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TUFTS UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES 
 
 3 9090 014 534 859 
 
 Webster Family Library of Veterinary IVleclicine 
 Cummings School of Veterinary Medicine at 
 Tufts University 
 200 Westboro Road 
 North Grafton, MA 01536 
 
MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
MM WE MEET IN 
 THE FIELD. 
 
 By a. G. BAGOT ('' Bagatelle '0- 
 
 1881. 
 TINSLEY BROTHERS, 8, CATHERINE STREET, STRAND, 
 
 LONDON. 
 
3\ 
 \?81 
 
MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD 
 
 OR 
 
 THE BULLSIIIRE HOUNDS, 
 
 By a. G. BAGOT (''Bagatelle"), 
 
 AlITnOR OF " SrORTINO SKETCnKS IN THREE CONTINENTS." 
 
 g^onOon : 
 TINSLEY BROTHERS, 8, CATHERINE STREET, STRAND. 
 
 1881. 
 [^All rights reserved.^ 
 
CHARLES DICKENS AND BVANS, 
 CETSTAL PALACa PBKSS. 
 
PEEFACE. 
 
 The present series of Sketches in the Hunting Field 
 have, from time to time, appeared in tlio cohimns of 
 The Country Gentleman and S^oorting Gazette, to the 
 Editor of which journal I am indebted for leave to 
 reprint tliem. All, or nearly all, the characters I have 
 endeavoured to portray have come under my personal 
 observation, and are from life ; but I have done my 
 utmost to avoid depicting peculiarities that might serve 
 to identify my models, or using personalities that might 
 offend them. 
 
 In placing Mex we Meet in the Field before the 
 public, beyond acknowledging that I have perhaps not 
 done full justice to the subject, I offer no apology ; for 
 anything said or done, painted or written, that serves in 
 any way to call attention to our glorious old national 
 sport, or to recall perchance the scenes of our youth, is 
 not done amiss. In that it is one more stone, however 
 humble, in the wall of defence which, alas ! it is now 
 becoming necessary to build against the attacks of those 
 whose aim seems to be the demolition of all sport, 
 dazzled as they are by the glamour of notoriety, Avon by 
 sensational legislation, at the expense of all that has 
 made England what she is, and her sons and daughters 
 what they are. 
 
PBEFACE. 
 
 I do not for a moment wish to enter into political 
 argument. In the Field, Liberal and Conservative, 
 Radical and Home-Ruler, meet as one, save only in the 
 struggle for the lead. But what I do hold is that, by- 
 measures such as the Ground Game Bill and the Abolition 
 of all Freedom of Contract, our national sports are fast 
 being blotted out, and that it behoves all true sportsmen 
 to array themselves against such things. 
 
 Of the matter contained in the volume I am now 
 sending on its way, others must judge. I confess that I 
 have enjoyed the writing of it. If I am fortunate 
 enough to find some at least who enjoy the reading I 
 shall be content, and shall feel I have not laboured in 
 vain. 
 
 To those who so kindly received my maiden venture, 
 " Sporting Sketches " (Messrs. Swan, Sonnenschein, and 
 Allen), I offer my best thanks. Like a young hound 
 who has not felt too much whipcord, encouragement 
 has given confidence. I can only hope I may not have 
 flashed over the line. 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY 
 
 THE MASTER 
 
 THE HUNTSMAN 
 
 THE WHIPS 
 
 THE SECRETARY 
 
 THE FARMER 
 
 THE PARSON 
 
 THE DOCTOR 
 
 THE DEALERS 
 
 THE GRUMBLER 
 
 THE LADY WHO HUNTS AND RIDES 
 
 THE LADY WHO HUNTS AND DOES NOT RIDE 
 
 THE SCHOOLBOYS ..... 
 
 THE BOASTEK ..... 
 
 16 
 
 26 
 
 35 
 
 46 
 
 58 
 
 72 
 
 84 
 
 98 
 
 113 
 
 126 
 
 139 
 
 154 
 
viii ' CONTENTS. 
 
 
 HODGE 
 
 . 169 
 
 THE KEEPER ..... 
 
 . 182 
 
 THE AUTHORITY 
 
 . 197 
 
 THE BLACKSMITH 
 
 212 
 
 THE RUNNER 
 
 . 225 
 
 THE MAN AT THE TOLL-BAR . 
 
 . 237 
 
 WHO-WHOOP ! 
 
 . 247 
 
 THE FIRST OP THE SEASON . 
 
 . 257 
 
 UNCLE John's new horse 
 
 . 262 
 
 THE hog-backed STILE 
 
 . 287 
 
MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 ERRATUM. 
 
 For " Hollo ! " read throiishout " Holloa ! " 
 
 vuiiuufc) circuniaLciJLices una iu various positions, 
 there is, perhaps, no medium affording so 
 good an opportunity, or so vast a scope, as the 
 hunting-field. 
 
 There more than in any other place 
 do men's characters appear in their true 
 lights. At the covert-side the irritable man, 
 however well he may on ordinary occasions be 
 able to conceal his irritability, will fret and 
 fume if things do not go exactly as he wishes. 
 The boaster, who in the safety of his armchair 
 astonishes his friends with anecdotes of his 
 
VIU 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 HODGE 
 
 THE KEEPER 
 THE AUTHORITY 
 THE BLACKSMITH 
 
 TTTK RUNNER 
 
 169 
 182 
 197 
 212 
 225 
 
 THE HOG-BACKED STILE 
 
MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 For those fond of studying character under 
 various circumstances and in various positions, 
 there is, perhaps, no medium affording so 
 good an opportunity, or so vast a scope, as the 
 hunting-field. 
 
 There more than in any other place 
 do men's characters appear in their true 
 lights. At the covert-side the irritable man, 
 however well he may on ordinary occasions be 
 able to conceal his irritability, will fret and 
 fume if things do not go exactly as he wishes. 
 The boaster, who in the safety of his armchair 
 astonishes his friends with anecdotes of his 
 
2 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 own daring exploits, is, after a fast forty 
 minutes, more often than not weighed in the 
 balance and found wanting. The garrulous 
 individual, who invariably knows where the 
 fox has gone and what the huntsman ought 
 to do, is in the field estimated at his proper 
 value. There also the grumblers never fail to 
 find a grievance, nor the elder generations of 
 sportsmen to lament the " good old days gone 
 by." In fact, the " bell-mouthed pack and 
 tuneful horn " seem to act in some occult way 
 in bringing out the idiosyncrasies of all their 
 followers. This being so, a few sketches may 
 not be uninteresting, and I shall endeavour to 
 draw with my pen some portraits of those with 
 whom we yearly ride, and who are so well 
 known to most of us. To do this the more 
 concisely, I propose to describe the field, sub- 
 scribers, visitors, and others, who are to be 
 found at the meets from the 1st of November 
 to the end of April, and who go to make up 
 the members of that justly celebrated pack — 
 the Bullshire Hounds. Before individualising. 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 however, it will be necessary to give a short 
 history of the hunt, with a brief outline of the 
 country, and its gradual growth. 
 
 The Bullshire country is one of the oldest 
 in England, and was originally hunted on what 
 is known as the " Trencher system," that is 
 everybody, in lieu of paying a subscription, kept 
 (according to his means) one or more hounds, 
 which he was bound to bring with him to the 
 spot selected by the Master (who was yearly 
 elected as huntsman) for the meet. No 
 sinecure was the office of M.F.H., carrying 
 the horn, for as every hound recognised the 
 rule of a different Master, and every Master 
 considered himself entitled to an opinion in 
 the case of his own hound, there was a good 
 deal of jealousy among the latter and no small 
 amount of "tail" amono; the former. The 
 "tailing," however, was augmented by the 
 different system of preparation and feeding 
 the Bullshire Hounds received, for while 
 Bellman before hunting was treated to no 
 supper, Truelove had to deal with a sumptuous 
 
 B 2 
 
4 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 repast placed before lier by the compassionate 
 but ignorant goodwife, "who couldn't abear 
 the idea of the old dog doing all that work 
 on an empty stomach." 
 
 After a little the system proved unsatis- 
 factory, and a step in the proper direction was 
 taken. Old Gregory the Whip w^as sent 
 round early in the morning the day before 
 the meet to collect the pack, and it thus 
 became his business to see that all fared alike 
 — wisely, and not too well. From this it 
 was an easy stage to kennels, and somehow, 
 before the inhabitants knew how it happened, 
 they found themselves paying their sub- 
 scriptions with and without a murmur, and 
 were able to point with pride to the Bullshire 
 kennels. Once this an accomplished fact, 
 everything went on smoothly ; and from old 
 Gregory and a Master whose office was the 
 subject of an annual election, they now turn 
 out a huntsman, two whips, and a second 
 horseman, and, for a provincial pack, stand 
 first on the list. 
 
INTBODUGTOEY. 
 
 Their present Master is one of the right 
 sort, ^vllo takes an interest in his hounds and 
 his servants, perhaps at times a little free 
 with his tongue, but only when absolutely 
 necessary, and it is because of their large and 
 varied field that I have selected the Bullshire 
 for description. The country, though not a 
 flying one, has a fair share of grass, and is 
 acknowledged by all to hold a good scent. 
 As there is every conceivable sort of obstacle, 
 of every conceivable size, shape, and form, 
 wet and dry, it requires a clever horse to get 
 over it. Indeed, when some of the swells 
 from the Shires condescend to patronise the 
 Bullshire (no uncommon occurrence, by-the- 
 way), there are generally two or three to 
 be found, like water, at the bottom of a 
 ditch. 
 
 I remember hearing a description of his 
 day by a Meltonian, when he returned to his 
 quarters with a battered head-piece and covered 
 in mud. In reply to a question of "Where 
 had he been ? " he said : " Lord knows where 
 
6 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 I have not been. To the bottom of about 
 ten ditches, three brooks, nearly into a gravel- 
 pit, hung up in a bullfinch for five minutes, 
 and almost broke my neck at the biggest 
 post and rails I ever saw." "Well," con- 
 tinued his interlocutor, " did you have a 
 good run ? " " Kun ! " said he ; *' I believe you ! 
 Kan three miles after my horse and then 
 nicked in, and was up at the finish. Blessed 
 if ever I saw such a country. They think 
 nothing of an hour and ten minutes, and they 
 do stick to it, I can tell you ; fox hasn't a 
 chance with the Bullshire. It's for all the 
 world like a stoat and a hare. Eare place to 
 send creditor to ; give him a mount on a green 
 nag, he's bound to kill himself." 
 
 Added to these advantages, so ably set 
 forth by the Leicestershire sportsman, foxes 
 are plentiful, and, with one notable exception, 
 of whom more anon, everybody looks after 
 them, and does his best to demonstrate the 
 fact that the fox and the pheasant can both be 
 
INTRODUCTOBT. 
 
 preserved, despite what Velveteens and liis 
 myrmidons may say. The man who rules 
 the destinies of this sporting pack will form 
 the subject of my first sketch. 
 
THE MASTER. 
 
 " Morning, gentlemen," accompanied by a 
 bow to the ladies, apprises lis of tbe fact 
 that Sir John Lappington has arrived, and 
 as we turn round in our saddles we see a 
 cheery face beaming with health and good- 
 nature, and note what a thorough business 
 look both man and horse present. The horse 
 is one of those rare specimens of weight- 
 carriers, known as " a good thing in a small 
 parcel." Standing about fifteen hands two 
 inches, with quarters fit to jump over a house, 
 and shoulders of equal value when landing 
 the other side, clean flat legs with plenty 
 of bone, and excellent feet, well ribbed up. 
 
THE MASTER. 
 
 with a broad deep chest, it stands a living 
 picture of the old-fashioned hunter that could 
 and would go anywhere. And surely the 
 man is not far behind in appearance. Riding 
 about thirteen stone, or a little lighter, with 
 somewhat a careless seat, one's first impression 
 is that he is by no means smartly turned out, 
 though the eye acknowledges at once the 
 workman. 
 
 A second and more careful study shows 
 us that, while there is an entire absence of 
 gilt and gingerbread, of varnish and veneer, 
 still, from the crown of his well-brushed hat 
 to the sole of his well-cleaned boot, everything 
 is neatness itself. It may be that we take 
 exception to the brown cords which Sir John 
 always wears ; but when one has tried to 
 follow the clever cobby horse and his master 
 through some of the roughest places in the 
 day's work, and our leathers show plainly 
 where we have been, we are fain to confess 
 the wisdom of the said brown cords. Not- 
 withstanding the cheery goodnature that 
 
10 2IEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 beams from the Master's face, there is some- 
 thing in his eye and chin that warns instinc- 
 tively against riding over the hounds or 
 heading a fox, and shows a latent power of 
 anathema and rebuke which, when once heard, 
 is not in a hurry forgotten. 
 
 Sir John Lappington has been Master of 
 the BuUshire for four seasons. He took the 
 hounds at the request of the county on the 
 death of Mr. Billington, who had hunted 
 them for six-and-twenty years without hardly 
 missing a day. Some few people urged that 
 the new Master would not be found old 
 enough to control so large a field, being but 
 thirty years of age when he commenced his 
 reign ; but the first day dispelled their doubts, 
 for on some of the " galloping-and-jumping " 
 contingent trying to have things their own 
 way, and paying no heed to repeated remon- 
 strances to "give hounds a chance," the young 
 Master astonished everyone by saying to the 
 huntsman : " Stop 'em, Tom ;" and when that 
 was effected, turning to the ofienders: ''Now, 
 
THE MASTER. 11 
 
 gentlemen, wlieu you have done your d- 
 
 steeplcchasing we will go on hunting. If you 
 want to break your necks you may put down 
 my name for five pounds to bury the first who 
 does so, provided you run it off at once, so 
 that other people who prefer hunting to rough- 
 riding may not be kept waiting." 
 
 This effectually stopped them, and from 
 that day very little trouble has been shown, 
 and when any have offended, it has generally 
 required but one talking-to to bring them to 
 a sense of what was required of them. Such 
 is the man who now rides up punctual to the 
 minute, and is greeted by all with a hearty 
 welcome. The hunt servants, with old Tom 
 the huntsman at their head, are as proud of 
 being under him as they can be, and the 
 hounds simply adore him. See how they fly, 
 heedless of Harry's "Ware 'oss, ger away baik," 
 clustering all round the cobby hunter, and 
 leavinsr the marks of their affection on boot 
 and saddle. " Eu leu, Minstrel, old boy ; ay. 
 Harbinger, good old man," says Sir John, a 
 
12 3IEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 word for each by name ; and back tliey go to 
 tbe rule of Tom, who cannot for the life of him 
 help feeling a twinge of jealousy, that "the 
 hounds should be so 'nation fond of t' young 
 Master, most as much as they are o' me, I'll be 
 blessed if they ain't." 
 
 Five minutes of friendly chaff with the 
 carriages, two more with old Farmer Simms, 
 who, on being shown his wife's poultry bill, 
 says : " Give it here, Sir John, give it here. 
 The ould woman would take the money out of 
 a man's breeches if he did not keep his hands 
 in his pockets," and with a laugh Tom gets the 
 signal to move off, Sir John stopping before he 
 canters on to the hounds to say : " Never 
 mind, Simms, I daresay we shall make it all 
 right. The missus and I are old friends," 
 and replying to Simms's loudly - expressed 
 opinion that " The ould wench 'ull fleece 
 you, I fear," with a deprecatory wave of the 
 hand as he ranges up alongside the old 
 huntsman. 
 
 The first draw is a gorse lying on the 
 
TEE MASTER. 13 
 
 side of a liill, where there is always a little 
 difficulty iu restraining the impatience of 
 the field, who, anxious for a start, are rather 
 apt to override the hounds. There is a 
 hunting-gate, beyond which no one is allowed 
 to go until the hounds are well away, and here 
 the Master posts himself, saying in a loud 
 voice that can be heard by all : " If there 
 is any stranger in the field to-day, he must 
 understand that while hounds are drawinof 
 no one is allowed farther than this." At 
 this moment his quick eye catches sight of 
 a youngster who has jumped the rails lower 
 down, and hopes he has escaped detection. 
 " Come back, you sir," rings out ; " come 
 back ; and as you are so fond of timber you 
 can take the rails up hill. Dash your im- 
 pudence, when I have just said no one is 
 allowed to go for'ard! Come, at them — no 
 funking ; " and as, amid roars of laughter, 
 the culprit, looking exceedingly foolish, rides 
 at the rails, and gets a rattling fall. Sir John 
 chuckles to himself : " Don't think he'll try 
 
14 2JEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 that ofame on aQ:ain." The liounds are by 
 tliis time hard at work, and from the way 
 they throw themselves out of the gorse there 
 are evident signs of a speedy find. With 
 keen enjoyment the Master watches the young 
 entry, and as first one and then another of 
 his favourites momentarily expose themselves 
 to view, he thinks he would not exchange his 
 empire for untold wealth. 
 
 In this enviable frame of mind he is 
 interrupted by the appearance of a tall 
 cadaverous-looking individual on foot, who, 
 addressing himself to him, says : " Sir John 
 Lappingtou, I believe?" "That's me; what 
 can I do for you 1 " is the reply. " Ah ! 
 they told me I should find you here, ah ! 
 I — my name is Simpkins, Mr. Simpkins, 
 Secretary of the Young ]\len's Improvement 
 Society. I have been requested to ask for 
 your patronage and subscription for a new 
 school our society have decided on opening 
 for young men in Lappington ; and as they 
 told me you were following the chase, ah ! 
 
THE MASTER. 15 
 
 and my time is limited, I tliouglit I should 
 not be intruding if I could persuade you to " 
 (pulling out a long subscription-list) " look over 
 this." 
 
 Here, luckily, "Away, g-o-rne a-wa-a-y 1 " 
 cut short the conversation, and the Master, 
 swinging down the hill and slipping over 
 the bank and ditch at the bottom, almost 
 before the astonished Simpkins has made out 
 what has happened, might have been heard 
 muttering to himself: "Well, I am blowed ! 
 Did anyone hear of a man being asked to 
 subscribe to a school when hounds had just 
 found ? Following the chase too ! If they 
 don't teach the young men better than that, 
 the future Lappingtonians won't be much 
 in the sporting line. Hark for'ard ; for'ard 
 away ! " and sending his horse somewhat 
 viciously at a bigger pace than usual he is 
 shut out from sight, where for the time I 
 will leave him. 
 
THE HUNTSMAN. 
 
 " Hounds, please, gentlemen ; hounds, please," 
 says old Tom Wilding, as he threads his way 
 through the field, who have, in their eager- 
 ness, ridden over the line. " Now, where the 
 deuce should t' fox a gotten to, I wonder ? " 
 thinks he to himself ; " Harbinger made it 
 good across the lane, I swear, for I saw 'im, 
 and there's nausjht to turn 'im that I can 
 see." But there is ; for an old woman, 
 innocent of mischief, suddenly raises her 
 much-be-bonneted head out of the turnips 
 right in front, and with a "Dang her ugly 
 mug," Tom makes a swinging cast for'ard. 
 Minstrel, hitting oft' the scent under the gate 
 
IBE HUNTSMAN. 17 
 
 out of the field, is promptly corroborated in 
 his statement by Gaylad, and in a second 
 things are going as jolly as a peal of bells. 
 
 The old Huntsman stops just a moment 
 before pulling his horse together at the timber, 
 to give " t' ould wench " a bit of his mind. 
 ''Look here," says he, " youVe frightened fox 
 away with that danged ould top-knot o' your'n. 
 
 I be a good mind to " But the old lady 
 
 drops a most humble curtsy, and looks so 
 penitent, that his anger vanishes, a smile steals 
 over his face, and with a " Coom up," he pops 
 over the rails and gets to his hounds. A bit 
 of a martinet is Tom, and right well does he 
 know how to keep his whips in order. Ay, 
 and for the matter of that, some of the fire- 
 eaters of the field besides. 
 
 Woe betide the unfortunate Harry who, 
 keen as mustard, slips away, leaving two 
 couple and a half behind. " All here ? " says 
 Tom. " A couple coming up, sir," replies 
 Harry (he thinks it better to economise the 
 truth as to numbers) ; " they are close 
 
18 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 behind." "Then what the devil business 
 have you in front of them ? Get back and 
 bring 'em along at once. D'ye suppose my 
 second whip's come out as a horniment ? " 
 (Tom, when excited, is a little shaky with his 
 h's.) " If you don't know your business I can 
 jolly soon get someone who does. There's 
 lots of chaps to do the riding without you a- 
 fisfurino- about here. Get back at once, and 
 let me catch you a-leaving hounds behind 
 asain." Yet in his heart he thinks none the 
 worse of the lad for being keen to get along in 
 front, and remembers how often he himself 
 has been rated in bygone days for the same 
 offence. 
 
 Of course Tom has his aversions, and there 
 is one particular individual who, he says, he 
 "just can't abcar " — a Captain Stockley, one 
 of the galloping-and-jumping division, who, 
 although he can ride anything and over any- 
 thing, knows little of hunting as hunting 
 per se, and is always getting on top of the 
 pack. One day, when he had managed ta 
 
TEE HUNTSMAN. 19 
 
 head the fox twice, the first whip, Charles, 
 allowed his feelings to get the better of him, 
 
 and holloed : " Hold hard, sir ; d n it, give 
 
 'em a chance ;" whereupon Stockley rode up to 
 Tom, and wdth a bland smile said : "I am 
 sorry to be obliged to make a complaint, but 
 one of the whips has been very impudent — in 
 fact, he cursed me." The reply was not quite 
 what the Captain expected, for Tom, seeing 
 the cause of the two mischances in front of 
 him, growled out : " He cursed yer, did he ? 
 Well, if it 'ad a-been me, I'd a gi'en yer a jolly 
 good hiding ; " and then catching his horse by 
 the head he drove him at the wood fence, and 
 was cheering on the pack before the Captain 
 had recovered from his surprise. 
 
 However, w^e left him just out of the 
 turnips, wdth the hounds settling down to 
 the line. Everything goes well for some ten 
 minutes, there is a burning scent, lots of 
 fencing for those who like it, and a convenient 
 lane for those who don't. All of a sudden the 
 hounds throw their heads up and spread like a 
 
 a 2 
 
20 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 fan. Not a sign does the Huntsman make 
 beyond holding up his hand to stop the rush 
 of the field. But with one eye on the pack, 
 and the other looking forward to where the 
 sheep are scampering across the meadow on 
 the hillside and huddling together in a close 
 column, he sits like a statue. Deaf is he to 
 the remonstrances of the eager ones, who say : 
 "It's for'ard, Tom ; get along," merely re- 
 marking : " Let 'em puzzle it out ; they want 
 to hunt now. Yer can always lift 'em, but 
 yer can't always get their heads down again ; " 
 and in a few moments he is rewarded by 
 seeing the hounds work it out of their own 
 accord, and dash forward, proud of their own 
 cleverness. 
 
 Some of the strangers to the BuUshire 
 country say Tom is slow, but they do not 
 know the old man. See him in another half 
 hour, when the fox is begining to run short. 
 They are beginning to look for their second 
 horses, and someone remarks that Charles is 
 away. Suddenly a cap is seen in the air some 
 
THE huntsman: 21 
 
 four fields to the right, and "Hoick, hollo, 
 hoick, hollo ! " rings out clear. " Who is 
 that ? " ask some of the field. " Why, it's 
 Charles ! how the deuce did he get there ? " 
 say others. The Huntsman, however, knows 
 well how it all came about, for did not he 
 send Charles off to the high ground over- 
 looking Bromley Wood on the off chance of a 
 view ? and now he does not wait an instant to 
 discuss the question, but with a " chink- wink " 
 of the horn and with cap in hand he gallops 
 off, lifting the pack almost on to the fox's back. 
 Two fields farther on his " Who-whoop " 
 tells everybody that all is over, and as they 
 ride up one after another they see the old man, 
 with his gray hairs streaming in the breeze, 
 standing in the middle of his hounds, holding 
 aloft the fox at arm's length, preparatory to 
 giving his body over to the tender mercies of 
 Traveller, Gaylad, and Co. "Eugh, tear 'im 
 and eat 'im," and the " worry, worry " begins. 
 Tom looks up at his young master with a 
 smile, and says : " We've got the ould divil 
 
22 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 this time, sir; he's beat us often enough 
 before ; " and then raising his voice so as to be 
 heard by all, he continues : " None so slow 
 either. If we had'na let t' hounds work it out 
 theirselves, fox would a-been a-going now. 
 '* AVhere to, sir ? " as he swings into his 
 saddle. " Bromley Wood ? right, sir. Coom 
 away, hounds ; coop, coop, coom away ;" and 
 Tom trots off with the pack best pace, for, as 
 he remarks : " It's lunch-time now, and if so be 
 I bestirs mysen I can leave about half t' field 
 behind ; and that's just what I like. I can get 
 away comfortable without a lot a-trampling 
 and messing over t' hounds, and them as likes 
 eating better nor hunting, why they've no 
 cause to grumble if they're chucked out." 
 
 As he approaches the wood, a wave of the 
 hand sends the whole pack tumbling in, the 
 two whips taking their stations like clockwork. 
 With a " 'War 'oss !" the old Huntsman jumps 
 into cover, and though lost to sight his voice 
 is heard out of the woods cheering on his 
 hounds. *'Eugh, at 'im, my beauties. Eugh, 
 
THE HUNTSMAN. 23 
 
 doit, cugli, 1)oys," lie shouts; and the pack, 
 who have learnt to love, ay, and what is 
 more, respect their tutor, fly to his hollo, 
 each doing what our American cousins call 
 their *' level best " to please him. 
 
 Tom, when he gets home, will not fail over 
 his glass and pipe to recount exactly what 
 each of his favourites did at each particular 
 spot, for nothing escapes his quick eye, and he 
 fully returns with interest the love of the 
 BuUshire Hounds, of which he has been Hunts- 
 man for some eighteen years, and in which 
 position he hopes to remain until he is, as he 
 puts it, " run to ground." 
 
 Before leaving him, one anecdote will 
 suffice to show the kindliness of the old man's 
 heart towards dumb animals. They had had 
 a long wearing day over a heavy country, 
 with but little or no scent, and Tom found 
 himself on leavinej off some eisjhteen miles 
 from the kennels. On arrival, after seeing 
 that his darlings were all right (a duty he 
 never neglected), he thought it about time to* 
 
24 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 look after himself, and had just sat down to 
 his well-earned supper, when a small boy 
 arrived at his house, crying fit to break his 
 heart. "What's up, my lad?" said Tom. 
 " P-p-please, sir," replied the urchin between 
 his sobs, " old Bob's b-b-een runned over, and 
 they is broke 'is leg, bo-hoo ! and mother 
 s-says as how he mun be shot — for her canna 
 mend it ; and if yer p-please. Bob alias slept 
 along wi' me sin' 'e wur a puppy, a-and I 
 c-can't abear it, bo-hoo !/' " Well, boy, don't 
 'e cry ; I'll come down mysen and see tew 
 'im," said the old Huntsman ; and, tired and 
 supperless as he was, he there and then put on 
 his coat and tramped ofi" the best part of a 
 mile to see to the crippled terrier, and after 
 setting the leg and making the poor dog as 
 comfortable as he could, he sat up best part 
 of the nio^ht nursinf]^ it as a mother would her 
 baby. It was three o'clock in the morning 
 before Tom got into his bed ; and he will tell 
 you how tired he was, but he will also say : 
 "Poor old doggie, 'e was just for all the 
 
THE HUNTSMAN. 25 
 
 world like a Christian. There was none on 
 'em as knowed aught about it, and when I'd 
 done 'is leg he wagged 'is stump of a tail, 
 saying plain enough : ' Don't 'e go now ; I'm 
 main thankful to yer, but don't 'e go,' that I 
 couldna a-bear to leave 'im till 'e wur a bit 
 more comfortable like. You see, we can 
 hollo out, but them dum' animals canna." 
 Bob, the old dog, is still alive, and the boy 
 is now an under-keeper, but neither of them 
 forget old Tom's kindness, and both would 
 almost lay down their lives for the Huntsman 
 of the Bullshire Hounds. 
 
THE WHIPS. 
 
 " 'Say, Harry, the old man killed liis fox well 
 to-day," says Charles, the First Whip, to his 
 junior, as they jog home to the kennels in the 
 evening. 
 
 " Umph ! " replies Harry ; " but he need 
 not have dropped it so hot on to me just 
 because them two couple of loiterers stopped 
 back. Blessed if I ever saw such hounds as 
 them for messing about in cover. It's always 
 the same. Caterer and Bellman, Pillager and 
 Marksman, never up in time ; and then if I 
 gets on a bit, it's ' Where's them two couple ? 
 Go back and fetch 'em at once.' Dashed if I 
 oughtn't to take a return ticket to every field 
 in the county." 
 
