
 coming the Queen of a great nation of foxhunters like this." 
 
 " It would so," assented the "cretur." 
 
 " However," said Tom, " if the worst comes to the worst, 
 and she tries to ' Jew me,' I can always build a similar thing, 
 and perhaps improve upon it too." 
 
 The hounds had now got to Cressingham Copse. It is an 
 oval dean, with a strongish stream, fringed with sedgy banks, 
 the water running into the large reservoir of the Dusty Binn 
 Mills, a little below. After the usual "make believe " drawing, 
 Lord Harry crossed the mill race at the sluice, and, scrambling 
 up a rough brush-woody bank, horn in hand, surveyed the 
 scene below. 
 
 It requires a steady horse to insure your safe transit over a 
 mill dam, and some of the field did not seem to fancy giving 
 
IIAJrBCrCK GRANGE. 231 
 
 Llieirs a chance of tiiiublint!; tliom in ; araonij^ the nura')er the 
 '" cretur," who, shding down the bank _ below the dam, began 
 exploring a south-east passage. 
 
 " Duke ! " exclaimed he at the top of his voice, as he saw 
 a footpath winding up the bank from the road he was now 
 taking, " Duke ! " repeated he, though Tom answered at the 
 first shot, " Here's a better way ! here's a better way ! " 
 
 " Oh, your grace, I'm not going to draw any more ! " 
 halloaed Lord Harry Harkaway, fit to drop out of his saddle 
 with laughing. So saying he took off his hat with great defer- 
 ence, and having acknowledged his courtesy, Tom cut away aa 
 hard as ever he could lay legs to the ground. 
 
 Well, it's four years ago, as we said before, and Tom had 
 forgotten all about the " cretur," and the " duke," and the 
 " pavillion," and all the nonsense he had talked, until they 
 were most unpleasantly forced on his recollection last 
 season. 
 
 Mr. Neville's hounds met at Scruffington Clump, one of the 
 wildest and most out-of-the-way places they have ; but pro- 
 scribed meets being rather in vogue since the " Chase " day. 
 there was a fairish sprinkling of sportsmen, including our un- 
 fortunate friend, the " duke for a day." Why he went we 
 don't know, save that oats were very dear, and he had had very 
 little hunting for his money ; for Scruffington Clump, inde- 
 pendently of being a most uninviting place, is only an uncertain 
 draw, especially in the spring. It lies handier for the Dazzle- 
 goose hounds ; but Mr. Neville, who is one of the old hard- 
 bitten uncompromising order of masters, and would as soon 
 part with an inch off his nose as an acre off his country, keeps 
 it as a sort of Botany Bay to send his hounds to in bad 
 weather, or on days that he doesn't mean to go out himself. 
 When asked to give it up, " as it is of no use to him," he 
 
232 RAW BUCK GRANGE. 
 
 always says, ^^ I don't knoiv hoiv soon I may want it,'' and mut- 
 tering something about railways he closes the discourse. It's a 
 nasty place — a landmark clump of Scotch firs, that haven't 
 grown an inch these twenty years, placed on the summit of the 
 swelhng Whitcliffe Hills. The land around is of the poorest, 
 most impoverished order ; the wretched water weeds, the 
 yellow moss, the unhealthy rushes, and the scattered broom 
 and brushwood scarcely covering the thin water-gruelly-looking 
 soil. It seems to grow everything but what it should. Some 
 enterprising individuals enclosed a considerable portion of it 
 some years ago, and the weak hedges are in that delightful 
 state of mossy rottenness as to make gates superfluous articles. 
 The cattle just walk through the hedges where they like. The 
 country indeed is fast returning to its pristine, goose an acre, 
 state. Its fox-hunting feature is not amiss, and if it were a 
 sure find it would not be a bad place ; but there is no regular 
 holding cover in the draw, and Mr. Neville's hounds are 
 generally indebted to the Dazzlegoose people for a run when 
 they get one. Such was the place which our friend Tom Scott 
 cast up at, and, not having been there for five years, he 
 got such a fright that we don't think he will venture there 
 again. 
 
 Unpromising as the place was, they had a field — Trumper 
 was there, also the Hobble trots, and one or two other Goose 
 and Dumpling men. 
 
 Of red coats they had Muffinmouth, Colonel Buckskin, Mr. 
 Palmer of Walford, Mr. Moulden of Bradfield, Mr. Harford 
 and his son, Mr. Murray of Hadham, a few Dazzlegoose men in 
 apricot colour, and some of the great unshaved from the 
 barracks. 
 
 Judge of our poor friend's horror on leaving the clump to 
 draw some loose-bottomed belts of plantations below, at seeing 
 Tarquinius Muff's great white stomach coming along with a 
 diminutive-looking companion, who, at a glance, Scott saw was 
 the " cretur." 
 
HAWBUCK QBANGE. 233 
 
 He had hardly time to shove his great Grahainlikc* gills 
 into his cravat, push his coat collar up, and stick his hat on 
 sideways (d la Jerry, the race-list seller), make himself as un- 
 like himself as possible, ere they were within descrying distance 
 of each other. 
 
 Scott pretended not to see Tugtail, but with a sidelong sort 
 of glance watched the first view strike his frame, and saw that if 
 revolving years had deepened the wrinkles in his old cheeks, 
 the day had not yet taken the lustre out of the hair-dye, his 
 precise locks being as black and as trim as a raven's wing. 
 
 Moreover, Scott saw Tugtail point him out to Muff, and 
 could almost tell by their manner what each said. 
 
 " There's the Duke of Devonshire ! " exclaimed Tugtail. 
 
 " Not a bit of it," replied MuflF. 
 
 " Who is it then ? " inquired Tugtail > 
 
 " Which do you mean ? " asked MuflF. 
 
 " The man on the chestnut." 
 
 " Oh ! that's — haw — Mr. Scott — haw — a sort of a — haw — 
 gentleman — haw — farmer — haw — lives at a place called Haw — 
 Buck Grange — haw." 
 
 MuflF was the great man of the day, and the poor " cretur " 
 who doats upon titles, was absolutely high and dry for want of 
 one. In this sad dilemma he actually sought the acquaintance 
 of our friend Tom at the hands of Tarquinius Muff, all because 
 Tom looked like the Duke of Devonshire, or a man he had 
 been told was the duke, for he is no more like him than we 
 are. 
 
 Tom had dodged them for nearly an hour, till they pinned 
 him in the corner of a field from whence there was no escape 
 but over a high stone wall. 
 
 " Scott, let me introduce my friend Mr. Tugtail," said MuflF, 
 bringing Tuggey up. 
 
 • Sir James Graham is very liberal in the matter of shirt collars, as 
 used to be ably depicted by Punch during the virtiitms administration 
 that did so much for the farmers. 
 
234 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 " Happy to make the acquaintance of Mr. Scott," said the 
 " cretur " with a most patronising bow, just such a bow as 
 Tom made to him on the former occasion. 
 
 Tom sky-scraped in return. 
 
 After a common-place or two, the " cretur " thus began : — 
 
 " Do you know, Mr. Scott, I was very nearly making a most 
 ridiculous mistake just now ? " observed he. 
 
 " What was that, Sir ? " asked Tom, with a pretty good idea 
 of what was coming. 
 
 "Why, do you know when I first saw you, I ahsolutelij took 
 you for my friend the Duke of Devonshire." 
 
 " That loould have been a mistake, indeed," observed Tom. 
 
 " Well, I assure you it was so," replied he. " Our friend 
 Muff will tell you the same. ' That's the Duke of Devonshire ! ' 
 said I, as you rode up. ' Nonsense ! ' said Muff ; ' it's Mr, 
 Scott.' By the way, may I ask if you are any way related to 
 the great Sir Walter ? " 
 
 " Not that I know of," replied Tom. 
 
 " Most likely, I should think," observed the " cretur," 
 anxious to make the best of our friend. " Most likely, I should 
 think," repeated he. " Pray do you spell your name with two 
 t's ? " 
 
 '' Yes," replied Scott. 
 
 " You don't know my friend the Duke of Devonshire, then," 
 observed Tugtail, after a minute scrutiny of Tom's features. 
 
 " No," replied Tom ; " I never saw him." 
 
 " Ah ! well, you'd know him if you were to see him, for 
 there's certainly a resemblance between you," observed he ; 
 " and your voice is something similar. It must be so, indeed, 
 or I couldn't have mistaken you for a man I know so well " 
 
 " Does his grace hunt ? " asked Tom, thinking to " trot 
 Tuggey out " a little. 
 
 "Oh, yes," replied he ; "rides well, too; I should say, but 
 his mind inclines more to shooting." 
 
 " He'll have good shooting, I suppose," observed Scott. 
 
UAWBUCK GRANGE. 235 
 
 *' Capital,'" replied his — not irieud, but persecutor. " He's 
 great with his gun," added he. " Indeed it is in the shooting 
 way tliat I see most of him. I've a room at Chatsworth when- 
 ever I like to go," added Tugtail. 
 
 " Which you will occupy pretty often, I imagine," observed 
 Tom ; adding, " at least / would, I know." 
 
 " I've many other friends," replied Tugtail " desirous of my 
 company." 
 
 " Ay, but I'd always go to the biggest," observed Tom. 
 
 " Well, there's something in that," replied Tugtail, with a 
 sagacious nod of his now puce-coloured head. 
 
 Here Tom managed to shove in between old Trumper and 
 Tom Hobbletrot, and escaped the " cretur " for half an hour 
 or so. 
 
 After the usual promiscuous rambling about of a "wild 
 draw," going first to one nameless place and then to another, 
 just as they turned up, and seemed likely for a fox, the field 
 arrived at Willowby Brake, the first really plausible-looking 
 place they had been at. 
 
 Here the "cretur " pinned poor Tom again. 
 
 " You don't know Chatsworth, I think you say, Mr. Scott ? " 
 observed Tugtail. 
 
 " No I don't," grunted Tom. 
 
 " Beautiful place," observed Tugtail ; " at least will be, 
 when the duke makes bis grand alceration?." 
 
 Tugtail then entered into a long and confidential coramuni- 
 /;ation with Tom respecting the Pavilion, which, singular 
 enough, was then lately stated in the papers to have been sold, 
 or for sale, detailing how, " by his advice," the duke, having 
 held off for some years, had now got it at his own price, and 
 how his grace was going to establish an ostrich hunt, and have 
 battues of peacocks ; a " rechauffe,'^ in short, of the informa- 
 tion Tom had given him four years ago, with a few variations 
 tending to Tuggey's own glorification and exemplification of 
 his intimacy with the Duke. 
 
236 
 
 HAWBUCK GBANGE. 
 
 So the " cretur " persecuted poor Toiij from cover to cover, 
 throughout a long bhxiik day, who declares that if everybody 
 suffers as much for telling a lie as he did, he's sure they won't 
 tell any more. 
 
 Now, if that isn't a blank day, we don't know what a blank 
 day is. 
 
 Idfi END OF A BLANK DAY, 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE SEASON 1846-7. 
 
 '* What queer books you write ! " observed our excellent but 
 rather matter-of-fact friend, Sylvanus BluflF, the other day, who 
 seeing us doubling up a sheet of paper in a rather uncere- 
 monious way, concluded we were at what he calls our " old 
 tricks." " I buy all your books," added he with a solemn 
 shake of the head, as though we were beggaring him — " I 
 bought your ' Jorrocks' Jaunts, and Jollities ' I bought 
 ' Handley Cross, or the Spa Hunt,' I bought 'Hillingdon Hall, 
 or the Cockney Squire ; ' but I dont understand them. I don't 
 see the wit of them. / don't see the use of them. / wonder 
 you don't write something useful. I should think now," added 
 he seriously, " you could do somethimg better. I should say 
 now you would be quite equal to writing a dictionary, or a book 
 upon draining, and those would be really useful works, and 
 your friends would get something for their money." 
 
 Gentle reader ! we plead guilty to the charge of writing most 
 egregious nonsense. Nay, we are sometimes surprised how 
 such stuff can ever enter our head, astonished that we should be 
 weak enough to commit it to paper, amazed that there should 
 be publishers rash enough to print it, and lost in utter bewilder- 
 ment that there should be good, honest, sane, nay sensible folks 
 not only idle enough to read it, but, oh wonder ! of all wonders : 
 extravagant enough to part with their good current coin to 
 buy it ! 
 
 And talking of friends buying our books out of politeness, we 
 may here avail ourself of the opportunity to say that there is 
 
238 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 nothing we dislike more ; nay, so great is our objection, that if 
 we knew any honest, mistaken man about to commit such 
 an absurdity, we would absolutely forestall our own market by 
 offering him a copy. At least we think we would. 
 
 We don't know why any one should do so, we are sure, for 
 neither by name, dedication, or date, do we ever provoke so 
 suicidal an act. We may say, with our excellent friend Peter 
 Morris, that " if putting our Christian name and surname at the 
 beginning of a book were necessary conditions to the dignity of 
 authorship we should never be one while we live." Like Peter 
 " we want nerves for this." We rejoice in the privilege of 
 writing and printing incognito, and think with him that it is the 
 "finest discovery" that ever was made. Peter, to be sure, got 
 bolder with age, but then he felt that he was " somebody." 
 
 Writing, we imagine, is something like snuffing or smoking 
 — men get into the way of it, and can't well leave it off. Like 
 smoking, it serves to beguile an idle hour. Individually speak- 
 ing, writing makes us tolerably independent, both of the world 
 and the weather. We are never regularly high and dry for 
 want of a companion so long as we can get pen, ink, and paper ; 
 and though we should not like to back ourself against such a 
 winter as the last (1846-7), yet writing enables us to contend 
 with a tolerable amount of bad weather. An author has 
 pretty much the same pleasure in seeing his ugly cramped 
 hand turned into neat print that a traveller has in receiving 
 five and twenty francs for a sovereign on landing in France. 
 Eevising is something like returning to the realities of English 
 money again. But we are getting into the mysteries of 
 authorship. 
 
 Next to buying our books out of politeness, our greatest 
 objection is to having them exposed to view. If the great 
 Lord Mayor was to " look us up," and invite us to one of those 
 gorgeous feasts that annihilate so many turtles, and if on the 
 table in his reception room we were to see one of our books — 
 Hawbuck Grange, for instance — (and what author does not 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 239 
 
 recognise his own works at a glance !) our appetite would 
 immediately fail us, and his lordship would save both " his 
 meat and his niense," * as they say in the country. 
 
 Some men " stand fire " better than others. We remember 
 once dining at a great Russian Jew's, whose drawing-room 
 table was garnished with nothing but New Monthly Magazines 
 — New Monthly Magazines in every stage of life, from the 
 well-thumbed *' yearling," down to the newly-issued number of 
 yesterday. 
 
 Presently the door opened, and Sir Edward Lytton Bulwer, 
 the avowed editor, was announced. 
 
 " Shir Edward Shir," said our host, taking up a number as 
 soon as the baronet's back had subsided into still life, "Shir 
 Edward Shir, I do not like dis article of yours, on de state of 
 
 parties, it is far too " something, we forget what, and so he 
 
 went on lecturing and commenting on the numbers in succes- 
 sion, till " dinner " put an end to the scene. 
 
 Our former admiration of Sir Edward's talents was now 
 divided at the heroic way in which he stood fire. 
 
 This digression will have told the reader two things, first, 
 that we don't want any body to buy this book on the Bluff 
 principle ; secondly, that we shall consider it a greater compli- 
 ment of those friends who do buy it, if they will keep it out of 
 sight, than if they were to parade it before us. 
 
 We now come to the more immediate purport of this chapter. 
 Our friend Bluff's reproof has made us anxious to give this 
 volume a flavour of usefulness, were it only to save us from the 
 labour of writing a dictionary, but the difficulty is, how to give 
 a work relating so entirely to a pleasurable pursuit a flavour of 
 usefulness. 
 
 * This we believe is a localism : at all events, it does not seem to be a 
 Londonism ; for the printer bad it, " his meat and his mouse.'" 
 
240 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 In the course of our cogitations, it has occurred to us that 
 the only possible way of doing it is to give a sort of meteoro- 
 logical register of the season in which our friend Tom Scott's 
 adventures are laid. Tom's adventures will do as well for one 
 season as another, because, generally speaking, they refer to the 
 sport and not to the weather ; but an actual matter-of-fact 
 register may be useful hereafter, and perhaps save some from 
 supposing that future seasons are the worst that ever were 
 known. To do the full measure of usefulness we will begin 
 with a glance at the season which preceded it. 
 