TUB ]VHIPS. 27 
 
 Charles, who thinks it by no means im- 
 probable that some day he may find himself 
 with the horn of office, and Harry promoted 
 to First Whip's place, merely says : " Well, you 
 shouldn't be in such a thundering hurry to get 
 off. You know your place is back, and back 
 you should be." 
 
 At this juncture they ride up to The Bell 
 and Horns, a famous halfway house, where 
 they brew the best of ale, and can, if so dis- 
 posed, give you a glass of the best whisky out 
 of Ireland. The landlord, a sporting old 
 veteran, bustles out and takes Tom's order for 
 '' Three pints of dog's nose " (a compound of 
 ale and gin), " and some gruel for the nags." 
 
 " AVell, what sort of a day have you had ?" 
 says he. " Nay, nay, don't mind the hound, 
 let him be," as Harry is proceeding to correct 
 Minstrel's attack of curiosity concerning the 
 construction of Boniface's waistcoat. " The 
 old boy and I are friends," and he pats the 
 hound's sensible head. 
 
 Old Tom, having taken his face out of the 
 
28 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 pint pot, and smacking his lips, replies : "A 
 first-rate day. Found in tlie gorse, run 
 through Bouffler's meadows up to the Mere, 
 turned in the lane, where the fox was headed, 
 then over the Ring Hills, and killed by 
 Bromley Wood. Charles here," pointing to 
 his aide-de-camp, "was the means of our 
 killing ; and I must say Harry did uncommon 
 well, though he does always want to be in 
 front." 
 
 At this meed of praise from their chief 
 both the Whips feel some inches taller, and 
 Harry quite forgets his rating in the morning. 
 
 The horses gruelled and the score paid by 
 the Huntsman, they are again on the road, 
 having been joined by a couple of farmers 
 going their way as far as the cross-roads, and 
 with whom old Tom is soon in close con- 
 fabulation. Harry rides for some distance 
 without vouchsafing a word, save an occasional 
 "Whip, get for'ard," to some straggler of the 
 pack. At last he says : 
 
 " Charles, the old man is a good 'un, and 
 
THE WHIPS. 29 
 
 no mistake. I'd sooner have a kick from him 
 than sixpence from anyone else. He's quite 
 right — business is business ; but when it's 
 over how many of 'em would stand a glass, 
 'specially after a bit of a word ?" 
 
 "You're right, my lad," replies Charles. 
 " You'll go mony a day afore you pitch on a 
 man like old Tom, or, for the matter o' that, 
 on a pack like our'n. Look you, it ain't every 
 Huntsman as 'ull let his Whips into the secret 
 of breeding ; but I'll be bound there ain't a 
 hound as you and I don't know as much about 
 as he does hisself." 
 
 " What are you two a-chattering about ? " 
 interrupts Tom. 
 
 " Only a-saying as how we knowed the 
 pedigrees, sir," said Harry. 
 
 " So you ought. I'm sure I lets Charles 
 and you know all I can. My system is * fair 
 do's.' Every man's got a summut to do with 
 the run, and they're our hounds ; and though I 
 say it as perhaps shouldn't, we've the best 
 Master and the best pack in England ; and 
 
30 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 when I comes on tlie society, if Charles there 
 ain't ready to take my place, why it will break 
 my heart. Ay, my lad, and then you can 
 get for'ard as much as you like." 
 
 " I knows one thing," says Harry, whose 
 heart is getting too big for his waistcoat, '' the 
 Bullshire have g^ot the best Huntsman in 
 England, or, for the matter o' that, in the 
 world ; and I'm main sorry as I vexed you 
 to-day leaving them hounds in cover." 
 
 "Not a bit, lad, not a bit ; it's over now. 
 I like to see yer keen; but duty first, yer 
 know," replies Tom. " Charles," he continues, 
 " it looks all like a frost to-night. What do 
 yer think ? " 
 
 "Freezes now, and there are two or three 
 of these hounds going lame a bit, and they 
 find the ground a bit hardish," says Charles. 
 
 By this time they have arrived at the cross- 
 roads, and the two farmers turn ofl", leaving 
 the Huntsman and his two Whips with a 
 three-mile trot before them. 
 
 It may be gathered from the above the 
 
THE WEIPS. 31 
 
 sort of terms that the Bullshire Hunt servants 
 were on with each other, and what good 
 feeling existed between them. Charles, the 
 First Whip, had served his apprenticeship with 
 the pack — first as a lad in the kennel, then as 
 Second Whip, and lastly where we find him. 
 His whole soul lay in his work, and the most 
 miserable time he owns to in his life was when 
 he broke his leo; ridinLi' over a <:>'ate, and was 
 laid up for six weeks away from his darlings. 
 " I shouldn't a minded if it had been in the 
 summer," said he ; " but having to lay up 
 abed in the middle of this beautiful scentino; 
 
 weather, it's d d hard luck, and I know 
 
 the beauties will be wondering where the deuce 
 I've got to." As soon as he could move, his first 
 outing was to the kennels, where the reception, 
 or rather ovation, he obtained corroborated his 
 opinion anent the hounds missing him. 
 
 Equally fond of hunting was Harry, 
 though, it must be confessed, he liked the 
 riding part the best. Originally a farmer's 
 boy, he first made his appearance in the 
 
32 3IEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 hunting-field on the top of a leader out of 
 the plough, which he had surreptitiously 
 detached, and the way he rattled the old 
 nag along, chains and all, over or through 
 everything, gained him his place. Sir John 
 Lappington, happening to see him, made 
 inquiries about the boy, and when he was 
 turned off" by his indignant master — for of 
 course he was turned off when his escapade 
 came to light — he asked the lad if he would 
 like to go to the kennels. Harry jumped at 
 the offer, and when there he made himself so 
 useful and learnt to ride so quickly that on 
 the Second "Whip leaving suddenly, through 
 misplaced confidence in the amount of liquid 
 he could " carry," Harry was put in as a stop- 
 gap, and did so well that he was ofiicially 
 appointed Second Whip, and has been so now 
 for three seasons, giving every satisfaction. 
 
 Of his powers of riding the following 
 anecdote will show : 
 
 They had been running hard one day last 
 season, and were getting on terms with their 
 
THE WHIPS. 33 
 
 fox, wlien, just as they approached the Swill 
 (a deep muddy brook, to jump which when 
 low was a thing to talk of, and when full 
 almost an impossibility), a fresh fox jumped 
 up right in the centre of the pack, and took 
 half of them over the stream, which was bank 
 full. To stop them was a necessity, and there 
 was no bridge nearer than half a mile. Harry, 
 without waiting a minute, pulled his nag 
 together, and shoutino; : " Here's in or over. 
 I canna swim ; but I've naught to leave 'cept 
 my togs, and the're master's," rode at it, and, 
 to the astonishment of everybody, in another 
 second ,\vas safe across and had stopped the 
 hounds on the far side. How he got over is a 
 mystery to this day, and no one was so 
 astonished as himself If you ask him he 
 will tell }''ou "he only knew hounds had 
 to be stopped, and if he had gone under he 
 could not have helped it. He trusted to luck 
 and his spurs, and they pulled him through." 
 It is small wonder that everything works 
 like clockwork when Master, Huntsman, and 
 
34 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 Whips all act in concert and harmony, and 
 Charles and Harry know full well the value of 
 their situations. After the horses are done up 
 for the night, and the hounds are seen to, fed, 
 warm and comfortable on their benches, the 
 two will as like as not go up and smoke a pipe 
 at old Tom's cottage before turning in ; and 
 the knowledge they gain in those "evenings 
 at home" is untold, for, as Charles said, the 
 old man keeps nothing back, and is never so 
 pleased as when he is giving his Whips the 
 benefit of his long experience. Should the 
 frost set in, the Master will be down at the 
 kennels in the morning for a certainty, and 
 two or three instructive hours will be passed 
 in talk of horse and hounds. • 
 
THE SECRETARY. 
 
 A MAN of immense importance is ]\Ir. J. 
 Boulter of Tlie Grange, quite as essential to 
 tlie welfare of the Bullsliire Hunt as either 
 Master or servants ; and, indeed, if you could 
 see through the double-breasted pink, the 
 corduroy waistcoat, and the gray flannel 
 beneath, into his innermost heart, you would, 
 I am almost convinced, find that Mr. B. was 
 there written down as the man of the lot. 
 No light task is his, namely that of 
 professional beggar. For he is Secretary and 
 Treasurer to the Hunt, and on him falls 
 the onus of collecting as well as receiving- 
 subscriptions. Long practice has made him 
 
 D 2 
 
36 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 an adept in the art of " cornering " a defaulter, 
 for lie has been in office for fifteen years, and 
 it is his boast that if a pound is to be got 
 he is the man to get it. 
 
 On one occasion he was sorely put about 
 by a man (I was going to say a gentleman, 
 but his conduct precludes the use of the 
 term), who came down from town and 
 established himself in the country, bringing 
 with him a large stud of hunters. Naturally 
 the Secretary fixed his eagle eye on so 
 promising a subject, and after a month or 
 so began to hint at a subscription, which 
 of course was promised but never came. 
 
 Well, the season was drawing to a close 
 and no cheque had been received from the 
 stranger, who, by-the-way, had not forgotten 
 to find fault with everything and everybody ; 
 moreover Mr. Boulter had heard by a side- 
 wind that half the large stud were gone, 
 and the rest, accompanied by their owner, 
 would shortly follow. This, Gouj)led with the 
 oft-repeated question at the covert-side of 
 
THE SECBETAEY. 37 
 
 " Hollo, Boulter, got his coin yet ? " put our 
 Secretary on his mettle. So one ofif-day he 
 rode over to the inn and interviewed the 
 individual, asking him point blank for his 
 cheque, as he (]\Ir. B.) was making up the 
 accounts. The answer was not propitious, 
 for the snob replied : "I have not got my 
 cheque-book with me, but here are two 
 sovereigns, which is quite sufficient for such 
 a provincial pack as yours," 
 
 Boulter pocketed the sovereigns and retired, 
 meditating revenge. At last, however, he hit 
 on a plan. 
 
 The meet on the following Monday was 
 fixed for Bindley Park, and the first draw 
 was a long wood, at one end of which lay 
 the house of a market-gardener and small 
 farmer. The only way from the Park to the 
 w^ood was through the farmyard-gate and 
 out into the field, unless you jumped the 
 fence into the market-garden. Mr. Boulter 
 accordingly took the owmer of the said gate 
 into his confidence, as Avell as those of the 
 
38 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 field lie could trust, and on the day of the 
 meet the gate was found to be locked, and 
 no one knew where the farmer had gone. 
 To lift it off the hinges was impossible, and 
 old Tom, with a twinkle in his eye, said : 
 ** Dang it all ; but we mun go round," and 
 forthwith made a pretence of trotting off. 
 
 ''Never heard such a thing in my life," 
 said the non-subscriber, falling into the trap. 
 " Dashed piece of impudence ; sort of thing 
 one might expect in this benighted country. 
 -I'm dashed if I'm going round ; I shall go 
 through the beggar's garden ; " and he pro- 
 ceeded to put his threat into execution by 
 ridino; at the liedffe. 
 
 As he rose at the fence the farmer's face 
 was seen peeping round the gate, and as the 
 horse descended into the 2;arden a terrific smash 
 was heard, followed by a loud altercation with, 
 "Damage to my glass and pots and that there 
 bed of young stuff," etc. etc. The next 
 morning the owner of the large stud was 
 presented with a bill of costs to the amount 
 
THE SECRETARY. 39 
 
 of £20, wliicli, after a deal of blustering, he 
 paid, fifteen sovereigns finding their way into 
 Mr. Boulters cash-box, the remaining five 
 amply repaying the market-gardener for the 
 loss of two broken and useless lights, a few 
 cabbage-stalks, and a selection of old pots, 
 which he, together with the Secretary, had 
 placed under the hedge at likely spots. 
 
 Thus did Mr. Boulter score, and he enjoys 
 nothing so much as telling the story of how 
 he trapped the stranger, though, by-the-way, 
 the same story increases in dramatic incident 
 year by year. 
 
 Most amusing it is to watch the reception 
 of the Secretary as he rides up on his famous 
 jumping cob. Those who have paid up greet 
 him with : " Morning, Boulter ; you're looking 
 very fit ; " and sometimes, when perchance he 
 is arrayed more gorgeously than usual as to 
 his headpiece, " What ! a new hat ? Dash 
 it all, but that's the second this season ; 
 there'll be no money left if you go buying 
 hats like this out of the fund. Here, 
 
40 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 Lappington" (to the Master), "here's the Sec- 
 retary been embezzling again, and broken 
 out into another new topper." While those 
 who have as yet not forwarded their sub- 
 scription nod him a good-morning, and then 
 somehow their steeds, which up to the present 
 have been behaving in a most rational manner, 
 suddenly get excited, and it requires the 
 undivided attention of their riders to prevent 
 them running away. 
 
 In fact, they do run away until they 
 manage to place a convenient distance between 
 themselves and the jumping cob. The Sec- 
 retary, however, is fully up to all these little 
 dodges, and generally brings down confusion 
 on one or other member by saying with a 
 chuckle : " Dear me, So-and-so, what a funny 
 thing it is, your horse is always fidgety when 
 I come near him. One would think he was 
 afraid of being asked for a subscription, and 
 forgets that his master has paid." After a 
 pause : "By Jove, no ! I'm wrong and the 
 horse is right. Your cheque has not come 
 
THE SECRET An Y. 41 
 
 yet AVhat a sensible beast the animal is ! " 
 He says this is a most infallible remedy, and 
 that the following morning he invariably finds 
 a letter on his table enclosing the required 
 article, and apologising for forgetfulness. 
 
 Perhaps the secret of his success lies in 
 his great popularity, for his cheery manners 
 and jovial smile have endeared him to all. 
 Among the farmers' wives he is worshipped, 
 and though they one and all swear that " Next 
 time they are not a-going to be talked over 
 about that poultry-bill," it is always the same. 
 Before the Secretary rides or drives away 
 from the homestead the bill is forgotten, 
 and all the children are crowing' after him 
 to tell them one more " 'tory." 
 
 One good dame in particular is most 
 emphatic on the subject of his powers of per- 
 suasion. " You see, my dear, says she, " I 
 sends in a bill for two turkeys, six couple of 
 ducks, just a-fatting too, three couple of hens, 
 and a whole brood of chickens. When I sees 
 Mr. Boulter a-coming up I says to myself says 
 
42 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 I, ' Now, Mrs. Styles, don't you go for to be 
 bamboozled/ But, laws ! afore he's been in 
 the place half an hour I've nearly busted 
 myself a-larfiu', and I finds myself a-drinking 
 a dish of tea with him, and as fully persuaded 
 as how it's my place to keep the turkeys for 
 them beastly foxes as I don't know what ; and 
 then the blessed bill goes in the fire, and I'm 
 a loser of close on twenty- eight shillings. But 
 then I knowed him as a lad, bless 'ini ; and 
 there's never a Christmas but what a hamper 
 of game and a bottle of sherry comes to the 
 farm ; so there's no bones broke." 
 
 AVith all his wheedling powers, Mr. Boulter 
 is a thorough sportsman. There is not an 
 earth in the country that he does not know 
 as well as his own house ; and he is equally 
 well acquainted with the run of every fox. 
 Every hound he knows by name, and can 
 give you chapter and verse for both pedigree 
 and performance. 
 
 A sure find for breakfast, dinner, or lunch, 
 too, is The Grange, and for a bottle of real 
 
THE SEGBETABY. 43 
 
 old '47 port never drawn blank. Unbounded 
 hospitality is the order in that establishment, 
 where throughout the season Mrs. Boulter 
 takes care that something is always on the 
 table "in case the hounds should come that 
 way." Talking of Mrs. Boulter, there is a 
 piece of chajff against her husband that the day 
 he was married he not only got a subscription 
 to the hounds out of the parson, but by exer- 
 cising his persuasive powers actually got off 
 the fees ! 
 
 The annual hunt-dinner is a great day for 
 the Secretary. On that occasion he takes the 
 vice-chair, and proposes the health of Sir John, 
 the Master, in a speech which poor Mrs. B. 
 has to listen to off and on for the three 
 previous days. Once the meek little w^oman 
 did rebel. The speech she had put up with, 
 but when her lord and master returned home 
 at two o'clock, exceedingly jovial, and kept 
 her awake till six o'clock by alternately 
 treating her to " John Peel," and informing 
 her, with a somewhat foolish laugh, that 
 
44 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 "they called me besht filer in sh world, 
 drunk m'very good shealth, 'pon m'shoul," 
 she thought it was a little too much ; and 
 when the orator awoke next day, headachey, 
 chippy, and penitent, she gave him a piece of 
 her mind which so astonished him that he has 
 never exceeded again, and now returns at 
 eleven sharp. 
 
 Sometimes during the summer months 
 Boulter is to be seen struggling with a pile 
 of luggage at a foreign railway station, looking 
 as miserable as a man can look, and heavily 
 handicapped as to the language of the country 
 in which his wife has elected to travel. But 
 the trip never lasts long. Some business 
 connected with the hunt invariably calls him 
 back, and on a hot August day you will find 
 him at the kennels chatting with Tom "Wilding- 
 over the prospects of the coming season or 
 the young entry, and anxiously longing for 
 the "beastly harvest" to be over, and for 
 November leaves to fall. 
 
TEE SECRETARY. 45 
 
 If not there lie will be lidiDg round 
 looking up Velveteens and his satellites, and 
 endeavouring to imbue them with the motto 
 of " Live and let live," as applicable to the 
 fox. 
 
THE FARMER. 
 
 " Like master like man " is a very old saying, 
 and, like many of those ancient saws, very true. 
 Therefore, in such a sporting country as the 
 Bullshire, with such a sporting Master at the 
 head of affairs, it stands to reason that the 
 field, or at all events the majority of them, 
 should be equally imbued with the love of the 
 chase. Now in every country the mainstay 
 and backbone of the hunt is the Farmer, for 
 without his consent and co-operation fox- 
 hunting would become a thing of the past, 
 and instead of a series of brilliant gallops and 
 a successful season, we should read of a series 
 of actions for trespass and verdicts for damages, 
 carrying costs. 
 
TEE FARMER. 47 
 
 Keen sportsmen and true friends to the 
 liunt are the Farmers of Bullshire, so there is 
 little fear of opposition on their part. Indeed, 
 on one occasion they combined to make it very 
 ''warm" for a stranger who came among them, 
 and who did not fall in with their views con- 
 cerning the necessary amount of support to be 
 given to the hounds. The erring member was 
 a man who, having made some money in the 
 chandler line in London, took it into his head 
 that he was cut out for a Farmer, and accord- 
 ingly took a farm in the centre of the hunt. 
 From the moment he set his foot in the place 
 he gave offence, for the first thing he did was 
 to wire the whole of his fences, and then gave 
 notice that anyone riding across his land would 
 be summoned for trespass and " prosecuted 
 according to law." " He was not a-going to 
 'ave them beastly dorgs and 'osses a-running 
 over his land, not if he knowed it." A climax, 
 however, was reached when the surly brute 
 assaulted one of the members of the hunt with 
 a pitchfork, and swore he would lay down 
 
48 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 poison for tlie hounds. A meeting was there 
 and then called to discuss the question, and it 
 was unanimously decided to give the individjiial 
 ''what for." 
 
 Accordingly, some of the younger Farmers 
 assembled one evening, and by the following- 
 morning there was not a trace of wire to be 
 seen nor a gate-post standing in the holding 
 of the ex-chandler. Strange to say, the local 
 police, into whose hands the matter was imme- 
 diately put, failed to discover the offenders, 
 and the country-side was straightway ringing 
 with the candleman's discomfiture. The next 
 time he went to market not a beast could he 
 sell, and it was the same with everything. He 
 found a strong league against him, none would 
 buy from him and none would sell to him ; so 
 at the end of a year he retired in disgust, 
 much to the delight of the conspirators. 
 
 No two better representatives of the Bull- 
 shire Farmers, old and young, could be found 
 than Simms and his son. The father — hard- 
 working, hard-riding, hard-headed, with fifty 
 
THE FAEMEIi. 40 
 
 years of practical knowledge on liis shoulders 
 — is a firm believer in Church and State and 
 the rotation of crops. With a horror of any- 
 thing like steam, and a decided prejudice 
 ag^ainst the School Board, he stands out a true 
 type of the warm-hearted old-fashioned yeoman. 
 
 The son, equally hard-working in his way, 
 and still harder j^erhaps in his riding, is full 
 of what his sire is pleased to call " danged 
 rattletrap notions," born of the Agricultural 
 College. Steam ploughs or " cultivators " he 
 pins his faith on. Church and State he has 
 not much time, he says, to think about. The 
 rotation of crops must be regulated by manur- 
 ing, and he drives the old man nearly wild by 
 learned treatises on the subject of superphos- 
 phates, nitrates, and guano. 
 
 Each in his own way is an excellent Farmer 
 — the one of the old school, practical and 
 working in a groove, the other of the new, 
 mechanical and enterprising. In the hunting- 
 field, however, they meet on common ground, 
 and as there are but few fixtures at which both 
 
50 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 father and son do not turn wp, it may be taken 
 for granted that in this respect their opinions 
 coincide. 
 
 Mark the difference in the respective "get- 
 up " of the two as they jog along together to 
 Highfield cross-roads. Old Simms' long-coat 
 is, from constant exposure, more of a brown 
 than the ])lack it originally was, and his hat 
 has evidently had a few words with the hat- 
 brush (the latter having revenged itself by 
 running " heel"), for the silk is all the wrong- 
 way, and there is a large dent in the top. He 
 still adheres to a bird's-eye fogle, wound three 
 times round a high white collar, the corners of 
 which only are visible, and contrast strongly 
 with his jovial red face. High jack-boots, and 
 stout cords that have seen the end of many a 
 hard day, complete his attire, while his horse, 
 a real " good 'un," is, like himself, all in the 
 rough. His son, on the contrary, is as neat 
 as a new pin, in a hunting-cap, double-breasted 
 Melton coat, white breeches and tops ; and the 
 horse is on a par with his rider. 
 
TEE FABMEB. 61 
 
 " All Simms, I knew you would turn up," 
 Scay a cluster of sportsmen as the pair arrive at 
 the meet. 
 
 " Good morning, gentlemen ; bound to be 
 at Highfield, if possible. James here" (pointing 
 to his son) "would never forgive me if I did not 
 come and see his gorse drawn, though I do tell 
 him as how, with all the stinking stuff he puts 
 on the land, there ain't a ghost of a chance of 
 any scent," is the reply. 
 
 " Never you fear, father," retorts James ; 
 " you wait till they find, and if they don't run 
 as well over my land as any other I'll eat my 
 hat." 
 
 " All right, my boy," laughs the old man. 
 " I hope you and your young 'un may come 
 across one of those infernal steam ploughs of 
 yours, like I did this morning, all of a sudden. 
 The mare nearly put me down, old stager as 
 she is, and what that cocktail of yours '11 do. 
 Lord knows." 
 
 This raises a general laugh against James, 
 in the middle of which the Master rides up. 
 
 £ 2 
 
52 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 "AVell, James, have you got one for us to-day ? " 
 lie asks. " Tom tells me tliat we are sure of 
 a fox in tlie osiers at the bottom, but if you 
 know of one in the gorse we'll go there first." 
 
 " Try the gorse first, Sir John, if you please. 
 I think I can promise one there," replies James 
 Simms, in momentary dread that Tom and the 
 osiers might win the day. 
 
 And as Sir John, nodding to the Huntsman, 
 says : " Highfield Gorse, Tom," James's face 
 beams with pleasure, and, together with his 
 father, he trots off to superintend the arrange- 
 ments. "A chip of the old block" is the general 
 verdict, as James, sending his " young 'un " at 
 a low post and rails, which he hits hard all 
 round, cuts ofi" a corner, and canters on to the 
 bottom end, where he remains as mute as a 
 sphinx, merely telegraphing to Tom and his 
 father that he was there. Just as the hounds 
 are thrown in, a boy runs up to him and, with 
 a grin, says : " Mayster, ay's theer ; I'n sayd 'un. 
 Ay's down at bottom end by t' ould stump." 
 
 " All right, Jim, my lad ; you keep quiet. 
 
TEE FABMElt. 53 
 
 If he's there you shall have a bob," replies 
 James, burnhig with impatience as he hears no 
 sound save Tom's " Elcu, in, eleu 'ave at 'm. 
 Eugh, boys." 
 
 " Blank, by the Lord Harry !" he ejaculates, 
 as two or three hounds appear outside ; and, 
 turning to the boy, he asks : " My lad, are you 
 sure you saw a fox ? " 
 
 " I'n sayd 'un ; ay's theer," is the reply. 
 "Ay mun bay up stump." 
 
 " Here," cries James, " take my whip, and 
 if you can get him out your bob will be two- 
 and-six." 
 
 The boy does not wait a moment, but, 
 heedless of furze, dashes on to where the old 
 ivy- covered stump stands, and is soon swarm- 
 ing up to the top. A crack of the whip, a 
 scuffle, a shout from the lad of "Look out, 
 mayster," and a fine old dog jumps out and 
 makes off right under James's nose. 
 
 " Good lad," he says, as the boy returns 
 with his whij) ; "here, catch." And while 
 James utters a view hollo that would wake 
 
54 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 the dead, the lad, having spat upon it for luck, 
 transfers half-a-crown to his pocket. 
 
 "All right, Tom; down the field and over 
 the fence to the right. Come on, dad ;" and 
 Tom, getting his hounds on the line in a twink- 
 ling, the trio are hard at it. 
 
 " Pull that young 'un together," says old 
 Simms as they neared the fence ; " it's a big 
 'un." His old mare slips over as if it was 
 child's play. Not so the " young 'un." Going 
 like an express train, he never rises an inch, 
 and James finds himself and the nag somewhat 
 mixed up on the other side. 
 
 " That's a buster. No damage, eh ? " says 
 Tom. 
 
 ''Not a bit; for'ard on," replies James, 
 swinging himself into his saddle, and giving 
 his astonished animal a gentle reminder. " It'll 
 teach him to rise next time. There goes the 
 governor," as his father landed in a blind ditch 
 at the next obstacle, but was up and going 
 again in a moment. 
 
 At this crisis they are joined by the 
 
TUE FARMER. 55 
 
 Master iiud a chosen few. " All, tliis is some- 
 thing like a fox, worthy of the family," laughs 
 Sir John Lappington as he gallops alongside, 
 " Did you breed him on purpose ? " 
 
 " No, Sir John ; I can't quite say that. 
 He's an artful old dodger though, and mother 
 says she's had the feeding of him. He was up 
 in the stump, and a lad fetched him out with 
 my whip," replies Simms the younger as they 
 stride over the grass. 
 
 " By gad, fox is bound for your place," 
 says Tom to the father. And Tom is right. 
 Straiojht as a die he heads for old Simms' 
 farm, and now that they are on his land the 
 son does not forg-et to chaff his father most 
 unmercifully about the roughness of the fences. 
 A few fields farther on a labourer hollos him, 
 and in the meadow before the house the hounds 
 view, and they run into him almost in the 
 garden. 
 
 " Who- whoop," yells the old man, as pleased 
 as Punch. ''Now then, missus," as ]\li's. 
 Simms comes out to see the end of the 
 
66 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 destroyer of lier chickens, " ale and beer and 
 anything you have. What is it, gentlemen ? 
 Give it a name," as the field one by one jump 
 off their smokins^ horses. " We must drink 
 the health of this one ; it's, as Sir John says, 
 a family fox. Oh, bother the turkeys, missus," 
 as Mrs. S. mutters something about feeding the 
 fox ; " you can think of nothing but turkeys. 
 We's all a-dry here;" and he bustles ofi" to fetch 
 out some more of the rare old home-brewed, 
 reappearing in a few minutes with an enormous 
 jug. " Now, Sir John, one more glass. No ? 
 Anybody else say anything ? Here, Tom, I 
 must have that brush. Best thing we've had 
 this season. Oh, you don't want any more 
 beer, James ; you ought to feed on phos- 
 phates," as his son holds out a horn to be 
 replenished. "There, bring my horse, lad," 
 to a labourer ; and the old man, his face beam- 
 ing with pleasure, is ready for the fray again. 
 
 That evening there is what James calls a 
 " symposium" at the farm, and the run is run 
 ' Twenty-five minutes without a 
 
THE FABMER. 
 
 check, and thank you kindly for the missus, 
 self, and sou. I only hope we shall be able 
 to find as good a one next time we draw the 
 gorse, and if every one of us has a family fox 
 on his place, the Bullshire need have no fear 
 about sport," is what old Simms says in 
 acknowledging the toast of himself and family, 
 which is drunk with three times three. 
 
THE PARSOK 
 
 It is related of the late Bishop of Winchester 
 that, on one occasion when shooting, he was 
 asked by his host to remonstrate with the 
 keeper for his non-attendance at church, and 
 accordingly he did so. " Well, my lord," replied 
 the man, " I owns I doesn't go much to 
 church, but I reads my bible regular, and I 
 can't say as I've found anything there about 
 t' apostles going a-shooting, and they was 
 bishops." 
 
 "Quite right, my man, quite right," was 
 the ready answer. " You see they did not 
 preserve much in those days, so they went 
 fishing instead." 
 
TUE PARSON. 69 
 
 Equally ready was tlie answer of the Rev. 
 William Halston, when his diocesan informed 
 him that so much hunting did not meet with 
 his approval, and on the argument waxing 
 warm had allowed himself to make use of a 
 somewhat uuclerical expression. " Sir," said 
 the angry bishop, " you go galloping all over 
 the country, and your parish is going to the 
 dogs." 
 
 " Exactly the reason, my lord, why I 
 hunt," replied his reverence with a smile. 
 " When all my parishioners are going to the 
 dogs, it is my positive duty to go also, if only 
 to look after them." 
 
 The bishop thought somehow that he had 
 met his match, and so nothing further was 
 said on the subject. That little episode 
 occurred some twenty years ago, when Mr. 
 Halston was a younger man, but his love of 
 hunting has if anything increased with his 
 age, and seldom is his well-known face absent 
 from any of the meets within reasonable 
 distance (which he computes at eighteen 
 
60 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 miles) ; and a bold rider must be the man 
 who, when' hounds are running, sets himself 
 down to cut out " t' ould Parson," as the 
 Eector of Copthorpe is called. 
 
 Copthorpe, I may mention, in early days 
 was the only church for miles on that side of 
 the country, and the living embraced no less 
 than four straggling parishes, the farthest 
 being some twenty miles distant. With the 
 growth of the population came the necessity 
 for more places of worship, and besides a new 
 church built at Lappington by Sir John's 
 father there is also one at Highfield, situated 
 at the other extremity, the mother church 
 still being, of course, at Copthorpe. 
 
 From this it may be wondered how the 
 Eector can find time to do his work and hunt 
 as well. But that he does so is undeniable, 
 for there is not a cottage in the whole parish 
 that some time or other during the week he 
 does not visit, and high and low, rich and 
 poor, one and all love and honour their 
 Parson. 
 
TEE PAESOX. 61 
 
 The cottagers simply adore him, for 
 numerous are the tales round the country- 
 side of how " t' ould mon sot up night after 
 night wi' Jack Bliss when ay fell down t' 
 gravel-pit drunk, and welly killed hisself;" 
 and how " ay used to ride o'er every other 
 day wi' some port-wine or summut in his 
 pocket when So-and-so's wife was bad in 
 t' fever-time, six years back." Often does the 
 old gentleman (for he now 'numbers close on 
 seventy years), coming back after a long day 
 with the hounds, snatch a hasty meal, and, 
 jumping on the back of his famous pony 
 Jerry, canter off some six or seven miles to 
 see a poor parishioner that one of his curates 
 had reported sick ; and, should occasion require 
 it, the morning light will find him seated by 
 the bedside of the sufferer, speaking to him 
 or her such words of consolation and hope 
 as make the pain seem less and the heart 
 seem liofhter. 
 
 His power, too, is unlimited, and on more 
 than one occasion has the arrival of Parson 
 
62 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 Halston put a sudden stop to a free fight that 
 looked strangely like ending in bloodshed. 
 For the men know that he will stand no 
 nonsense ; and still fresh in the memory of 
 most of the pitmen is the discomfiture of 
 one of their number, Black Joe, who in his 
 drunken fury attacked his pastor, and went 
 down like an ox before a deadly left-hander, 
 delivered with a science born of Alma Mater 
 and " town and gown." 
 
 They caught "t' ould Parson" up in their 
 stalwart arms then and there, and how they 
 did cheer him as they carried him down the 
 street ! 
 
 From that day his rule was established, 
 and a word now is sufficient, without any- 
 thing else, to stop "riot." 
 
 But it is not only those workers in the 
 mines that have their story; the farm-labourers 
 are equally loud in singing his praises, for did 
 not he, when a paid hireling was stumping the 
 country urging them to strike against their 
 masters, jump on the cart from whence the 
 
THE PAESON: 63 
 
 ranter was huiiiiiL!' forth denunciations ao-ainst 
 
 o o 
 
 " the landlords' tyranny and the farmers' op- 
 pression," and holding him forcibly down with 
 one hand, address them all as they gazed in 
 wonder, and say to them how they had 
 " worked together and drank together, hunted 
 together and suffered together, for many years; 
 and now would they listen — they, the men of 
 Bullshire — to a miserable whimpering Cockney 
 from London, who could neither mow a swath 
 nor pitch a load to save his life ? " 
 
 And when they were all for ducking the 
 vermin in the mill-pond, did not he drive him 
 off to the town in his own cart, and never 
 lose sight of the agitator till he saw the train 
 safely out of the station with the individual 
 well on his road back to town and his 
 employers ? 
 
 Ay, there are many of them now who 
 shake theu' heads, and pointing to their 
 fellows in the neighbouring counties, say : " If 
 it 'adna been for our ould Parson we should 
 a' been in the same* fettle. Strikes mean 
 
64 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 starvation, and wlien a man's clemmed " 
 (hungry), " and' ain't got no one but hisself to 
 thank for't, ay begins to look a fule, that ay 
 does." 
 
 Mr. Halston employs three curates, to 
 each of whom he gives a particular district, 
 and they have every evening to bring in 
 their reports of what goes on, and what they 
 have done during the day. Eagerly sought 
 after are these positions, for it is a well- 
 known fact that, after their years of training 
 at Copthorpe, if they are worth their salt 
 they are pretty sure to tumble into a good 
 berth. One thing is however made a sine 
 qud non — that during their stay they must 
 do their share of work. " Duty first and 
 pleasure afterwards," is the motto of the 
 Eector, and he sees that it is strictly carried 
 out. 
 
 Such is a brief description of the man who 
 may be ranked among the best of sportsmen 
 and truest of friends in Bullshire, or indeed 
 any country in the world. 
 
THE PARSON. 65 
 
 As a man and a friend lie is full of the 
 milk of Luman kindness, hospitable to a fault, 
 and never so happy himself as when giving 
 pleasure to others. As a sportsman, a bold and 
 forward rider, yet always with excellent judg- 
 ment, displaying as much knowledge of what 
 a fox is likely to do as if he was being hunted 
 himself; a knowledge of the country second 
 to none, a capital judge of both horse and 
 hound, and with a love of hunting that, as I 
 have said, advancing years serve only to 
 increase. 
 
 Small wonder that when Tom hears his 
 " view hollo " he knows it is right, and gets 
 forward at once, though there are those who 
 may shout themselves hoarse without attract- 
 ing the desired attention. " Parson's like my 
 old Solomon," says he ; " 'c never throws his 
 
 tongue till he's d dwell certain; but then, 
 
 by Guy ! 'e does let 'em have it." 
 
 Whenever it is possible Mr. Halston goes 
 to cover with the hounds, and back again in 
 the same company (unless called away by 
 
m MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 parish work) after the day is over, and dearly 
 does old Tom love those rides and cheery 
 chats, learning himself, he freely admits, as 
 much as ever he can teach. See them now 
 both in the centre of the pack, jogging home- 
 w^ard in the failing light. Says Tom : " That 
 was a straight-necked 'un we had to-day, sir ; 
 but I'm main puzzled what made you guess 
 he'd try them earths at Billow^don." 
 
 "AYell, Tom," replies the Kector, "I 
 argued it out by common sense. Suppose 
 you'd been hard pressed and knew of a house 
 you could turn into, wouldn't you go for it ? " 
 
 " Yes, but it was turning right into the 
 mouths of the pack. I was 'nation mad when 
 I found 'em open that I hadna ta'en your hint," 
 continues the Huntsman. 
 
 " Live and learn, Tom ; live and learn," 
 laughs the Parson. " You forget three seasons 
 ago we lost one just in the same place." 
 
 " By Guy ! so we did, and I forgot it at 
 the moment. It was the day as young 
 Mayster Bell jumped atop of Melody ; but 
 
TEE PABSON. 67 
 
 what's become of him, sir ? " asks Tom. 
 " How Sir John did pitch it into him that 
 time to be sure." 
 
 " Oh, he's getting on first rate ; he is 
 inspector at the Deep-seam Pits. I was 
 afraid, though, he was going to the bad at one 
 time. He took a liking to the bottle ; but 
 Bliss's accident cured him," replies Mr. 
 Halston. " But here we are at the kennels, 
 and I must get on ; I want to ride over to 
 Halstead and see old Widow Greaves ; she's a 
 bit ailing ; so good-night, Tom." 
 
 " Good-night, sir ; good-night. See you 
 out, I suppose, on Friday at Fearndale ? Sure 
 to find in the wood," says Tom, muttering 
 to himself as he gets off his horse : " There's 
 one of the best men in the world, danged if 
 he ain't." 
 
 ]\Ir. Halston is trottinsj alonsr home, think- 
 ing over the events of the day and a hundred- 
 and-one other things, when he is startled by 
 the sudden reappearance of old Tom at his 
 side, who, looking rather scared in answer to 
 
 f2 
 
68 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 his inquiry of " What's the matter ? " says : 
 " There's been a fearful accident at the pits, 
 sir ; my nephew's just come over. Explosion 
 or summat ; there's five-and-twenty poor chaps 
 blocked up, 'e do say, and I thought you'd 
 like to know on it." 
 
 Before Tom has well finished speaking, 
 the Parson is urging his horse at best pace in 
 the direction of the Deep-seam Pit, much to 
 that animal's disgust. He pulls up at the 
 first cottage he comes to, and, calling out a 
 boy, sends him off to Copthorpe with a message 
 to say where he has gone, and they need not 
 expect him home at present, and that his 
 groom is to ride Jerry over at once to take 
 back his hunter. 
 
 " Look sharp, my lad," says he, tossing 
 the boy a shilling, "and tell James to bring 
 over my bottles with him — port and brandy 
 — he'll know." And again he is on his way. 
 On arriving at the scene of the accident he 
 finds a large crowd of weeping women col- 
 lected round the pit-mouth, making "con- 
 
THE PARSON. 69 
 
 fusion worse confused," and seriously interfering 
 with the work of salvation. 
 
 Amidst the universal grief and terror he 
 is not noticed at first, but when men and 
 women simultaneously recognise him, if ever 
 a man had reason to be proud, surely Mr. 
 Halston is that man, for such a shout is 
 raised of " Here's t' ould Parson ; God bless 
 'un ! we knowed 'e'd come ; it's right now," 
 as tells him plainly the place he holds in the 
 hearts of these rou2;h men and sorrowino; 
 women. 
 
 " Here, take my horse," says he to one of 
 the men ; and as Bell comes up he asks : 
 " What is beinsj done ? " " Volunteers for an 
 exploring party," briefly answers the inspector; 
 and Mr. Halston steps forward and addresses 
 the crowd. 
 
 " My lads," he says, " I am an old man, 
 and perhaps some of you will think it ain't 
 my place to go down ; but, thank God, I can 
 still wield a pick with anyone, and with His 
 help we'll get the boys out. No, Mr. Bell," as 
 
70 MEN WE 3IEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 the inspector tries to dissuade him ; " if I 
 ain't much use myself, they'll work all the 
 better for having their Kector with them. 
 And now one word to you, my daughters. 
 You can do no good here. Go home, and get. 
 things ready for your husbands against the 
 time we bring them up safe and sound. Now " 
 (to the engineer) " we are ready. Steady, keep 
 your breath for work, lads," as cheer after 
 cheer rends the air; and in a few moments the 
 group of brave volunteers are descending the 
 shaft on their errand of mercy. 
 
 All through the night they toil, relieving 
 each other in shifts, working as only men 
 can work when the lives of fellow -creatures 
 depend on their exertions. The Parson is 
 everywhere, quiet, calm, and collected, en- 
 couraging and directing, yet taking all his 
 share of munual labour. 
 
 Twice he has to be sent to the surface, 
 faint and gasping for breath ; but almost 
 before his absence is detected, he is back again 
 in the centre of the noble band. 
 
THE PABSON. 71 
 
 By 2 A.M. the first six of the imprisoned 
 miners are found, badly burned, but still alive; 
 and before the sun has risen the whole of the 
 twenty-five are restored to their wives, with 
 the exception of three, whose work in this 
 world is. finished for ever. 
 
 AYorn out as he is, Mr. Halston stops to 
 comfort as best he can the fatherless and 
 widow, and then Jerry carries him home. 
 Men miss his kindly face at Fearndale on the 
 Friday, but they know wdiere he is, for the 
 story of his heroism spreads far and wide ; 
 and when next he appears in the field, all 
 press forward to do him honour. On the 
 way to their first draw that day a fox jumps 
 up in the open, and goes straight over 
 Milston Brook. Tom has his hounds on the 
 line in a crack, and before anyone has time to 
 look round, three figures are seen sailing away 
 over the grass on the far side of the water — 
 Tom ; Charles the First Whip, and, in front of 
 all — the Parson. 
 
THE DOCTOR. 
 
 " Never saw sucli weather or such a season 
 in my life, Sir John. They tell us that 'a 
 green winter makes a full churchyard,' but , 
 the saying doesn't hold good down here. 
 Why, bless my heart, everybody's out hunting 
 instead of being ill, and there's nothing for 
 me to do at all." 
 
 "Ah Doctor," replies the Master, laugh- 
 ing, " it's better for us than for you then ; 
 and yet, in the long run, if the truth was 
 known, I expect you can score more kills 
 than my hounds." 
 
 A busy man is Edward AYilson, Esq., M.D., 
 with an increasing practice necessitating the 
 
THE DOCTOR. 73 
 
 help of an assistant. Yet so devoted is he 
 to hunting, that he thinks it a very hard case 
 if he does not manage one day a-week with 
 the hounds. As he rides up, the picture of 
 robust health and the pink of neatness, one 
 would scarcely imagine, as one listens to his 
 chaffing about the weather and tlie paucity 
 of patients, that he had had exactly two 
 hours' sleep the night before, and was almost 
 certain to find a message on his return home, 
 calling him away some seven or eight miles, 
 with the prospect of another nocturnal vigil. 
 Yet such is the case. Yesterday afternoon, 
 when he came back from his round, he had 
 said to Thomas his coachman : "I shall 
 manage a day to-morrow, Thomas ; I don't 
 think there is anything likely to happen, 
 so have old Ladybird ready for me in the 
 morning. They meet at Willowfield Lodge, 
 and are certain to draw towards home." 
 
 Just as he was going to bed, a groom from 
 Lorton Towers came galloping into his yard 
 with an urgent message " As ow Doctor wur 
 
74 MEN WE MEET IX THE FIELD. 
 
 wanted at once ; Lady Slowboy's took bad ; " 
 and away he had to go to assist the future 
 Lord Slowboy on his " first appearance on 
 any stage." 
 
 " Hang it all ; she might have put it off," 
 he said to himself as he buttoned his coat ; 
 " but I'm not going to lose my day's hunting 
 for fifty heirs of Lorton ; " and at 5.30 a.m., 
 the ceremony being over, before turning in 
 he gave orders that he was to be called at 
 half-past seven, and at half-past ten he arrives, 
 as we see him, hale and hearty, at Willowfield 
 Lodge. 
 
 A^ery well mounted is the Doctor, for he 
 knows a horse when he sees one : and thouo-h 
 he only keeps two — or rather, as he himself 
 puts it, "one and a half" (the second one 
 having to take him occasionally on- professional 
 trips) — they are both something above the 
 average, and when hounds are running, 
 Ladybird or Precipitate, the two horses, are 
 pretty nearly certain to be seen in the van. 
 It does not require a second glance at the keen 
 
• TUE DOCTOR. 7o 
 
 eyes, the determined mouth, wreathed in a 
 cheery smile, and the strong nervous hands, to 
 show that before one is a man of iron will. 
 
 Prompt of decision, quick at diagnosing 
 disease, with a heart full of sympathy for 
 suffering, yet never faltering when forced to 
 resort to the knife, Edward Wilson has made 
 a name for himself second to none in that part 
 of England. Indeed, over and over again 
 his old friend and patron, Sir George Fennel, 
 the great London physician, has urged him 
 to migrate to town ; but his answer is always 
 the same : 
 
 "Couldn't live throu2;h one season. I 
 must be in the fresh air ; and if I did not 
 see hounds now and then, I should pine away. 
 Besides, I should miss all my old friends in 
 Bullshire so ; and as for fame, old Widow 
 Fletcher and John Billino;s the blacksmith 
 would not believe you if you told them there 
 was a cleverer man than myself living ! Poor 
 souls ! it shows their ignorance ; but what 
 more can I want ? " 
 
76 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 The Doctor is quite riglit. Among the 
 poor he and the Parson run a neck-and-neck 
 race for popularity. Perhaps from the fact 
 of being associated with that, to them, great 
 mystery — medicine — the Doctor is held in 
 greater awe ; but they all remember how, 
 hand-in-hand, the two fought death in the 
 fever-time ; and the great authorities I have 
 mentioned — the widow and the blacksmith — 
 assert that " Doctor ay does know summat 
 about rheumatiz ; ay's got some stuff as 
 sends it away all in a jiff like." 
 
 It is fifteen years ago since Edward 
 Wilson, then five-and-twenty, came down to 
 Bullshire as assistant to old Dr. Johnstone. 
 He rather astonished the methodical old 
 practitioner with his theories, for the young 
 Doctor, whose whole soul was in his profession, 
 had read deeply and judiciously, and was far 
 in advance of the old-fashioned routine of 
 blood-letting, cupping, and Epsom salts. 
 
 At first folks shook their heads, and 
 muttered " Quackery ; " but one or two bad 
 
THE DOCTOB. 77 
 
 cases, wliicli had been given over as hopeless 
 by the principal, being successfully pulled 
 through by the assistant, they began to think 
 that after all there was somethincc in the 
 young fellow ; and the surgical skill he dis- 
 played when, together with every other 
 available medical man, he was called to the 
 scene of the fearful railway accident at 
 Billingdon, confirmed their opinion. 
 
 A year after this, old Johnstone died 
 suddenly, and AVilson, after a brisk competi- 
 tion, bought his practice. Directly he felt 
 himself his own master, he allowed his ideas 
 a- free scope, and consequently in a very 
 short time his undoubted talent made itself 
 known throughout the country-side, and the 
 practice increased so enormously that, young 
 and energetic as he was, he found it necessary 
 to take an assistant, choosino^ after much 
 deliberation the son of an old colleo-e chum 
 and fellow-student. 
 
 *' Why, Doctor, who'd have thought of 
 seeing you to-day ? I thought you were at 
 
78 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 Lorton all last night/' exclaims Mr. Noble, 
 Lord Slowboy's agent, who rides up as Sir 
 John finishes his repartee. 
 
 " So I was. Noble," replies our M.D., 
 " but her ladyship, I am thankful to say, let 
 me ofi at half-past five; and, as I was just 
 telling Sir John, there being nothing else for 
 me to do this weather, I thought I would 
 come out on the chance of a job in the 
 field." 
 
 "I hope you may be disappointed, then, 
 for once. What a blood-thirsty villain ! Did 
 you ever hear such a thing. Boulter ? " says 
 the Master to the Secretary, w^ho has just 
 arrived on a new steed. 
 
 " Hear w^hat ? " rejoins that w^orthy. 
 
 " Why," continues Sir John, " the Doctor 
 here says he saw you pass his window on 
 that new horse, and has come out to follow 
 in your wake all day, as he feels convinced 
 you will break your neck, leg, or arm, or 
 do something which he can turn into a 
 fee." 
 
THE DOCTOR. 79 
 
 "Don't you believe it," interrupts Mr. 
 Wilson with a laugh ; " it would not pay me 
 to mend you, for directly you got well you'd 
 be dunning me for a subscription, and I might 
 whistle for my fees. But look at Tom ; he 
 evidently thinks it is time to be moving. 
 Who-ho, old lady" (to his horse), "who-ho," 
 as old Tom, having got the signal, trots by 
 with the pack, and, lifting his cap in response 
 to the Doctor's greeting, says : . 
 
 " Main glad to see you out, Doctor ; hope 
 we shall find a good 'un for you." 
 
 In a few minutes the hounds are thrown 
 in, and Mr. Wilson finds himself with Mr. 
 Halston (the clergyman) and Charles at a 
 convenient corner of the covert. As bad luck 
 will have it, though, the fox breaks away on 
 the far side. 
 
 "Bless my soul, this is rough," exclaims 
 the Doctor; "come on;" and putting old 
 Ladybird at the fence he goes crashing 
 through the wood, followed by his two com- 
 panions. As they emerge on the other side 
 
80 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 they see the hounds streaming away some 
 three fields off below them, and have the 
 satisfaction of knowing that for once they 
 have got as bad a start as could well be. 
 
 ' " It's for Blessington Osiers," says Charles. 
 " If we cut across to the left and over the 
 brook we shall hit it off." 
 
 "You are right, Charles," rejoins the 
 Parson. " What do you say, Wilson ? " 
 
 " For'ard on, then," replies the Doctor ; 
 and the trio gallop off almost in a contrary 
 direction to the hounds. They negotiate the 
 water in safety, and pull up by the side of 
 the Osiers just as the hunted fox enters them. 
 Charles rides off to the bottom end to view 
 him through, and as Tom comes up with 
 the pack his " Tailly-ho, for'ard a-w-a-i-y ! " 
 proclaims the fact that Reynard has not found 
 Blessington a place of rest. 
 
 *' Why, where the deuce have you arrived 
 from ? " is the universal question asked by all 
 the field. 
 
 " Home," says the Doctor with a chuckle, 
 
THE DOCTOR. 81 
 
 as he sets Ladybird going now in lier proper 
 place — in the front rank — and swings over 
 a nasty fence with a double ditch. As he 
 lands on the other side he notices the 
 Secretary's nephew, a young lad who is riding 
 a chestnut that is evidently as much as the 
 boy can manage, and as his eye falls on the 
 stiff timber which appears at the far end of 
 the field he wonders what will happen. 
 " Don't go too fast at the rails, my boy," he 
 says. " Steady. My G — d, what a smash ! " 
 as the impetuous brute rushes at the fence, 
 and, breasting the top rail, turns a regular 
 somersault, throwing the boy, luckily, clear 
 of him. 
 
 The Doctor is off his horse in a moment, 
 and hounds and hunting are forgotten as 
 he kneels by the side of the pale little 
 face, supporting the lad's head on his breast, 
 and feeling with professional skill for any 
 injury. 
 
 " Stand back, gentlemen, please," he ex- 
 claims, as some of the field collect round. 
 
 G 
 
82 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 " Give tlie b oy air. There's nothing wrong 
 beyond a slight shock and a broken arm. 
 Ah Boulter, don't be alarmed," as the 
 Secretary rides up. " Get him in a cart, 
 and drive him home. I'll be round and set 
 his arm directly." 
 
 " I'm all right, uncle," says the nephew, 
 who has revived after a pull at the Doctor's 
 flask. *'Let me go on." 
 
 "No, my boy, you can't go on. You've 
 broken your arm, and will have to be quiet 
 for a bit," replies Mr. Boulter. 
 
 " What a bore ! " ejaculates the lad ; but 
 adds, with a twinkle in his eye, " You'll have 
 to pay Doctor Wilson a fee after all, uncle. ' 
 
 Everybody laughs at this, and the Doctor 
 mutters under his breath : "That's what I call 
 pluck." Then, trotting off home to fetch his 
 paraphernalia, he is at The Grange almost as 
 soon as the invalid. After making him com- 
 fortable, the Doctor has to go off on other 
 errands of mercy, and as he drives the seven 
 miles to visit his next patient, he tells Thomas 
 
TEE DOCTOB. 83 
 
 that he is sorry to have missed the end of 
 the run, but if anything could repay him it is 
 the amount of pluck shown by the Secretary's 
 little nephew. 
 
 Once ca year he takes a two months' 
 holiday, in July and August, when he, to- 
 gether witli three old college chums, may be 
 seen clad in blue serge and drinking in great 
 draughts of health on the deck of the yacht 
 which belongs to the eldest of them. They 
 generally wind up with a fortnight at the 
 grouse, and then the Doctor returns to Bull- 
 shire with renewed life and with a fund of 
 anecdote and adventures by sea and land, to 
 hear him relate which is as good for a sick 
 man as any of the prescriptions which he 
 writes in his peculiarly neat handwriting. 
 
 •Wherever he goes, castle or cottage, hall 
 or homestead, his presence always cheers and 
 lights up the sick-room, and Doctor Wilson's 
 visit is looked forward to by the invalid as 
 the pleasantest bit of his long day. 
 
 G 2 
 
THE DEALERS. 
 
 " Yes, sir, he's a niceish little horse, up to a 
 goodisli bit of weight too, and carries a lady. 
 My daughter rides him often, and she says 
 he's as handy as a kitten." 
 
 There is nothing very remarkable about 
 the speaker, and but for the undeniable bit of 
 ''good stuff" he is riding, one would scarcely 
 notice him in the crowd assembled at the 
 meet. 
 
 As he turns half round to make the fore- 
 going remark, allowing his right hand to rest 
 on his horse's flank, a dark bay of wondrous 
 shape, one may perhaps be struck with the 
 peculiar look of shrewdness displayed in his 
 
THE DEALERS. 
 
 eyes, and notice the case with which he sits 
 in his saddle ; but beyond that there is nothing 
 at first sight to mark a difference from any 
 other man in the field. . 
 
 But Mr. James Holden the Dealer, more 
 generally known as Old Jimmy Holden, is 
 somethinor out of the common. 
 
 O 
 
 First, he is one of the best judges of a horse 
 iu England, with some forty years' experience 
 to back him. 
 
 Secondly, he is a man of the keenest per- 
 ception. In two seconds he will sum you up 
 as well as if he had been acquainted with you 
 for a lifetime, and knows intuitively at a 
 glance how much you are " good for." 
 
 Thirdly, he is one of the best and neatest 
 riders imaginable, with a supreme contempt 
 for such superfluous matter as nerves. Being 
 possessed of hands of silk and will of iron, he 
 can hand a raw young 'un over the stiffest 
 country in the hunt, and make him perform as 
 well as a thoroughly seasoned hunter. 
 
 Lastly, he is absolutely trustworthy — that 
 
86 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 is to say, if you tell him that you want a horse 
 and cannot afford more than such-and-such a 
 sum, he will supply you with the best article 
 that can be got for the money, frankly telling 
 you any defects, and leaving himself but a fair 
 margin of profit. If, however, a purchaser 
 thinks himself very knowing and pits himself 
 against Jimmy Holden, it is long odds. that 
 that bumptious individual, the purchaser, will 
 find himself in the wrong box, for Jimmy 
 takes a pleasure in getting what he calls " six 
 to four the best of a knowing card." 
 
 He displays a vast amount of esjjrit de 
 corps concerning his own hunt, always keeping 
 the pick of the bunch for some of his Bullshire 
 customers. " You see," he says with a smile, 
 " I meet them all out in the field, and if I was 
 to come across any of my gents riding one of 
 my 'osses that I knew to l)e a bad \m, why 
 I could not say good-morning with a free 
 conscience or a light heart. That horse would 
 be always staring me in the face, and making 
 me uncomfortable." 
 
THE DEALERS. 87 
 
 To outsidei*s, however, lie does uot always 
 show so much compunction, as the following 
 anecdote will show. There was a young 
 cotton lord who one season came down to 
 stay with one of the members of the Bull- 
 shire for a month's hunting, and, being in want 
 of a horse, was advised to go to Mr. Holden. 
 Exceedingly knowing in matters of horseflesh 
 did this young gentleman consider himself, 
 and as he was roUinoj in wealth he also srave 
 himself pretty considerable airs. 
 