 The season of 1844-5 was perhaps the best hunting one of 
 modern times. The harvest was late, and some packs got little 
 or no cub hunting, but from November up to the last week in 
 March, there was a continuous run of fine hunting weather, 
 and generally speaking first-rate sport. A snow storm then 
 intruded, but like all spring storms it was of short duration, 
 and April again presented a fine moist favourable month to 
 those who live in countries where hunting can be pursued so 
 late. The summer of 1846 was unusually hot, and the harvest 
 remarkably early. Cub hunting began correspondingly early 
 as we have shown in Chapter I. of this work, yet, with such a 
 favourable commencement, what an apology of a season it was ! 
 What a hope-raising, spirit-crushing affair all through ! If we 
 look back upon it from the commencement, have we any 
 pleasing recollection of it, any " run of the season," any joyous 
 reminiscence, any realised pleasure, any greenest or reddest 
 spot on memory's hunting waste, any thing handsome to say of 
 it ? Is there anybody to speak to its character ? as the judge 
 asks prior to trouncing a prisoner. No one. Let us review it. 
 
 We will begin with November, What was November like ? 
 More like a bad March than the glorious, sloppy, poachy, wet- 
 me-through month we have long known by that name. We 
 contend that a free-born fox-hunter has a perfect indefeasible 
 right to have his feet well wet every day he goes out hunting 
 in the month of November. Yet we know we didn't get oui's 
 
EAWBUCK GRANGE. 24l 
 
 web once, and as to a general good soaking, a sort of return 
 when one first sends a shower from the hat by running the 
 finger round the rim, down to the squeeze out of the purply 
 coat tails, and the sucking, cork-drawing blob of the boots, 
 our garments are none the worse for any thing they did last 
 year. 
 
 In fact, we don't feel as if we had any hunting. True we 
 saw a stud of boots standing ranged like Major Ponto's library, 
 and a " pink " folded lining outwards, lying atop of the 
 drawers, but they were so seldom used, that the whole thing 
 appears more like those occasional visits that one makes to 
 fairs or country races throughout the year than the compact 
 three or four months into which we compress as much hunting 
 and pleasure as lasts us the twelvemonth. "We have had no 
 such winter these ten years. The season of 18J56-7 was 
 unfavourable in some countries, and was well cut through 
 in the middle, particulai'ly in the south, by a tremendous snow 
 storm, but it did not arrive till Christmas Day, a period when 
 nobody has any right to object. The papers of that day said, 
 that " On the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth of December the 
 Cduntry generally was visited by a fall of snow, heavier and 
 more serious in its consequence than has been experienced for 
 many years, which not only put a stop to hunting, but 
 interrupted the internal communication of the country." The 
 great storm, however, was only of short duration, and hunting 
 was resumed in the course of January, and continued in a 
 catching sort of way, now on, now oif, according to the arrival 
 of the floods, the frosts, the falls of snow, and the gales with 
 which it was interspersed. Indeed the seasons of 1836-7 and 
 1846-7 have been somewhat alike, with the qualification, that 
 the latter being the freshest in our recollection, of course 
 appears the worst of the two. There was snow in the middle 
 of April, 1837, but we have had snow at Epsom races since 
 then, which of course throws the April performance into the 
 shade. There was a long stop to hunting in 1838, but we had 
 
242 HAWBUCK GBAI^i^E. 
 
 better say nothing about it, lest we should rouse young 1848 to 
 retahate. We will therefore just stick to our text, the season 
 1846-7. November we have seen through. We now come to 
 December. What shall we say of December ? Oh lank ! up 
 to the hocks in snow all the month. But we will take the 
 rough outline as booked in our pocket-book. Thus it stands. 
 We should, however, premise that November went out with 
 snow. The twenty-ninth and thirtieth have that ominous 
 word opposite their dates. December entered with a hard 
 frost atop of the snow, which continued throughout the first 
 week. On the seventh there was a thaw, which lasted till the 
 ninth. The tenth brought a hard frost with more snow ; the 
 eleventh ditto with more ditto ; the thirteenth, fourteenth, 
 fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth, ditto in the way of frost ; 
 on the eighteenth came another thaw, which on the nineteenth 
 was very rapid, and continued on to the twenty-third, when, 
 with Thursday the twenty-fourth, came a hard frost, backed on 
 the twenty-fifth by more snow, and so the month continued to 
 the end, with the trifling variation of a make-believe thaw on 
 the twenty-eighth and twenty-ninth. Not a day's hunting 
 throughout a month ! 
 
 The new year opened doubtfully. We had alternate aiow 
 and thaw for the first week. The seventh of January we have 
 booked as wet. But what ominous words follow 1 — Ninth, 
 frosty ; tenth, frost ; eleventh, hard frost ; twelfth, ve-y hard 
 — and so on from the twelfth to the twentieth without variation, 
 save that the words "and snow" are added to the last day. 
 Twenty-first was frost and snow, twenty-second ditto and sleet, 
 twenty-third ditto, twenty-fourth very cold rain and high wind, 
 twenty-fifth thaw, twenty-sixth thaw continued, with the usual 
 ominous predictions resulting from the snow still lying on the 
 hill tops, the twenty-seventh was very fine, and hounds began 
 to stir again, but the month closed with a white frost and snow 
 on the evening of the tliirty-first. So much for January. 
 
 February the first has the word " snow " booked opposite to 
 
HAWBUCK QRANf^E. 243 
 
 it ; the second has " more snow and frost " affixed to it ; the 
 thh-d and fourth have "frost ; " the lifth, " thaw ; " tlie sixth, 
 "thaw, changing to frost at niglit ; " the seventh the oniinoua 
 words " hard frost ; " the eighth is distinguished by the words 
 " bitter frost ; " tiie ninth ditto ; the tenth has " snow " to it ; 
 the eleventh, " more snow ; " the twelfth, " frost ; " which 
 appears to have continued to the fourteenth, when there came 
 a thaw, followed on the fifteenth by a frost, succeeded again on 
 the sixteenth by a thaw, which lasted till about the end of the 
 month — the twenty-seventh — the day on which our pocket-book 
 says "hare-hunting ends," though Mr. Trumper says "it does 
 nothing of the sort," for he reckons a March hare as good as 
 most foxes. March we do not expect much from, and therefore 
 have not much right to find fault with it. It is generally a 
 worse month than either January or April, supposing all 
 countries admitted of hunting in April. This year we had 
 snow in the second week, making the fourth winter of the 
 season, and there was frost enough to stop hounds in many 
 parts about the middle of the month. In the third week the 
 fallows were flying, and the ground was too dry for anything 
 but farming towards the end. April, however, rectified that, 
 for the smiling month, entered with another fall of sno^r, the 
 fifth winter of the season, which continued to fall at night and 
 clear off during the day for the first three or four days. So 
 we think we may say the season was a venj bad one. 
 
 And now having said our utilitarian say, we will conclude 
 this chapter, and finish our volume with a description of Toni 
 Scott's visit to tlie man who provoked it. 
 
CHAPTER XVT. 
 
 THE MORNING MEET. 
 
 Our friend Tom had put his red coat to bed, that is to say, 
 in the topmost drawer of the wardrobe, and had commenced 
 stripping his horses, when he got the following note from his 
 friend Sylvanus Bluff : — 
 
 " Cavil House, 
 " Dear Scott, 
 
 "7'm ivorried alive ivith Mr. Neville's foxes, and 
 heartily wish yoiCd come over and hill me some of them, for I 
 really think they ivojiH leave me a lamh, or a goose, or a head of 
 game ahmit the place. I have ivritten to Mr. Neville and Old 
 Ben till I'm tired, and ifs perfectly ridiculous expecting me to 
 preserve foxes, ivhich I do most sedulously, when they never 
 come near to hunt them. I have therefore got the Scratchley dogs 
 coming over on Thursday, and we are going to turn out by 
 diyhrealc to see ivhat ive can do with a drag. I wish you ivould 
 come over and assist, as you Jcnow more about these things than I 
 do. Dinner at six. 
 
 " Yours sincerely, 
 
 "S. Bluff." 
 
 Bluff — like a great many of us — is a capital fellow in his 
 way — that is to say, if he has his own way — but he doesn't like 
 to be thwarted ; least of all to have any of his live stock 
 injured or destroyed. Still he preserves foxes ; indeed he calls 
 himself a sportsman — a sportsman who is content with two 
 
HAWBUCK ORANGE. 245 
 
 hunts a year, one in the spring, tiie otiicr in the autumn. 
 When among non-hunting men, he talks big about hunting, 
 and his doings with the hounds ; but when among members of 
 the hunt, he always parades his patriotism in preserving what 
 are a " downright nuisance to him." Like a good many other 
 men, he never makes allowances for the seasons, and if he has 
 not the hounds at his house when he wants them he considers 
 himself slighted. Mr. Neville not having got to him, had 
 caused him to worry and fidget himself into a behef that he 
 was in danger of being eaten up by foxes ; and, partly as an 
 act of self-preservation, and partly, perhaps, by way of what he 
 calls " keeping Mr. Neville in order," he had invited Sam 
 Jubberknowl of Badstock to bring over the Scratchley dogs. 
 Jubberknowl is a loose fish of a brewing, inn-keeping saddler at 
 Badstock, who, what they call, '* heads the Scratchley dogs ; " 
 that is to say, is answerable to the tax-gatherer for the ten 
 couple which they return as seven. It is generally observed 
 that half the Scratchley dogs disappear about taxing time. 
 
 When we see a pack of hounds advertised to meet at half- 
 past eight or nine o'clock in the morning, or hear them spoken 
 of in the country as " dogs," one has a pretty good idea what to 
 expect ; and, even if Scott had not known Jubberknowl and 
 his establishment, he would have had little difficulty in pictur- 
 ing the concern. As it was, our friend Tom had often been 
 puzzled to make out whether Jubberknowl is a sportsman, or 
 merely one who busies himself about the " dogs " for the pur- 
 pose of furthering his other callings of saddler, publican, and 
 sinner. The few times Tom had seen him out with Mr. 
 Neville, he observed that he always came very late, and went 
 away very early, and never passed a public-house without stop- 
 ping to refresh himself. The latter, however, might be on the 
 reciprocity principle. 
 
 It so happened that Scott was going over on the afternoon 
 of the day on which he got Mr. Bluff's letter to have a field 
 day on the flags with the entry, and he took an early oppor- 
 
246 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 tunity of telling Mr. Neville about it', expecting nothing but 
 that He would give BlufP, and Jubberknowl, and the Scratchley 
 dogs, a good blessing for their intended unceremonious 
 intrusion. 
 
 " I'm very glad you've mentioned it," observed Mr. Neville, 
 " for it reminds me that I've had two letters from Mr. Bluff 
 about the damage the foxes are doing him, which I have quite 
 forgotten to answer, and Ben has had no end of complaints from 
 Steeltrap his keeper. What can I do ? You know," added he, 
 with a shrug of the shoulders, " I can't make the season. I 
 should only have been too glad to have gone over and hunted 
 his foxes for him ; but we couldn't go in the snow — ive 
 couldn't go in the frost — we couldn't go in the wind— and it 
 was no use going when the country got as dry and as hard aa 
 these flags," continued he, stamping upon them as he spoke. 
 
 " But what do you say about the Scratchley dogs ? " asked 
 Tom, expecting to get Mr. Neville's bristles up at the very idea 
 of anyone invading his country. 
 
 " Why, as to that,'''' replied our master, shaking his head and 
 looking very solemn, "I suppose Mr. Bluff must just do as he 
 thinks right. It's true he always preserves foxes for us, and he 
 has some good covers in the centre of our country, so that it 
 wouldn't be prudent to quarrel with him. One can't tell a 
 non-hunting man like him that he shall not do what he likes 
 with his own, and if he does not kill a vixen, he mayn't do us 
 any great harm." 
 
 "Perhaps," added he, after a pause, "the best thing you 
 could do would be to go over and see what they do do, and if 
 you should have such a misfortune as to kill a vixen, which is 
 almost the only chance Bluff has of getting blood this dry 
 weather, you could secure the cubs at all events. We are short 
 on the Cannonbridge side of the country, notwithstanding we 
 have killed so few there this season." 
 
 So unexpected a permission completely staggered our iriend 
 Tom. and it was not until he was on hLs way home that it 
 
HAWBUCK GliANGE. 247 
 
 occurred to him that a visit to Cavil House would again enable 
 him to kill two birds with one stone — see the fun, and consult 
 Mrs. Blutl' about the teeth. Accordingly he so arranged it, and 
 on the Wednesday rode over, "bags and all," trusting to 
 chance for getting his horse taken care of. 
 ■ It was a fine afternoon, the weather everything that a farmer 
 could wish, and a fox hunter object to — warm sun, cold east 
 wind, cracking clays, flying fallows, and parched roads. 
 
 When Tom got to Cavil House, he found Mr. Bluff with the 
 now common accompaniment of a country gentleman, a drain- 
 ing-pipe, in his hand, which he flourished about like a fiddle- 
 stick, or a field-marshal's baton. He was in the usual stew of 
 people who have got hold of something they don't quite under- 
 stand. We don't mean his draining-pipe, for with these he is 
 quite at home, but he found that boarding and lodging the 
 Scratchley dogs was not quite so convenient as having Mr. 
 Neville's well appointed pack trotted on to his lawn at twenty 
 minutes past ten. 
 
 " Most ravenous devils ! most ravenous devils ! " exclaimed 
 he, grasping Tom's hand, and flourishing the draining-pipe like 
 the leader of a band, with his face as red as a turkey cock's 
 thropple, and his green cut-away thrown back, displaying not 
 only his striped calamanco waistcoat, but his cotton braces at 
 the arm-holes. " Have lapped up all the skim milk ! have 
 lapped up all the skim milk ! and now they want porridge ! 
 and notv they want porridge ! Glad to see you, however ! glad 
 to see you ! " and thereupon he again shook Scott heartily by 
 the hand. 
 
 Tom was just goiug to say, " What they've come, have 
 they ? " when a most appalling chorus from the back yard 
 saved the question, and caused Bluff to point his draining-pipe 
 towards it. 
 
 " By gad, what a row they make ! " said he ; *' by gad, what 
 a row they make ! I really think they'll drive Mrs. Bluff mad, 
 for she hates dogs auy-how, and our youugest boy's just out of 
 
248 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 the whooping-cough, and she'll swear that this will throw hira 
 back ! and she'll su'eaj- that this will throw him back." 
 
 Another chorus more riotous than its predecessor filled the 
 air, and echo prolonged the sound. " If we are to stand this 
 all night," observed Bluff, with a solemn shake of the head, 
 grounding his draining-pipe as he spoke, *' we might as well 
 have a menagerie at our door." 
 
 " Let's have them out," said Scott, getting off his horse, " and 
 see if we can't quiet them by walking them about a bit." 
 
 " Out ! " screamed Bluff. " Out ! " repeated he ; " but how 
 do you expect to get them in again ? We have had to carry 
 them in one by one as it is, and they've bitten two of my men 
 desperately. Mrs. Bluff declares they are all mad, and has 
 locked herself into her room, and won't come out at any price." 
 
 " Well, but Where's Jubberknowl ? " asked Scott, seeing poor 
 Bluff's perturbation — '* he can quiet them, at all events." 
 
 " Jubberknowl be hanged," responded Bluff, " Jubberknowl 
 be lianged'''' repeated he with greater emphasis — " he's behaved 
 very ill ! he's beliaved very ill ! See what he's sent ! see 
 what he's sent ! " added he, producing a dirty slip of paper 
 with the following : — 
 
 " Dear Sir, 
 
 " / send the dogs, and hop they ivill anstver your 
 purpo.'^e. Am sorry he canH come myself, having got for to go to 
 CroppydocTc Fair, but Joshua Jcnoivs all their names, and is very 
 bidly. They had belter be coupled before they leave the kennel. 
 
 '* Your dutiful Servant, 
 
 " Samuel Jubberknowl." 
 
 The " bidly " gentleman now appcai-cd, carrying two pig 
 pails in a stable hoop. 
 