 Accordingly he despatched the following 
 epistle to Freshfield, where Jimmy's house 
 and stables were situated : " Mr. Tinsel, being 
 in want of a hunter, and hearing that James 
 Holden is an honest dealer, will thank him to 
 bring over two or three for his inspection 
 to-morrow to The Shrubbery. Mr. Tinsel 
 begs to say he requires a good horse and 
 not a screw." 
 
 Now old Jimmy Holden was not accustomed 
 to this sort of thing. He had, with his father 
 before him, become quite an institution in the 
 
88 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 Bullsliire country, and everybody knowing 
 what a right-down good sportsman he was, 
 always treated him more as an equal than 
 anything else, or at all events with respect 
 and in good-fellowship. Indeed it was con- 
 sidered rather a privilege to buy one of his 
 horses, and his company in the field was 
 always sought after, where his fund of 
 anecdote and quaint humour were wont to 
 keep everybody in a roar. Therefore it may 
 be imagined that the letter rubbed him up the 
 wrong way in no slight degree, and not a 
 word did he vouchsafe in reply. 
 
 The next time the hounds met, Mr. Tinsel, 
 who was riding one of his friend's horses, came 
 up to him and said, in a most offensive way : 
 "You are Holdcn, the horse-dealer, ain't you?" 
 
 "My name is Holdcn, sir," replied old 
 Jimmy, looking over the top of the young- 
 snob's head. 
 
 "Well, then, why the devil did not you 
 answer my letter ? I want a horse, and told 
 you to bring me over two or three to look at," 
 
THE DEALERS. 89 
 
 continued young Manchester. " Is that your 
 sort of way of doing business ? because it ain't 
 mine." 
 
 " I presume, sir, your name is Tinsel. If 
 so, I beg to inform you that I am not in the 
 habit of bringing over horses for strangers to 
 look at. If you like to drive over to Fresh- 
 field, my foreman will show you one at my 
 stables," said Jimmy, and straightway rode off 
 fuming, while a visible smile was seen on the 
 faces of all those within hearing. 
 
 " Sell him The Baron," said two or three of 
 them ; "it will serve him right." 
 
 The Baron was a sjrand-lookino; beast, 
 whose appearance had deceived the wily James 
 into buying him over in the " Land of the 
 Shamrock ; " but with his good looks his 
 virtues came to an end, for he was without 
 exception the veriest brute to ride imaginable, 
 being a confirmed bolter, with no mouth, and 
 with an awkward habit, if he did manage to 
 get rid of his rider, of rushing at him open- 
 mouthed, or else trying to kick his brains out. 
 
90 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 He had been tried at everything, but it was 
 always the same, whether in saddle or harness ; 
 he was a reo-ular man-eatino; savao-e. 
 
 Hitherto Holden had refused absolutely to 
 part with him, though he had had more than 
 one offer ; but so outraged were his feelings on 
 this occasion that he took the advice given, 
 and Mr. Tinsel shortly became the owner of 
 The Baron in exchange for a cheque for two 
 hundred pounds. 
 
 It must be owned that at the last moment 
 Jimmy relented, and told the young gentleman 
 he had better not buy ;, but with the obstinacy 
 of ignorance Tinsel insisted on the bargain, and 
 so had his way. 
 
 The result was a foreo:one conclusion. The 
 first day he took him out the brute run away 
 with him for six miles straight on end, jump- 
 ing into the river to wind up with, from which 
 predicament Mr. Tinsel was rescued just in 
 time to save him from a watery grave. 
 
 The Baron emerged safely on the far side, 
 and when caught was there and then despatched 
 
TEE DEALERS. 01 
 
 to town for sale without reserve, being followed 
 in a couple of days by bis owner. This, how- 
 ever, happened some years ago, and Jimmy 
 Holden does not care to say very much about 
 it now. 
 
 As the hounds move off, one of the field, a 
 Mr. Briggs, finds it impossible to help break- 
 ing the tenth commandment and coveting the 
 little bay, and when he sees the easy way in 
 which the animal pops over the stiff rails out 
 of the big grass-meadow, making as little of 
 them as if they were a flight of hurdles, while 
 he himself has been in vain looldno^ all round 
 for a convenient gate, the covetous desire 
 increases, and a settled determination takes 
 possession of him to become the owner or 
 jDcrish in the attempt. 
 
 Meanwhile Jimmy has noted all this, and 
 though that jump seemed so carelessly and 
 easily done, he well knows the value of it, 
 and is quite prepared to hear Mr. Briggs say, 
 as he does : " Is that bay for sale, Holden ? " 
 
 " All my horses are for sale, sir," he replies 
 
92 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 with a smile ; adding, after a pause, "at a 
 price." 
 
 Thereupon Briggs tries to look as if he was 
 not the least interested in the matter, and 
 accordingly shows most plainly how anxious 
 he is to buy. " Oh, ah, yes," says he, " he 
 seems likely to make a hunter. How much do 
 you ask ? " 
 
 "Well, sir, seeing that you are an old 
 customer, I will let you have him at a hundred 
 and twenty ; but take my advice, Mr. Briggs, 
 and when you are buying don't show as you're 
 so sweet on the animal ; it's as good as putting 
 another five-and-twenty guineas on the price. 
 However, you shall try him the day after 
 to-morrow, and if you like the horse, which 
 I am sure you will, you can have him at the 
 price I said." 
 
 Needless to say Mr. Briggs does like him, 
 and a piece of paper signed with his name 
 transfers one hundred and twenty guineas to 
 the account of James Holden at the local bank, 
 though it must be confessed that the little bay 
 
TEE DEALERS. 93 
 
 does not perform quite so brilliantly under 
 his new master's guidance as lie did on tlie 
 occasion when the exhibition at the rails 
 so delighted his heart. 
 
 It was not to be supposed that Jimmy 
 Holden would be left for ever in undisputed 
 possession of such a lucrative position as 
 dealer-in-ordinary to the Bullshire Hunt, and 
 at one time there was quite an influx of 
 veterinary surgeons, job-masters, and copers 
 of all sorts ; but they all dropped off and 
 disappeared with the exception of one in- 
 dividual, who was a constant thorn in Jimmy's 
 side, and whom he hated with a hate surpass- 
 ing that of women (the inverse applies equally 
 to the fair sex, love and hatred both being 
 qualities they excel in). 
 
 He was named Seaford — Captain Seaford 
 he called himself, though the Army List was 
 innocent and silent as to his name or his 
 regiment. 
 
 "A nasty, snivelling, horse-coping snob," 
 
94 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 was Jimmy's verdict ; " brings discredit on the 
 profession, and makes people tliink as we're all 
 roi^ues." 
 
 There was a deal of truth in this, for 
 Seaford was as big a scamp as ever doctored 
 a broken-winded nag or bishoped an old 
 stager. Now and then he had a good horse, 
 biit it was the exception ; and when such an 
 accident did happen it was a wonder that he 
 ever mana2:ed to shut his mouth ao-ain, so 
 wide did he open it. 
 
 Farmer Simms used to say on those 
 occasions : " Ay could see right through un' 
 like a telescope." 
 
 A most plausible scoundrel is he notwitli- 
 standing, and if he manages to get hold of 
 some new-comer he will stick to him like a 
 leech till he has screwed somethinof out of him. 
 Of course he hunts, and equally of course he 
 arrives rather late, not being over fond of 
 letting his wares get cool — and stiff — at the 
 meet. 
 
 He is mounted, perhaps, on a raking- 
 
TEE DEALEBS. 
 
 lookino; cliestnut marc. There is a c^ood deal 
 of " furniture " about her, sucli as breast-plate 
 and martingale ; the throat-strap is broad, and 
 the band across the forehead is blue and white 
 enamel. That the mare can jump there is no 
 doubt, for she sails over the big bank and 
 ditch in rare form, and for two or three fields 
 (Captain) Seaford is in front. After a little 
 he is to be seen on another animal, which, 
 when there are enough people round to see, 
 can perform nearly as well as the chestnut, who 
 is now on her way home. If anyone haj)pens 
 to meet her they will be somewhat surprised 
 to see how lame she goes. " Run a nail into 
 'er 'oof," is the groom's version ; but an 
 F.R.C.V.S. would be puzzled to find that 
 nail, and his certificate would show the 
 lameness to proceed from a very different 
 cause. 
 
 It is a marvel how Seaford manages to 
 "pick up" so many flats, but he does a 
 thrivino; trade : and thouQh occasionallv he 
 has to square an unpleasant business, he has 
 
96 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 always a plausible tale ready to hand, and so 
 comes out with merely a scratch on his some- 
 what shady character. 
 
 Once he outdid himself, and was as nearly 
 put in prison as ever he wishes to be. It 
 happened as follows. One evening, late, a 
 couple of fur-capped individuals brought a 
 horse into his yard and asked him if he would 
 buy. A glance showed him the animal was 
 valuable, and the price asked being only twenty 
 pounds Seaford naturally concluded that it 
 was a stolen one. However, he argued, it was 
 nothing to do with him, and bought it there 
 and then. Next day the police found it in 
 his stables, and hard work it was for the 
 Freshfield lawyer to prevent the magistrates 
 committing the gallant Captain as a receiver 
 of stolen goods. 
 
 The reason for his having incurred Jimmy's 
 hatred is because he was sharp enough once, 
 sdon after he had come into the country, to 
 sell him a broken-winded nag; and Jimmy 
 
THE DEALEBS. 97 
 
 never hears the last of it to this day. How- 
 ever, he swears he will be " even with the 
 scamp yet," and being a man of his word 
 there is little doubt but that he wilL 
 
THE GRUMBLER. 
 
 A VERY enthusiastic individual is Mr. Bowles, 
 J. P., or, as he is more generally called, The 
 Major, from his connection with the local 
 Volunteer force, which, it may almost be said, 
 he founded. Liberal with his money, and at 
 heart a good fellow and keen sportsman, his 
 one great failing is the use, or abuse, of 
 that Englishman's acknowledged privilege — 
 grumbling. 
 
 He is never happy unless he is finding 
 fault with something or somebody. No 
 matter what it is, the stars in their courses 
 have always conspired against Ixim person- 
 ally, or some unfortunate person has done the 
 
TEE GRUMBLER. 99 
 
 very thing they should uot have done, and 
 so brousfht the matter in hand to utter 
 
 O' 
 
 grief. 
 
 Of course if they had listened to the 
 Major everything would have progressed 
 swimmingly ; but as his opinions were seldom 
 given untU the fiasco had occurred (if occur 
 it did), and even then were conflicting — not 
 to say contradictory — recourse was seldom had 
 to that fount of advice. It is generally whis- 
 pered in Bullshire that when Bowles, after an 
 infinity of trouble and expense, managed to 
 inspire a certain amount of military enthu- 
 siasm sufiicient for the formation of the corps 
 of Bullshire Eifles, he refused to accept the 
 command of them, in order that he might 
 afterwards be able to say : 
 
 " Just like my luck ; took all the trouble 
 of getting the thing up, and then they go and 
 put in a man over my head. A man, sir, who 
 does not know his right hand from his left ; 
 a dufier, sir ; a rank impostor, who calls him- 
 self Colonel, and is as ignorant of the drill- 
 
 H 2 
 
100 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 book as But, there ; it's always the 
 
 same." 
 
 As a magistrate and justice of the peace 
 he is equally aggrieved. Witnesses somehow 
 never can give their evidence in a straight- 
 forward manner, and the decisions of the Bench 
 afford him vast scope for criticism. "Never 
 heard of such a thing," he will tell you. " Man 
 brought up for poaching. Found with a gun, 
 going along the road. Asked what he was 
 doing. Said he was taking it to be mended. 
 Would you believe it ? They dismissed the 
 case, notwithstanding all I could say. Gave 
 him the benefit of the doubt, sir ; and they 
 call that justice, by Heaven!" 
 
 It is no use pointing out that ample evi- 
 dence was produced at the inquiry to show 
 that the man's story was correct, he was 
 taking the gun to be mended, and an 
 over-zealous local policeman had, as is by no 
 means unusual, exceeded his duty. The Major 
 will reply that he knows, and if the magis- 
 trates don't choose to exercise their powers. 
 
THE GRUMBLE B. 101 
 
 every loafer in Bullshire will be carrying a gun 
 to be mended. 
 
 A stranger would naturally suppose from 
 this that Mr. Bowles was not blessed with 
 much heart ; but he would be wrong. For 
 it is a well-known fact that often when, in his 
 official capacity, he has been forced to fine 
 some poor devil who had been " looking on 
 the wine when it was red " — or rather the beer 
 when it was amber — and the sight had been 
 too much for him, the Major, after the bench 
 had dispersed, would drive round to the 
 delinquent's cottage and gladden the sorrow- 
 ing wife by putting into her hand double 
 the amount of the fine that had been 
 inflicted. 
 
 In the hunting-field he is looked upon as 
 a standing joke, and if there are signs of a 
 cover being blank, or a long wait at a cold 
 corner, there is sure to be a party made up to 
 " draw " the Major, the best of it being that 
 he never sees men are laughing at him, but 
 lays down the law, and abuses, condemns, and 
 
102 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 complains with the utmost heartiness and 
 volubility. 
 
 Though a good horseman and forward rider, 
 he never knows one horse from another if they 
 are anything at all alike in colour ; and it is 
 the same with dogs. If you were to put any 
 of his own retrievers along with some others, 
 and ask him to point out those which belonged 
 to him, he could not do it to save his life. 
 Two rather funny incidents happened to him 
 from this cause, the first with a horse, and the 
 second concerninof a doof. 
 
 One season he had a particularly good- 
 looking bay, but finding it too hot for him 
 he determined to sell, and so sent it up to 
 London to a dealer, whom, when old Jimmy 
 Holden had nothing that suited, he was wont 
 to employ, getting a hundred guineas for it. 
 A short time after he went to town himself, 
 and going to the same man's yard was struck 
 with the appearance of a good-looking ba}^ 
 and bought it at a hundred and forty guineas. 
 When the horse came down to his stables the 
 
THE GRUMBLE B. 103 
 
 stud-groom came in and said to him : " Why, 
 sir, you didn't tell me as how you'd bought 
 The Prince asrain." 
 
 o « 
 
 " Prince, you fool," replied the Major; " I've 
 not bought The Prince." 
 
 But he had, and had also paid forty guineas, 
 besides railway fares, for the animal's trip to 
 London and back. 
 
 The other affair, though perhaps almost 
 telling more against himself, was not so ex- 
 pensive. He had given his friend, Lord Acres, 
 a black retriever with a high character and a 
 long pedigree, and had made no little parade 
 of the gift. A few weeks afterwards he was 
 shooting at Home Wood (Acres' place), and 
 the dog was out. According to his usual 
 custom, Bowles was grumbling at everything ; 
 guns, birds, cartridges, weather, and his servant 
 all came in for their share. At last he pitched 
 on the dog, and turning to his host during the 
 process of lunch, he said : " Can't think. Acres, 
 where you manage to pick up your dogs ! 
 Look at that mongrel brute there. i^ever 
 
104 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 saw such a beast in my life. He's only fit to 
 run behind a butcher's cart." 
 
 " Why, Major," replied his lordship, roaring 
 with laughter, " that's looking a gift -horse in 
 the mouth with a vengeance. It's your own 
 dog that you gave me." 
 
 Bowles acknowledges now that for once 
 in his life he wishes he had not spoken. 
 
 It is a beautiful morning for hunting. The 
 late frost — which, though it lasted but a week, 
 was sharp — is well out of the ground, and 
 everybody who owns anything with four legs, 
 besides a number who are dependent on their 
 own, have turned out with the hounds at 
 Mickleborough Green. 
 
 The landlord of The Three Bells, that 
 quaint old inn — with its remains of past glories, 
 as shown by its spacious coach-stables — which 
 stands back from the road facing the green, 
 is doing a roaring trade ; and Lizzie the bar- 
 maid says her " arms do just ache a-drawing 
 the beer." The hounds gathered round old 
 
TEE GRUMBLER. 105 
 
 Tom on the green, with pink coats dotted here 
 and tliere, present as pretty a picture as one 
 could wish to see. All arc in high spirits and 
 congratulating each other and themselves on 
 the change in the weather and the prospects 
 of a run. Chaff is flying thick about " the old 
 mare's big leg," or " the lucky thing the frost 
 was for that young horse who was pulled out 
 on all occasions ; " and old Tom comes in for 
 his share, being told that " both the hounds 
 and himself look as if they had been doing 
 themselves well on those non-hunting days — 
 waistcoat buttons a bit tight, eh Tom ? " and 
 such-like banter. 
 
 Presently, along the road the Major appears, 
 in company with Mr. Boulter the Secretary, 
 and young Earnshaw, who is learning farming 
 — by hunting four days a -week — with Mr. 
 Noble. 
 
 " Here's Bowles," say two or three sports- 
 men ; "he can't find much to grumble at 
 to-day, anyhow." 
 
 As he rides up they greet him with a 
 
106 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 hearty "Good -morning, Major; lovely day, 
 isn't it ? " 
 
 "Lovely day? Lovely fiddlestick!" is 
 the reply. "Up to your neck in mud. 
 Country so heavy you can't ride, and then of 
 all places to pick out Mickleborough ! Why, 
 the water will be out all over the bottom. 
 But there, it's always the same. I told 
 Lappington he ought to meet at the 
 Kennels ; but nobody ever listens to me." 
 
 " Well, but Bowles," interrupts the Sec- 
 retary ; "we met at the Kennels the last 
 fixture before the frost." 
 
 "And you ought to meet the first day 
 after. By Heavens, I'd meet every day there 
 till the country was fit to ride," grumbles the 
 Major. "Look at the hounds too. Why, 
 Tom must have got the whole pack out, and 
 borrowed some besides. Now I ask you, can 
 we expect any sport with such a pack as 
 that ? 'Pon my soul the Hunt's going to the 
 devil." 
 
 " Short of work, Major ; must give 'em a 
 
TEE GRUMBLE B. 107 
 
 bit of exercise," puts iu the Huntsmun, as 
 Bowles rides off to anatliematise the landlord 
 of The Three Bells, for presuming to offer 
 
 him a glass of " d d muddy home-brewed," 
 
 calling, however, for a second edition of the 
 same. By this time the JMaster has arrived 
 and there is a general bustle, a tightening of 
 girths, a shortening of stirrups, and the usual 
 preparations for a start. The word goes round 
 that the first draw will he Mickleborough 
 AVood, and Tom with the hounds is already 
 on his way there before it reaches the ear of 
 the jMajor, at that moment engaged in an 
 altercation with his servant, who, according to 
 Bowles, has put a wrong bridle on his second 
 horse, but, according to the man himself, has 
 only obeyed his master's instructions. 
 
 No sooner does he hear the appointed place 
 than he gives np the bridle argument, and 
 making his way to where the ]\raster and 
 others are trotting down the lane, commences : 
 "You don't mean to say, Lappington, you're 
 going to put them into the AVood ? AVhy, we 
 
108 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 shall never get away, and the rides will be 
 impassable. My good sir, just think. Here, 
 some of you fellows, try and persuade him, 
 he never listens to me, nobody ever does ; " 
 addiug, under his breath, " never heard such 
 d d folly in my life.'' 
 
 " Why, Bowles," replies Sir John, laughing, 
 ''you said a minute ago that the bottoms 
 would be under water, and now you object to 
 the high ground. Where would you go to, 
 you old growler ? " 
 
 " Growler be hanged ; I never grumble. 
 But it is a little bit too much, when one comes 
 out for a day's hunting, to be turned loose into 
 a forest of trees ffrowins^ on a bos:. The man 
 who planted Mickleborough Wood ought 
 to have been hung," says Bowles. 
 
 What more he mis^lit have added will 
 never be known, for at this instant a rino-inor 
 view hollo is heard, and the hounds are away 
 full cry, a fox having jumped up in a spinney 
 on the road to the Wood. 
 
 *' Just like my luck," the Major is heard 
 
THE GRUMBLE B. 109 
 
 to ejaculate, as lie puts his nag at the fence 
 out of the lane. " Whenever I try and give 
 anybody advice they tell me I am growling. 
 Hold up, you awkward devil," to his horse, 
 who pecks a bit on landing. "And here have 
 I been wasting my time teaching a pack of 
 idiots how to hunt the country, and lost my 
 start." 
 
 After running hard for a quarter of an 
 hour, the hounds check in a road, half the pack 
 having flashed over the line. 
 
 o 
 
 Here the Major is in his glory, and holds 
 forth. " What did I say this morning ? If 
 they will bring out every hound in the kennel, 
 how can they expect them to hunt. Look 
 there, now ; look there. What the devil's the 
 use of taking them up the road ? The fox is 
 for'ard, I'll wager. Ton my oath, I believe 
 old Tom is getting past his work. There's 
 that young ass, Simms, too, messing about 
 — always in the way. I should like to know 
 how he finds time to hunt. Every farmer seems 
 to be able to do everything nowadays, and 
 
110 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 when they want to pay their corn-bill they 
 cry out about the weather and ask for a 
 reduction of rent." 
 
 " Not quite so bad as all that, Major/' 
 exclaim one or two farmers, who think it 
 time to stick up for their characters. "Not 
 quite so bad as all that. We likes to ride as 
 well as anyone, and we likes to see others enjoy 
 themselves over our land. But there, we know 
 you don't mean it." 
 
 Just then, as if to convict the Major, 
 Harbinger hits off the line up the road, and 
 they are away again a cracker, Bowles coming 
 in for plenty of chaff about the fox being 
 for'ard and Tom being past his work. 
 
 To give him his due, he was right when 
 he blamed the country, for it is precious heavy, 
 and plenty of grief is the order of the day. 
 The scent, too, improving with every hundred 
 yards, it becomes hard work to live with them. 
 Sir John, as usual, is w^ell ujd, and a few others 
 are close in his wake, among them Bowles, 
 whose coat, by-the-way, shows evident signs 
 
TEE GRUMBLER. Ill 
 
 of contact with mother- earth — a catastrophe 
 that was brought about, he says, " by the 
 idiotic way that people mend their fences, 
 with a great rail run through them." 
 
 However, when, after an hour and ten 
 minutes, they run to ground, even he is fain 
 to allow that they have had a real good thing, 
 though he qualifies the admission with a few 
 scathing remarks on the slovenly way in. which 
 the earths are stopped : "A disgrace to the 
 country, by Heaven!" 
 
 Eidino; home he asks a few men to dinner 
 the next day at his house, amongst them Sir 
 John Lappington and ]\lr. Wilson the Doctor 
 — in case of accidents, he says. His invitation 
 is eagerly accepted, for his dinners are pro- 
 verbial and his wine undeniable. To see him 
 at his own table you would scarcely know him 
 again for the same man. The grumbling has 
 all been got over before the guests arrive ; and 
 as you drive home — with that comfortable 
 feeling of .having dined well, wisely, and in 
 pleasant company — you bear away a cheerful 
 
112 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 remembrance of witty sayings and thorough 
 good-fellowship, of a countenance beaming 
 with fun, and stories which, if you wake in 
 the night and think of, will cause you to laugh 
 afresh. 
 
 Nearly all these happy feelings and 
 memories you may safely put down to the 
 skill of your host the Major, whose sole 
 failing, as I have said, lies in the fact that, 
 from habit, in the field, he has become a 
 Grumbler. 
 
THE LADY WHO HUNTS AND 
 RIDES. 
 
 WiLDMERE House is a favourite meet with the 
 Bullshire, consequently there is always a large 
 field out at that fixture, every class of sports- 
 man being represented, both those who mean 
 business and those who merely come to partake 
 of the good cheer ofi"ered them, and after- 
 wards, when hounds begin to run, retire into 
 the background, unless, indeed, some handy 
 highroad lies parallel to the chase, when they 
 reappear, splashed with mud, and enthusiastic 
 ad nauseam. 
 
 Most hospitable of entertainers is Colonel 
 Talford, who occupies The House ; and with 
 
114 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 his pretty wife to assist Mm, tliere is little 
 fear of any complaints being heard as to the 
 quality or quantity of the breakfast. Equally 
 certain is old Tom that a real straio;ht-necked 
 good-hearted fox is ready for him either in the 
 Home Wood or Eavenshill Copse, for the 
 Colonel makes it a rule with his keepers that 
 there shall be foxes, and they know well that 
 his rules are like the laws of the Medes and 
 Persians — unalterable. 
 
 " No foxes, no keepers," is what he says ; 
 and if the quarry is not forthcoming, unless 
 a very good reason can be given, go they 
 have to. 
 
 He once came upon Velveteens in the act 
 of burying a fox that he had trapped and 
 knocked on the head — or, to be more accurate, 
 Mrs. Talford, who was riding back from the 
 Dairy Farm, saw" the funeral going on, and 
 told her husband. The man was a new 
 keeper, who had been with him barely a 
 month, and as a keeper was considered quite 
 first-class. But there and then the Colonel 
 
TEE LADY WHO HUNTS AND BIDES. 115 
 
 went out, had the fox dug up, and made the 
 man take it over to Sir John Lappington, 
 riding himself all the way behind him to see 
 that he did it. 
 
 Through the main street of the village they 
 went in procession, the men (for it was even- 
 ing) turning out and hooting the unfortunate 
 vulpecide ; and when he had delivered his 
 burden and apologised, the Colonel said : "Now 
 you can go back and pack up your things ; 
 this is your last day in my service." His 
 wages were paid that night, and in spite of all 
 entreaties, the next day he left Colonel Talford 
 and Bullshire for ever. 
 
 It is a lovely morning as Tom rides up 
 with his beauties in front of the house, and, 
 saluting the host and hostess, tosses off the 
 glass of sparkling ale that is handed to him. 
 There had been a catch of frost on the 
 Monday, and folks learned in weather-lore 
 had predicted a hard time ; but nothing came 
 of it, for a shower of rain on Tuesday night 
 had utterly routed the destroyer of sport ; and 
 
 I 2 
 
116 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 on the Thursday at Wildmere it is as fine a 
 hunting-day as one could wish — if anything 
 perhaps a shade too warm. 
 
 " We must give them a few minutes, Sir 
 John," says Mrs. Talford to the Master, who 
 has just arrived. "The Melton train is late, 
 and there are always a few who honour us on 
 this occasion by trying to cut us all down." 
 
 " Certainly, Mrs. Talford," replies Lapping- 
 ton, smihng and taking out his watch. " We 
 will give them a quarter of an hour ; but you 
 need not be so fearfully sarcastic about the 
 Meltonians. I think it is generally the other 
 way. If I remember rightly, I have seen a 
 lady on a horse called Queen Bee who generally 
 requires a great deal of cutting down, and I 
 have heard it said that this same lady is 
 impossible to beat." 
 
 " Nonsense, Sir John ; you know that if I 
 do manage to get over the country it is all the 
 Queen's doing, not mine. She's a dear, is not 
 she ? But come in and have something ; my 
 husband wants to see you about drawing the 
 
THE LADY WHO HUNTS AND BIDES. 117 
 
 Copse first/' rejoins Mrs. Talford, lecading the 
 way into the dining-room, and evidently 
 pleased at the Master's flattery. 
 
 In a quarter of an hour, the Melton detach- 
 ment having come up, the signal is given to 
 move, and a long cavalcade trot off for Ravens - 
 hill. A minute or two later two horses are 
 seen cantering across the grass to catch up 
 the hounds ; one carries Colonel Talford, and 
 the other (the redoubtable Queen Bee) his 
 wife. 
 
 As they come up and press forward to 
 where Tom's white head is seen bobbing in 
 the middle of the pack, men point her out, 
 and you hear a whisper of "There she is, 
 that's her — riding the same horse too ; by 
 Jove, old fellow, it's all very well to say ' only 
 a woman,' but if you can beat her you'll do. 
 Why, the last time we met here she cut us all 
 down and hung us up to dry ; only rode one 
 horse all day. Dick Valpy had three out, 
 and you know how he can ride ; but I'm 
 blessed if he didn't get nearly drowned in 
 
118 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 tlie brook, while slie sailed over it as if it 
 was nothing. We'd been running for forty 
 minutes then, but she can save her horse as 
 well as ride, I can tell you." 
 
 Some who have not seen her express their 
 doubts, and vow that " No woman ever beat 
 them yet, and, by gad, sir, they never shall ; " 
 but they do not know Mrs. Talford or Queen 
 Bee, and before the day is over they will tell 
 another tale. 
 
 Yet you would never take her for a hard 
 rider, though anyone at a glance can see she 
 is a finished horsewoman. Nothing could 
 possibly be quieter than her turn-out. A 
 well-fitting, well-cut, rough cloth habit, rather 
 short; a neat white silk handkerchief tied and 
 folded round a high stand-up linen collar, just 
 showing, like a man's scarf, where the habit is 
 made with a step; a small black felt hat, of the 
 kind known as a " billycock," covering her 
 well-shaped head, the hair of which is gathered 
 into a small knot behind ; while in her hand 
 she carries a hunting-crop, made of a holly 
 
THE LADY WHO HUNTS AND BIDES. 119 
 
 that she herself cut from the lawn in front of 
 the house. 
 
 Her seat is easy yet firm, and very square 
 on her saddle. Those small hands too, which 
 look as if they could hurt no living thing, can 
 hold and control a puller with wondrous 
 power, a fact her horses seem to recognise 
 directly she takes up the reins of her bridle, 
 for they go so quietly under her hand that one 
 is forced to wonder what it was that made 
 them fret and tear in such a disagreeable way 
 
 when Mrs. A or Lady B— ^ — claimed 
 
 them for their own, in the days before they 
 found that they were " too much for them," and 
 had to sell them to the Colonel at a discount. 
 
 AVith all this, as she, having ranged up 
 alongside of the pack, pulls up Queen Bee into 
 a trot, and pats the neck of that more than 
 perfect animal, one cannot help a feehng of 
 astonishment that so slight and delicate- 
 looking a woman should be able to go so hard ; 
 and in our inmost hearts we feel that if w^e 
 could lay claim to half as straight a course as 
 
120 3IEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 Mrs. Talford we should not hide our light 
 quite so much under a bushel as she does. 
 
 They are close to the Copse now, and Mrs. 
 Talford and the Colonel slip down to the far 
 side with Charles ; the right of proprietorship 
 allowing this, which is courteously yet firmly 
 forbidden to the rest of the field. 
 
 "Gentlemen," says the Master, "for your 
 own sport I wish the whole of the left side 
 and bottom of the covert kept free. It's a 
 clear start either way, therefore I must beg 
 you not to get for'ard. Give the fox a chance, 
 and then, so long as you don't ride over the 
 hounds, go as you like." 
 
 Someone suggests that the Colonel and his 
 wife have gone down to the bottom, whereupon 
 Sir John shuts him up by saying: " That, sir, 
 is only another reason why nobody else should 
 go. When we draw your coverts we will allow 
 you to go where you like, and keep the rest 
 out of your way." 
 
 As the individual happens to be a gentle- 
 man who has only that season come down to 
 
THE LADY WHO HUNTS AND RIDES. ]21 
 
 Bullsliire, aud has not subscribed as yet to the 
 hounds, the remark causes a general titter, and 
 the man wishes he had not spoken. 
 
 His discomfiture is, however, of short 
 duration, for at this instant the hounds find, 
 and from the chorus and way they rattle him 
 up and down the covert it is clear that they 
 are not far behind their fox. Two rino^s round 
 the Wood and he finds it too hot to hold him, 
 so away he goes across the slope in full view 
 of the whole field. 
 
 " Hold hard one moment, gentlemen," 
 shouts the Master, as Tom, horn in hand, tops 
 the wood fence, and claps the hounds on to 
 the line. 
 
 " Now " — and a hundred or more horses 
 are rattling down the hill towards the fence at 
 the bottom. 
 
 Some visibly diminish their pace as they 
 near the obstacle, and some make a determined 
 point to the gate in the corner, which a 
 friendly yeoman is holding open. But there 
 is little time to notice all this, for the pace is 
 
122 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 a cracker, and the scent is breast-liigb. Two 
 or three loose horses are careering about the 
 next field, and two or three dismounted riders 
 are running after them. 
 
 " Catch hold, sir," says young Simms, as 
 he stops one of the horses and delivers him up 
 to his owner ; " catch hold — I can't stop ; " 
 and he is over the next bank and ditch before 
 the spilt one has recovered the effects of his 
 acrobatic performance. 
 
 Such a jam at the double post and rails I 
 There are but three or four negotiable places, 
 and everybody is racing for them madly. 
 The Parson and the Doctor fly them together, 
 and so shake themselves clear of the ruck, 
 while a hard-riding Meltonian carries away a 
 heap of them. 
 
 But where is Mrs. Talford ? 
 
 There she is on the left, close to the hounds, 
 yet well wide of them, slipping along with an 
 easy grace, looking as if she was merely 
 cantering, Queen Bee taking everything before 
 her, and making as little of the fences as if 
 
THE LADY WEO HUNTS AND BIDES. 123 
 
 they were the lowest of hurdles. How the 
 deuce did she get there ? everybody who has 
 time to notice her wonders. But no one ever 
 knows how she does get anywhere. No matter 
 what sort of a start she gets, unless hopelessly 
 thrown out Mrs. Talford before long is certain 
 to be found sailing along in close proximity to 
 the hounds. 
 
 Presently they come to a check in the road, 
 but it is only for a minute, for Beadsman hits 
 off the line on the far side, over the wall, and 
 across the fallows. Some of the road-riders 
 come up at this moment, and stare blankly at 
 the wall. One, a stranger, seeing a lady, and 
 not knowing who she is, vainly endeavours to 
 open the gate (a low one), which is locked, and 
 thereby prevents anybody else getting over. 
 
 " Thank you, sir ; I think I can manage 
 it," is all Mrs. Talford says in her quiet way, 
 and in another minute the would-be " ^q,\w- 
 opener " is greeted with a sight of Queen Bee's 
 hind feet, and the lady has resumed her former 
 place with the hounds. 
 
124 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 " Well done, Mrs. Colonel ! " says old Tom 
 (he always calls her Mrs. Colonel). " We shall 
 show them the road again to-day. It's the 
 old line, straight for Marston. Hold up," to 
 his horse, who dropped his hind legs in a 
 ditch. " Yonder he goes," as he catches sight 
 of the fox making the best of his way up the 
 rising ground in the distance ; and, contrary to 
 his usual custom, he catches hold of the hounds 
 and lifts them for nearly half a mile, thereby 
 cutting off a big slice. 
 
 " Oh Tom, you shouldn't have done that," 
 says Mrs. Talford, as soon as they have settled 
 on to the line again. " They were hunting 
 beautifully." 
 
 " Don't mean anyone to get in front of the 
 Queen, Mrs. Colonel, this time," is all he 
 vouchsafes as they gallop down a lane, thereby 
 savinoj their horses, and nickins: in aajain at 
 the corner. A hollo from the right, close in 
 front of the hounds, shows the rest of the field 
 that the end is approaching, and the Melton 
 detachment are riding their hardest to catch 
 
THE LADY WHO HUNTS AND BIDES. 125 
 
 the Bullshire lady; but the only men who have 
 as yet succeeded are Mr. Halston, the Master, 
 and old Simms. 
 
 " It's over the brook, for a hundred, sir," 
 shouts Tom, and he is right. With a splash 
 that sends the water sparkling high in the air, 
 the whole pack dash in, and are away on the 
 other side racing in view. 
 
 " Surely she's not going to ride at that," 
 men say to each other as Mrs. Talford catches 
 her mare by the head. 
 
 But she is ; and, with Sir John on the one 
 side and the Parson on the other, she skims 
 over like a bird. Old Tom's horse is done, 
 and refuses, but being crammed at it again 
 just gets over with a scramble. The rest ride 
 at it in a body, some in, some over; some 
 think better of it and turn back ; but before 
 any but the leading quartet are well over. 
 Sir John's "who-whoop" rings out clear and 
 loud, and tells them that they have again been 
 beaten by " only a woman." 
 
THE LADY WHO HUNTS AND 
 DOES NOT RIDE. 
 
 If anyone could be found rash enough to 
 hint to Mrs. Poison that in the hunting- 
 field she was, to say the least of it, rather 
 a bore than otherwise, the look of undis- 
 guised astonishment with which that indi- 
 vidual's remarks would be met, ought, if 
 he had any right feeling, to convince him 
 that he was wrong ; and that, if there was 
 a woman in this world who was a useful 
 addition to the Hunt, and who, wherever 
 and whenever she thought proper to grace 
 the scene, was always rapturously welcomed, 
 that woman was Mrs. Poison, wife of Joseph 
 
LADY WHO HUNTS AND DOES NOT RIDE. 127 
 
 Poison, Esq., M.P., better known as The Right 
 Hon. J. P. 
 
 Although as yet no one has dared to 
 breathe a word to the lady herself, there are 
 men, and a large number to boot, who, among 
 themselves, vote her a nuisance ; in fact they 
 have been known to say that she is " One of 
 the most infernal nuisances out. Always in 
 the way. Never happy unless she is talking 
 horse and hound, and for ever trying to catcli 
 some unfortunate novice 'just to give her a 
 lead here, or to open a gate there ; ' while to 
 answer her questions a man needs to be a 
 walking glossary." 
 
 I am afraid there is a deal of truth in 
 what these unappreciative men say, for Mrs. 
 Poison before she w^as married had never got 
 farther in the equestrian art than an occa- 
 sional ride on a shaggy pony when staying 
 with her aunt in Devonshire, or the haute 
 ecole as practised up and down the King's 
 Road at so much per hour when staying with 
 her uncle at Brighton. 
 
128 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 It was at tlie latter place that slie met 
 good-natured easy-going Joseph Poison ; and 
 when her father, who was rector of a small 
 parish in Dorset, heard that his Letty had 
 said " Yes " to a rich man, there were great 
 rejoicings at the parsonage, for she was one of 
 seven, and the living being by no means a 
 large one, Mr. Becket found some difficulty in 
 making both ends meet. 
 
 However, no sooner had she married Poison 
 and settled down in Bullshire as the Member's 
 wife, than she must needs become a hunting- 
 woman, and, as a hunting-woman and the 
 Member's wife, give herself airs. Perhaps 
 among her acquaintances there is no one that 
 she hates with such a cordial hatred as poor 
 unoffending Mrs. Talford, for although when 
 she meets her the greeting (on her side at all 
 events) is most effusive, still, deep down in her 
 memory, rankles a speech that she once over- 
 heard Mrs. Talford make to her husband. She 
 had come up rather late, just as the hounds 
 were moving off, and the Colonel and his wife, 
 
LADY WHO HUNTS AND DOES NOT RIDE. 129 
 
 ignorant of her proximity, were discussing lier 
 powers of riding. 
 
 " My dear," said the Colonel, " I have not 
 seen Mrs. Poison. Have you ? " 
 
 "No," replied Mrs. Talford ; ''I don't 
 suppose she is coming ; it's rather a stiff 
 country to-day ; " and then, laughing, " how 
 glad young Mr. Bevan will be. He said that 
 she tacked herself on to him at Deanfield the 
 other day, and after she had bored his life out 
 for more than an hour, and made him open at 
 least twenty gates, she asked him to come 
 over some day and look at her hunters. It's a 
 pity somebody can't tell her that men hate 
 being bothered in the hunting-field." 
 
 Mrs. Poison's sudden appearance stopped 
 further conversation on the subject. But 
 from her over-affectionate manner ever since, 
 Mrs. Talford knows perfectly well that the 
 unlucky speech went farther than it was 
 intended. 
 
 " Good morning, Tom. Got the dog-pack 
 out to-day, I see, looking none the worse for 
 
130 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 Saturday," says Mrs. Poison as she rides up, 
 followed by a groom bearing at bis back a 
 large sandwich-case, and at his saddle-bow 
 a holster-flask filled with sherry and water 
 (for the Member's wife does not see the fun 
 of hunting without her luncheon). 
 
 *' Get away, good dog, get away ; ' war 
 boss,' " to Bellman, who leaves the main body 
 of the pack in order to make a closer inspection 
 of Mrs. P. or the sandwich-case. 
 
 "Mornin', mum," replies old Tom, doffing 
 his cap ; and then to avoid further conversa- 
 tion he calls away Bellman and trots off to 
 a distant point, bringing the hounds back at a 
 walk to allow time for her to " collar someone 
 else," as he puts it. 
 
 While he is away on his little tour we may 
 just glance at the external appearance of the 
 Members wife. Certainly she is not a good 
 riding figure, being of the order *' dumpy," 
 and her seat in the saddle reminds one 
 strongly of a plum-pudding on a dish. Her 
 habit is a close copy of Mrs. Talford's, with 
 
LADY WEO HUNTS AND DOES NOT BIDE. 131 
 
 the exception that it is much exaggerated. 
 In the front of the collar, which is turned 
 over, is displayed an elaborate necktie, with a 
 fox's head painted on crystal as a pin, two 
 heads of the same pattern serving as studs 
 for her wristbands. She also affects the 
 hunt-button, plain brass, with " B.H." in a 
 monoofram : and a hat-2ruard made of a small 
 gold chain, secured to a most curly-brimmed 
 hat by a fox's tooth, completes the dress ; 
 while the hunting-crop she carries in her fat 
 little pudgy hand is more fitted for a First 
 Whip than a lady, being, both heavy and 
 cumbersome. 
 
 Tom evidently knows her pretty well, for 
 before he returns from his self-imposed trot to 
 his original place, Mrs. Poison has "collared 
 someone else," and is making herself agreeable 
 (or trying to) to two strangers who are staying 
 with the Master for a week, and whom she 
 has met at dinner at Lappington. A small 
 group standing a little way off, after bowing, 
 smile among themselves and pity the inno- 
 
 K 2 
 
132 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 cent strangers who, as young Bevan says, are 
 "being let in for a day in waiting." "It's 
 a shame of Lappington not to have put them 
 on their guard," he continues ; " I shall tell 
 him so." 
 
 " She landed you once, Bevan, did not 
 she ? " asks another, laughing. 
 
 "Yes, but never again," is the reply. 
 " Five-and-twenty gates to open, a treatise 
 on scent, the pedigree of every hound in 
 the pack, and some weak sherry-and-water, 
 hardly compensate one for missing one of 
 the best things of the season. By gad, we 
 never saw hounds from the time they found 
 till they killed, and yet to hear the woman 
 talk, you would fancy she was in the first 
 flight all the way. Look out, she is bear- 
 ing down on us ; " and the little group dis- 
 perse, each one seemingly having caught 
 sight of a man in the distance that he 
 "must speak to for a moment." 
 
 Time's up now, and they move off to the 
 big wood, Mrs. P. closely attended by the two 
 
LADY WnO HUNTS AND DOES NOT BIDE. 133 
 
 strangers, to whom she has promised to show 
 the country. They feel obliged, or rather 
 under an obliofation to her, and do not like 
 to leave her side, though both think they 
 would rather see the country for themselves 
 without a cicerone. It is her day all over, 
 for it is even betting they do not get out 
 of the wood ; and even if they do, what so 
 convenient as a false turn down a ride that 
 leads to nowhere ? By the time they get 
 outside hounds will be well away, and the 
 only chance of catching them will be through 
 that line of gates that Mrs. Poison knows so 
 well. 
 
 As they come up to the wood the trio find 
 their progress barred by a low rail, over which 
 Tom has popped, followed by a good many 
 of the field. The two strangers naturally 
 suppose that so great a sportswoman as Mrs. 
 Poison will make nothing of a small obstacle 
 like the one before them, so one politely gives 
 her a lead over, turning round on the other 
 side to say : *' It's rather a boggy place on the 
 
134 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 left, but if you jump well to the right you 
 will find it quite firm," while the other holds 
 back till the lady has successfully negotiated 
 the fence. 
 
 They are a little surprised when she says, 
 in the blandest possible tones : " I hope you 
 will not think me a bore, but there is nothing 
 I dislike so much as jumping in cold blood. 
 It only takes it out of one's horse for nothing. 
 If you would not mind taking that rail down 
 — it drops off easily — I should be so much 
 obliged." 
 
 This necessitates someone dismounting, 
 and the man who gave the lead over has 
 to get off and stand in a pool of muddy 
 water, which he feels oozing through his 
 boots, while he struggles manfully with the 
 offending rail. At last his efforts are success- 
 ful. Mrs. Poison gallops triumphantly through, 
 splashing him all over as she passes. 
 
 "Oh, I am so sorry," she exclaims, when 
 she sees what she has done. " It is my naughty 
 horse ; he can't bear to be kept waiting." 
 
LADY WHO HUNTS AND DOES NOT BIDE. 135 
 
 The splashed one is too polite to say much, 
 but that does not prevent him from " think- 
 ing a lot ; " and as he wipes the mud from 
 his face he registers a vow to give my lady 
 the slip on the first possible opportunity. 
 This comes shortly, for a few minutes later 
 there is an unmistakable find, and the hounds 
 are seen tearing through the underwood to the 
 right. 
 
 " This way — this way," pants Mrs. Poison, 
 makinoj the best of her road for a ojate in an 
 exactly opposite direction ; " they are sure to 
 turn to the left, and we shall be all right." 
 
 A view hollo on the right, followed by 
 Tom's horn, decides the mud - bespattered 
 gentleman, and he turns off, galloping down a 
 ride which, as far as he can judge, leads to 
 where he hears the hounds. He arrives just 
 in time to see them top the bank, and when 
 he finds himself well out of the wood, with 
 some seven or eight men and one lady, who 
 have got an equally good start, he congratu- 
 lates himself on having escaped, and thinks 
 
136 IIEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 liow his friend must be gnashing his teeth. 
 Luck, however, favours Mrs. Poison, for the 
 hounds swing round to the left, and she and 
 her attendant squire ride through a hand-gate 
 just as they go by. "There, I told you we 
 should be all right," she says, highly gratified 
 with herself, yet the while casting an anxious 
 glance round the field for a gate which is 
 nowhere visible. 
 
 " For'ard on ; he's away over the plough, 
 Tom," shouts Sir John as he gallops up ; and 
 they race him down towards a most uncom- 
 promising-looking stake and bound. Mrs. 
 Talford is first over, and her husband follows 
 close in her wake. The emancipated sports- 
 man goes next, and barely saves a fall ; then 
 comes a farmer on a stout cob, who goes 
 crash through the whole fabric, rolling him- 
 self far into the next field, while the cob 
 reposes in the ditch. However he has made 
 a most convenient gap, at which the Member's 
 wife keeps a score or more impatient people 
 waiting, while she, holding her steed tight 
 
LADY WHO EUNTS AND DOES NOT RIDE. 137 
 
 by the head, vainly endeavours to summon 
 up sufficient courage to ride him over the 
 place. 
 
 " Hang the woman ; she's an impostor," 
 mutters Stranger No. 2, now thoroughly 
 exasperated, as he sees his friend sailing 
 merrily away in the distance. 
 
 " Oh dear, I am afraid you must think me 
 very tiresome," said Mrs. Poison to him ; " I 
 never knew my horse to refuse before ; there 
 must be something wrong with him. Please 
 don't wait for me ; " and, turning to her sand- 
 wich-bearer : " John, follow me down into the 
 lane ; I am afraid one of the horse's shoes are 
 loose." Again, to her squire : "Please go on, 
 I will catch you up again directly ; " and she 
 goes off to the road, where of course John 
 finds the shoes, as he knew he would, per- 
 fectly tight. " Thank goodness for that," thinks 
 her ex-equerry-in-waiting, making best haste 
 to get to the hounds again ; and as he manages 
 to come up with them while Tom is making a 
 cast, he tells his host the Master that he owes 
 
138 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 him one for not putting him up to Mrs. P. and 
 her riding powers. 
 
 Sir John laughs and says : " All right, old 
 boy, you won't see her again till we have 
 killed or lost and are going to draw for a 
 fresh one. She will have finished her lunch 
 by then ; but I daresay there will be some 
 sherry-and- water left for you as a reward." 
 
 Before his marriage the hon. Member for 
 BuUshire was a most punctual man ; but now, 
 somehow, he always turns up late, and is 
 seldom, if ever, seen at the meet, or till 
 hounds are running, when he will suddenly 
 appear riding as forward as ever. When 
 asked by his friends the reason for this 
 strange behaviour, he merely winks and looks 
 over towards where his estimable spouse may 
 be seen in the far distance pounding along 
 through the gates, followed by the faithful 
 John with the luncheon. 
 
THE SCHOOLBOYS. 
 
 For the last week parents have been receiving 
 letters from young hopeful, in which allusions 
 have been make to the absolute necessity of 
 sending by return of post some more pocket- 
 money wherewith to liquidate sundry small 
 accounts, and to enable him to give his friends 
 who are " leaving this half " some presents. 
 
 Most of the documents have wound up 
 with the announcement that there are only 
 three or four days to the holidays, and with 
 requests that John, or Thomas, or Sam may 
 be told to get the pony fit for them to ride. 
 In some instances the father, or, as the 
 " young gentleman " prefers to call him, " the 
 
140 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 governor," has been reminded of his promise 
 to buy a new horse ; and as he knows full 
 well that unless he does so the word "peace," 
 so far as he is concerned, may be scratched 
 out of the dictionary, Jimmy Holden is called 
 into council and the animal is procured. 
 
 As the down-train runs into Lappington 
 Station, four or five eager faces may be seen, 
 one over the other, filling up the window of 
 the railway carriage ; and before the train has 
 well stopped four or five equally eager bodies 
 jump out ; and the porters, without waiting 
 for instructions, immediately proceed to empty 
 the compartment of rugs, sticks, two-shilling 
 novels, bags, and the numerous other items 
 which invariably accompany a boy on his 
 return from school. 
 
 " There's the governor, Charlie," says a 
 bright-looking lad to his schoolfellow, whom 
 he has brought home with him for the first 
 fortnight of the holidays. 
 
 " How are you, Dick ? and how is the 
 pony V exclaims another, addressing the neat- 
 
THE SCHOOLBOYS. 141 
 
 looking servant, who is evidently as pleased to 
 see his young master as that worthy is to have 
 put by his books for a time. 
 
 " No signs of frost ; we shall be out to- 
 morrow at The Grange," shouts a third, as he 
 disappears within the portals of the booking- 
 ofiSce. 
 
 The hero of the hour, however, is Harold 
 Lappington, Sir John's youngest brother, a 
 tall good-looking young fellow, who in the 
 field is known to combine the fearlessness of 
 youth with the knowledge of old age. He has 
 come that morning from Eton, where he has 
 been keeping his hand in by hunting the 
 college beagles. Old Tom and his brother 
 have come to meet him, and many of the 
 other boys envy him the honour of shaking 
 hands with so great a man as the Huntsman. 
 
 " By Guy, MaysLer Harold, but you are 
 growed, looking well and all," says Tom ; and 
 then, turning to the Master : " Eh, Sii* John, 
 ay's gettin' a rare-topped 'un." 
 
 " By Jove, Tom, there's no need to ask 
 
142 IfEN' WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 how you are, you're looking as fit as a fiddle. 
 Is tliat young gray horse fit for me to ride ? 
 The one you had at the kennels, I mean," 
 ejaculates Harold ; and, receiving an answer in 
 the afiirmative, walks ofi" with Sir John to 
 where an obsequious porter is hoisting his 
 traps into a dog- cart which is standing 
 outside. 
 
 " Here, John," he says to his brother, as he 
 jumps up, /'I'm going to drive." 
 
 "Not if I know it," repHes the Master. 
 " I have not forgotten that last exploit of 
 yours, when you upset me over a heap of 
 stones." 
 
 But of course the boy has his way, and 
 with a " Good-night, Tom," and a wave of the 
 hand, they rattle round the corner, shaving the 
 gate-post so close as to cause the Master to 
 clench his teeth and hold on like grim death. 
 
 "Well," mutters Tom, when they are out 
 of sight, " there'll be some riding to-morrow, 
 I know, and some tumbling too. I 'opes we 
 gets away quick, for though I loves to see the 
 
TBI] SCHOOLBOYS. 143 
 
 lads go, they do myther (bother) me terrible 
 at the first ; " and he turns up the road 
 towards the kennels, exchanging Good-nights 
 and bright hopes for the morrow with the 
 young occupants of the various traps as they 
 pass him on their way to their respective 
 homes. 
 
 By ten o'clock the next morning the 
 road to The Grange is lively with the usual 
 symptoms of a meet. Grooms with led-horses 
 are riding alongside the tax-cart of the butcher 
 or baker. Men and boys on foot keep up that 
 peculiar kind of shuffle, half run, half walk, 
 which is seen nowhere save in the country. 
 The keeper and the poacher jostle one another 
 and combine to chaff the merry vendor of 
 crockery and hardware who, perched on the 
 top of his wares and drawn by his trotting 
 "moke," has chosen the centre of the road, 
 somewhat to the inconvenience of those in his 
 rear. 
 
 He is well able to hold his own, and gives 
 as much as he gets. Indeed, in the matter of 
 
144 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 chaff, it takes the allied forces all their time to 
 keep on even terms until they overtake the 
 local policeman, when the channel of wit and 
 repartee is diverted against "poor Robert," 
 who of course being ignominiously defeated 
 at once, takes refuge under official dignity, 
 and thinks of the time when his turn will 
 come. 
 
 The keepers have held aloof from the latter 
 entertainment, for it would not be right to 
 make a butt of the Law, they think ; and so, 
 joining him, all proceed towards The Grange 
 as merry as crickets. Presently there is a 
 shout from behind, and turning round they 
 see old Tom and the pack, with many a bit of 
 pink in his wake, and, what is more (in their 
 own eyes, at all events), many an emancipated 
 schoolboy. 
 
 " Lend us one of them dorgs to run under 
 my carriage," says the itinerant hardware 
 merchant as they pass him. 
 
 Tom rather winces at the word " dorgs " 
 being applied to his darlings, and is preparing 
 
TEE SCHOOLBOYS. 145 
 
 a stinging rejoinder; but before it is ready, 
 Eton, Harrow, Kugby, and Winchester have 
 (verbally) fallen on the rash jester and silenced 
 him completely. 
 
 However, he manages to make his way to 
 The Grange, and while there disposes of some 
 of his crockery, and drinks Tom's health in 
 some of Mr. Boulter's beer, calling him, by- 
 the-way, " Lord Topboots." 
 
 Such greetings and chaff, too, among lads ! 
 Criticisms of their respective animals, mutual 
 challenges, and hurried arrangements for all 
 sorts of sport. The Secretary is not forgotten 
 either, and various inquiries are made con- 
 cerning " his last speech and what time he 
 came home." At last the Master and his 
 brother Harold drive up, and in a few 
 moments are mounted and ready. One glass 
 of sherry "Just to keep the Secretary in tune," 
 as Harold says, and Tom, getting a nod, trots 
 off to the wood about half a mile away. 
 
 " Charles," says he to the First Whip, " you 
 get down to corner, and if so be as t' fox breaks, 
 
146 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 dunna hollo ; just crack yer whip when ay's 
 well away. Maybe then I shall have a chance 
 of getting hounds on to the line." 
 
 On the road to the wood there are two 
 small fences, and though the gates are open 
 wide, with the exception of Harold Lapping- 
 ton, every boy has his pony over, into, or 
 through them. A fall or two brings down 
 a torrent of jeers on the unfortunates, and 
 one youngster in particular, who goes career- 
 ing round the field, half on, half off his animal, 
 is most productive of sport. 
 
 " Stick to him, Johnny," shout some ; 
 *' he's off ; no he isn't ; well saved," as, more 
 by good luck than good management, he 
 regains his seat, and comes back looking 
 rather crestfallen. Some of the farmers think 
 for a moment of their fences and what a lot of 
 " making up " there will be on the morrow ; 
 but the joyous faces and boisterous spirits of 
 the schoolboys are infectious, and they feel 
 with old Simms, who "said, when last year 
 they broke three of his gates down and let 
 
TEE SCHOOLBOYS. 147 
 
 his slieep out all over the country : " We 
 were all boys once, and not a bit better. 
 Bless 'em, they don't mean any harm, and 
 I love 'em." 
 
 The first draw is a blank, much to the 
 disappointment of all. Boulter in particular, 
 for he catches it most unmercifully from all 
 his young friends. 
 
 A move is then made for a piece of rough 
 stufi* called Shepherd's Gorse. Sir John has a 
 difficult task to keep his field in order here, 
 for it is a crooked in-and-out-shaped place, 
 and the ponies will creep forward into for- 
 bidden corners. As fast as he orders one 
 back he finds another expectant and over- 
 anxious youth somewhere else. 
 
 However, they are not kept long in 
 suspense, for a quick find is followed by a 
 ringing "Gone away," and his field gallop 
 round to find Tom and the pack sailing along 
 merrily, he having slipped ofi" with the hounds 
 well on to the line before he vouchsafed to 
 
 proclaim his departure. 
 