 " By JovCj there goes all my pigs' meat ! " ejaculated poor 
 Bluff, inwardly wishing he had let the whole alone. " Might 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 249 
 
 as well have a regiment of soldiers billeted on one — might as 
 well have a regiment of soldiers billeted on one ; " adding, 
 " It's to be hoped he'll get them pacified at last — it's to be 
 hoped he'll get them pacified at last." 
 
 Joshna was a stouL-set, square-built, drayman-like fellow, of 
 a uniform breadth from the shoulders to the heels ; he was 
 dressed in a sort of third-hand suit of hunting things, the cap 
 being a rusty brown, the scanty coat deep purple, the abundant 
 breeches very dirty, and the almost black boots so short and 
 scant as to keep the majority of his swelling calves above the 
 tops. His square, coarse-featured, freckled face was indicative 
 of little except drink. 
 
 We will now take a glance at the internal arrangements of 
 Cavil House. 
 
 Mrs. Bluff is any thing but what the name indicates. In- 
 deed she seems to have made a serious mistake in changing her 
 maiden one of Green — Rosamond Green — for that of Bluff. 
 The roses and lilies of youth having fled, she is left the 
 most nervous, pallid, washed-out looking creature that ever was 
 seen. The slightest thing throws her into convulsions. She is 
 one of those ailing sort of bodies with whom nothing is really 
 ever the matter. Still she always lives in dread ; and what- 
 ever ailment happens to be uppermost, she immediately invests 
 herself and family with it. "When the cholera was astir, she 
 had it many times ; typhus fever is a standing dish with her, 
 and meazles, whooping - cough, influenza, are all frequent 
 visitors. She buys all the quack books that are published, and 
 all the quack medicines that are sold, and experimentalises upon 
 the poor people in the neighbourhood. 
 
 No sooner did the news of the men having been bit reach her 
 than she conjured up all sorts of horrors respecting hydrophobia, 
 and resolutely barricadoed herself and children into her room. 
 Even poor Bluff was only permitted to hold communion sweet 
 through the keyhole. Of course the party at Cavil House had 
 not her company at dinner ; and almost equally of course. Bluff, 
 
250 HAWBUCK GBANGE. 
 
 Tom Scott, and the few neighbours Bluff had assembled, drank 
 more wine than they ought. We don't mean to say they got 
 drunk ; but having no break, caused either by the retirement 
 of the ladies or by their summoning them to tea, they settled 
 more determinedly to the bottle, added to which, they drank 
 the first three bottles as two, without finding out the mistake. 
 Indeed it was not until he got three-quarters of a bottle aboard, 
 that Bluff could fairly be said to be himself again, when, having 
 got his waistcoat loose all but the two bottom buttons, they 
 gradually got his conversation coaxed through the medium of 
 his favourite subject, draining, on to that of fox-hunting itself. 
 It was plain, however, that his inclination was for the destruc- 
 tion, and not the pursuit, of the animal. He was uncommonly 
 blood-thirsty. The blood of his lambs and his leverets seemed 
 to call for vengeance, and the number of victims increased as 
 the evening advanced, until he got the lambs up from ten to 
 near thirty. The shepherd told Tom in confidence that they 
 had lost three, but one he believed had been worried by a 
 greyhound. The neighbours gradually dropt off until Bluff 
 and Tom were at last left alone, when, having fixed the 
 time for turning out, said every thing they could think of, 
 and some things twice over, they both seemed to think 
 they might as well save the fatigue of further conversational 
 effort by going to bed ; and pulling out their watchee 
 simultaneously, they found it was on the point of striking 
 twelve. 
 
 Accordingly off they bundled. 
 
 Tom had scarcely got into bed when the violent bang of the 
 door in the next room, which was only separated from his by a 
 thin lath and plaster wall, followed by a heavy footstep, and an 
 ejaculation that sounded very like " D — d fool," announced 
 that his host was hard by. Bluff" stumped and banged about, 
 hitting this, knocking that, occasionally letting fall an oath or 
 an observation, such as, " Curse the table " — " Absurd 
 nonsense" — " Women sucii I'uuls " — " D — n the boot-jack ! " — 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 261 
 
 nntil at length a creak and a heavy souse proclaimed that he 
 had turned into bed. 
 
 The poor man was condemned to sleep in his dressing-room, 
 for fear he might be mad. Tom Scott might be included in 
 the list of unfortunates, for he was victimised by the arrange- 
 ment. His room, though an extremely good one, was not that 
 terrible bugbear, the best one, with a lofty bed as big as a field, 
 but a cozey, comfortable, easily-got-ready one, looking to the 
 north, or back of the house. It so happened that the 
 Scratchley dogs were lodged in the brewhouse just below ; and 
 these unruly spirits, unused to the restraint of civilized packs, 
 kept howling and yelling throughout the night. It was not 
 the cheery chorus of hounds in kennel filling the air with their 
 merry voices, but a sort of melancholy drawl resembling what 
 is called the death howl. This they set up about every half 
 hour, bursting out in full chorus at first, with the sound of 
 scratching and gnawing at the door and wood-work, until the 
 howl gradually died out in a moan. Nor was this the worst ; 
 for Tom's host could hear them also, though not so distinctly 
 as Tom did ; and what with the drink, the noise of the hounds, 
 and the strange bed he was in, Bluff evidently could not get to 
 sleep. This was plainly indicated by his tossings and talkings. 
 First he began calculating the number of draining tiles to an 
 acre, at various distances, a calculation that was interrupted 
 every now and then by abusing the hounds, wishing they were 
 all in a warmer place than the brewhouse ; then he banged over 
 against the wall, and snorted, as if trying to get to sleep with a 
 snore. The next thing Tom heard was, " Curse the thing," 
 and apparently stripping off the counterpane. Then there was 
 another lull, and the dogs had their turn ; after which Tom 
 heard his iriend at the novel recreation of saying his multipli- 
 cation table — twice two's four, twice three's six, twice four's 
 eight, and so on. This Bluff carried on very perseveringly till 
 he got into the fifth column, when, after boggling at five times 
 six, he was legularly brought up at five times eight, and the mul- 
 
262 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 tiplication table seemed to die away in a mutter. Tom really 
 thought they would both accomplish a sleep about this time, and 
 he was as near dropping off as could be, when the vagabonds in 
 the "lock-up" fell a fighting, and if there had been fifty couple 
 they could not have made a greater noise. They yelled, and 
 they tore, and they bit, and they worried, and they howled, and 
 ihcy growled, and they rattled and knocked the butts, and tubs 
 and casks about, as if they would destroy every thing in the 
 place. 
 
 Fortunately their din had the effect of waking Joshua, and 
 presently he began clattering with a bromstick at the door, and 
 rating and calling to them byname. " Miscreant !" shouted 
 he ; '* Miscreant ! " he repeated in a still louder tone. " Mis- 
 creant ! " roared he, with a tremendous rat, tat, tat, tat, tan, 
 of the broomstick against the door, adding, " Ord, dom ye, ha 
 don ! Ord, dom ye, be quiet ! Oh ! Prowler, it's you, is it ! 
 Prowler ! ar say, ha don I Prowler, for shame of yoursel ! 
 Plunderer ! what are you after there ? " inquired he, as the 
 scene of action shii'ted to another quarter. "Whistler ! 
 Whlstler ! ar say. Flasher ! for shame ! Toavler, be quiet 1 
 GuiDEK, ha don ! ord dom ye ! ar'll hang ye all, and put the rest 
 i' the small debts coourt ! "added he, with a kick at the door that 
 made it shake again ; and after rating, and rat, tat, tamiing, 
 !ind kicking and clattering for some quarter of an hour, 
 [)eace was at length restored. 
 
 Still Bluff couldn't get to sleep. He, however, abandoned 
 the multiplication table, and tried another tack : he took to 
 saying over the kings and queens of England — William the 
 Conqueror, William Rufus, William Rufus, William the 
 Conqueror, and so on down to Stephen, where he stuck. He 
 then skipped on to Edward the Fourth, from whom he brought 
 them on with a very fair hunting scent down to Queen Victoria. 
 Still that wouldn't do. He then began spouting — " My name 
 is Nerval ! on the Grampian hills," &c., but that did not seem 
 to answer any better, and he presently struck off with — 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 263 
 
 **Tlie curfew tolls the knell of piutiiig d;iy, 
 Tlic lowing herds wind slowly o'er the lea ; 
 'J'he plouglunan homeward plods his wcarv way, 
 And leaves the world to " 
 
 " jD — n Uiosc hounds ! '' roared lie, as the brutes again fell a 
 fighting. Tom then heard him groping- for his bell, which 
 having found, he gave snch a pnll as left the rope in his hand. 
 This presently went smash throngh tlie window. 
 
 Rlnfr then lay quiet for some time, and Tom was in hopes he 
 had fallen asleep ; but he had most likely only been listening if 
 his footman was coming, for in less than ten minutes he was 
 back at his multiplication table, trying to put his memory over 
 the leap it had stuck at before. It wouldn't do, however, so he 
 at last turned away Iroui it again, and began spouting ; and 
 two o'clock found him most appropriately rehearsing Henry the 
 Fourth's soliloquy to sleep : — 
 
 " How many thousands of my poorest subjects 
 Are at this hour asleep I 0, gentle sleej), 
 Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, 
 That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down," &c. 
 
 which really seemed to operate beneficially, for a few incoherent 
 noises were followed by a deep snore ; and having got rid of 
 his nearest persecutor, our friend dropped asleep too, thouo-h 
 when the servant called him at five, he was ready to swear that 
 he hadn't had " a wink of sleep." 
 
 Poor Sylvanus looked ten years older when he came down the 
 next morning than he did when he went to bed. Instead of the 
 healthy, ruddy complexion he generally has, and the full brio-ht 
 eye, he was a sort of a bad green, much of the colour of the 
 cushions in the library of the Conservative Club, with eyes like 
 boiled gooseberries. His chin was all jagged and hacked with 
 the scrapings of a blunt razor, or the shakings of an unsteady 
 hand. Nevertheless he had got himself into the old swallow- 
 
254 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 tailed scarlet and yellow ochres that Tom Scott remembers ever 
 since he ( Tom) was a boy. A red coat is a red coat with some 
 people, and year after year we see them putting themselves into 
 the most old-fashioned, extraordinary articles with the most 
 self-satisfied air. Sylvanus's had been made when mother-of- 
 pearl buttons were the fashion, and he had great black animals 
 engraved upon them that might pass either for wolves or foxes. 
 The collar stood right up, in a sort of Gothic arch, half way up 
 his head, and the closely set on waist-buttons were about half 
 way between his shoulder blades and where the small of his 
 back would be, if it had any small — Bluff's outline is pretty 
 straight. 
 
 " Well, Scott, old boy, how are you ? " exclaimed he, with 
 ill-assumed gaiety, extending a feverish hand as they met in 
 the passage leading into the breakfast room ; " hope you slept 
 well." 
 
 "Pretty well, thank you," replied Tom, adding, "tlie 
 hounds rather disturbed me at one time." 
 
 He sunk " My name is Nerval," the " kings and queens," 
 " multiplication table," and all that sort of thing. 
 
 " Curse the hounds ! " muttered Bluff, adding, " they 
 disturbed me too. One would have thought all that pigs' 
 meat would have kept them quiet ; however, let's to breakfast, 
 and go and take our change out of them." 
 
 Very little breakfast did for Bluff. A devil'd kidney and 
 two cups of coffee were all he could master, though, as Tom 
 slipped up the back stairs for his gloves, he detected him in the 
 butler's pantry, getting a bottle of soda water on the sly. 
 
 It was fortunate Mrs. Bluff's room did not command a view 
 of the back yard ; for if she had seen the great bloody, dirty, 
 sooty, unruly devils rush out full cry, and scour the yards and 
 courts, and outhouses, tearing here, there, and everywhere, 
 regardless of Joshua's yells and threats, and screams and 
 tootles, and the cracks of his great flail-like whip, she might 
 well have thought they were mad 
 
HAWBUCK ORANGE. 266 
 
 *' Give us a le<,' up ! " excluiined Joshua, as, after shooting 
 the bolt of the brcwhouse door, he stood beside a wretched, 
 iron marked, bay Rosinante, whose galled back was protected 
 from the puddingy saddle by a piece of old green and yellow 
 Scotch carpeting. 
 
 " Which way's the cover ? " inquired he, as he thrust his 
 great feet into the rusty stirrup irons. 
 
 " Up the hill," replied the gardener, telegraphing with his 
 arm ; and forthwith Joshua tickled the old nag with his 
 solitary spur, and hobbled off the stones at a most woe-begone 
 shuffle, blowing, and hooping, and hallooing as he went. It 
 was hard to say which leg the old nag was lamest on. 
 
 " They certainly are very unsteady, those hounds, 1 should 
 say," observed Mr. Bluff, whose black cob seemed to have 
 caught the infection, and began kicking and capering, regard- 
 less of Bluff's remonstrances and the diggings of his spurless 
 heels. — " Quich " was the word, and having mounted, our 
 friends hurried after the noise made by Jos as he led the 
 charge. 
 
 the fellow ! he's not going to put them into Reislip 
 
 plantation, surely ! " exclaimed poor Bluff, as, on clearing the 
 well-wooded avenue, they saw Joshua careering over the turf in 
 that direction with some six or seven couple of hounds 
 apparently hunting his horse, for they were going full cry, — 
 *' Oh my God ! " exclaimed Bluff, looking the very picture of 
 misery : " they'll kill every hare in the place. Oh dear ! oh 
 dear ! whatever shall I do ! Scott, my good fellow ! Scott, my 
 good fellow ! your horse can gallop ! do get forward and turn 
 them, or they'll utterly ruin me." 
 
 Tom shot off at best pace, and just got within ear-shot of 
 Joshua, as the resolute devils tore past his horse, and rushed 
 full cry into cover. Stopping them was quite out of the 
 question ; half a dozen Jos'b couldn't have done it ; no, not 
 
256 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 even a Jos to each hound, mounted at least as this Jos 
 was. 
 
 In they went as if they would eat it. 
 
 " A ! they gan in bonny ! " exclaimed Jos, pulling up his 
 cripple, apparently pleased at the feat. " If he's there, they'll 
 soon root him out. Forrard in ! forrard in, Tapster, old 
 boy ! " continued he, as a great black and white devil came 
 lobbing along, towling and howling as he went. 
 
 " They'll all be here enow," added Jos, looking down upon 
 the surrounding country, where one hound was baying the 
 cows, another chasing a jackass, a third running a muck at the 
 geese, and a couple of beagles that had been beat by the pace 
 of their great four and twenty inch cousins were establishing a 
 little rabbit-hunt of their own. 
 
 Poor Bluff's prophecy was speedily fulfilled ; for the hounds 
 had not been in cover a minute ere the most lamentable 
 screams and cries began to issue from all parts, as first one 
 poor hare and then another was chopped by the savage in- 
 vaders. Pheasants rose in clouds with noisy whir, and hares 
 streamed wildly out in all directions, some rushing into the 
 very jaws of the arriving stragglers ; and when Bluff's cob got 
 him to the scene, every dog had his hare, either dead or 
 alive. 
 
 Steeltrap, the keeper, was frantic. He abused Joshua like a 
 pickpocket, asking him in the most open way if Joshua 
 " thought he was such a fool as to allow a fox to set foot in the 
 preserves ? " It was, however, no time for talking. The 
 screams of the hares still continued ; and the keeper and the 
 foot people having armed themselves with sticks and rails, and 
 whatever they could lay hands on, rushed to the rescue, and 
 presently there was a rare battering, and scrambling, and 
 howling, and fighting in the plantation, as the savage hounds 
 disputed the possession of the mangled pussy remains with the 
 assailants. 
 
 At length, by dint of blows from the cudgels and blows trom 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 267 
 
 the horn, some six or seven couple of hounds were ,i>-ot out of 
 cover ; and the only plan with scratch packs being to keep 
 moving, when you get a majority, Joshua again set off over 
 the downs in the direction of Haihveston Woods, which were 
 pointed to him in the distance as the place where he ought to 
 have gone to throw off. 
 
 When they got to Haihveston Woods they found the field 
 
 "forrard in! korijard in, tapstck. iii.b boy!" 
 
 consisting of a few neighbouring farmers, a keeper, and a 
 blacksmith or two, who had been waiting some time for the 
 hounds, each man, according to his ow^n account, having; 
 winded a fox as he came. Some of them were ardent admirei-8 
 of the Scratchley dogs, and anticipated their throwing Mr. 
 Neville's completely into the shade. " Mr. Neville's dogs are 
 very good when there is a scent," observed AVillie AVander- 
 head, "but they can't work a fox iu dry weather like 
 
258 RA if BUCK GRANGE. 
 
 these," said tie, eyeing tlie great bloody- faced savages as they 
 passed. 
 