 L 2 
 
148 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 Hard work it is to catch tliem, for they are 
 racing with a scent breast-high, but the 
 schoolboys sit down and send their ponies 
 along with a will, thinking no more of the 
 bisc bank and ditch that confront them than 
 they would if it was only a broken sheep- 
 hurdle. Harold Lappington is first down to 
 it, and his young gray pecks badly on the 
 far side, for the animal is a bit fresh and 
 over-jumps himself. Harold's fine seat, how- 
 ever, saves him from a fall, and turning round 
 to where he sees young Charlie Whistler riding 
 his pony, scarce thirteen hands three inches in 
 height, at the biggest place he can find, he 
 shouts : ** Steady, Charlie ; it's too big for you ; 
 take it in two, on and off." 
 
 " Go on," replies the monkey, " I'm 
 
 all " he would have said "right," but 
 
 as , he was turning head over heels like a 
 rabbit before he could finish his sentence, he 
 found further conversation somewhat difficult. 
 Next in order came two hard-riding members 
 with Sir John and Mrs. Talford, and then a 
 
THE SCnOOLBOYS. UO 
 
 whole crowd of horses and ponies, u good 
 many of which plumbed the depths of the 
 ditch on the landing-side. It is wonderful 
 what a good pony will do with a resolute 
 youngster on his back. Where it can't jump 
 it will creep or climb, and generally manages 
 to pull through somehow or other ; but this 
 particular fence is a rasper to commence with, 
 and in most cases the cause of grief is over- 
 excitement. 
 
 " You're a nice sort of fellow, Tom, slipping 
 off like that," says Harold, as he comes up 
 with the old Huntsman, who is gnashing his 
 teeth because they've checked, and " Them 
 blessed lads will be all among t' hounds again." 
 '* What did you do it for ? " he continues. 
 "Ah Mayster Harold; must get a start, 
 or we should never get through all them 
 ponies," replies Tom. " Here they come, by 
 gad. That's it, praise the Lord," as the 
 hounds hit it off just as the rest arrive. 
 
 " For'ard on," yell the lads, as pleased as 
 Punch to have caught the hounds again. 
 
150 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 "Harold, it's my idea the fox will make 
 over the Swill," says Sir John to his brother, 
 as they gallop along the grass. "There are 
 two or three deuced stiff ploughs before we 
 get there, and as you can't jump it we had 
 better take the road and round by the 
 bridge." 
 
 " Not I ; I'm going with the hounds," 
 replies Harold. "If they go over I can but 
 go in and out." 
 
 " Don't you be a fool," retorts the Master. 
 " By Jove, I'm right ! it is for the Swill," as 
 the hounds swung to the left towards the 
 line of pollards that denote the course of that 
 "meandering streamlet." 
 
 " Hold hard, young gentlemen, hold hard," 
 roars Tom, as they hang for a moment on the 
 plough, and five or six reeking ponies get 
 unpleasantly near his darlings. "You canna 
 jump Swill ; you must go round by t' bridge." 
 
 But they pay no heed to either him or 
 paternal warning, and pound away over the 
 plough towards the willows. 
 
TSE SCHOOLBOYS. 151 
 
 "Here, I'm dashed if some on 'em won't 
 get drownded, for they'll have it, as sure as 
 my name's Wilding," he continues. 
 
 The two Simms and a few adventurous 
 spirits follow in the wake of the lads, while 
 the rest of the field follow the Master to 
 the bridge. As the hounds plunge in Tom 
 gallops off for the same goal, saying : " This 
 way, young gents, this way." He might as 
 well have spared his breath, for Eton is not 
 going to be beaten by Harrow, nor Winchester 
 by Rugby, nor Clifton by any of them, and 
 the rivals feel the honour of their schools to 
 be at stake. Harold again heads the charge, 
 and the young 'un makes a gallant effort^ 
 just getting his fore-legs on the opposite bank. 
 Quick as thought the boy is over his head on 
 terra fir ma, while the gray falls back into 
 the brook. " Bravo," shout the rest of the 
 field, "bravo!" and, as his horse scrambles 
 out, Harold's heart swells with pride, and he 
 says to his brother : " The dear old school 
 bested them all" 
 
162 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 Harrow, Rugby, Winchester, and Clifton, 
 all go at it in a lump, and all four are 
 splashing about together, when little Phillips, 
 a lad of twelve, who has just completed his 
 first half at Marlborough, comes down, and 
 handling his rat of a pony down the bank, 
 the pair swim across, and out the other side 
 they scramble, the urchin shouting at the top 
 of his voice : " Hooray, Eton first, Marlborough 
 second." 
 
 All, happily, manage, contrary to Tom's 
 expectations, to escape being "drownded;" 
 and, wet as they are, ride harder than ever 
 to make up their " leeway." 
 
 About a mile farther on the fox is viewed 
 heading straight for Braby Main Earths, where 
 he goes to ground with the pack close at his 
 brush. Then paternal authority asserts itself, 
 and the dripping schoolboys are promptly 
 ordered home. They plead hard to stay, 
 but paterfamilias is firm, and the lads turn 
 to go with a last wistful look at Tom and the 
 hounds. 
 
THE SCHOOLBOYS. 153 
 
 It is late in the afternoon, and they have 
 had a right down good gallop, thinks Sir 
 John ; so turning to the field he says : "Gentle- 
 men, I shall send the hounds home. We will 
 call this the schoolboys' day, and I am sure 
 after the way they have ridden it would be a 
 shame to go on without them." 
 
THE BOASTER. 
 
 If one could only believe one quarter of 
 the strange adventures, hairbreadth escapes, 
 and marvellous performances in the field of 
 which Mr. Story says he has been the hero, 
 one might well set him down as a wonderful 
 Nimrod. But, unfortunately, veracity does 
 not form part of his character. He is good- 
 natured, generous, hospitable, and amusing, 
 yet one of the most confirmed liars in the 
 country. 
 
 Not that he is what is known as a harmful 
 liar, for he would as soon think of telling an 
 anecdote reflecting on the character of any of 
 his friends or acquaintances as he would of 
 
TEE BOASTER. 155 
 
 picking their pockets. No, his embroidery is 
 strictly personal. It appertains solely to what 
 he has done or can do, and such a habit has 
 this become with him that he firmly believes 
 every word he says, and will pledge his 
 honour that such and such a thing happened, 
 that he did this or that, the while relating 
 some performance that effectually puts that 
 prince of fibbers Baron Munchausen in the 
 background. 
 
 Nothing seems to cure him. Over and 
 over again has lie been caught out by a 
 sceptical audience, who have then and there 
 endeavoured to put him to the blush, but 
 it has been of no avail, for two minutes 
 afterwards he will be romancing away as 
 gaily as ever on some fresh subject. Men 
 have got tired of trying to break him of 
 it, and now only sit and laugh, acknowledging 
 that " Old Story is devilish good fun though 
 he is such a thundering liar." 
 
 Of course in the hunting-field he is the 
 veriest impostor that ever got on a horse, 
 
156 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 never, if he can possibly help it, leaving 
 the glorious safety of the hard highway. 
 Yet the description of the run as told by 
 him in the evening fairly takes your breath 
 away, and, supposing you to be a stranger, 
 makes you feel that you have come into 
 a country the like of which you have never 
 seen. 
 
 Sheep-hurdles are (according to Mr. Story) 
 five-barred gates, the smallest ditch a veritable 
 river ; and as he turns to some one or the 
 other guest at his table and says : " Did 
 you notice that horse I was riding to-day ? 
 Deuced clever animal, I can tell you. Jumped 
 a double post and rails with about twelve 
 foot of water on the far side, and made 
 nothing of them, 'pon my honour ! " you 
 wonder whether there are many fences of 
 the same species to be encountered, or many 
 horses with the same supreme contempt for 
 them to be picked up in Bullshire. 
 
 Once in his life he did jump a brook, 
 and it is even betting that before you have 
 
THE BOASTER. 157 
 
 been long in his presence he will tell you 
 all about it, though his version of the 
 occurrence differs slightly from that of those 
 who saw it. 
 
 They had been having a very slow 
 hunting-run on a cold scent, barely out of 
 a trot most of the time, the hounds picking 
 it out inch by inch, and at last they came 
 to a dead lock in a field, round two-thirds 
 of which ran the Marston brook. Mr. Story, 
 who had been as usual very prominent in 
 the centre of the road, which ran conveniently 
 adjacent, thought he might as well turn into 
 the field through the gate, which he did. 
 
 Unfortunately for him there was a bull in 
 the corner, which neither he nor anyone 
 else had noticed, and just as the gate 
 swung to and latched again, the hounds 
 hit off the line and went over the brook. 
 At the same moment the bull, having lashed 
 himself into a rage, and maddened by the 
 cry of the hounds, singled out Story's red 
 coat and charged down on him. This 
 
158 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 startled his gallant steed. Away he went, 
 followed by the bull, and, to everyone's 
 intense astonishment and amusement. Story 
 was seen on his horse's neck well over 
 the water. 
 
 He himself will tell you that he cut 
 the whole field down — " Pounded them, 
 sir, on my honour, at the brook;" but the 
 real facts of the case are those I have just 
 narrated. 
 
 Most particular is Mr. Story as to his 
 external appearance, and the bows of his 
 well-fitting leathers are tied with a mathe- 
 matical accuracy attainable only by long 
 and patient manipulation, aided by the 
 use 'of various scientific instruments, such 
 as pincers and button-hooks, of which he 
 keeps a large assortment. His necktie is 
 the envy of half the men in the field, while 
 the peculiar shade of his tops has caused 
 more envy, hatred, and malice among the 
 valets than one would have believed possible. 
 
 It is very fine to hear the contemptuous 
 
THE BOASTEB. 159 
 
 tone he assumes wlien dilating on tlie per- 
 formances of those sportsmen who come 
 under the head of the " galloping-and- 
 jumping division." " Look at them," he 
 will say. " I ask you, what do they know 
 about hunting? They've only one idea — 
 jump, jump, jump, all day. Now no one 
 is fonder of a quick thing than I am, but 
 you never see me galloping about, jumping 
 over everything I can find" (the only true 
 thing in his speech), "and yet when it 
 comes to riding, I flatter myself I can 
 give them a stone and a beating. Valpy ! 
 Faugh, a rough - rider, sir, a rough - rider. 
 Nowhere in a run. Have beaten him over 
 and over again, 'pon my honour. You 
 remember that forty minutes we had," etc. 
 etc.; and then follows a glowing description 
 of some imaginary run over the stiffest part, 
 of the country, where Story had the hounds 
 all to himself after the first ten minutes, 
 and never saw a soul again till they had 
 broken up their fox. 
 
160 MEK WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 If he happens to be at his own house 
 he will take you off to his den, and, by 
 w\ay of corroborating the tale, will point 
 out the brush of the identical fox hanging 
 over the mantelpiece, and handling it care- 
 fully, will say : "Ah, there is some satis- 
 faction in having a brush that one gets all 
 by one's self." 
 
 (Quite so, Mr. Story ; but what was 
 that small piece of gold for, that found 
 its way out of your pocket into that of 
 Charles the First Whip ?) 
 
 Quite a museum of sport is Story's den, 
 or ''sanctum," as he calls it. Kound the walls 
 are hung innumerable sporting pictures, 
 foxs' brushes and masks, all mounted, and 
 bearing the date, length of run, find, and 
 kill, emblazoned in gold letters underneath. 
 On the left-hand side of the fireplace is a 
 gun - cupboard, well stocked with breech- 
 loaders and rifles ; for Story has some 
 wonderful adventures in the Rocky Moun- 
 tains to relate. Opposite, on the other 
 
TEE BOASTER. 161 
 
 side, is a stick-rack, crowded with crops, 
 cutting-whips, ash-plants, spurs of all sizes, 
 and hunting - caps ; while underneath are 
 arranged a pile of white band-boxes, each 
 containing a shining Lincoln and Bennett. 
 Between the windows are a row of hat- 
 pegs, four in number, and on every peg 
 hangs a hat reduced to the state of flatness 
 said to be peculiar to pancakes. 
 
 Naturally one is struck with so novel an 
 arrangement in dilapidated head-gear, and 
 in a weak moment, perhaps, one asks 
 " What on earth those old hats are for ? 
 Are they used in the summer to keep the 
 birds from the peas, or what ? " 
 
 " Peas, my dear fellow ; no, by gad," 
 will be the ready reply. " They are the hats 
 I have come to grief in. I keep them for 
 old lang syne. In that one on the right 
 I rode the famous Willowfield run. Four- 
 teen falls, and finished up in the Swill. 
 On my honour, I thought I never should 
 have got out. Horse got on the top of 
 
162 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 me, and I was under water for a minute ;" 
 and then, taking down the other three in 
 succession. Story will relate the romance 
 attached to each. 
 
 Ill-natured slander says that their present 
 shape is attributable to having been violently 
 sat upon in the garden after two days' 
 rain, and the authority of a discharged 
 valet, who remonstrated on this wholesale 
 destruction of his perquisites, is given. But 
 then there is nothing that ill-natured slander 
 will not say. 
 
 One good point about the Boaster is 
 that he is a most stanch preserver of 
 foxes, and although his property is not a 
 large one, Lappington is always perfectly 
 certain of finding in his coverts. It is a 
 great day for him when the hounds meet 
 in the village. No general commanding a 
 division feels half such a great man as 
 Mr. Story, who, having confidentially in- 
 formed Sir John that there are no less 
 than five foxes in the wood, takes charge 
 
TEE BOASTER. 163 
 
 of Tom and the pack and leads tliem on to 
 victory. 
 
 Should they not find immediately, the 
 various stages of anxiety depicted on his 
 face are intensely amusing, and the trium- 
 phant " I-told-you-so " expression he assumes 
 when at last the swelling chorus proclaims 
 the varmint at home, is well worth coming 
 any distance to see. 
 
 No sooner are they well away than the 
 highroad claims him for its own, and, 
 followed by a small detachment, Story's 
 fiofure is seen vanishino^ through the toll- 
 gate, making for some distant point which 
 he seems to know by intuition the fox is 
 bound for. His knowledge of the country 
 and the lanes thereof is wonderful, and 
 having, by slipping down a byway, shaken 
 off his retinue, he arrives on the high ground 
 just as the fox crosses the bottom and crawls 
 into Watson's osiers. 
 
 The hounds are not yet in sight though he 
 can hear them in the distance, so he has 
 
 M 2 
 
164 IfEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 time to let himself into the field through 
 the gate, and inspect the low wattle fence 
 at the far end, over which he knows the 
 line will be. Finding it is very plain 
 sailing, and that there is a most convenient 
 gap again into the lane which leads direct to 
 the osiers, he gets behind a haystack, and waits 
 the arrival of Tom and the pack. Most 
 men would hollo the fox, but Story knows 
 a trick worth two of that. He has a re- 
 putation to keep up, and a history to tell 
 of "those big rails by Brown's farm," and 
 " that double after we came out of the water- 
 meadows," which would hardly sound so well 
 if he was known to have arrived at his present 
 position in front of the hounds. 
 
 Presently the hounds come up, and he 
 notes with glee that there are but four or 
 five anywhere near them. As they top the 
 wattle he dashes round the haystack as if 
 he had ridden all the way wide on their 
 left, and flying the fence is in the same 
 field with them — alone. 
 
TEE BOASTER. 165 
 
 " Dang 'im, liow did ay get theer ? Ay 
 never rode along wi' us, I know," mutters 
 Tom to himself; but the pace is too hot 
 to think about it at the moment. 
 
 " Capital run, Tom," shouts Story, as 
 they gallop down the field together ; " but, 
 my eye, what a stiff bit we have had ! 
 Those rails of Brown's were a stopper. You 
 should have had them where I did, on the 
 left." (Tom had been deuced nearly down 
 there, a circumstance Story had noticed 
 from the road.) " He'll be in the osiers ; 
 I'll get on and view him out the far side ; " 
 and away goes our friend through the gap 
 and down the lane. 
 
 "Now, I should just like to know wheer 
 in the name of fortun' ay's coom from. 
 There's some hanky-panky, I knows. Did 
 you see Mayster Story, Charles ? " says Tom, 
 as they check, to the First Whip, who has 
 just arrived, his coat showing pretty evident 
 sig^ns of where he had been. 
 
 ** Saw him going down the road when we 
 
166 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 found ; but Craftsman has it," replies Charles, 
 and " For'ard on " is again the order. 
 
 Into the osiers they crash, and a " Tally- 
 ho ! " from Story on the far side shows them 
 to be close behind their fox. "For'ard, 
 for'ard, for'ard away," screams Tom, blowing 
 the hounds out of the covert ; and in the 
 second field it is all up, and Tom is ojff his 
 horse in the middle of the pack, w^ith 
 Story and five others only there to see. As 
 the remainder of the field gallop up by twos 
 and threes our friend takes his watch out, and, 
 addressing the Master, says : " Best thing I've 
 seen for many a day — fifty-three minutes with 
 hardly a check. Ton my honour, it's mar- 
 vellous that so few of us came to grief. 
 Awful stifi" country. Give you my word, I 
 thought I should break my neck every 
 fence," 
 
 "Could not afford to lose such a sports- 
 man as you. Story," replies Sir John, laughing 
 and turning to Tom. " Here, give Mr. Story 
 the brush ; it's worthy of a place in his den." 
 
THE BOASTEE. 1G7 
 
 " Eight, sir," says Tom ; but he winks at 
 Charles and whispers : " There'll be a fine 
 tale over this one, I'll lay." 
 
 Story is dining out that night, so he does 
 not accompany them to find their second 
 fox, but by the time the ladies have come 
 into the drawing-room and the chairs are 
 drawn round the fire, the fifty-three minutes 
 have grown to an hour and twenty minutes, 
 and the deeds of daring performed by himself 
 have increased in proportion. As he drives 
 home he turns it over in his own mind 
 whether another hat and peg shall not be 
 added to the relics between the window, with 
 the glorious history of "the crumpler over 
 Brown's rails " attached thereto. But he 
 eventually decides, as so many of the field 
 saw him at the finish with his headpiece in 
 its normal condition, that perhaps on the 
 whole it would be better not. 
 
 This, however, does not prevent him from 
 entering a full and true (?) account of the run 
 to Watson's osiers in his hunting- diary, and 
 
168 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 executing a small yet carefully-drawn map 
 of tlie country, with crosses marked thereon 
 denoting the locality of some of the terrific 
 obstacles he encountered — and negotiated in 
 safety. 
 
 Should the conversation turn on hunting 
 (which it is pretty certain to do) while smoking 
 the post-prandial cigar in Story's sanctum, he 
 will read a few extracts from this diary, which 
 the assembled guests may believe or not — as 
 they like. 
 
HODGE. 
 
 " Which is the way to Langley, my good 
 man ? " asks Mr. Tyrol of a countryman he 
 overtakes on his way to the meet. Mr. Tyrol, 
 w^ho is a stranger to the Bullshire, and has 
 come down just to look at the country and 
 see what it is like with a view to future 
 operations, as yet does not know his way 
 about, so is glad of any information he can 
 obtain as to the most direct route. 
 
 " Yew mun tak furst turnin to right till 
 yer com' to smithy, then keep straight on 
 past Jack Spender's down t' green lane, but 
 mind yer dunna mistake t' road past ould 
 Betty AVilson's cottage, and then you're sure 
 
170 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 to be right," replies the man, with a glance at 
 his interlocutor. 
 
 "Thanks," says Mr. Tyrol, not much the 
 wiser. *' Let me see. I've got to go down to 
 the green lane, and then past Mrs. Wilson's 
 cottage ; but how am I to know which is the 
 right_^cottage — and how far it is ? " 
 
 " Oh, any chap 'ull tell yer ould Betty's 
 place ; it's better nor six mile if yer go one 
 way and under four if yer tak t' other." 
 
 " And which is the short way ? " is Mr. T.'s 
 next question. 
 
 " Well," replies his director, " yew mun go 
 as I've tould yer, till yer come t' lane, then 
 turn into field past the works. Yer know the 
 works maybe ? " and on Mr. Tyrol confessing 
 his ignorance, after a pause : "Ah, that maks 
 a 'nation difierence, doan't it ? " 
 
 The fact is not for a moment to be disputed, 
 and Mr. Tyrol is in despair, when suddenly a 
 bright idea strikes Hodge, and he looks up, 
 saying : "Perhaps you're a-going fox-'unting?" 
 
 As it is not customary for people to ride 
 
HODGE. 171 
 
 about in pink, save in civic processions, unless 
 they are " on sport intent," it becomes hardly 
 necessary to answer, and Mr. T. wonders what 
 Hodge could possibly have thought he was 
 going to do. 
 
 " If so be," however, continues the 
 pedestrian, " I'm a-going t' meet my sen, and 
 I can show yer t' road. Can that 'oss jump ? 
 Acos we've got to go through Farmer Danby's 
 meaders, and 'e most alius locks his gates." 
 
 Notwithstanding the chance of a locked 
 gate and a nasty fence in cold blood, Mr. Tyrol 
 thinks it an opportunity not to be lost, and 
 gladly avails himself of the jDroffered guidance, 
 while Hodge sees a prospective shilling in the 
 horizon, which, with great accuracy, he divides 
 as he tramps along, into "three pots o' four." 
 
 " And what sort of a country is Langley ? " 
 asks the directee of his guide and director, after 
 about a quarter of a mile passed in silence. 
 
 " Foine country for turnips," is the reply, 
 "I mind when Mr. Aries — you knows him I'll 
 be bound ? Not know Mr. Aries ! Why I 
 
172 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 thought everyone know'd him, he's the biggest 
 man about these parts ; he was the Book's 
 agent. Well, I mind when he got better 
 nor 
 
 Here Mr. Tyrol thinks it advisable to 
 check the flow of Hodge's conversation, as he 
 sees plainly that unless he does so he will be 
 in for an agricultural dissertation on the 
 producing power per acre of Mr. Aries' land, 
 so he cuts him short with " I don't mean that; 
 I mean what sort of a country is it to ride 
 over ? Stiff big fences, or what ? " 
 
 " Some big, some littel ; but there's alius a 
 road as you can git along if so be as you don't 
 care about leping ; and there's any amount o' 
 foxes — swarms on 'em. Why, it was only last 
 week as ould Jim tould me as Bill Upton 
 'ad tould him as he see'd two when he wor 
 working in Squire Beale's plantation. But 
 there's Langley, sir. Thank ye kindly." And 
 Hodge, the richer by a shilling, stops at the 
 wayside public-house to drink the stranger's 
 health. 
 
BODGE. 173 
 
 Happy in having arrived at his destination, 
 and much instructed and amused by what he 
 had heard, Mr. Tyrol rides on to where old 
 Tom and the hounds are visible, and is soon 
 lost to sioflit in the crowd of horses and men 
 
 o 
 
 at the meet. By the time he has done 
 contemplating the hounds, Hodge has finished 
 his libation, and, in company with a '' mate," 
 comes on the scene of action. 
 
 ''Mornin', mayster," says he to old Tom; 
 "whear be you a-going furst?" and on hearing 
 that Collingly Wood will be the first draw, 
 he turns to his companion and says : " By 
 Guy, mate, we mun look slippy or we shanna 
 be there in time." 
 
 It is not every day in the week that 
 these '' horny-handed sons of toil " get an 
 outing, and they do not mean to lose their 
 chance of seeing the fun if they can help 
 it. So away they go, followed by three 
 or four boys, towards the big wood seen 
 in the distance. They have not gone far 
 before they discover that they have followers. 
 
174 MEX WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 and kno"ttdnoj well that v/ith these in their 
 wake it will be impossible to secrete them- 
 selves in an advantageous position, they turn 
 round and deliver a few home-truths, which, 
 though not particularly elegant, answer the 
 purpose, and have the desired effect of getting 
 rid of the boys. This done, they continue 
 their route till they arrive at the hunting-gate 
 leading into the covert. 
 
 "Now I wonder which end t' ould mon 
 will begin at ? " asks the elder of his com- 
 panion. 
 
 " I dunna knoa," replies Number Two, 
 putting his finger into his mouth and holding 
 it up; "but from the way o' the wind I 
 should say as 'e'll start down here ; bound to 
 go up- wind." 
 
 No fool in matters of sport is Hodge, 
 and, chawbacon as you may call him, you 
 would find it hard to puzzle him on the 
 subject of the "run of a fox," always pro- 
 vided he understood your questions. Old 
 Tom knows his value well, and over and 
 
HODGE. 175 
 
 over again have things been put straight 
 by the far-seeing blue eye; and *"E's gone 
 yonder by th' ould barn," or " I'v seed 'im 
 cross o'er bottom," has enabled the Huntsman 
 to liit off the line without wastinc: the 
 precious moments in a long and speculative 
 cast. 
 
 The two " mates " have barely ensconced 
 themselves comfortably on the top of a stack 
 of "cord wood, " from whence they can command 
 more than half the wood, when the pack 
 arrive, and the horsemen, as they file through 
 the gateway, are subjected to a running fire 
 of criticism. Woe ])etide the man whose 
 animal obstinately refuses some small fence 
 within sight of Hodge and Co, Although 
 the rider will not hear the speech, the loud 
 laugh from one or the other tells him plainly 
 enough that he is the cause of their merriment, 
 and he wishes himself — or tlicm — farther 
 away. As soon as the hounds are thrown 
 in the occupants of the cordwood stack 
 become excited, and the younger of them, 
 
176 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 our friend of the road, suggests an adjourn- 
 ment to a tree where he thinks a better view 
 can be obtained. 
 
 " Stop where yer be, Jim," says the 
 elder ; " yer canna do better, and if yer 
 gets messing about now you'll only have 
 t' Master and old Tom atop o' yer back." 
 So Jim is persuaded, and remains quiet. 
 Presently a yellow body is seen stealing 
 through the underwood, and the chorus of 
 music shows that the hounds are aware of 
 Mr. Keynard's presence. 
 
 " There 'e goes," whispers Jim, " and here 
 they come. By Guy, there away," as the 
 hounds dash through the covert, and a loud 
 " Tally-ho " is heard on the other side. To 
 slip down is the work of an instant, and 
 both Jim and his companion are making 
 the best of their way to the corner where 
 the fox has broken. Here they find a regular 
 crush ; the hunting-gate is locked or jammed, 
 and no one can get out. Threading their 
 way through the horses, however, with the 
 
HODGE. 177 
 
 help of a good heave, a strong heave, and 
 a heave both together, the pair manage to 
 have the gate off its hinges, and the impatient 
 field rush through, nearly overturning Jim in 
 their mad career. 
 
 " Oh, go on, go on," says that worthy, 
 as he jumps out of the way ; " some on yer 
 won't go much farther than the first fence 
 at that pace." 
 
 And he is right. 
 
 There are two or three loose horses 
 running about, one of which he manages 
 to catch and restore to the owner, receivinof 
 in return a small acknowledgment, which — 
 having^ submitted to the universal test, his 
 teeth — he slips into the pocket of his brown 
 corduroys. 
 
 The next field is a stifiish plough, and 
 by the time he is halfway across Hodge 
 is done, and he finds his heavy boots none 
 the lii^hter for three or four inches of wet 
 clay adhering to the soles. However, the 
 sight of a friendly hayrick in the distance 
 
178 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 consoles him, and to his great delight he 
 sees a ladder is reared agjainst it and a 
 man at work cutting out some trusses. 
 
 " Can yer see ought on 'em, ould man 1 " 
 he pants, as he reaches the foot of the ladder, 
 and the "ould man" from his coign of vantage, 
 shouts back : " Nip up, lad, nip up, there 
 a-going like billy o'." Jim is quickly alongside, 
 his face beaming with excitement as he sees 
 the whole panorama of the chase stretched 
 out before him. As he watches, he notices 
 his friend of the morning — Mr. Tyrol — and 
 points him out to the man on the rick. 
 Luck favouring the spectators, the hounds 
 suddenly swing sharp round and cross close 
 beneath and within hearing. There is a 
 nasty fence over which the line lies, and 
 a goodish few turn away for the gate, but 
 Mr. Tyrol heads straight for it with the rest of 
 the hard-riders. 
 
 " Well done, sir ; well done ! " roars Hodge 
 from the rick, and Mr. T., recognising him, 
 gives him a nod as he rides at the fence. 
 
HODGE. 179 
 
 His liorsc, however, jumps short, and the result 
 is a rattling fall. 
 
 "Laws, that's a buster," says Jim; "I 
 mun go and help him, he gied me a bob ; " 
 showing by his words the triumph of filthy 
 lucre over Christian charity. Not that he 
 would not have been just as ready to pick 
 up anyone without the shilling, but the gift 
 had made a profound impression, and the 
 thought that w^as uppermost found vent in 
 words. 
 
 By the time he reaches the spot Mr. Tyrol 
 has picked himself up, and, catching his 
 horse, is away ; and ' Hodge returns to the 
 rick to see the last he can of the receding 
 chase. 
 
 As he trudges homewards he hears various 
 accounts of how "the hounds are been by," etc., 
 and lighting his pipe he makes his way towards 
 his own particular inn where he usually takes 
 his glass. 
 
 He is going along leisurely over the fields 
 when he hears a loud voice behind him, and 
 
 N 2 
 
180 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 turning round, finds himself face to face 
 with two men on horseback, one of whom 
 is ordering him to "Open that gate there, 
 do you hear ? " Hodge knows in a moment 
 that he is not a BuUshire man ; and what 
 is more, he recognises in an equally short 
 space that he is not a gentleman for all 
 his pink coat and fine feathers, and his 
 native pride rebels ; so he takes no notice, 
 but turns round and continues his journey, 
 and ffettino: over the stile with a lauo^h, 
 he mutters to himself: "'E's got some cheek 
 
 an' all, d n him ; I shanna open gate 
 
 unless 'e's a bit more civil." 
 
 " Here, you fellah, do you hear — open 
 this gate, will you?" shouts the angry jxirvenu 
 again, and then commences a course of good 
 solid abuse. 
 
 This is more than even Hodge can stand, 
 so he slowly faces round again and says : 
 " Jump o'er it or get ofi" and open it yerself. 
 I ain't paid ter go about t' country helping the 
 likes o' you home." 
 
nOBGE. 181 
 
 Wlieii lie tells the story in the public- 
 house, as tell it he will, after recounting 
 all he saw of the chase and a bit more besides, 
 he will say : "I knowed he wanna out of 
 Bullshire. None of our gents are like that ; 
 sum City chap maybe, 'ain't larned manners ; " 
 and while spending the rest of the eighteen- 
 pence he has earned out hunting he is as 
 happy as a king, with whom he would not 
 change places for the world, much preferring, 
 so long as he can get occasionally a day off 
 and plenty to eat and drink, to remain as 
 simple — Hodge. 
 
THE KEEPER. 
 
 One of the richest men in the county of 
 BuUshire next to " the Dook " is a Mr. 
 Betteridge, a retired partner of the well- 
 known firm of Betteridge, Woolsey, and Co., 
 of Manchester, who about five years back 
 purchased the Medemere estate, which origi- 
 nally belonged to the Slowboy family. Of 
 course he immediately improved (?) the fine 
 old Elizabethan hall by adding thereto sundry 
 wings and towers, and also converting the 
 old-fashioned gardens, with their quaint yew- 
 edges, into trim parterres and terraces, after 
 what he was pleased to call " the Italian 
 style." 
 
THE KEEPER. 183 
 
 He has two great objects in life, in both 
 of which unfortunately he appears bound to 
 be frustrated. The first is to be what is 
 known as " a popular sportsman," and the 
 second to be considered somebody of im- 
 portance. 
 
 AVitli regard to number one — beyond 
 having made a gorse and keeping the most 
 expensive cattle, which, needless to say, he 
 cannot ride himself — his ideas are limited ; 
 while, in the second instance, he has a deadly 
 rival, before whom he sinks into insignificance, 
 and whose word he has learnt to look on 
 as law. 
 
 This individual is neither more nor less 
 than his Head-keeper, "Mr. James," who (in 
 his own estimation) combines all the virtues 
 under the sun, and speaks in the most grandilo- 
 quent way of " our shooting," " our woods," 
 *'our coverts," "our foxes," "our parties," 
 and "our" Heaven knows what. Mr. James 
 will inform you that he is a most ardent fox- 
 hunter, that it is "our pride always to have 
 
184 MEN ^yE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 foxes for Sir John. In fact, I told Mr. 
 Betteridge that it must be when we first 
 agreed on the shooting," etc. 
 
 Yet, strange to say, there is a scarcity of 
 the commodity in the Medemere Woods that 
 does not tally with these high-sounding asser- 
 tions. Certainly the gorse generally contains 
 one or two, but that is quite on the outsides, 
 and near nothing in the pheasant interest. 
 Betteridge himself would pay anything, do 
 anything (except adopt the only proper 
 method), to have foxes, and has many a 
 time and oft remonstrated with " Mr. James " 
 on the subject. But he is invariably snubbed 
 and subdued by this mighty potentate, and 
 made to wish he had not spoken. 
 
 It is unfortunate that " Mr. James " should 
 have lived, before he condescended to "assist" 
 Mr. Betteridge, with the Earl of Upcroft, for 
 the "Hearl" is'his great rallying-point ; and 
 whenever there is anything that his present 
 employer does not quite like, and ventures 
 to suggest alterations upon, it is always : 
 
TEE KEEPER. ISl 
 
 " When I lived with the ' Hearl ' we never 
 did in no way different to what we are a-doing 
 now, and the ' Hearl,' he used to say as how, 
 thanks to me — ' I puts it all down to you, 
 James,' was his very words — 'heverything 
 works just like clockwork.' Of course if so 
 be as you wants it different, why it can be 
 done, but depend^ lion it the ' Hearl ' knowed 
 what was what." 
 
 After this " Cottonopolis " has nothing to 
 say, and James and the " Hearl " carry it. 
 
 Give bim his due as a Keeper, he is excel- 
 lent ; for getting up a head of game his equal 
 is not to be found, nor can his method of 
 bcatinsf the covers or showing: his birds be 
 surpassed. But in his heart, notwithstanding 
 his outward professions, he is a vulpecide, and 
 his satellites are too well trained and hold 
 him in too much awe to say anything. 
 
 Sir John Lappington distrusts him ; indeed, 
 he has gone so far as to speak to Betteridge 
 on the subject, and old Tom is perfectly 
 convinced on the point ; but James and his 
 
186 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 " Hearl " have hitherto been more than they 
 can manage. 
 
 Last season things very nearly came to a 
 climax, for after drawing^ Mr. Bettericlge's 
 coverts blank three times running, Sir John 
 vowed he would not come there as^ain. Mr. 
 James was most profuse in his apologies, and 
 his astonishment was grand. 
 
 "I'm sure," said he, " Tcan't imagine where 
 them foxes has got to. Bill saw two in the 
 big wood last night, and I've been most 
 pertickerler about it. Bill tells me as he 
 knows of another in the Cross Spinney. 
 Didn't yer, Bill? "Where's Bill?" (That 
 worthy having carefully slipped out of sight 
 on the first signs of a cross-examination.) 
 " Ah ! 'e's never here when he's wanted," 
 continued the great man. " Tom, I'm think- 
 ing you must have drawed over 'em." 
 
 " More than I'm thinking you've done," 
 returned old Tom ; adding, sotto voce, "nasty 
 deceitful beggar." 
 
 "AVell, Mr. Betteridge," said Sir John 
 
THE KEEPER. 187 
 
 after a pause, and with his eye fixed on 
 " Mt. James," " it's a great pity, but I think 
 I must be to blame to a certain extent. I 
 ought to have brought out some different 
 hounds. I must ejet some trufile-doo-s if I 
 come here again. It seems our only chance 
 of finding foxes, and I daresay your Keeper is 
 right and we have drawn over them." 
 
 The shouts of laughter that followed this 
 speech made it clear to both master and man 
 that there was some sarcasm, but neither of 
 them could make out quite what it was — 
 until the evening, when Mr. James, happening 
 to meet the village schoolmaster, asked him 
 what Sir John meant by truffle-dogs, and was 
 informed that they were a peculiar breed that 
 found things underground. 
 
 The joke w^ent round the village in a trice, 
 and Mr. James is still known as " Truffles," 
 though it is not quite safe to call him so to 
 his face. 
 
 For more than half the season the Master 
 kept his word, and the hounds never came 
 
188 MEN^ WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 near Medemere. But at last a piteous appeal 
 from Mr. Betteridge is listened to, and 
 " Monday, Medemere Hall," appears in the 
 paper. 
 
 Such a turn-out ! A breakfast, more than 
 half of it down from Gunter's ; powdered 
 footmen rushing about in everybody's way ; 
 footmen out of powder doing the same thing ; 
 a butler, whose busy appearance is worth a 
 hundred a-year to him, superintending the 
 champagne, which flowed freely ; and over 
 all Mr. Betteridge, flushed, excited, and 
 uncomfortable. 
 
 Outside is the same profusion, and Mr. 
 James and his army of retainers dispense 
 good cheer with a liberal hand. No fear has 
 he to-day, for Bill has actual and hond-jide 
 knowledge of a fox in the osiers, and to make 
 quite certain, a small box from Leadenhall 
 Market came down two days before, and the 
 contents have been shaken out in the big 
 wood. 
 
 Under the circumstances he can afi'ord to 
 
THE KEEPER. 189 
 
 pass by Tom's remark of *' Hope you haven't 
 stopped no foxes in to-day " in silence, merely 
 saying : "I tliink we had better draw our 
 Osiers first, if Sir John is agreeable. I have 
 told Mr. Betteridge that woidd be the first 
 draw." 
 
 " Oh, you have, have yer ? — that was kind 
 of you," says Tom ; and turning to the Whip : 
 " Charles, put those hounds to me ; they might 
 go and injure Mr. James's flower-beds." 
 
 What the result of this speech, which of 
 course raised a laugh, might have been it is 
 hard to say, for at this moment out comes the 
 Master and Mr. Betterido-e, followed bv the 
 rest of the field. Mr. James takes ofi" his hat 
 with a low bow, and says : " Beg pardon, Sir 
 John, I was a just saying to the Huntsman 
 that we'd better try the Hosiers first. Bill 
 knows of a fox there." 
 
 " I hope he does this time, James," replies 
 Sir John ; but I am going to draw the big 
 wood, and then the Osiers." 
 
 " Very good. Sir John ; of course you 
 
190 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 knows best/' remarks Mr. James, and then 
 hurries ofif, thinking how deuced lucky it is 
 that he had a bagman down on the chance. 
 
 When they arrive at the bottom of the 
 wood they find the great man standing at the 
 gate full of importance, and with an air of 
 self-satisfaction on his face. " I'm sure there's 
 summut up, sir," says old Tom to Sir John, as 
 the hounds dash into cover. " He'd never 
 look so 'nation pleased if there Avas not some 
 roguery in the wind. Eleu, in ; eleu, at him ; 
 eugh, boys. Bagman, maybe. Eleu, try." 
 A tally-ho from the far side before the hounds 
 have opened on the line cuts him short, and 
 with a "Danged if I don't think I'm right," 
 the old Huntsman, blowing his horn, gallops 
 down the ride to where the hollo was heard. 
 The hounds do not settle on the line kindly, 
 in fact, the old hounds will scarcely own it ; 
 however, they get along somehow for about a 
 quarter of an hour, when poor bagman's race 
 is run and they pull him down. 
 
 "Who-whoop," yells Tom; "who- whoop. 
 
TEE KEEPER. 191 
 
 and if that don't make yer ashamed of your- 
 self nothin will ; I know'd he were a bagman 
 — dang the cheek of the man." 
 
 Not a hound will touch him, not even 
 the young entry, and Sir John is perfectly 
 furious. 
 
 •' Mr. Betteridge," he says, as that worthy 
 appears, quite innocent and highly delighted 
 at there being a fox at all. " Mr. Betteridge, 
 I came here at your request to draw your 
 covers ; I came here on your assurance that 
 there were foxes ; and you, sir, have the 
 audacity to turn out a stinking bagman in 
 front of my hounds." 
 
 "My dear Sir John," replied the unfor- 
 tunate man, " I never should dream of doinsj 
 such a thing ; my Keeper told me there were 
 foxes ; but I never would have turned out a 
 bagman, I assure you. How can you tell it is 
 a bao- fox ? " 
 
 " I believe, Mr. Betteridge, you are in- 
 nocent, and I apologise," says Sir John after 
 a pause. " You ask me how I know. Look 
 
192 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 there at the hounds, they know well enough. 
 Frankly, I tell you that unless you arrange 
 matters with your Keeper James, who is the 
 author of this, I will not draw your covers 
 again, nor will I take your subscription to 
 the hounds ; " and then, turning to Tom, " try 
 the Osiers, and if that's blank, trot off to 
 Lappington." 
 
 Mr. Betteridge is quite flabbergasted, and 
 in the flrst flush of the thing vows vengeance 
 against the Keeper, but this cools down con- 
 siderably before they get to the osiers, and he 
 begins to turn over in his mind what the 
 " Hearl " would have done. Mr. James is 
 ignorant of the little scene that has been 
 enacted, so meets the hounds at the Osiers, 
 and, touching his hat to Sir John, with a 
 smile says : " Killed him, sir ? You'll find 
 another here." 
 
 He is somewhat astonished, therefore, when 
 he is told that if he dare do such a thing again 
 he as likely as not will get his discharge, and 
 if Mr. Betteridge can't be persuaded to do 
 
TEE KEEPER. 1D3 
 
 that lie is still more likely to get a good 
 thrashing for his impertinence. 
 
 " Dang your ugly mug," says Tom to him, 
 as soon as Sir John is out of hearing ; " you 
 thought to come the clever over me and 
 t' hounds, did yer ? Ugh, they'd no more eat 
 a bag fox than they'd touch your dirty over- 
 grown carcass. I'd like to gi' yer what for, 
 big as yer are ; " and then the hounds crash 
 over into the witheys, and Tom begins to 
 draw. From the way they dash there is no 
 doubt of a good fox this time, and presently a 
 w^himper from Bonnibel strikes the key-note. 
 Up and down the Osiers twice he goes, with 
 the pack close at him, and then away. No. 
 One of the Keeper's satellites, and under- 
 Velveteens, heads him, and he sneaks back 
 along the wet ditch, while the hounds j3ash 
 into the grass-field. 
 
 "Tall'o baik," screams Charles, who has 
 seen it. " Will you take yourself aw^ay from 
 there ? " and Velveteens removes himself and 
 feels humble. 
 
194 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 One more round, ' and then lie does go, 
 and sets liis head straight for CoUiston, a grand 
 line, grass the whole way. The first fifty 
 minutes is racing pace, and the grief over 
 the big fences plentiful. Four or five minutes 
 are lost in a small pit-hole by a farm, where 
 the fox had tried an earth, and then they are 
 away again, rolling him over in the open twenty 
 minutes later. 
 
 " A real good thing," is the unanimous 
 verdict, and the Master is only too glad to 
 tell Mr. Betteridge, when he arrives (which he 
 does after all has been over some time) that 
 the present animal makes up for the morning's 
 performance, whereat the heart of " Cotton- 
 opolis " is made joyful again. 
 
 As they ride together to the next draw — 
 Colliston Gorse — Mr. Betteridge begs Sir John 
 to come and dine with him that night quite 
 alone, and to help him to interview Mr. James. 
 Sir John, foreseeing a good result, accepts, and 
 after dinner, at which meal Mr. Betteridge 
 
THE KEEPER. 195 
 
 hears some good wliolesbme truths, Mr. James 
 is sent for. 
 
 Directly he appears and sees Sir John 
 he knows it is all up, and that the ** Hearl " 
 will not serve him a bit ; and his heart fails 
 when Sir John commences by saying : " Your 
 master has left the matter on which we have 
 sent for you entirely in my hands." Then, 
 after keeping him on tenter-hooks for a quarter 
 of an hour, and turning the man inside out, he 
 relieves him by sayincr : " The fox from the 
 Osiers saved you, but ]\Ir. Betteridge has given 
 his word of honour that the next time the 
 hounds come here and there are no foxes — 
 wild ones I mean — that day is your last with 
 him, and you go — without a character." 
 
 Mr. James, humbled and apologetic, com- 
 mences a long string of protestations and 
 assurances of amendment, but is cut short by 
 " That will do ; go and act, don't talk.'* 
 Betteridge thinks the Master the most wonder- 
 ful man, and cannot make out how he braved 
 
 2 
 
196 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 Mr. James and tlie " Hearl " so cleverly ; but 
 he is awfully grateful, and being a man of 
 his word it is to be hoped that in future 
 there will be foxes at Medemere, and that he 
 will no longer be under the thumb of — the 
 Keeper. 
 
THE AUTHORITY. 
 
 It is ten years since Mr. Hall did the 
 Bullshire country the honour of becoming 
 a resident, and in that time he has managed 
 to assert himself considerably, and may now 
 be considered " no small pumpkins." At 
 least the Hall family look on themselves 
 in that light, and surely they must be the 
 best judges. 
 
 Hall pere is a good-natured open-handed 
 sportsman, who rides the best horses, smokes 
 the best cigars, and drinks the best wine 
 that money can procure, but who has the 
 misfortune to consider himself an authority 
 on sport and hunting, and is also aflSicted 
 
198 MEN WE MEET m THE FIELD. 
 with a weakness for seeino- his kicubrations 
 
 o 
 
 in print. 
 
 Mrs. Hall, on the other hand, affects the 
 evangelical role, and is forever establishing 
 creches, forming night-schools, and endeavour- 
 ing to lead the young men of Bullshire in the 
 way that they should go. She is also of 
 a literary turn of mind, and has published 
 more than once under the auspices of the 
 S.P.C.K. Her latest effort was not quite 
 a success, owing, she says, to "bitter and 
 unchristian hostility." 
 
 She had spent much time on the com- 
 pletion of a " sjDor to-religious " novel — " one 
 that anybody might read without a blush," 
 as she put it ; and when finished she called 
 it "A Heavenly Hunt, or Hints by the Way." 
 
 Harold Lappington and a few kindred 
 spirits, however, were unkind enough to 
 parody the book ; and a week afterwards was 
 distributed broadcast throughout the country, 
 " Eunning a Ring, or Hints on Matrimony." 
 
 The joke was too good not to be ap- 
 
THE AUTHORITY. 199 
 
 predated, and one may safely say that the 
 only person who did not see it was Mrs. Hall 
 herself. Even her husband laughed at her, 
 and talked grandiloquently about writing on 
 subjects that she did not understand. 
 
 It was for a long time a mystery to the 
 members of the Hunt how the accounts 
 of their sport got into the papers, and Sir 
 John tried in vain to discover the reporter. 
 IMarvellously accurate were the descriptions 
 of the run, names of places, distances, what 
 each particular hound did, where Tom made 
 his cast for better or for worse, and the 
 various incidents or accidents of the chase 
 were all set forth without an error. So men 
 came to the conclusion that it must be some 
 one of the hard-riders, and consequently 
 were more puzzled than ever. Everybody 
 was accused in turn — the Doctor, the Parson, 
 even Mrs, Talford; but all denied the soft 
 impeachment. 
 
 When the matter was alluded to at the 
 hunt-dinner by Sir John, it was noticed that 
 
200 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 Mr. Hall did not look quite as if he ^Yas 
 enjoying his dinner, and whispers of " It's 
 old Hall ; look at him," passed from one to 
 the other. 
 
 "But then Hall never rides a yard. How 
 the deuce could he know all about it ? " said 
 others ; and the matter was as far from being 
 solved as ever. 
 
 Old Tom, however, determines to get at 
 the bottom of it, and as he rides to Brainsty 
 cross-roads, he maps out a plan of operations. 
 It is not a nice day by any means, a high 
 blustering north-east wind blowing, as Tom 
 says, " fit to turn yer inside out ; " and, as 
 he takes refuge with the pack behind a barn, 
 the old Huntsman does not anticipate much 
 sport. The field arrive by twos and threes, 
 with heads bent down and upturned collars, 
 looking as wretched as men generally do 
 when beating up against a gale. Almost the 
 last comer is Mr. Hall, who immediately 
 gives it as his opinion that there cannot 
 possibly be any fun, and that he should not 
 
TEE AUTnOBITY. 201 
 
 be surprised if Sir John took the hounds 
 home. 
 
 " I've seen 'em run hard in worse weather 
 nor this, sir," says Tom, with a smile and a 
 shiver. 
 
 " Well, I never have, and you may take 
 it I know something about hunting," replies 
 the Authority. 
 
 "What's that?" asks the Master, who 
 has just got on to his horse. 
 
 " Nothing, Sir John ; nothing. I only 
 said that there would be no sport, and Tom 
 seems to think differently ; " and then, turn- 
 inof to the men about him, Mr. Hall continues : 
 " It's impossible for any scent to lie with this 
 wind. Besides, what fox in his senses would 
 face it ? " 
 
 "There's more nor one kind o' scent, and 
 if t' fox wunna face t' wind, ay mun travel wi' 
 it," puts in Tom, and then trots off best pace 
 to draw Ambleside Banks. 
 
 When they arrive at the covert, Mr. Hall 
 informs everybody that " It is no use going 
 
202 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 to the far side ; no fox ever breaks there. 
 Never has done yet ; " and on some of his 
 audience paying no attention, he shouts : " Oh, 
 all right ; don't blame me if you're thrown 
 out." 
 
 Scarcely are the words out of his mouth 
 than the sound of Tom's horn comes down 
 on the wind, and the pack are away in full 
 cry, the fox breaking just w^here Mr. Hall 
 had said he would not. A sharp burst over 
 two fields, a quick turn, and then down-wind 
 like lightning, the pace increasing every yard. 
 
 Unfortunately for the Authority, he 
 does not notice the turn, and, riding hard 
 along the lane for a point, he finds himself 
 on reaching the top of a small hill utterly 
 lost, no sign of the hounds and no sound of 
 any sort to guide him. After riding about 
 aimlessly in every direction for the best part 
 of an hour, he at last hears tidings of their 
 being down Hinckley way, and ofi" he goes, 
 only to hear that "T' hounds a-been gone 
 better nor twenty minutes." It is now getting 
 
THE AUTEOEJTY. 203 
 
 late, so Mr. Hall makes up bis mind to ride 
 home via the kennels, where for a moment 
 wo will leave him and return to Tom and 
 the rest of the field. 
 
 After ten minutes as fast as they can go, 
 the fox tries the low wall of a farmyard, but 
 the pace has been too hot for him, and he 
 falls back right into the mouths of the pack. 
 Having performed the funeral rites, Tom gets 
 his orders for Hinckley, and then commence 
 a series of disappointments. Foxes there are, 
 for one is soon halloed away ; but the hounds 
 can make nothing of it directly they get into 
 the open. Two or three times this happens, 
 and it becomes evident that Mr. Hall was 
 right in the main, and that they could not 
 hunt that day. So at last the Master gives 
 the word for home, for which few blame him. 
 
 As Tom rides alonsj the road to the 
 kennels, he tells Charles and Harry they are 
 to be sure and say that it has been a first- 
 class thing, and to back him up in everything 
 he says. Naturally they both wonder what 
 
204 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 the old man is up to, but Tom holds his 
 peace, and will tell them nothing, looking 
 the while as knowing as a jackdaw who has 
 just hidden something valuable. Evidently 
 he has concocted some scheme, and a light 
 begins to dawn on the two AVhips when the 
 figure of Mr. Hall is seen in the distance. 
 
 " Why, Mayster Hall, wheer an yer been 
 to 1 " says Tom, as they overtake the lost one. 
 
 '' Well," replies Mr. Hall, " I don't know 
 how it was, but when I got to Kirby I 
 found I was clean out of it. I took the wi'ong 
 turn in the wood, you see. You must have 
 dipped the hill, and the infernal wind was so 
 high I could not hear you." 
 
 " Dear-a me, that was a pity ! you missed 
 summat good," exclaims Tom, with a sorrowful 
 or rather pitiful expression. 
 
 Mr. Hall eagerly snaps at the bait and 
 asks for full particulars — whether they killed ? 
 where they went ? who was up ? etc. etc. ; all 
 of which information the Huntsman supplies 
 with the gravest of countenances, inventing 
 
TBE AUTHORITY. 205 
 
 as lie goes along. Charles and Harry are 
 nearly convulsed, and it is with the utmost 
 difficulty that they are able to speak when 
 appealed to by old Tom to corroborate his 
 statements. 
 
 " By Jove, Tom, that was a good thing," 
 says the Authority. " I said that they 
 could only run down wind. You may always 
 trust me about hunting. Why, it's nearly 
 nine miles straight on end ! How long did 
 you say ? " 
 
 " Fifty-five minutes, weren't it, Charles ? " 
 replies Tom, appealing to the First Whip. 
 
 " Summat about there," answers Charles, 
 turning away and muttering : " Lord forgive 
 us, what a start ! " 
 
 Mr. Hall then bids good-night to the hunt- 
 servants, and trots home as pleased as Punch. 
 
 That evening, after Sir John has finished 
 his dinner, his butler tells him that the Hunts- 
 man wishes to speak a word to him, and 
 then Tom tells his master the story, and 
 what he expected would come of it. 
 
206 2IEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 " He'll never forgive you, Tom, if you 
 are right in what you think ; and he's one 
 of our best supporters," exclaimed Sir John, 
 roaring with laughter. 
 
 " Never fear, sir, never fear. I can work 
 round him right enow ; and I'm thinking, Sir 
 John, if so be as you will say naught, but 
 just write up the week after to contradict 
 the whole thino-, it will orive Mr. Hall a 
 lesson. He dursn't say anything, as he 
 knows you don't like the 'ounds wrote of, 
 and the paper won't have no more from 
 Mr. ' Black Hat ' " (the nom de plume of the 
 Bullshire correspondent). 
 
 Next Saturday morning, as sure as fate, 
 men are surprised to see a description of an 
 extraordinary run from Ambleside, as follows : 
 
 ''A Remarkably Good Day with the 
 Bullshire. 
 
 " On Tuesday last this sporting pack had 
 a wonderfully good run in a gale of wind. 
 There was not a large muster at the meet 
 
THE AUTROBITY. 207 
 
 (Brainsty cross-roads) owing to the inclemency 
 of the weather, but those who were bold 
 enouirh to face the elements had no cause to 
 regret their temerity. The first draw was 
 Ambleside Banks, noted throughout the 
 country for the stoutness of its foxes ; and 
 on the day in question it fully kept up its 
 reputation, for scarcely had that best of hunts- 
 men, Tom Wilding, thrown his hounds into 
 covert, than a real traveller broke away with 
 the pack almost at his brush. Strange to say 
 he headed straight up wind, notwithstanding 
 that, as I have said, it was blowing a gale, 
 and made the best of his way to Kirby 
 village ; then, turning to the right, he led 
 them a cracking pace over the vale through 
 Shawston to Hinckley "Wood; here he was 
 inclined to hang in covert, but the hounds 
 would not be denied, and forced him out, 
 when he made his point for Lyston, some 
 three miles off. The pace had been very fast 
 and the country very stiff, so that the field 
 was greatly reduced, and there were many 
 
208 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 cases of profundit humi. Most of the first 
 flight, however, were 'all there,' including, 
 among others, place aux dames, Mrs. Talford, 
 Sir John Lappington (the Master), Mr. 
 Halston, and Mr. Bowles. About a mile 
 from Lyston there was a short but welcome 
 check, owing to the fox having been coursed 
 by a sheep-dog ; but Tom, by a judicious 
 cast, hit off the line, and they were away 
 again. Leaving Lyston on the left (Reynard 
 having tried the earths there, and found no 
 admittance), the line lay through Oxley, over 
 the brook — which proved a serious obstacle to 
 more than one sportsman — indeed, there were, 
 as might have been expected considering the 
 pace, more in than over. But to continue. 
 Having run straight through the village of 
 Oxley, this gallant fox made for Mr. Browne's 
 farm on the hill ; but, unfortunately for him, 
 the hounds were close at his brush, and 
 before he could reach that bourne the ' who- 
 whoop' had sounded his requiem. Mr. 
 Browne, with his usual hospitality, regaled 
 
TEE AUTHORITY. 209 
 
 those who were there to see the end, and 
 a nip of his famous ginger brandy was an 
 offer not to be refused, especially with a long 
 ride home in the teeth of the wind. The 
 time from start to finish was an hour and 
 five minutes, almost without a check, and 
 the distance from point to point could not 
 be less than nine miles. When this celebrated 
 pack have another run such as that I have 
 endeavoured to describe, may I be again 
 there to see. 
 
 "Black Hat." 
 
 "^Yho the deuce can have written all 
 that farrago of nonsense ? " says Mr. Boulter. 
 " Why, we never ran more than a mile and 
 a half." And the Secretary is not the only 
 one who makes anxious inquiries. 
 
 Mr. Hall has been away in London, and, 
 having only returned that morning is in bliss- 
 ful ignorance of the way he has been taken 
 
 in. 
 