 "That's Rollocker ! " exclaimed Toby Butcher, as a great 
 mastiff-headed creature, half foxhound half bloodhound, 
 came throwing his tongue as he travelled. "Ah, what a 
 fine note he has ! " and so they were severally criticised in 
 detail as they passed into cover. Joshua was already in, 
 " yoicking " and cheering such as were inclined to listen to 
 his voice. 
 
 Several of the stanch dogs giving tongue as they drew, and 
 all being desperately addicted to hare, they had kept up a 
 pretty continuous noise in different parts of the cover before a 
 decided stream of melody indicated anything better than riot, 
 when a loud, oft repeated, most masterly " Tallyho ! " to 
 the south, announced that reynard had been seen. Away 
 they all cut to the place, where they found a young plough- 
 man, purple with shouting, in the act of loosing a horse 
 from the harrows to join in the chase,, leaving t'other ar'd 
 nag to follow with the harrows, if it liked. The ground 
 was very dry, but there was a good scent in cover, and not 
 a bad one out ; indeed, if truth must be told, wet is not 
 indispensable to scei:t, and one of the best scenting days we 
 ever saw was when the ground was as dry as in summer. But 
 to tho hunt. 
 
 The great business of a huntsman to a scratch pack is to lay 
 his dogs on the scent — " casting," and " lifting," and 
 " throwing in at head ; " all scientific manoeuvres, in short, are 
 only for your fifteen hundred, or two thousand a year packs. 
 What can you expect for eight pound ten ? The scratch 
 gentleman puts his hounds on the scent, and it is their business 
 to tell which way the owner of the scent goes, and not his. So 
 it was with Joshua. His poor, half-starved, broken-down steed 
 was quite done by the time it got to the halloa, and, instead of 
 setting to, and riding in the naughty way Mr. Holyoake did in 
 the " Quarterly," with a couple of hounds or so on the scent* 
 
HJ \V B UCK G R A NGK. 250 
 
 Joslina very deliherately got off, and sitting astride tlie fence 
 rails, Ix'gau pufTing and blowing his liorn to get all the 
 redoubtable dogs out of cover that be could. That feat being 
 accomplislied, at least as far as he could judge by the absence 
 of noise, he shifted his saddle back olF the poor galled jade's 
 withers, re-adjusted the piece of carpeting, and proceeded at a 
 gentle trot along the higher ground of the line they had gone ; 
 his next business being to catch and couple the d.ogs at the 
 end, for which purpose he carried two most formidable bunches 
 of couples at his saddle. So he hobbled and jingled away at 
 his leisure. 
 
 The majority of our readers, we dare say, will have had 
 experience enough of the elongated, straggling style in which 
 scratch packs do their " splendid work ; " the difficulty there is 
 in telling which field has the head, and which the tail. 
 Perhaps some of them may have unpleasant reminiscences 
 connected therewith, so, as our paper is short, and our dinner 
 we sincerely hope nearly ready, we will wind up this part of 
 our sketch by describing the scene that burst on Joshua's 
 astonished vision as, on rounding Fourburrow Hill, he came all 
 at once upon Woolridge Valley. 
 
 What "strange confusion there was in the vale below^ ! " as 
 the poet sings. 
 
 First and foremost were Mr. Sylvanus Bluff's swallow tails 
 flying out, as, horsewhip in hand, he hurried from one upturned 
 ewe to another rescuing herself or her lamb from the fury of 
 the savage pack. Others were similarly engaged, while their 
 horses fled or grazed at their leisure. Dead ewes and lambs 
 were scattered around, while some of the more depraved of the 
 pack actually did battle with the rescuers for the bodies of 
 their victims. Others sneaked stealthily around, diving up to 
 the very eyes in blood as opportunity offered, and those 
 chat had gorged themselves with tender lamb, curved their 
 distended sides, and sought repose among the bushes on the 
 hiU. 
 
 T 2 
 
260 HAWBUCK GBANQE. 
 
 So the last state of Mr. Sylvanus Bluif was a deal worse than 
 the first. 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 All you kindly disposed, generous-minded, country gentlemen 
 who encourage fox-hunting without partaking of it yourselves, 
 make allowances for masters, and beware, oh 1 beware, of the 
 Scratchley dogs. 
 
CHAPTER XVII, 
 
 AND LAST. 
 
 uow we really think, 
 what with the chapter 
 on the weather and 
 this moral on the 
 " muttons," we have 
 done something to res- 
 cue our work from the 
 charge of utter use- 
 lessuess. It is some- 
 what singular that we 
 should extract amoral 
 from the misfortunes 
 of the man who made 
 the complaint ; but 
 truth is stronger than 
 fiction, and performs 
 far more unaccountable feats. The obligations we were under 
 to Mr. Bluff for buying all our works, without wanting them, 
 made us desirous of showing him some little civility in return : 
 accordingly, we despatched our friend Phiz to make the sketch 
 illustrative of the scene we have described, and which we hope 
 the worthy man will like. "\Ye have kept a proof before letters 
 on India paper, which we purpose framing and presenting to 
 Mrs. Bluff, for her hoiidoir or physic-room rather. Phiz, when 
 down on this errand, made a sketch of Hawbuck Grange on 
 speculation, which, as things have turned out, was fortunate. 
 
 THE END OF HUNTING. 
 
262 HAH' BUCK GRA-NGE. 
 
 Our friend Scott doffed his red coat on- his return to Hawbuck 
 Grange with very different feelings to what sportsmen generally 
 experience on parting with their " pinks," and as he replaced 
 the breeches with tweed trowsers and the dusty tops with 
 good honest double-soled shoes, he felt rather glad than 
 otherwise that there was at last an end to the humbug of 
 lnunting. 
 
 ^' I wouldn't give twopence to have any day over again," 
 said he, running the winter quickly through his mind as he sat 
 changing his stockings, when his thoughts were suddenly 
 directed into another channel by the protrudauce of a big toe 
 through a great hole. 
 
 " Confound the thing ! " exclaimed he, pulling the stocking 
 off again and throwing it from him, "that's the care one's 
 housekeeper takes of one ; " whereupon his thoughts imme- 
 diately flew to Snailswell and matrimony, and if he had 
 not wanted most particularly to see how his drainers were 
 getting on, and whether Jack Hoggers had harrowed out the 
 oat field or not, we have little doubt he would have trotted 
 over to Snailswell, and finished the day with a little tea and 
 courtship. 
 
 " I'll go to-morrow, any-how," said he : " I'll not bother 
 mother Bluff about her teeth : at all events I'll go over and see 
 her," continued he, relapsing into cautiousness, and thinking 
 )ie could make th3 old excuse of trying the brother's three- 
 year-old serve again, as it had already served him very 
 often. 
 
 Having at length equipped himself for country exercise, he 
 broke cover and proceeded down stairs. 
 
 On the centre of a most bachelor-like little table in the 
 middle of the parlour, conspicuous on the green baize cover, 
 lay a note — pink paper with a blue seal, a woman's all 
 over ! — 
 
 " Why here's a letter from her ! " exclaimed Tom, darting tc 
 where it lay. 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE. 263 
 
 Re opened and read it. Tims it ran : — 
 
 •' SNAILSWELI., Frid.li/. 
 
 " My dear Mr. Scott, 
 
 " 27ie hind, I mat/ say fatherly, interest you have ever 
 taken in my tvelfare makes me anxious to give you the earliest 
 intelligence of a matter deeply affecting my future j)r aspects. My 
 cousin, Harry Crow, to ivhom you doubtless hioiv I have long 
 been deeply attached, has at length made sufficient money to 
 enable him to quit the sea, and we are about to be married 
 forthwith. I would not for the world that you should hear 
 of this from any 07ie but myself. I have therefore sent 
 the boy over on the young horse at exercise; and tvith the 
 repeated expression of my sificere gratitude for all your 
 kindness, believe me to remain, My dear Mr. Scotl, over yours 
 most sincerely, 
 
 " Lydia Clifton. 
 
 *^' F.S. — Would you have the kindness to ask your housekeeper 
 for her receipt for making gooseberry fool, and sejid it by post as 
 the boy must not wait." 
 
 " Curse those cousins ! " exclaimed Tom; dropping the note 
 and sinking into his easy chair. 
 
 " No man's safe with them, I declare ! " continued he, 
 thumping the stuffed arm as he rose. — "This young vaga- 
 bond's been running about the house just like a domestic 
 cat when he was ashore, for I don't know how many years, 
 without ever raising the sh'ghtest suspicion, and now it 
 turns out — 
 
 " Fatherly interest, indeed," muttered he, eyeing himself in 
 the glass, — " that's a precious piece of impudence too. — Not so 
 
264 HAWBUCK GRANGE. 
 
 old as all that comes to, either. — '^ D^^i all cousijis, say I ! " 
 exclaimed he, pacing hurriedly up and down the room, adding 
 "iVo man's safe where they areT 
 
 " Gooseberry fool, indeed ! " exclaijned he, tearing up the 
 note and committing it to the flames. " I wonder who's been 
 the fool in this business. Dare say she wants to feed that 
 young water-rat upon it ; " adding, as he turned away, " I hope 
 she'll make him sick if she does." 
 
 But we will not pursue the painful subject. — The old ladies 
 will doubtless say — "sarved him right," while the young ones — 
 to whom we now address ourself — will, we hope, take a kinder 
 view of the case, especially as our friend Tom is now in the 
 market. We alluded to the fortunate circumstance of " Phiz " 
 having made a sketch of Hawbuck Grange, and the little dears 
 will see why we thought it so. Addressing ourself personally 
 to them we may say, it is all very well for you to give yourselves 
 airs among other girls, — say " I wouldn't have this man," — " 1 
 wouldn't think of that," and so on ; but when it comes to a 
 downright case of tangible matrimony, few of you are such fools 
 as to throw away a chance. Here then is a chance. Our young 
 friend, and we are confident your mammas will tell you t^iat all 
 men are young till they are married, our young friend Tom 
 Scott wants a wife, and, as we have shown, he is not impe ^tive 
 about money. That is putting the case we believe in itt irue 
 light. He doesn't say, " No girl with money need apply ; " 
 far from it. He would rather have one with money, ""»ut 
 money is not a " siue qua non" — which is French ^ 
 indispensable. 
 
 " Up then and at him ! " as the Duke of Wellington sai '^o 
 the Guards at Waterloo. 
 
 Of Hawbuck Grange we need not say much ; indeed Fhiz 
 has saved us the trouble of saying any thing, for as poor H(»od 
 sang of Tom Rounding the huntsman, when he exhibited him 
 as a frontispiece to his Epping Hunt, 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE, 205 
 
 Here shall the muse frame no excuse, 
 But frame the man himself ; 
 
 SO riiiz serves up Hawbuck Grauge in a similar way. 
 
 ♦ * * * » 
 
 * * » ♦ 
 
 N.B.— Only purchasers of this work will be entitled to view 
 Hawbuck Grange. They must come, Hawbuck Grange in 
 hand, in fact. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 THE WHITEFRIARS PRESS, LTD., LONDON AND TONBRIDOE 
 
 U 
 
ROBERT SMITH 
 SURTEES 
 
 SKETCH OF HIS CAREER 
 
ROBERT SMITH SURTEES: 
 
 The Man and His Works. 
 
 Sketch of His Career. 
 
 There can be no doubt that for a proper appre- 
 ciation of the novels of Robert Smith Surtees some 
 account of his hfe is absolutely essential, and it is 
 with a view of meeting this want that the following 
 unpretentious memoir and survey of his writings 
 has been attempted. The object aimed at has 
 been to sketch as far as possible the salient 
 incidents of his career and to point out the best 
 points in his writings. It is far easier to under- 
 stand the inwardness of a man's literary composi- 
 tions if one knows something of how he lived, 
 the friends he frequented, and his outlook on life. 
 The readers of Mr. Surtees' novels will be far 
 more able to enter into the spirit of them when 
 acquainted with his life's history. If once we 
 get really interested in the writer we shall also 
 
 3 
 
4 ROBERT SMITH SURTEES 
 
 as a logical sequence become more vitally interested 
 in what he has written whether it be essay, 
 newspaper article, or novel. Indeed, it cannot 
 be too strongly insisted upon that in the case of 
 Mr. Surtees, the personality behind these sporting 
 novels is all-important, for to a very great extent 
 he drew upon incidents within his own ken, only 
 shaping and at the same time adapting them to 
 the exigencies of his plots. There is internal 
 evidence of this to be discovered by any diligent 
 reader. And therefore having made out the case 
 we started to prove, let us without further 
 introductory comment turn to the task of sketching 
 his career. 
 
 To begin with some few details of the stock from 
 which he sprung are desirable. Robert Smith 
 Surtees was the second son of Anthony Surtees, 
 of Hamsterley Hall, who married in the spring of 
 1801 Miss Alice Blackett, sister of Christopher 
 Blackett of Wylam, who afterwards sat in the 
 House of Commons as M.P. for Northum.berland. 
 His grandfather was Robert Surtees, of Millwell 
 Burn, Ryton. 
 
 The novelist, who saw the light of day in 1803, 
 in due course entered Durham Grammar School 
 and remained there until his education was com- 
 pleted in 1819. He was then placed in a solicitor's 
 office and in due course became a solicitor himself. 
 
ROBERT SMITH SURTEES 5 
 
 He then had an unfortunate experience for after 
 buying a partnership in London he found he had 
 been deceived as to the value of the business 
 carried on by the firm. Happily, after much 
 diflfiiculty he managed with characteristic pushful- 
 ness to get back the substantial purchase-money 
 he had paid out. 
 
 He took rooms in Lincoln Inn Fields, and filled 
 in such spare time as he had by contributing to 
 such periodicals as the old " Sporting Magazine." 
 According to the " Dictionary of National Bio- 
 graphy " his first full-fledged literary effort was 
 published in 1830, which was in the shape of a 
 horse-buyer's manual. This work had a certain 
 interest in that it revealed very plainly what a 
 penchant he had for everything appertaining 
 to horsey matters and also that he had delved 
 deeply into the law of the subject. The following 
 year by the demise of his elder brother his financial 
 prospects materially improved. He then launched 
 with a friend the " New Sporting ^lagazine," 
 the editorship of which he retained until 
 1836. 
 
 In its pages he developed the amazing character 
 of Mr. John Jorrocks, " a sporting grocer, the 
 quintessence of Cockney vulgarity, good humour, 
 absurdity and cunning." These contributions 
 were afterwards collected and published as 
 
KOBJ'KT SMiril SIJRTKKS 
 
 *' Jorrock's J aiiiils." He succeeded to tlie estate of 
 llamsterlev llall on the deatli of his latlier in 1838. 
 Three \'ears hit(M" l\lr. SuiUh^s look to tht^ altar 
 INIiss l^h/.abc^tli Janc^ h\Mn\i(.-k, o^ I'lishoj^ \\\\ir- 
 inouth. VUv nianiai;e was blessed b\' a S'Mi and 
 two dan^httMs, but tlu> former diinl in !S71 on 
 the (-ontintMit anil his mother in 1879. Mr. SnrtiH^s 
 siM\(>d in tlu^ Ihnham militia, attaining; the rank 
 oi majiM", was a Jnstiei" o\ the 1\\uh^ for l^urhani, 
 <ind in 18r>(-> was lb;^h Sheiiff o\ the ("onntw so it 
 will he siHMi that he tlid not allow his literary 
 aetixities and his cUwoticMi to horsi^s and hnnting 
 to prex'ent him from earr\ini; out those public 
 tluties attaehiui; io [\\c posiliiin o\ a trui^ l>ritish 
 sc]iiirt\ 1I(^ cwentnall\ diid at l>ri,i;hton on March 
 l(\ 18(->4, luniui; i;i\en to posterit\- a larj;e nund^er 
 of works, a list oi which follows <il the (MuI. but 
 curiousl\- tMUHi!-;h he did not seek publicity tor 
 its own saki\ and with the exception ot his 
 " HorsebuNcr's Manual," io which allusion has 
 alread\' been madi\ he did not attix Ins name to 
 any of his books. 
 
 He was a tall num. with a welbknit alhli^tic 
 frame, a fair conxersationalist , wi^ll informed on 
 man\' matters. <nul as he kept his obsiM\ant eyes 
 open he often picked up nsiMul hints for u^e in his 
 books. It was, of course, howcxer, as a riiler to 
 lunmds that he was widely kncnvn. A sportsman 
 
ROBER'l^ SMITH SURTEES 7 
 
 first and ^lorcmost lie rode as a recreation and 
 never made any atleinpt lo ride lor effert. Still, 
 all the same, lie oKen " saw a /^axxl deal of what 
 the hounds were doijig." A ])0})ular man, a straight 
 sj)ortsman, and a good fellow in the best accepta- 
 tion of the word, he died keenly regretted by all 
 who knew him. Among his friends may be men- 
 tioned I\nd()l|)li Ae.kerniann, Loekhart , John Leech, 
 and ("harles James A))perley, known to fame as 
 
 Ninirod," and who suggest(;d originally that 
 Snrtees should try novel-writing. 
 
 As to Mr. Snrtees' literary abilities, oi)inions 
 differ very considerable, some j)eo])le frankly 
 admitting they cannot read him, while on the 
 other hand to a very numerous class of British 
 sportsmen his writings make i\\c. \'ery widest 
 appeal. Many a dashing squire when he desires 
 to have a good time at his fireside wants nothing 
 more than his cherished briar, a glass of something 
 comforting and a stray volume of one of Mr. 
 Surtees' sporting novels. All must acknowledge 
 that the writer was particularly adapted to be a 
 sporting writer, for what he did not know about 
 everything connected with horses and country 
 life was not worth knowing. Judged by the 
 standards of the twentieth century no doubt 
 much of his writing was marred to some extent 
 by coarseness, but this very coarseness was typica 
 
8 ROBERT SMITH SURTEES 
 
 of the times in which he hved and also of the in- 
 cidents he depicted, while his readers wanted 
 uncouthness of language and broadish humour. 
 They would not have cared a jot for delicacy of 
 style, purity of English, and a scholarly mmmer. 
 All that would have been lost on them. What 
 they did want was something to stir their imagina- 
 tions and make them live over again the joys of 
 rural life with which they had been acquainted. 
 His heroes and heroines were not plaster-cast 
 figures, but real men and women of flesh and 
 blood, and he could and did vividly describe their 
 adventures, escapades and tribulations. Mr. Sur- 
 tees possessed a very humorous mind, hence 
 many of his pages, which would otherwise have 
 been somewhat monotonous were relieved by 
 touches of wit, which could not fail to make the 
 observant reader chuckle with delight. 
 
 Naturally his pleasantries smack of the bunting 
 field, the stable, and the saddle, but that ver}^ fact 
 shows that he kept to the class of work he was 
 wedded to, and realising his own limitations did 
 not attempt to go outside of it. Would that some 
 other authors we could name had exercised a 
 similar^ wise discretion. In nearly every one 
 of his novels and his writings generally there is 
 plenty of evidence that he not only handled a 
 ready pen and was not at a loss for the right one. 
 
ROBERT SMITH SURTEES 9 
 
 but also that his heart was in his work and he wrote 
 with gusto and pleasure His ideas came readily, 
 his plots were originally conceived and developed 
 advantageously, while his pen pictures of the 
 scenes depicted were painted with as near an 
 approach to fidelity as could be wished for. 
 What could be happier, for instance, and more 
 redolent of his peculiarly characteristic style than 
 this extract from " Mr. Sponge's Sporting Tour," 
 when the hero and Miss Glitters have outdistanced 
 the field, and the amorous couple found themselves 
 in " at the death " alone. Mr. Sponge secured 
 the brush, and remarked : 
 
 " We'll put this in your hat, alongside the cock's 
 feathers." 
 
 Continuing to quote the author : ' ' The fair lady 
 leant towards him, and as he adjusted it becom- 
 ingh^ in her hat, looking at her bewitching eyes, 
 her lovely face, and feeling the sweet fragrance 
 of her breath, a something shot through Mr. 
 Sponge's pull-devil, pull-baker coat, his corduroy 
 waistcoat, his Eureka shirt, angola vest, and 
 penetrated to the very cockles of his heart. He 
 gave her such a series of smacking kisses as startled 
 her horse and astonished a poacher who happened 
 to be hid in the adjoining hedge." 
 
 Assuredly no more dramatic bit of descriptive 
 writing of such a scene could be desired. 
 
10 ROBERT SMITH SURTEES 
 
 Then listen to the extract, ijlustrative of the 
 ridmg master's Hfe from " Plain and Ringlets," 
 in which the author writes : 
 
 " Smiling cantering bevies of beauties, with 
 their shining hair in gold or silver beaded nets and 
 party-coloured feathers in their jaunty little hats, 
 alone imparted energy to the scene as they tip- 
 tapped along with quietly following tramp, led by 
 the most magnificent and affable of riding masters, 
 who thus advertise their studs, just as Howes and 
 Gushing advertise their grand United States 
 Circus. Bless us what a pace some of them go." 
 
 Does not that bring the scene vividty before us 
 and make us envy the life of such debonair 
 riding-masters ? 
 
 Mr. Surtees' powers of invention were never 
 more happily exemplified than by the talent he 
 utilised so lavishly of bestowing names on many of 
 the leading characters in his novels, which revealed 
 in the plainest possible way to his readers their 
 physical peculiarities and mental qualities. Thus 
 we get Mr. Soapey Sponge, who, although he did not 
 know how to become a gentleman, did continue to 
 act up to his name and sponge upon ever3^one 
 whose acquaintance he contrived to make. And 
 others of his characters happily named were the 
 ''Duke and Duchess of Marchhare," "Mr. 
 Goldspink," the " Duke of Tergiversation," 
 
ROBERT SMITH SURTEES 11 
 
 '' Mr. Miiffington." " Placid Joe," '' Sir Harry 
 - and Lady Scattercash," " Lord Loosefish," " Mr. 
 Jogglebury Crowdey," " Mr. Puffington,"" and so 
 on and so forth. 
 
 It is interesting to note at this juncture how 
 consistently the British love of sport is reflected 
 alike in our literature and our paintings. Take 
 the average English gentleman's home and you will 
 find on the shelves of his library several volumes of 
 sporting novels, reminiscences and records, and 
 on the walls prints dealing with horse-racing, 
 hunting and the like. Despite the incoming of the 
 era of motors and flying-machines, the love for 
 horses and all appertaining to them is so deeply 
 ingrained in our race that nothing is likeh' to 
 irradicate it. Nor does the race of sporting 
 noveUsts show any signs of declining ; it has 
 thrived with amazing success and will no doubt 
 continue as long as the turf holds its attraction, 
 and that means indefinitely. There is bound to 
 be a certain family likeness about all sporting 
 novels as regards the plots and the scenes depicted, 
 but in the working out and development there is 
 naturally plenty of variety introduced. Among 
 all these fiction writers on sport, Mr. Surtees 
 holds a prominent place, not because of any special 
 excellence of style, gift of language, or noteworthy 
 imagination, but because of his very evident 
 
12 ROBERT SMITH SURTEES 
 
 knowledge of all connected with horses, his obvious 
 sincerity, and the wide range of incidents stored 
 in his memory. As already mentioned, too, the 
 saving grace of humour was Surtees', and the 
 bubbles of wit rise in its pages very pleasantly. 
 There are some sporting writers who are quite 
 wearisome owing, not only to their lack of style 
 and slang, but also because there is no real wit 
 in their writing. 
 
 One soon tires of the jargon of the stable and 
 the racecourse, and yet, truth to tell, the betting 
 fraternity and the racing touts provide many 
 opportunities for good-natured fun, as some of 
 them are born humorists as we all know. That 
 being so, we could in many instances spare long- 
 chapters of more or less technical descriptions of 
 steeplechasing or fox-hunting for the sake of a 
 little of that light relief which might have been 
 supplied by some sporting scribes we could name. 
 With all his faults Surtees did not bore his readers 
 in this way, for he had a light touch, and there 
 was generally a genial partnership of raciness and 
 fun in his depictions. Let that fact be placed to 
 his credit, for dullness is unpardonable. 
 
ROBERT SMITH SURTEES 13 
 
 SoMii OF Mr. Surtees' Sayings. 
 
 Below will be found a long list of dictums 
 extracted from Mr. Surtees' sayings showing his 
 philosophy and his good sense. 
 
 " Takino-'in horses has almost become the sole 
 
 o 
 
 perquisite of the poor, at least those tliat the world 
 call ' poor,' though they often have more to 
 spend than those that the world call ' rich.' " 
 
 "There are some places of such convenient 
 distance that they stretch or contract like tele- 
 scopes, according to the wishes of the party. We 
 have known the same place both two miles and 
 four in the mouth of the same person. The 
 Scotch talk of their miles and a bittick ; but their 
 miles and a bittick are not a bit more undefinable 
 than an Englishman's ' close-by.' " 
 
 " When one expects to arrive at a journey's 
 €nd every minute, distance stretches out ama- 
 zingly. Even on an ordinary, travelling the last 
 mile is often the longest." 
 
 " A bad dinner and a loquacious waiter are 
 evils that no man can stand jointly." 
 
 " Who would keep a cuckoo clock that didn't 
 wish to be driven^ mad ? ' ' 
 
 " There are two ways of trotting a man out, 
 just as there are two ways of trotting a horse 
 out. There is the trot to display, and the trot 
 to expose." 
 
14 ROBERT SMITH SURTEES 
 
 " What can be more chilling than a set of hard, 
 dry, matter of fact features, contracting into a 
 sneer instead of a snort at a joke ? Blessings on 
 the man, say we, who will help a lame dog of a 
 story over a stile with a laugh." 
 
 " It is derogatory to a wit to act the part of a 
 retriever." 
 
 One person in a hurry is very apt to put another 
 person in a hurry." 
 
 " If a chap is a good fellow at twenty, there's 
 little chance of his being a bad one at forty." 
 
 " A good hat is about the only thing that looks 
 w^ell on a frosty da}^" 
 
 '' Ladies are always luncheon-eaters." 
 
 " That ' birds of a feather flock together ' holds 
 as good with peers as with pigeons." 
 
 ' ' What a summary of severity can be expressed 
 in the cynical curl of the nose at the quizzing- 
 glass." 
 
 " Country people are far wiser than town ones 
 in the matter of weather." 
 
 " The first thing that strikes a returning tra- 
 veller after a visit to great places, is the extreme 
 smallness and littleness of everything he before 
 thought great and good." 
 
 " A clever woman knows when she has hit her 
 man." 
 
 " If a trader gets into a good thing he keeps 
 
ROBERT SMITH SURTEES 15 
 
 it to himself, or perhaps runs it down while he 
 quietly feathers his nest." 
 
 " When a stone-breaker begins to ply his useful 
 labours on the road, he generally selects a large 
 stone wherewith to form the foundation of his 
 heap." 
 
 " Ostlers are generally either very quiet clever 
 men, or very slow useless ones ; we seldom meet a 
 medium man in the situation of ostlers, though we 
 meet with a great many brandy-nosed bad ones." 
 
 " A swell in London is a swell anywhere." 
 
 " The fox is always supposed to be a gentleman 
 and the hare a lady." 
 
 " Ladies are much more at home in the matter 
 of matrimony than men." 
 
 " It's a fearful thing when a man's consequence 
 entails a variety of glasses upon him at an inn." 
 
 " We can forgive anything in furtherance of 
 fun, except the petty larcenist who sells another's 
 jokes or stories, and murders them in the telling." 
 
 " People who fancy all the dirt and discomforts 
 of life are centred in large towns, have only to visit 
 a small one." 
 
 " Good farming is certainly a great promoter 
 of hunting." 
 
 " People tell such lies about hunting." 
 
 '' We contend that a free-born fox-hunter has a 
 perfect indefensible right to have his feet well wet 
 
16 ROBERT SMITH SURTEES 
 
 every day he goes out hunting in the month of 
 November." 
 
 " The crinohne : a wonderful fashion ! We 
 suppose we shall have the other extreme next, and 
 dresses as scant as they are now inflatedly 
 full." 
 
 " The Bal Masque, where each man laughs at 
 his neighbour without recollecting what an object 
 he is himself." 
 
 " It's the first glass that does all the mischief ; 
 one glass begets another." 
 
 " Hunting runs in families, some boys taking 
 to it quite naturally, others never having the 
 slightest idea of anything of the sort." 
 
 " Nothing can be more pitiable than the half- 
 rigged turn out of an ill-supported pretension to 
 a fox-hunt." 
 
 ' ' A brook is the only thing in the list of hunting 
 obstacles that admits of neither hope nor paliation." 
 
 " A hare is a curious mixture of cleverness and 
 stupidity." 
 
 '' A scarlet coat is generally considered a better 
 specific against cold than the stoutest double- 
 milled broad cloth or extra-strong Saxony." 
 
 " If extreme pace lasts, a run can't last. That 
 is a truism worth remembering by pullers-up and 
 people fancying themselves about to be beat by 
 the pace." 
 
ROBERT SMITH SURTEES 17 
 
 " Its very odd bachelors always use twice as 
 much tea as married people ; at least they pay 
 twice as much." 
 
 "It is not ever}^ man that can face the silk- 
 stocking smartness and lace-daubed splendour 
 of a front door entrance. 
 
 " Though our walk in life has not been either 
 lofty or extensive, we are free to confess that we 
 have seen lackeys who looked quite as much 
 gentlemen as their masters." 
 
 *' Boots certainly don't carry very well in 
 saddle-bags . . . You can take and stamp them 
 into saddle-bags just as you would a pair of dirty 
 stockings, and they'll unfold as smart and bright 
 as ever ; but woe betide the tops that have not 
 elbow room for themselves." 
 
 " We don't know whether ladies look upon neck- 
 cloths in the same light as they look upon their 
 ribbons — things that can be changed in a minute — 
 but we can assure them neckcloths are much more 
 serious affairs." 
 
 '' In close shaving, either for railway time, 
 or dinner time, or fox-hunting time, or indeed 
 almost any time, it is bad policy stopping to ask 
 questions, for if one is not past time already, the 
 stoppage may make one so. The only plan is to 
 " keep moving," and hug oneself at each person 
 one gets past without hearing, ' Ah ! the train 
 
18 ROBERT SMITH SURTEES 
 
 is gone ! ' or, that most appalling sound of all, 
 * They're away with him ! ' " 
 
 '* We sometimes see wall-papers so hideously 
 ugly as to look as if they had been made for a 
 premium." 
 
 " However good pictures may be for recalling 
 a scene, they fail of conveying an idea of the bold 
 realities of the land to parties who have not been 
 there." 
 
 " Few people are willing to admit a fox has been 
 killed, unless they see him." 
 
 " How we pity people who lived before ' tweeds,' 
 railways, and writing directions on newspapers, 
 were invented ! " 
 
 " There is certainly a wonderful freemasonry 
 among fox-hunters. There is no letter of intro- 
 duction equal to the few words : * This man's a 
 sportsman.' " 
 
 " It's odd if a fox-hunter gets into a crowd of 
 sportsmen, within half a hundred miles of home, 
 without being recognised by someone." 
 
 " The awkward part of betting on a course 
 seems to be that there is no way of regulating the 
 race. It isn't like a trial of speed between horses, 
 for twisting and turning seems quite as much to 
 do with winning as the straightforward fly." 
 
 " One of the ' never say die ' sort, regular 
 'sacre matin' man for the 'chasse' as the French say." 
 
ROBERT SMITH SURTEES 19 
 
 " There are some people in the world whose 
 looks or whose manners are so melancholily 
 lugubrious as to make one unhappy to see 
 them." 
 
 *' Some people's jolly good-natured ' phizzes ' 
 set one agog and cheer one up." 
 
 " None but the bold deserve to clear the brook." 
 
 " How much finer, wilder, and more natural 
 is the cry of the hounds in a large, resounding 
 wood, than the close, suppressed muffle from a 
 small, confined gorse." 
 
 " Loving and sociable as fox-hunters are in the 
 aggregate, still there is always a strong feeling 
 of jealousy between neighbouring packs." 
 
 " Perhaps there is not a more promising way 
 of getting a fall than pulling a horse up short, and 
 shoving him away from his companions." 
 
 " One sometimes sees an affinity between rider 
 and horse ; indeed, we have seen them alike in the 
 face." 
 
 " How variously we estimate time. We know 
 a man who went to a dentist to get his dinner set 
 overhauled, and after having been some twenty 
 minutes in the chair he went away declaring he had 
 been three hours. And he was a man of veracity, 
 too, but doubtless calculated the time by the pain." 
 
 " Dukes are people who generally have their 
 own way, let them be ever so unreasonable." 
 
20 • ROBERT SMITH SURTEES 
 
 " We never get into a parsonage house without 
 thinking if it wasn't for writing the weary sermons, 
 we'd hke to be a parson ourself. They are always 
 so snug and have such capital port wine ! " 
 
 " Most huntsmen have a pet noise of their 
 own." 
 
 " It requires a safe horse to insure your safe 
 transit over a mill-dam." 
 
 " We plead guilty to the charge of writing most 
 egregious nonsense." 
 
 " Writing, w^e imagine, is something like snuffing 
 or smoking — men get into the habit of it, and can't 
 well leave it off." 
 
 " Next to buying books out of politeness, our 
 greatest objection is to having them exposed to 
 view." 
 
 ** It is generally observed that half the Scratch- 
 ley dogs disappear about taxing time." 
 
 " Truth is stranger than fiction, and performs 
 far more unaccountable feats." 
 
 " London is a capital place to find game in, 
 but the country is the place to run it down." 
 
 " There is nothing so appalling as a great fat 
 mother-in-law." 
 
 '' People at a picnic seldom amalgamate well 
 until after dinner. There is generally caution 
 and mistrust until confidence is promoted by a 
 few glasses of wine." 
 
ROBERT SMITH SURTEES 21 
 
 " Wc remember a sheepfold on the Wiltshire 
 Downs that used to be called Something 
 Castle." 
 
 " Young gentlemen must smoke nowadays 
 whether they like it or not." 
 
 " A farmer prefers a good downy thistle to one 
 of these scarlet landscape lighters (poppies). One 
 the}^ say, shows strength, the other poverty." 
 
 " The science of calling has certainly got into 
 very convenient compass of late, and little now 
 remains to be done save to make a transmission of 
 visiting cards by post a legal tender." 
 
 " It is impossible for young ladies to dance and 
 twirl, and talk vehemently all night in the heated 
 atmosphere of a ball-room, and appear next day 
 with the bloom of youth, and the healthy glow of 
 freshness peculiar only to pure air, gentle exercise 
 and early hours. 
 
 " What lady would traverse the passages of a 
 house with nothing on but a bathing-gown 'and 
 slippers ? . . . Yet in the broad face of day, with 
 myriads of gazers and regiments of telescopes, 
 they come out with the greatest coolness and 
 deliberation, and walk unconcernedly into the sea. 
 So much for a ' pure mind in a pure body,' as the 
 advertisement says." 
 
 " Among all the gradual decline of good old 
 English customs . . . we know of none more re- 
 
22 ROBERT SMITH SURTEES 
 
 grettable than the omission of the old annual 
 haunch of venison." 
 
 " Long courtships are not now in favour." 
 
 " We all depreciate plausible people — advise 
 others to be cautious of plausible people, and yet 
 somehow or other are easily caught by plausible 
 people." 
 
 " Though the race-horse is a beautiful animal 
 to look at, in all its pride of silken-coated glory, 
 the spurring emulation of the race-horse is not to 
 be compared to the generous enjoyment of the 
 hunter who equally with his rider, partakes of the 
 enthusiasm of the scene." 
 
 "It is singular how the adage, that ill-gotten 
 money never prospers, often seems to hold good 
 with regard to turf matters." 
 
 " People who look upon race meetings like 
 showers-of-rain sort of things, that come of them- 
 selves, natural phenomena of nature as it were, 
 know little of the craft, subtlety, and anxiety 
 requisite for getting them up." 
 
 " * Money down ' has a wonderful effect in 
 curbing both extravagance and spurious liber- 
 ality." 
 
 " There is no branch of our rural economy 
 that requires more revision and amendment than 
 the country inns ; in fact, there is no economy 
 about them at all." 
 
ROBERT SMITH SURTEES 23 
 
 '* It is a pity that coach-builders had not 
 foreseen the rage of crinoHnes, so as to have shaped 
 their vehicles accordingty." 
 
 " Great people have very little idea what awe 
 they inspire." 
 
 " Courtship is something like stag-hunting, of 
 which few care to see the finish." 
 
 " All ladies have a wonderful tendency towards 
 the orange-blossom. It is quite the fox's brush 
 of female life." 
 
 " Our esteemed friend Punch says there are 
 two things a man never forgets — his first love and 
 his first cigar, to which we beg leave to add a 
 third, when he first hears that his banker has 
 stopped payment." 
 
 '* When a man and his horse differ seriously in 
 public, and the man feels the horse has the best 
 of it, it is wise for the man to appear to accommo- 
 date his views to those of the horse, rather than 
 risk a defeat. It is best to let the horse go his 
 way, and pretend it is yours. There is no secret 
 so close as that between a rider and his horse." 
 
 " There are pleasanter things than being left 
 alone with twenty couples of even the best 
 fox-hounds." 
 
 " Formerly the prize-fights were the perquisite 
 •of the publicans." 
 
 "It is a good thing to be able to leave well 
 
24 ROBERT SMITH SURTEES 
 
 alone — to finish with a pleasant reminiscence 
 instead of the recollection of a failure. But it 
 is easier to perceive the wrong than to pursue the 
 right, the difficulty is to say when is the right 
 time to stop." 
 
 The extracts show to an exceptional degree 
 how well Mr. Surtees hved the life he described 
 in his novels. Particularly noticeable is the some- 
 what Dickens'-like character of many of his 
 maxims, which is not altogether surprising con- 
 sidering the prominence of the one during the life 
 of the other. Good, sound, common sense was 
 certainly one of the attributes of Mr. Surtees, and 
 he had a singularly apt way with him of empha- 
 sising his views by striking parables and witty 
 comments. His allusions to the customs of his 
 time and his sidelights on curious features acquire 
 added value from the fact that there is far less 
 exaggeration than might have been expected. 
 He was a great stickler for accuracy, and nothing 
 aroused his ire more than newspaper articles on 
 hunting or racing which were written by journa- 
 lists who were woefully ignorant of these subjects. 
 This is not surprising for he himself in his frequent 
 writings for the various sporting periodicals was 
 a model descriptive penman, his accounts of the 
 various events he witnessed being turned out in a 
 very workmanlike manner and making admirable 
 
ROBERT SMITH SURTEES 25 
 
 reading. At the same time it must not be forgotten 
 that this was a very exceptional knowledge of 
 everything appertaining to horses, and the ordinary 
 journalist was badly left in comparison as was 
 only to be expected given the handicap he was 
 under. 
 
 Even at the present day it is by no means easy 
 to find a properly equipped racing journalist at 
 libert}', for the}^ are speedily snapped up and when 
 a new paper is started it is easier to find an editor 
 than a sporting representative. The reason for 
 this is, of course, obvious and lies in the fact that 
 whereas there are many men really capable of 
 editing a paper always to be found, the good 
 sporting journalist is something of a " rara avis." 
 Not only mast he possess a natural aptitude for 
 his job but he must have undergone a long and 
 laborious apprenticeship. Readers of racing re- 
 ports are very keen critics and they soon sum a 
 journalist up. They follow form to an extent 
 unknown in an}' other branch of sport, and they 
 want plent}' of prophecies. Thus, it comes about 
 that not only must the sporting scribe be ably to 
 describe glibly the events which have taken place 
 but also write convincingly on what is going to 
 take place at a future date. That Mr. Surtees 
 would have been able to hold his own with present 
 day sDortsmen and scribes is undeniable, for he had 
 
26 ROBERT SMITH SURTEES 
 
 a wealth of inventive imagination that stood him 
 in very good stead. For instance, it is absolutely 
 amazing if one lightly turns over the pages of 
 his sporting novels to see how many times in the 
 coarse of them he will describe a hunting scene 
 and yet not repeat himself. This is no small feat 
 when it is realised that after all there are only a 
 •certain number of alternative ways of dealing 
 with hunting episodes. The subject is by no 
 means inexhaustible it will be readily conceded. 
 All the same Mr. Surtees appeared to think it was, 
 -and so well and adroitly did he ring the changes 
 that he was never at a loss to present a new point 
 of view when he took on still another phase of 
 the subject he loved so well and wrote about so 
 very cleverly. His whole existence must have 
 been consecrated to this special branch of sport, 
 and Uke his inimitable characters all his conver- 
 sations, all his thoughts and all his dreams must 
 assuredly have centered around it. Hunting as a 
 topic for conversation at breakfast, luncheon, 
 tea, dinner and supper would seem to many of us 
 likely to be monotonous. But not so with Mr. 
 Surtees' own circle, and when they did tire of 
 hunting topics they turned to steeple-chasing and 
 vice versa, which recalls the anecdote about the 
 Irishman who in reply to a question said he lived 
 on bread and potatoes half the week, and the other 
 
ROBERT SMITH SURTEES 27 
 
 half on potatoes and bread. Or as the French 
 proverb has it : " The more thmgs change the 
 more do they resemble one another." 
 
 It is after all largely a question of temperament 
 and environment, and just as in the same way 
 as a busman on holiday will spend his time riding 
 about on a bus, so would Mr. Surtees when he 
 wanted a holiday from fox-hunting enjoy the 
 recreation of hare-hunting ; the difference be- 
 tween the chasing of reynard and puss not being 
 sufficient to spoil his sport or upset his usual sang- 
 froid and stately equanimity. Prett}^ well every 
 line that he wrote bears the imprint of satisfaction, 
 /. e., that he was glad to be alive, glad to be writing, 
 and glad particularly to be dealing with such a 
 fascinating topic as horses, sport, good fellowship, 
 picnics, parties, balls or carousals of some sort, 
 " We do best that which we like best " may be 
 said to sum up Mr. Surtees' writing abilities, and 
 no one will deny that at his best he was hard to 
 beat in his limited sphere. 
 
 The List of His Works. 
 
 According to the ** Dictionar}' of National 
 Biography" Surtees wrote: (1.) Horseman's 
 Manual, being a Treatise on Soundness, the Law 
 
28 ROBERT SMITH SURTRES 
 
 of Warranty, and generally on the Laws relating 
 to Horses. By R. S. Surtees, Lincoln's Inn Fields, 
 London, 1831, 8vo. (2.) Jorrocks's Jaunts and 
 Jollities, or the Hunting, Shooting, Racing, Driv- 
 ing, Sailing, Eating, Eccentric and Extravagant 
 Exploits of that renowned Sporting Citizen Mr. 
 John Jorrocks of St. Botolph Lane and Great 
 Coram Street, with twelve illustrations b}^ "Phiz," 
 London, 1838, 8vo. ; 3rd edition revised, with six- 
 teen coloured plates after Henry Aiken, 1843, 8vo., 
 and, three additional papers from the pages of 
 the " New Sporting Magazine," 1869 and 1890. 
 (3.) Handley Cross, or the Spa Hunt : a Sporting 
 Tale, by the author of " Jorrocks's Jaunts," 
 3 vols., 1843, London, 12mo. This was expanded 
 into " Handley Cross, or Mr. Jorrocks's Hunt," 
 London, 1854, 8vo. (first issued in seventeen 
 monthly parts, March, 1853— October, 1854, in 
 red wrappers designed by Leech, with seventeen 
 admirable engravings on steel, coloured, and eighty 
 four woodcuts by John Leech ; reprinted with 
 coloured plates by Wildrake, Heath and Jellico 
 (1888) ; other editions 1891, 1892, 1898. (4.) 
 Hillingdon Hall, or the Cockney Squire : a Tale 
 of Country Life, by the Author of " Handley 
 Cross," 3 vols., 1845, London, 12mo. ; another 
 edition, London, 1888, 8vo. Jorrocks figures once 
 more in this novel, which first appeared in serial 
 
ROBERT SMITH SURTEES 29 
 
 form, and has an ironical dedication to^the Royal 
 Agricultural Societ}^ (5.) Hawbuck Grange, or 
 the Sporting Adventures of Thomas Scott, Esq., 
 with eight illustrations by " Phiz," London, 1847, 
 8vo. ; other editions, London 1891, 8vo. and 
 London 1892, 8vo. These papers appeared ori- 
 ginally as by Thomas Scott in " Bell's Life in 
 London." (6.) Mr. Sponge's Sporting Tour ; witTi 
 illustrations by John Leech, London, 1853, 8vo., 
 1892, 8vo. ; and as " Soapey Sponge's Sporting 
 Tour," 1893, 8vo. (7.) Ask Mamma, or the Richest 
 Commoner in England, with illustrations by John 
 Leech (thirteen engravings on steel, coloured, and 
 sixty-nine woodcuts), London, 1858, 8vo. (issued 
 in thirteen monthly parts) ; another edition, 
 London, 1892, 8vo. (8). Plain and Ringlets? By 
 the Author of '' Handley Cross" ; with illustra- 
 tions by John Leech, London, 1860, 8vo., (the 
 thirteen monthly parts, in red pictorial wrappers 
 after Leech, are very rare) ; another edition 1892, 
 8vo. The forty-three woodcuts b}' Leech are 
 exceptionally good and there are thirteen coloured 
 plates. (9.) Mr. Facey Romford's Hounds, with 
 illustrations by John Leech and Hablot K. 
 Browne (the first fourteen coloured by Leech, the 
 remaining ten by Browne), London, 1865, 8vo., 
 in twelve parts; the " Jorrocks edition," illus- 
 trated, London, 1892, 8vo. The Jorrocks Birth- 
 
30 ROBERT SMITH SURTEES 
 
 day Book, being selections from " Handley Cross", 
 appeared in 1897, 8vo. 
 
 And so we can leave Mr. Surtees and his repu- 
 tation safe in the keeping of his novels, only adding 
 that it has rightly been decided before completing 
 this last volume to add one further article which 
 deals in a general way with the work of John 
 Leech, special attention being devoted to his. 
 illustrations . included in Mr. Surtees' sporting 
 novels. 
 
 A. F. F. 
 
JOHN LEECH 
 
 HIS ILLUSTRATIONS 
 TO SURTEES' NOVELS, ETC, 
 
JOHN LEECH : An Appreciation. 
 
 His Illustrations to Surtees' Novels. 
 
 Some of His Best Work Described. 
 
 AS it is an undoubted fact that some of John 
 Leech's best work was done in his illustrations 
 to the novels of Surtees it was considered appro- 
 priate that something in the nature of an apprecia- 
 tion of his art should be here recorded. The task 
 is not only a comparatively easy one but also 
 a grateful one for fewer artists left a greater mark 
 on their time than did John Leech, whose fame 
 has gone down to posterity, and whose rung on 
 the ladder of achievement is a deservedly high 
 one. This statement calls for no qualification in 
 any respect, for its truth is quite self-evident. 
 It might well be said of him : 
 
 '* Hitting all he saw with shafts, 
 
 With gentle satire, akin to charity 
 
 That harmed not." 
 The manliness and clearness of his mind impressed 
 
4 JOHN LEECH 
 
 itself on his work and the consequence is that 
 unlike Hogarth, there is nothing calculated to 
 offend anyone's susceptibilities. Leech had a 
 keen sympathy with those who were poverty- 
 stricken, unhappy or ill-used, hence some of his 
 work was distinctly of a semi-pathetic character. 
 Indeed it would be a misnomer to call him entirely 
 a humorist for there were tears behind some of 
 his efforts. Apparently he had a dislike for Jews ; 
 at any rate in dealing with them his wit took on a 
 more mordant form than was the case in his 
 treatment of other strata of society. 
 
 Hogarth frequently treated the vices and foibles 
 of his time in a satirical way, appearing to like to 
 delve into somewhat muddy water and the 
 double-entendre and indelicate allusion were to 
 be found in the texts of his caricatures, but this 
 was not so with Leech who very rarely offended 
 against the canons of good taste. He found 
 nothing at all inviting in the depiction of vice 
 per se. It it was essential to the scheme he had 
 in mind or for the purposes of the book he was 
 illustrating then he would do so, but his heart 
 was not in it, and no one would pick out these 
 products as being worthy of his representative 
 art. As we shall prove _ later on when dealing 
 with some of his most successful illustrations 
 Leech's pencil could portra}^ a pretty girl with 
 
JOHN LEECH 5 
 
 singular charm and accuracy. Not one of these 
 beautiful, regular-featured ladies that grow only 
 on the painter's canvas and not in actual life, 
 but real live little English damsels, all smiles and 
 dimples, such as we have all met in the parks 
 and gardens of our cities, or seen disporting them- 
 selves in the waves at Margate and Brighton, or 
 else gracing some evening social with their youth 
 and beauty. Very successful many of these 
 studies of young girls ripening into womanhood 
 are, an ever- abiding joy to those fortunate enough 
 to possess those treasured souvenirs of the famous 
 cartoonist. 
 
 Again who could get the heart out of a hunting 
 subject better than he did? His huntsmen, 
 their horses, and even the poor driven foxes 
 look what our American cousins would call in 
 their very descriptive jargon " the real thing." 
 His huntsmen appear to be cantering along or 
 galloping as the case may be in real earnest, 
 and the quarry, too, how he seems to be slipping 
 off in his frantic endeavour to out-bid the snarling, 
 quickly-moving hounds, and reach his lair, with 
 his brush intact. The true poetry of motion, 
 in short, is revealed in many of his hunting 
 depictments, and immeasurably do they enhance 
 the interest of even the prosiest letterpress. This 
 can be readily gauged by the way the reader turns 
 
6 JOHN LEECH 
 
 to gaze entranced at the illustrations as in the 
 course of the sporting novels he comes across them. 
 " Did he or did he not think he had a mission 
 behind his pencil ? " That is a question we have 
 often heard asked and have even posed to ourselves 
 as we have turned and fingered over albums 
 containing his work. Matured judgment on this 
 point can only come to the conclusion that there 
 was a purpose in his work, and that he did in his 
 own way attempt to leave the world better than 
 he found it. Thus he showed throughout his 
 career his dislike for shams, frauds, and preten- 
 tions with the full power of his satire, while on the 
 other hand he did not mind showing with rare 
 acumen that he favoured the downtrodden and 
 had a weakness for the " under-dog." So it came 
 about that he, drew many a " picture-sermon " 
 which we venture to think caused a far deeper 
 and more permanent impression than an\^ dis- 
 course pronounced from the most celebrated 
 pulpits of his day. A few strokes of his pencil 
 could do far more to prove his point and adorn his 
 moral than a thick tome of preachings. In the 
 same way as it has been said that " the pen is 
 mightier than the sword," so would Leech make 
 us think that " the cartoon is more effective than 
 the sermon." The painter indeed beat the parson 
 at his own game. 
 
JOHN LEECH 7 
 
 His Connection with Punch. 
 Naturally Leech's connection with Punch 
 brought him most fame while it also profitted 
 that weekly enormously. Indeed, there were wise- 
 acres who did not mind openly saying when he 
 died that his demise would also mean the demise 
 of Punch. One more instance of what mistaken 
 prophecies people may make. Punch to-day is 
 running as strongly as " Charley's Aunt," and it 
 has had to do without Leech for many years. At 
 the same time it must be admitted that the work 
 that Leech did in the old days for Punch has but 
 rarely been equalled since save and except for the 
 Du Maurier boom. Turning over the crowded 
 pages of Punch of the days when Leech reigned 
 supreme is a most enjoyable and fascinating 
 pastime. There under our eyes are mirrored the 
 doings of ladies and gentlemen, men and women, 
 and low class folk, whose tastes and foibles partook 
 of the era in which they lived, and whose doings 
 now only possess the same value which attaches 
 to other relics of the dead past. The kindly 
 spirit of the artist peeps out in many of his delinea- 
 tions and his portrayal of bathing scenes at the 
 seaside always strikes us as being particularly 
 witty and really representative of him in his most 
 felicitous vein. What natty little neat women he 
 pictured in the shallow billows ; real live nymphs 
 
8 JOHN LEECH 
 
 of the sea. Modest, pretty and attractive, yet a 
 little roguish withall, and not unaware of the 
 flutter they create in the minds of the handsome 
 gentlemen on the beach watching them take their 
 ** dips " in the old-fashioned way. In these 
 twentieth century days the fair bathers are mostty 
 experienced swimmers and progress so far from 
 the bathing tent, machine or bungalow, that their 
 evolutions can only be followed with difficulty, 
 and they are out to swim and not to give passers-by 
 a good time. There are still, of course, so-called 
 bathers of the feminine gender whose chief object 
 is to show off their dainty sea costumes, and 
 whose last thought is to get really wet or tumble 
 their elaborate coiffures, but they are naturally 
 bathers only in name and not in sober truth. 
 They are "snapped " by professional photographers 
 for the popular press, but we would far rather 
 see the work of the pencil than the camera in 
 this connection. 
 
 What a band of noteworthy colleagues Leech 
 had while on Punch. To mention only a few : 
 Tenniel, Thackeray, Mayhew, Shirley Brooks, 
 Tom Taylor and Douglas Jerrold. These were 
 the days of the homely tavern when the lions of 
 Charivari, young and old, when they had finished 
 their work, " would acclaim their labours with 
 song and supper at Evans's with the famous 
 
JOHN LEECH 9 
 
 Paddy Green." Has not Thackeray immortalised 
 the halls of delight under the Piazza of Covent 
 Garden in one of the best of his novels ? 
 
 " Tom Titt," otherwise Mr. Rosciszewski, the 
 famous Polish caricaturist, has declared that 
 " Conscious that the subtlest irony often lies 
 in a close adherence to truth, where unrestrained 
 exaggeration defeats its own end, a caricaturist 
 must always think of the essence of caricature . . . 
 Caricature is not necessarily funny, and very 
 often it is even tragic in its brutality, free, of 
 course, from all coarseness or ill-nature. People 
 with marked individuality and peculiar manner- 
 isms of their own, possessing little tricks of pose 
 and gesture which make it comparatively easy 
 to express their personality on paper are a godsend 
 to the caricaturist and the same people imagine 
 that the caricaturist is a privileged being, before 
 whose pencil potentates tremble and celebrities 
 shrink. It is not the toleration but the utmost 
 that from middle classes he can hope for ; more 
 often he has to encounter ridicule and a good- 
 natured contempt. After all, to be caricatured 
 is a hall-mark of greatness." 
 
 For nigh on a quarter of a century Leech was 
 all-in-all to Punch. Besides upwards of 3,000 
 illustrations he turned out countless cartoons. 
 No wonder Thackeray is credited with saving 
 
10 JOHN LEECH 
 
 "' What a number Punch would be without a 
 drawmg by Leech in it." Mr. W. P. Frith, R.A., 
 the author of a monumental work on John Leech, 
 who he knew intimately and associated with so 
 long, has well observed : " The student of Leech 
 does not require to be tol-d that the artist was 
 as great in the tragedies of life as he was when 
 be shot the follies as they flew about him, or when 
 he touched so caressingly the beaut}^ of childhood 
 and of woman." This eminent judge of his work 
 thinks of all his serious endeavours nothing was 
 better than his drawing on the occasion of the 
 death of the Emperor of Russia. It was during 
 the Crimean War that our soldiers suffered so 
 severely, the Emperor having, it was graphically 
 said called in the aid of Generals " January " and 
 " February." They destroyed many of our poor 
 fellows, but one of them also laid his icy hand on 
 himi. Mr. Frith thus describes Leech's drawing : 
 " There lay the Czar, a noble figure in death, as 
 he was in life, and by his side a stronger king than 
 he — a long figure in General's uniform, snow- 
 besprinkled who beckons him away." And let it 
 not be forgotten that his work in Punch exercised 
 a real influence on public opinion, and the sins of 
 omission and commission of the Cabinets of his day 
 gave him full play for his talents, and the various 
 Administrations had reason to fear his caustic 
 
JOHN LEECH 11 
 
 blame more than that of the official oppositions. 
 With the exceptions of the subjects of the political 
 cartoons then, as now, settled at the ^Vednesday 
 dinners of the staffs, Leech chose his own subjects 
 and roamed fancy-free over the world, introducing 
 what appeared to him the most suitable matters 
 and presenting them in his own inimitable way, 
 and always with point and genius. What a worker 
 he was too. Few men could have worked harder 
 than he did. Consequently, it is all the more 
 creditable to him that he maintained so high a 
 level of consistency. Whatever the pressure, 
 however heavy his worries might be, he turned out 
 nothing slipshod or careless. So careful indeed 
 was he in his detail, so painstaking in making his 
 studies complete and understandable that all these 
 years after the m.an or woman of discrimination 
 can take up at hazard any of the tomes containing 
 his drawings and become interested in them at 
 once and oblivious to all else. After all that is 
 the best test to which the permanency of his work 
 can be subjected, and how triumphantly he emerges 
 from such an ordeal. Time has changed, conditions 
 have varied, and what was topical in the mid- 
 Victorian age is out of date now, yet the appeal 
 that his pencil makes to-day is as all-powerful 
 as ever. Of course he and his art may appear 
 old-fashioned to the undiscriminating, but to the 
 
12 JOHN LEECH 
 
 cultured taste his drawings are still a sheer delight, 
 a liberal education in the special domain in which 
 he laboured, and an unfailing source of satisfaction. 
 How most of us revel still in what emanated from 
 his pencil and would sooner part with most of the 
 books on our shelves than one of his. He was 
 never dull or insipid, fresh ideas peep out of each 
 successive illustration, while his point of view 
 appears as irresistible and convincing as it did 
 when he yet lived and laboured. Is it any wonder 
 that Leech's successors have striven to reproduce 
 his spirit and style ? But it must be conceded 
 that his imitators rarely succeeded in reaching 
 his standard and for the all-important reason that 
 they had neither his native genius, adaptability, 
 or temperamental genius. 
 
 The Sporting Novels. 
 It will be remembered that Surtees in his 
 sporting paper developed the humorous character 
 of Mr. John Jorrocks, a sporting grocer, the quin- 
 tessence of Cockney vulgarity, good humour, 
 absurdity and cunning. These papers of Surtees 
 were collected as " Jorrocks's Jaunts " in 1838. 
 Lockhart (says the Dictionary of National Bio- 
 graphy), having seen the Jorrocks Papers," sug- 
 gested to a common friend, " Nimrod " {i.e. 
 
JOHN LEECH 13 
 
 Charles James Apperley) that Surtees ought to 
 try his hand at a novel. The result was " Handley 
 Cross," in which Jorrocks reappears as a master 
 of foxhounds and the possessor of a country seat. 
 The coarseness of the text was redeemed in 1854 by 
 the biilliantl}^ humorous illustrations of John Leech 
 who utilised a sketch of a coachman iTiade in church 
 as his model for the ex-grocer. Some of Leech's 
 best work is to be found among his illustrations 
 to Surtees' later novels, notably " Ask Mamma " 
 and " Mr. Romford's Hounds." Without the 
 original illustrations these novels would not possess 
 such interest as they do. 
 
 Mr. Sponge's Sporting Tour. 
 Mr. Surtees says in Chapter IV. of " Mr. Sponge's 
 Sporting Tour," which was his best novel, that 
 '* We trust our opening chapters aided by our 
 friend Leech's pencil will have enabled our readers 
 to embody such a Sponge in his mind's eye as 
 will assist them in following us through the course 
 of his peregrinations." Leech undoubtedly took 
 the greatest pains to get a firm grip of the proper 
 characteristics of Mr. Sponge, and throughout the 
 book, although the hero is presented in a series of 
 ever-varying guises, his features are always easily 
 recognisable, and so is his figure, for when we only 
 
14 JOHN LEECH 
 
 see him " mizzling along Oxford Street " with his 
 back towards us, we instinctively know him and 
 can see his obtrusive whiskers. In another illus- 
 tration, this time a full-paged one, in which our 
 hero is introduced to " 'Eccles," we are given the 
 opportunity of studying his typically sporting 
 " get-up." The background with its vista of 
 trees and out-houses is well in keeping with the 
 whole tableau. 
 
 In a style reminiscent of his Punch way is his 
 pen picture of Mr. Waffles, the Master of the 
 " Laverick Wells" hounds. He is seen in a 
 wonderful garb, with flowing necktie, open waist- 
 coat, bell-bottomed trousers, straw hat and cheroot^ 
 with his hands in his fob pockets, " swanking" 
 down the street outside the ' ' Magasin de modes of 
 Madame Bull. Two fair customers just about 
 to enter the shop as well as some of the modistes 
 are seen to be looking after Mr. Waffles as he 
 ambles along. 
 
 Mr. Sponge is more than once depicted on his 
 spirited steed Hercules. The best of all is when 
 the enterprising animal *' takes " a draper's shop 
 by galloping in through the French windows. 
 The devastation caused, the dismay of the shop- 
 jumpers and the group of startled seated customers, 
 are all wonderfully depicted, the effect being great 
 and truly humorous. 
 
JOHN LEECH 15 
 
 And then how Leech revels in the famous 
 character of Mr. Jawleyford, " What a Landlord 
 ought to be." See him depicted addressing his 
 tenants round the festive board. " There he 
 stood with his bright auburn hair (now rather 
 badger-pied, perhaps, but still very passable by 
 candle-light) — his bright auburn hair, we say, 
 swept boldly off his lofty forehead, his hazy grey 
 eyes flashing with the excitement of drink and 
 animation, his left hand reposing on the hip of 
 his well-fitting black pantaloons, while the right 
 one, radiant with rings, and trimmed with up- 
 turned wristband, sawed the air, as he rounded off 
 the periods of the well-accustomed saws." 
 
 Another excellent bit of work is the illustration 
 entitled " Mr. Sponge at Jawleyford Court." 
 The scene selected for depiction is the moment 
 when Mr. Sponge is passing through the baronial 
 hall, en route for the banquetting chamber, the 
 door of which is invitingly open. He has on his 
 arm Mrs. Jawleyford, ample of proportions with 
 a profusion of black hair in ringlets. Next follow 
 her two winsome daughters, who have obviously 
 made up their quarrel, for they are all smiles and 
 anticipation, while the procession is rounded off 
 by the host himself, posing in the most aristocratic 
 of manners, and being looked at with evident 
 reverence by the portly solemn- visaged butler. 
 
16 JOHN LEECH 
 
 A page and two footmen complete the picture, but 
 they are hardly as well delineated as the others ; 
 indeed they are somewhat commonplace in design 
 and execution. 
 
 We like the intime drawing of Mr. Sponge in the 
 best' bedroom at Jawleyford Court. Our hero is 
 luxuriously seated in a pillowed arm-chair in 
 front of a blazing fire, with outstretched legs, one 
 reposing on the hob, and as he thinks over his 
 prospects he puffs vehemently at his whiff, and his 
 dreams are of a roseate hue. We next see him out 
 hunting, but the depiction to our way of thinking 
 is rather crude. 
 
 A singularly full picture shows our hero's 
 unexpected appearance at Farmer Springwheat's. 
 A casual glance at the feast which is proceeding 
 reveals some twenty-five or twenty-six people in 
 the room, men, women, and children, while the 
 viands, " drinkables " and the sporting sketches 
 on the walls, all go to make up an ensemble of 
 surprising detail, in which the artist's liking for 
 clever characterisation has full play. The smug 
 look of ostentatious pride and satisfaction on 
 Mr. Sponge's face is really capital. 
 
 Mr. Leather, the livery-stable keeper and 
 " Soapy " Sponge are sketched having a difference 
 of opinion, the former going on grimly with his 
 eating and drinking, while Sponge stands over- 
 
JOHN LEECH . 17 
 
 looking him at the table's side with folded arms. 
 But we are reassured there will be no violent 
 outbreak for Mr. Sponge " being in the man's 
 power durst not quarrel with him." Another 
 illustration reveals how Mr. Sponge ran amok 
 at a hunt, his horse spreading devastation, 
 knocking over Lord Scamper dale. In the words 
 of the author : " His lordship flew one wa}^ his 
 horse another, his hat a third, his whip a fourth, 
 his spectacles a fifth ; in fact he was shattered all 
 over." And what a lecture the indignant victim 
 read Sponge. How the latter' s cheeks must have 
 crimsoned under the avalanche of vituperation. 
 Quite a whimsical atmosphere is introduced in 
 the smart illustration of the making of Mr. Bragg' s 
 equestrian portrait. This huntsman is revealed 
 in full fig, best cap, most resplendescent scarlet 
 and leathers, boldly astride a saddle-stand. Mr. 
 Ruddle, the painter, in a blue-check suit, smoking 
 an old-fashioned pipe, from which clouds of smoke 
 are pouring, is at work on his easel, and has caught 
 Mr. Bragg' s smirk very naturally, while the horse 
 upon which he is represented as seated in the 
 painting looks more like a pawing warrior's steed 
 than a hunter. On a table are seen a hospitable 
 decanter and glasses, while a hound is peering 
 round the half-opened door through which Mr. 
 Puffington, who has plenty of embonpoint is to be 
 
18 JOHN LEECH 
 
 observed striding in with his usual vigour. A 
 dehghtful httle woodcut heads the chapter deaUng 
 with " A Day with Pufhngton's Hounds," showing 
 a good run with " Master Fox " looming promi- 
 nently in the foreground. 
 
 The scene at the " kill " in the same chapter is 
 effectively portrayed, and what with huntsmen, 
 hunters and hounds, there are upwards of forty 
 figures accurately drawn, a background of hills 
 and trees, completing the coup d'oeil. A literary 
 touch is suggested by the drawing of Sponge 
 endeavouring to write a sporting article, with the 
 aid of Jacob Spraggon, seated in an arm-chair, 
 while the would-be journalist equipped for his 
 task at the table does not appear to find inspiration 
 coming any too easily to his aid. A laughter- 
 provoking ilUstration a few pages further on, gives 
 us a view of the newspaper office and tall Miss 
 Grimes giving the " corrected " copy to the very 
 diminutive printer. Miss Grimes is a " young " 
 lady in the thirties and is depicted in her role as 
 an " ardent Bloomer," her " bloomers " being 
 very conspicuous. It is no surprise to learn she 
 had a romantic temperament and poetic aspira- 
 tions, which prevented the " poet's corner " in 
 the paper being left void. 
 
 In " The Joggleburys at Home " we are intro- 
 duced to the father and mother seated at a well- 
 
JOHN LEECH \9 
 
 provisioned table examining one of the curious 
 walking sticks which the old fellow provides with 
 heads of birds or beasts, or fishes, or men, and of 
 which he had accumulated a vast quantity. 
 Later on he is seen in pursuit of his hobby brushing 
 and tearing his way out of a wood with two fine 
 hollies under his arm. No more smugger portrait 
 of the hero is given in the book than the one in 
 which he is observed starting from the Bower on 
 horseback, the centre of an admiring crowd. His 
 arrival at Nonsuch House also lends itself to a 
 spirited illustration which is fully taken advantage 
 of, the red-coated, white-breeched, top-booted 
 huntsman being delineated in a variety of poses 
 all equally successful and natural. 
 
 Another very Punch-like sketch is headed " Mr. 
 Bugles prefers dancing to hunting," and no wonder 
 when he finds such pretty partners. " The domes- 
 tic economy of Nonsuch House " is the cryptic 
 description of a woodcut in which figure hampers, 
 top-boots and other hunting equipments with, we 
 are sorry to say, bottles here, there, and every- 
 where. Mr. Sponge is seen once in humble 
 surroundings listening to a flute solo from Facey 
 Romford, but judging from the expression of the 
 listener's face the result, in this case, is not to do 
 " away with melancholy." Quite the best sketch 
 of the charming Lucy who becomes Mrs. Sponge is 
 
20 JOHN LEECH 
 
 provided in the illustration entitled " Lucy Glitters 
 showing the way," which is in all respects admira- 
 ble. She is shown later on with an expression of 
 " lovely fear for the safety of the bold Sponge " 
 who has ridden and won a steeplechase, and smiles 
 back at her reassuringly. On this sentimental 
 note we may well close down our little discursive 
 review of some of the illustrations in this book 
 which will live the ages through. 
 
 Some Pretty Faces. 
 
 We confess to a weakness for the pretty faces 
 with which John Leech has brightened the pages 
 of " Plain and Ringlets," including a round dozen 
 coloured plates and close upon fifty admirable 
 woodcuts. The temptation to deal with some of 
 these is not to be resisted and need not be apolo- 
 gised for. 
 
 What a pretty face, for instance, is that of the 
 sea nymph at the start of the second chapter, no 
 less alluring being the charming environment in 
 which she is placed. The riding school out for 
 a trot, under a Frenchified dandy of a riding- 
 master is taken full advantage of by the pencil 
 of the artist to create widely different types of 
 feminine beauty, all most deftly treated. The 
 storm at a picnic is turned to splendid use by 
 
JOHN LEECH 21 
 
 Leech, and is quite one of his most characteristic 
 studies, the " crinnoletted " ladies being in his 
 wittiest vein. There are many dehghtful peeps 
 of the seaside scattered through the pages of this 
 book, ahke in the letterpress and the illustrations, 
 and we would not forego any of them. The colour- 
 ed plate of an interior scene, with the young lady 
 with two strings to her bow, is remarkable for the 
 speaking countenances of the fair one and her 
 admirers, while the drawing-room in which they 
 are foregathered is very well suggested. A party 
 of cigar-smoking Israelites in a carriage forms 
 one more instance of the artist's dislike for the race 
 of prominent noses, as does the unpleasant drawing 
 of Mrs. and the Misses Jewinson. Another coloured 
 plate, representing "Rosa and the Earl out 
 hunting," is noteworthy for the happiness which 
 , radiates from the face of the young lady and her 
 cavalier as well, while the presentation of the 
 " brush " a few pages further on is not so success- 
 fully drawn. Nothing so upsets a British sports- 
 m.an as for anyone to shoot a fox, and a foreign 
 prince doing this to the consternation of the 
 shooting party is well evidenced in the vivacious 
 plate devoted to the " awful occurrence." 
 
 " The Jug and his juvenile field " is another 
 arresting tinted plate which pleases for its happy 
 presentment of juvenile enjoyment of the pleasures 
 
22 JOHN LEECH 
 
 of riding, the young people are looking the em- 
 bodiment of health and vigour, the background 
 being Leech's favourite green sward and trees. 
 "' Popping the Question " needs no explanation, 
 it is one more variant of the question which is as 
 old as the hills and as young as the new year. 
 Dances figure largely in the book and the illustrator 
 is on very firm ground in this direction and all his 
 sketches exhale the proper atmosphere. Mr. 
 Frith has a liking for the vignette where the Duke 
 receives Mr. Goldspink. He writes : " This cut 
 seems to me to show Leech's power of marking 
 the difference of character in the person represented 
 in a degree noticeable by the most ordinary 
 observer. The Duke is an aristocrat from top to 
 toe ; the insincerity of his welcome even is appar- 
 ent, while the squat and crab-like figure of the 
 banker is no less true to nature." On the whole, 
 however, it is the pretty faces which tell in this 
 book. 
 
 Summing Up His Work. 
 
 To sum up, therefore, we think as we have 
 mentioned before, that the reputation which 
 Leech established during his lifetime will not only 
 be maintained but enhanced as the years roll on. 
 There have been many artists whose work was 
 
JOHN LEECH 23 
 
 purely of a fleeting nature, of a butterfly sort of 
 character, enduring for a short while only. On 
 the other hand, in the work of Leech one sees 
 something akin to the everlasting, something 
 which will attract and hold the sympathy and 
 attention of many generations as j^et unborn. 
 The appealing side of his art lies in the sincerity 
 of the artist, his obvious ideals, and the way he 
 had with a few strokes of his pencil of conjuring 
 up scenes of comedy, drama, or peeps of the pic- 
 turesque. The sordid did not appeal to him at all, 
 and if he had to invoke it, it was solely and simply 
 to achieve some desired end and for no other 
 purpose whatever. Many a lecturer might make 
 a fortune by lecturing on Leech and illustrating 
 the same by slides typical of his work. Such a 
 lecture would not only interest for its own sake 
 but would also serve as a striking reconstitution of 
 the times in which he lived and laboured. Many 
 •of the topics which were burning ones then, of 
 course are now quite out-of-date, but his sketches 
 of the crinoline and bloomer periods would never 
 iail to provoke an instant laugh and, moreover, 
 would have a present application. To the fair 
 •sex these old-time fashions would especially appeal 
 and there would be a certain appositeness in 
 showing a lady in a voluminous crinoline and one 
 .garbed in the scanty habiliments of 1920. After 
 
24 JOHN LEECH 
 
 all, it is claimed that fashions appear and re-appear 
 and certainly in turning over the pictures of the 
 satirists of past ages one is bound to come to the 
 conclusion that the mode designers of the present 
 days of grace undoubtedly " look bewards " in 
 order to obtain hints before " looking forwards." 
 To please the votaries of fashion something start- 
 ling is required, models with snap in them, and 
 assuredly the modern mode-expert will never need 
 to go away empty from a perusal of Leech's 
 drawings for that worthy artist can show how to 
 combine the eccentric, the picturesque and the 
 sensational in one and the same costume, and 
 what more could be desired? Nothing from the 
 standpoint of the designer or the fair client, 
 of that we may be sure. 
 
 Turning away from fashions for ladies, it is 
 also an interesting study to scan through the 
 wonderful range of male fashions treated by Leech 
 in his drawings. We are not sure that he was 
 not at his best in depicting a mid- Victorian dandy, 
 under full sail, drifting down a London street. 
 We see him in flowing coat, startling waistcoat of 
 chess-board pattern, large loose trousers, patent 
 leather boots, his hat at a rakish tilt, eye-glass in 
 eye, gloves in hand, and a stick as well, while on 
 his face lingers the afterglow of a smirk. How 
 the ladies turn and look after him as he passes 
 
JOHN LEECH 25 
 
 along, the very embodiment of luxury, vanity, 
 and conceit. Or else look at one of his swells on 
 horseback, what a brave show he makes— »and he 
 knows it — what awe, admiration, and envy on the 
 faces of the on-lookers. They recognise he is 
 a creature apart, and so does he. Then look at 
 this dude ambling down the sea-front in all the 
 glory of his well-fitting clothes. It would be 
 interesting to know if Leech was in the habit of 
 spending his few spare hours in the emporiums 
 of the modiste or in a tailor's shop getting hints 
 for current fashions, or whether what is far more 
 likely he took his dress and suits' ideas, like he did 
 his models, from chance acquaintances met when 
 on his rounds. We believe he took sketches on 
 all sorts of bits of paper and whenever he turned 
 his pockets out, he would come upon plenty of 
 pictorial data for several successful vignettes. 
 
 Books in his possession, too, would be discovered 
 to have the margins lined with neat sketches ; 
 that is why he liked good broad margins. What a 
 price such a book interlarded with his pencil 
 sketches would fetch at the present day for in 
 the auction-rooms Leech still exercises a potent 
 influence, and those who frequent the sales know 
 " what is what " in the world of art as of the 
 kindred muses. The most curious drawing-book 
 we have ever heard of for an artist was the cover 
 
■26 JOHN LEECH 
 
 of his pillow upon which the penciller drew fancy 
 sketches when sleep would not come his way. 
 And very good they were although done in the dark, 
 ■" spirit-pictures " in short, but the emanation of 
 whisky rather than the unseen world ! Some of 
 the pencilled memoranda which Leech sketched in 
 his odd moments were naturally quite unfinished 
 and of the most sketchy description, but those 
 what we might term " shorthand drawings," un- 
 doubtedly served their purpose and greatly aided 
 Leech in his subsequent work, for they were 
 effective aids to memory. 
 
 Some interesting sidelights as to his method of 
 working have been thrown by various writers. 
 But it is Mr. W. P. Frith, R.A., who in his memoir 
 of Leech writes : " I see little or no reason for 
 weakening my assertion that Leech arrived at 
 his supreme eminence without any art education ; 
 for the slight mechanical knowledge of the art of 
 drawing upon wood which he acquired from Mr. 
 Orrin Smith, a wood-engraver, is no more worthy 
 the name of art-teaching, than the few lessons in 
 etching given to Leech by George Cruikshank can 
 be called art-education." All the more honour 
 to him that he did despite his want of training, 
 arrive at such eminence. Evidence, if evidence 
 were needed, that his talent was born in him and 
 not acquired ; in other words it was a natural 
 
JOHN LEECH 27 
 
 unforced growth. We remember hearing that 
 one famous cartoonist related that the first 
 " drawing " he ever did was as a small boy to 
 carefully draw out all the bristles from a shaving 
 brush, while another confessed he Uttered up his 
 Latin grammar with uncouth drawings of the 
 family cat, w^hich appeared to him of tremendous 
 size. Certainl}' as much interest attaches to an 
 artist's earliest essays in drawing as to a writer's 
 first attempt at story-telhng. " Show me the 
 iirst effort and I will forecast the finished article," 
 used to say one of the " seers " of old, but it is 
 difficult to think how from the first sketchy and 
 fugitive pencillings of Leech anyone could have 
 foretold the future great man. 
 
 Opinions may differ as to whether Leech was 
 at his best in the depiction of people and other 
 live things, or in his landscapes, seascapes and 
 backgrounds. We confess to having a fondness 
 for turning our attention from his living creatures 
 to the natural surroundings in which they are 
 placed. Often-times, lying in the background of 
 a hunting or racing scene we would fall upon a 
 delightful patch of open country with a vista of 
 unlimited extent, or else a bit of woodland and 
 distant hills, all very attractive to the lover of 
 nature. Then in his interior scenes, delightful 
 bits of old furniture are often depicted, and some- 
 
28 JOHN LEECH 
 
 times a banquet in an old baronial hall, the com- 
 pany being overlooked by the ancestors of the host 
 glancing out from their gilded frames with a 
 supercilious air. The casual reader does not always 
 pay as much attention to the vignettes as they are 
 worth, and the}^ repay very careful inspection. 
 
 Many good tales of Leech have been published 
 and one must find a place here. Once, while 
 staying with Dickens in the Isle of Wight in the 
 fall of 1849, he was felled by an enormous wave 
 and rendered unconscious. About this Dickens 
 wittily said : " He was put to bed with twenty of 
 his namesakes (leeches) upon his temples." 
 
 A little known, side of his character is revealed 
 in these words by an anonymous friend of his : 
 " Silent, gentle, forbearing, his indignation flashed 
 forth an eloquence when roused by anything mean 
 or ungenerous. Manly in all his thoughts, tastes,, 
 and habits, there was about him an almost 
 feminine tenderness. He would sit by the bedside 
 and smooth the pillow of a sick child with the 
 gentleness of a woman. No wonder he was the 
 idol of those around him, but it is the happiness of 
 such a life that there is little to be told of it." His 
 banter even was genial, and it was when sketching 
 a footman, a butler, or a servant-girl that it peeps 
 out irrepressively in the types his facile pencil 
 created. It was in his association with Tom Hood 
 
JOHN LEECH 29 
 
 that his drawings were particularly humorous, 
 and none more so than those which illustrate " Miss 
 Kilmansegg and her Precious Leg : a Golden 
 Legend." 
 
 In this tribute to the art of Leech we have not 
 worried our readers with a sketch of his life, of 
 his troubles and anxieties. We have preferred to 
 deal only with some small portions of his work 
 not unrepresentative of the whole, in the hope that 
 sufficient has been said to induce the reader of 
 these novels of Mr. Surtees to give a little kindly 
 attention to the illustrations, which will well 
 repay any consideration extended to them. 
 
 Our task is done. It has been indeed a labour 
 of love to dwell for a few fleeting days in the com- 
 pany of Leech and his pictorial output. To live 
 anew those old times, every week growing more 
 remote, and to cone over those imperishable 
 drawings which recreate for us times arfd doings 
 of the middle nineteenth century. We think it 
 must be conceded that the collaboration of Surtees 
 and Leech was eminently successful. The latter 
 understood very well the style of the former, and 
 made realities of his puppets. We are not of those 
 who would seek to discredit the literary talents of 
 Surtees, but we do think that the drawings, 
 vignettes, and coloured plates of Leech did enhance 
 the sporting novels a hundred-fold in the estimation 
 
30 JOHN LEECH 
 
 alike of the ordinary reader, the collector and the 
 bibliophile. This being the case we are quite 
 certain that we have not exaggerated the role he 
 played in making the novels celebrated, and we 
 are glad to finish off our appreciation of his work 
 on this note of acknowledgment of his talent. 
 
 A. F. F. 
 
f