 As he arrives there is a general shout of 
 
210 MEN WE MEET IX. THE FIELD. 
 
 " Here, Hall, you're an Authority ; some idiot 
 has been cooking up an account of Tuesday's 
 sport and writing to the papers. You never 
 read such a pack of lies in your life. We 
 must stop this sort of thing. What should 
 be done ? " 
 
 The gentleman's feelings can be better 
 imagined than described, and as he stammers 
 out '*I have not seen the paper," he wishes 
 himself elsewhere. 
 
 It is noticed that that day he does not 
 give his opinion on the whereabouts of a fox 
 in quite such an authoritative manner, and 
 avoids everybody as much as possible. Of 
 course he soon hears the true account, and 
 on the following Saturday his cup is filled 
 when he reads under the same heading as 
 his own — viz, "A Remarkably Good Day 
 with the BuUshire" — 
 
 "Sir, — I beg to inform you that the 
 account of a run on Tuesday week with 
 these hounds, which you gave in your last 
 
THE ATJTEOBITY. 211 
 
 issue, was entirely fictitious, as we had no 
 sport after the first ten minutes, the hounds 
 being unable to hunt. — I remain yours 
 obediently, 
 
 '' J. Lappington, Master B.H." 
 
 How old Tom managed to smooth the 
 irate individual down is not known, but 
 nothing more ever came of it, save that 
 "Black Hat "no longer sends accounts to the 
 papers of sport with the Bullshire Hounds. 
 
 P L. 
 
THE BLACKSMITH. 
 
 Seven a.m. The church clock rings out the 
 hour in the clear still morning, and the smoke 
 goes up straight into the air from the chimne3^s 
 of the cottages of Lappington village. One 
 by one the good dames appear at their doors 
 with tucked-up sleeves and heads beshawled, 
 and commence the operation of vigorously 
 shaking strips of carpet, and generally setting 
 things straight. 
 
 Their lords and masters have ere this 
 gone to their work, and, with the inevitable 
 short pipe in their mouths, are tramping along 
 best pace to keep up a circulation and keep 
 out the chill of the early morn. 
 
THE BLACKSMITH. 213 
 
 But there is another sound wliich mingles 
 itself with the chiming clock and the Babel of 
 female voices ; it is the measured " clang, 
 clang" of iron to iron, and as one wends one's 
 way towards that part of the village from 
 whence it comes, the dull roar of the furnace 
 and the sparks flying upwards tell us that we 
 are approaching " t' smithy," and that Joe 
 Billino-s and his mate are hard at work. 
 
 Presently, three of the Squire's horses are 
 seen coming up the road in their clothing, and 
 Joe, having nearly completed the shoeing of 
 the farm nags that had been there since half- 
 past six, turns his attention to the wants of 
 their more noble companions. " Two shod all 
 round and one removed," says the groom as he 
 comes up ; " and look here, old man, don't 
 keep us w^aiting no longer than you can help ; 
 it's a bit chilly this morning." 
 
 " First come first served," replies Joe ; and 
 turning to his mate : " 'Ere, Bill, look out them 
 'unting shoes for t' Squire's 'osses. AVho-ho, 
 mare, 'old up ;" and the rasp of the file again 
 
214 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 plays an accompaniment to the tune that Joe 
 whistles as he works. 
 
 "Now then, mayster," says he to the 
 Squire's groom as he finishes ; and the hunters 
 being brought up to the forge the anvil chorus 
 strikes up, and the lads clap their hands as the 
 sparks fly from the red-hot iron. More horses 
 arrive, and grooms grumble among themselves 
 at having to wait their turn. Some try and 
 persuade Joe by soft words to give them pre- 
 cedence, others say they wish they had gone 
 to some rival shop ; but Joe pays no attention 
 to them, merely giving vent to his favourite 
 maxim : *' First come first served." 
 
 At last one impatient youngster who does 
 not know the Lappington Blacksmith, having 
 only come down from London a few days 
 before, commences to bully, and says : " Look 
 'ere, I ain't going to 'ave my 'osses catch their 
 deaths of cold while you tinkers that moke," 
 pointing to a rough pony belonging to a small 
 market-gardener. " I'll just speak to my 
 governor about it. I'm d d if I'll come 
 
TEE BLACKSMITH. 215 
 
 here ao;ain. Genimen's 'osses first's whiat I 
 say — d'o'e hear, slow coach ? " 
 
 Never a word answers Joe, and the by- 
 standers smile ; but the young groom loses his 
 temper, and tries to take the *' moke," as he 
 calls it, away, and substitute his own horses. 
 
 Then Joe does look up, and dropping the 
 foot on which he was at work, says : " My lad, 
 you'll get yourself into trouble in a minute." 
 
 " How's that ? " asks the groom. 
 
 *' Why," replies Joe slowly, "if you don't 
 drop that pony's head in two twos, I shall have 
 to teach you manners. I ain't a quarrelsome 
 chap, but when a whipper-snapper like you 
 comes messing w^ith my business it's a bit too 
 hot. I'm blow^ed if I shan't have to lock you 
 up, or put you in the pond. Drop it, will yer ?" 
 and then, as the young fool persists, he suddenly 
 walks up to him, seizes him as he would a dog, 
 and putting him into a shed where he keeps 
 his old iron, turns the key, and with a chuckle 
 resumes his work, whistling the while as gaily 
 as ever. 
 
216 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 Nor does he let the infuriated master of 
 the horse out of his confinement till he has 
 finished the quadrupeds, when, opening the 
 door, with mock politeness, he says : " Your 
 lordship's 'osses is done, if so be you've a mind 
 to take 'em away." 
 
 Shouts of laughter greet the groom as he 
 emerges from the shed, and angry as he is he 
 has sense enough to see that the laugh is not 
 on his side ; so without a word he trots oflf, 
 inwardly vowing vengeance against Joe 
 Billings. 
 
 "There'll be a bother over this job, Joe," 
 says Harry the Second Whip, who has come 
 down to the forge from the kennels. " Young- 
 Cock-a-hoop will make a fine tale of it when 
 he gets home." 
 
 " Well," replies Joe, " what can they do ? 
 If they takes the shoeing away it won't break 
 me, and when I says a thing I means it. Them 
 as comes first is served first, and if they don't 
 like it they can lump it." 
 
 After finishing off with Harry, Joe slips on 
 
Tni: BLACKSMITH. 217 
 
 his coat (such a coat too ! all patched, grimy, 
 and full of small holes burnt by the sparks), 
 and, rolling up his leather apron, he takes 
 himself away to see if " t' missus has got 
 brcakfust ready." Half an hour suffices for his 
 meal, and by the time he returns he finds quite 
 a strino; awaitino; his arrival, and he sets to 
 work with a will. 
 
 At last he comes to a horse shod on the 
 French system, with the shoe let in and the 
 frog on the ground, and he calls his mate to 
 point it out. '' Here, Bill," says he, " here's 
 one of them Charley shoes as I was a-telling 
 you of. Did yer ever see such a fauglement ? " 
 " Why, there ain't no bloomin' shoe at all," 
 replies his assistant, gazing open-mouthed, and 
 listening to Joe's lecture on the subject. *' Be 
 we to shoe 'un like that, I wonder ? " 
 
 " Xo, no, my lad," interrupts the groom in 
 charge ; " the governor only tried it as an 
 experiment, and he wants the 'oss shod in the 
 usual way again." 
 
 " Proper way, you means," says Joe ; " you 
 
218 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 won't catch me a-doing an animal after that 
 fashion, I can tell yer. Them experiments is 
 all very well for the Mossoos, who don't 'unt, 
 but when it comes to gitting over a country — 
 laws, it's ridickerlous ! " 
 
 By ten o'clock Joe has pretty nearly finished, 
 except an odd job or two, such as tacking on a 
 loose shoe for Mr. Grimes the butcher, or 
 " fettling up " old Betty Wilson's donkey, and 
 he has time to turn his attention to a plough- 
 share or a harrow that requires doctoring, or 
 maybe the springs of Farmer Giles's tax-cart. 
 
 As he is engasfed on one of these a lad 
 runs in panting and out of breath with a 
 message as '"ow Mr. Stiles would be main 
 glad if IMayster Billings would step over 
 and look at t' red coo, as 'e's afeard on 'er 
 dropping." 
 
 "Eight, my lad," says Joe; "just nip 
 down and tell my missus to give yer my 
 medicine-box and that bottle of stuff as 
 stands in the winder, and then come back 
 wi' 'em." 
 
TEE BLACKSMITH. 219 
 
 It may be gathered from this that Joe 
 combines the office of cow-doctor with his 
 other employment ; and I may safely say 
 that a better one of the old-fashioned school 
 could hardly be found anywhere. Certainly 
 his remedies for both cow and horse are simple 
 to a degree. Nevertheless, he is entirely suc- 
 cessful, and by a sort of rule of thumb dis- 
 p»enses medicine, of w^hich the analysis may be 
 peculiar, but the efficacy undoubted. 
 
 He has the greatest contempt for all 
 veterinary surgeons, and is wont to say he 
 " would as soon shoot the beast as let them 
 mess any cow of his about." 
 
 Patent medicine is another of his pet 
 aversions, and it is a sort of standing joke 
 to ask him his opinion of " Hoplemuroma " 
 or " Neurasthenhipponskellisterizon." 
 
 " Oh, get out. Don't come blathering me 
 with yer hops and skillyrison ! " he will say. 
 " 'Ow the deuce do I know what muck they 
 puts into 'em ? Suppose I was to call one 
 of my oils 'Smithyjoebillingtonyeyson,' what 
 
220 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 the would old Farmer Stiles say, and 
 
 what better stuff would it be for all its crack- 
 jaw name ? No, damme, call a spade a 
 spade. None o' that new-fangled bosh for 
 Joe Billino;s." 
 
 Joe has been at the smithy for some 
 five-and-twenty years now, and though he 
 numbers considerably over fifty years of age, 
 is as hale and hearty a man as one would 
 wish to see. One failing he has got which 
 generally attacks him on Saturday nights, and 
 that is a miscalculation as to the amount of 
 liquor he can comfortably carry. A dangerous 
 man is he to cross when in his cups, moreover, 
 for his arm is as powerful as the leg of a horse, 
 and he has besides got some knowledge of the 
 
 CD O 
 
 noble art. 
 
 Indeed it is within the recollection of many 
 a Lappingtonian how Joe at one time fought 
 with the " Brummagem Pet " for twenty-five 
 pounds a-side, and how, though terribly 
 mauled, he stuck to it like a man, and, blinded 
 as he was, managed in the sixteenth round to 
 
THE BLACKSMITH. 221 
 
 knock " the Pet " out of time witli a terrific 
 left-liander on the temple, shouting as he de- 
 livered the blow : " There's a taste of Bullshire 
 for yer ! " 
 
 However, it is not often that the sturdy 
 Blacksmith gets into a row, for he w^ould far 
 sooner sit still and listen to an account of a 
 good run or the records of some bygone 
 champion of the Ring. Indeed, everything 
 connected with sport of any kind goes straight 
 to his soul, and that there are few sporting 
 subjects you can mention he does not know 
 something about is evident from the pertinent 
 remarks he occasionally lets fall. 
 
 On a hunting-day, if the hounds are any- 
 where within reach, Joe may be seen at the 
 smithy with an array of different-sized shoes 
 ready laid out beside him, and as he works on 
 some job in the shop he keeps one eye down 
 the road, on the look-out for some unfortunate 
 sportsman who has had the misfortune to get 
 a shoe off. 
 
 It is his pride that he can tack a shoe 
 
222 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 on quicker than any man in the country. 
 " Yer see," he says, "I 'as 'em all ready by 
 me, and when I sees the gent a-coming, I 'ain't 
 got no cause to look 'ere and there and 
 heverywhere for the stuff I wants. There 
 they are, and it's on and away in a jiff." 
 
 All the time he is asking the sportsman 
 about the day : " What sort of a run ? where he 
 left the hounds ? and where they was a-going to 
 draw next ? " And then, having received his 
 due, he will step outside, take a look which 
 way the wind is, and direct the thrown-out 
 fox-hunter as to his most likely course in order 
 to hit off the hounds again. 
 
 Odd to say, he is seldom wrong (unless, 
 indeed, they have had a quick find, and gone 
 away before the sportsman arrives at the indi- 
 cated spot) ; for long experience has taught Joe 
 all the short cuts in the country, together with 
 which he combines an innate knowledge of the 
 run of a fox. Old Tom AVilding the Hunts- 
 man, and Sir John Lappington the Master, 
 are, in his opinion, the two greatest men in 
 
TEE BLACKSMITE. 223 
 
 England. For, as he puts it, " Without them 
 two where would be the 'ounds ? and without 
 the 'ounds where would my bloomin' business 
 go to ? " 
 
 Then perhaps someone will point out that 
 he might make a better thing out of cow- 
 doctoring ; but his reply will be : " Oh, that's 
 your opinion, is it ? well, it ain't mine. Look'ee 
 'ere — any fool, 'cept a vetery, who's got a ounce 
 of sense, can do a cow; but mark yer, it takes a 
 goodish time to make a man a blacksmith ; 
 and though I say it as perhaps shouldn't, 
 there ain't a man as I gives in to in the matter 
 of shoeing an 'oss, no matter where he comes 
 from. No, as long as I can use my arm" (and 
 he bares a limb that would not disgrace a statue 
 of Hercules), " and there's any wind in the old 
 bellows, I sticks to t' smithy. Blacksmith I 
 was bred, and so I'll die ; and all I wants is, 
 when our ould parson 'as finished the reading 
 over my grave, to 'ave a plain bit of a 'ead- 
 stone put up, with simple ' Joe Billings, the 
 Lappington Blacksmith,' wrote on it ; " and 
 
224 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD 
 
 then Joe will turn to and whistle a lively air, 
 just to get the idea of his demise out of his 
 head, and the bystanders will say among them- 
 selves that at present they can't spare old Joe, 
 who has for five-and-twenty years made the 
 sparks fly and rung out the anvil chorus in the 
 smithy at Lappington. 
 
THE RUNNER. 
 
 There is no better-known individual in the 
 whole of the Bullshire Hunt perhaps than 
 Jack Whistler the Runner, or, as is he more 
 commonly called, "Jumping Jack." His ante- 
 cedents are somewhat obscure, and various 
 contradictory stories are told as to who he 
 is and what he was ; but his presence at 
 the end of a long run, or in any spot where 
 he thinks he may have the chance of earning 
 an honest shilling, is a positive certainty. 
 
 How he manages to turn up at the right 
 moment is only another of the mysteries which 
 surround him ; but the fact remains the same, 
 
 Q 
 
226 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 that Jack has solved the problem of " how to 
 be in two places at once " most satisfactorily. 
 No matter how long the day has been, or how 
 many miles he has to go back to the place 
 where he is supposed to have his home, the 
 next day you will see him at the meet as fresh 
 as paint, in his old pink-and-brown leather 
 gaiters, with the same keen eye and half-saucy 
 smile on his face as he doffs his well-worn 
 velvet cap at your approach. 
 
 Full of quaint humour is Jack, with many 
 a story of sport, and many a reminiscence of 
 flood and field, which he delights in relating to 
 anyone he can get to listen to him. 
 
 " Ger on with yer," he will say to a crowd 
 of gaping rustics ; " ger on with yer — call last 
 Wednesday's a run ? Why, bless yer, I re- 
 member in the old Squire's time, when we run. 
 from Finchley cross-roads to Ipply Gorse, 
 better nor five -and -twenty mile, and old 
 Mayster Simpson got up to his neck in the 
 brook, and I stood on the bank fit to bust 
 mysen with larfin, and wouldna pull un out 
 
THE RUNNER. 227 
 
 under two half-crowns. Ah ! them was days, I 
 can tell yer." 
 
 And then, some mounted cavalier arriving, 
 off goes the hunting-cap, and he accosts the 
 sportsman with " Morning, captin' ; fine scent- 
 ing day ; hold your horse ? thankee, sir," all 
 in one breath. 
 
 Not a hound in the pack hut what knows 
 him and is glad to see him ; and he can call 
 them all by name, and give you their pedigree 
 without a mistake. As old Tom says : " Where 
 he picks up his knowledge Lord knows, but 
 'e's never wrong, and, by Guy, 'e's a puzzler to 
 be sure." 
 
 It is getting near the end of the season, 
 and the weather is just a trifle warm, as old 
 Tom with the hounds overtakes Jack Whistler 
 making his way towards the meet at Fairleigh. 
 There is a breakfast there, and Jack likes to be - 
 in time on those occasions, for he knows that 
 he will earn many a sixpence before the actual 
 work begins, besides getting his day's food 
 and drink gratis. 
 
 Q 2 
 
228 MEN WE MEET DT TEE FIELD. 
 
 "Hollo, old man, what have yer got there? 
 goinff a-fishincr ? " exclaims Tom as he comes 
 up with the pedestrian. " What's that thing 
 for ? " pointing to a light pole that Jack is 
 balancing on his shoulder. 
 
 "Fishing be blowed," is the reply, "it's 
 my jumper. Don't yer see it's a bit 'ot, and 
 old Eiley " (a fellow-runner in a neighbouring 
 pack) " put me up to the tip last week as ever 
 was. He says, says he : ' Why don't yer have 
 a pole made ? it ain't much to carr}^, and you 
 can get over hany think with it.' So I've had 
 this fettled up, and I've been practicing a bit 
 with it, and I can go fine now I can tell yer." 
 
 " Oh, that's it, is it ? " says Tom. " AVell, 
 I should a thought it were more trouble than 
 it were worth carrying a great fishing-rod of a 
 thing like that about." 
 
 " Ger out," retorts Jack; "it ain't nothing 
 when yer used to it. I thought it were a new- 
 fangled notion at first, and I came nigh break- 
 ing my neck two or three times over a pigsty 
 wall afore I got into it; but look'ee 'ere, it's as 
 
TBE BUNNER. 229 
 
 easy as slielling peas;" and Jack proceeds to 
 show Tom his prowess in the noble art of 
 saltation. 
 
 Taking a short run, with a " Ger back, 
 hounds," he essays to top the fence out of the 
 road ; but, alas, to the intense amusement of 
 Tom and the two AVhips, his pole sinks into 
 some soft ground, and poor Jack falls all of a 
 heap into the wet ditch on the far side, 
 utterino; the while exclamations the reverse 
 of complimentary against the treacherous 
 friend of his travels that had so basely 
 betrayed him. 
 
 When he appears, scratched and muddy, in 
 the road again, as soon as Tom can stop laugh- 
 ing he advises him to "leave the bloomin' pole 
 wdiere it is, and not go cutting any more capers 
 of that sort." But Jack's dander is up, and 
 his only reply is to shoulder his weapon and 
 walk on. Presently they arrive at the fix- 
 ture, and Mr. Whistler's hands are quite full. 
 Indeed, what between laying in a cargo for 
 himself and looking after horses while their 
 
230 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 owners do the like, he has not much time to 
 talk. 
 
 Then comes the business of altering stirrups, 
 tightening girths, and looking after his tips. A 
 marvellous memory does Jack show in this latter 
 respect. Vain indeed is it to try and put on an 
 air of unconcern at his approach, as if you had 
 never seen him before, or as if you had entirely 
 forgotten the service he rendered you when 
 you got that spill last week, and he recovered 
 your horse for you on the promise of half-a- 
 crown. 
 
 Jack remembers the circumstance well and 
 the promise better, and he will sidle up to you 
 with a smile, and say : " Mornin', cap'n. None 
 the worse for the fall ? Have not seen yer out 
 since. Hope you won't forget Jack ; " and 
 then, having received his recompense, his 
 quick eye catches sight of another debtor, and 
 with a "Thank'ee kindly, sir," he is off to 
 collect more dues. 
 
 What he likes best is being taken as a 
 pilot by some comparative stranger to the 
 
THE BUNNEB. 231 
 
 country, whose lieart is not placed in that 
 position requisite to enable him to follow the 
 hounds or ride straight. Then he is in his 
 glory, and from his knowledge of the high- 
 ways and byways he invariably manages to 
 nick in at various points, and eventually 
 brings his craft safely into port without any 
 casualties. 
 
 Of course for this he expects something 
 handsome, and though he makes no bargain 
 he has got a way of returning thanks for any 
 gift he deems insufficient that shows x)lainly 
 enough his opinion, and generally extracts 
 something in addition. To-day, by the time 
 the hounds move off. Jack has made quite a 
 haul, for, being near the end of the season, 
 men have " remembered the Runner." He is 
 in high feather, and what between pleasure 
 and the effects of the old ale, he is a little 
 unsteady and more garrulous than usual. 
 
 " Wheer to, Mayster Wilding ? " he asks 
 Tom, as he shoulders his pole and swings it in 
 close proximity to the Huntsman's head. 
 
232 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 "Mind what you're a-doin' of, a-poking a 
 fellow's eye out with that thing. We're a 
 goin' to draw the gorse first, but you'd better 
 leave that blessed article behind, or you'll be 
 killing somebody," retorts Tom, riding ofi", 
 while Jack, with a laugh, swings off best pace 
 towards the first draw, and as soon as he 
 arrives at the gorse places himself in a com- 
 manding position to await the turn of events. 
 
 Just as the hounds are thrown in there is 
 a bit of commotion down at the other end, 
 and a loose horse galloping past tells the tale 
 of a misfortune. Away goes Jack in hot chase, 
 and manages to catch the riderless steed in a 
 trice. When he returns he finds it is Mr. 
 Betteridge, who, having trusted himself on a 
 new purchase, has been fain to dismount rather 
 more hurriedly than he intended. However, 
 no bones are broken, and Jack, having added 
 another bit of silver to his day's earnings, 
 betakes himself to where he had left his pole. 
 
 It is a quick find, and the fox breaks close 
 by Mr. Whistler, who, as soon as he sees him 
 
TEE RUNNER. 233 
 
 well away, gives vent to his feelings in a 
 somewhat beery view hollo, and then proceeds 
 to follow as fast as he can. At the bottom of 
 the meadow, below the gorse, runs a broadish 
 brook, and a good many turn away for the 
 road and bridge which spans the obstacle. On 
 any other occasion Jack would have done the 
 same, but his failure in the road and old Tom's 
 laughter still rankles in his bosom, and as he 
 runs down towards the water he clutches his 
 pole and says to himself: "I'll show some on 
 'em as I ain't a-going to be second. I'll pound 
 a few on 'em I'll bet. I do 'ope that old 
 beggar Tom 'uU get a wet jacket." 
 
 As the hounds dash in and feather about 
 on the other side, Tom and the hard-riders pull 
 up to see w^hich way the line lies and whether 
 the fox is over or not. But Jack does not 
 stop a moment, and with an exultant shout of 
 " Come on, gents, what are yer waiting for ? " 
 he jumps as far as he can, and, holding his 
 pole in a slanting position, plunges it in to 
 aid him in his journey over the water. 
 
234 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 The pole touches the bottom and then sinks 
 into about two feet of mud, leaving Jack 
 suspended in mid-air. A momentary pause, 
 and with a " Eot the thing ! " the Eunner dis- 
 appears from view beneath the waters of the 
 brook, emerging on the other side half drowned 
 and covered with black slime, while the instru- 
 ment of his misfortune remains erect in the 
 middle. 
 
 " I thought you was a-going fishing," 
 says Tom with a chuckle ; as he lands safe 
 by the side of Jack, and then as he passes 
 him to get to the hounds : " You'd better take 
 a few lessons from your pal Riley afore you 
 try again." 
 
 The rest of the spectators are nearly in a 
 state of collapse with laughter, both at the 
 pitiable sight Jack presents as well as at the 
 murderous glances he casts at the pole ; but 
 hounds are runnino: and there is no time to 
 lose, so the chase sweeps past and he is left 
 alone in his misery to make the best of his 
 way home. As soon as Jack has scraped him- 
 
TEE BUNNER. 235 
 
 self a bit clean and wrung out his coat, he 
 feels carefully in his pockets to see if all his 
 gains are safe ; and finding everything right 
 in that respect he brightens up, and leaving 
 his pole where it is, moves off at a brisk jog- 
 trot to the nearest public to dry the outer and 
 wet the inner man. 
 
 When next he appears at the door he 
 shows evident signs that he has accomplished 
 the latter part of his purpose, for his course is 
 anything but straight, and after taking nearly 
 an hour to do half a mile he manasces to 
 stagger into a barn, where in a few moments 
 he is " wrapt in sweet slumber." 
 
 He is not, however, likely to take any 
 harm from the proceeding, for he is used to 
 the sort of sleeping-place, and will turn out 
 next morning — a little red about the eyes 
 perhaps — but ready to go any distance with 
 the hounds, and, what is more, equally ready 
 for some more of the "hair of the dog that 
 bit him." 
 
 Passionately fond of hounds and hunting. 
 
236 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 he enjoys life thoroughly during the winter, 
 and lives on the fat of the land ; but when 
 what he calls the " stinking violets and prim- 
 roses" aj)pear, things are not so pleasant. 
 " Othello's occupation gone," he has to fall 
 back on odd jobs and an occasional half-a- 
 crown from Sir John or some of his friends, 
 and, failing these, may be generally found " at 
 home " at the " red house," maybe better 
 known as the " workus." 
 
 Vagabond he is, and vas^abond he will 
 remain. Nevertheless, there is many a man 
 who would be sorry to hear of anything serious 
 happening to Jack Whistler the Bullshire 
 Kunner. 
 
THE MAN AT THE TOLL-BAR. 
 
 The greatest friend or enemy of John Pillings 
 could hardly accuse him of being either an 
 over-sociable or too-genial individual. In 
 fact, he has earned throughout the length and 
 breadth of the county the nickname of *' Ould 
 Sulky," and is perhaps better known by that 
 sobriquet than by the more lawful patro- 
 nymic bestowed upon him by his parents 
 and his erodfather and ij-odmother at his 
 
 o o 
 
 baptism. 
 
 This being the case, it may fairly be said 
 that Pillings has at last settled down into 
 his proper place, and is one of the few in- 
 stances of the "round man in a round hole." 
 
238 2IEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 He has not always been at the toll-gate ; on 
 the contrary, his life has been somewhat 
 varied, and he has experienced a good many 
 of the nps and downs of the world. 
 
 He began by being " bound 'prentice " to a 
 carpenter,, but his temper was against him, 
 and so when his time was up he took to 
 the more active life of a sailor. 
 
 Here again his enemy found him out, and 
 lie said good-bye to his shipmates without 
 much sorrow on their part. " 'Bout as much 
 use a-talking to him as a marlinspike. Mate 
 yer calls him ! Nasty sulky beggar ! In 
 everybody's mess and nobody's watch," was 
 the general verdict of the men ; so it was 
 no wonder they were glad to see him go 
 over the side. 
 
 For the second time Mr. Fillings was in 
 want of a job, and on this occasion he took 
 to butchering, which he thought might be 
 more likely to agree with his temperament. 
 But in about two months he quarrelled with 
 his master, and after they had had it out in 
 
TBE MAN AT TEE TOLL-BAB. 239 
 
 the slauc^hter-liouse Pillin2;s found himself 
 once more in the workl witli three half-crowns 
 in his pocket, about ten pounds at the bank, 
 and a pair of as beautiful black eyes as one 
 would wish to see, to say nothing of a nose 
 three times its proper size, and a good many 
 teeth very shaky. 
 
 When he had got his countenance back 
 to its pristine beauty he tried his hand at 
 The Red Covv- as barman, and, strange to 
 say, he managed to get on in this capacity 
 very well. 
 
 The Red Cow, it must be known, is an 
 inn much frequented by the knights of the 
 pencil, so that Fillings, by keeping his ears 
 open, and by a few judicious investments, soon 
 managed to make a nice little nest-egg for 
 himself; and having fallen a victim to the 
 charms of the chambermaid, he offered to share 
 his fortune with her. 
 
 Unfortunately for him the lady was " will- 
 ing," and in a few months became Mrs. P., and 
 shortly afterwards a mother. 
 
240 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 The landlord of The Red Cow, on finding 
 it out, was exceeding wroth, and sent John 
 and his spouse packing instanter, which, as 
 may be supposed, did not improve the man's 
 temper or conduce to the domestic happiness 
 of his wife. 
 
 After various ups and downs too numerous 
 to enter into, to make a long story short, John 
 Fillings, through the interest of a " friend at 
 court," found himself installed at the gate- 
 house, with nothing to do but open the gate, 
 take the toll, and occasionally vary the 
 monotony of existence by getting tipsy and 
 belabouring his spouse. The latter event has 
 become more frequent of late years, as, unlike 
 the generality of things, the older he gets 
 the tighter he gets, and often people are 
 surprised to find the gate open and no one 
 to take the money, " Old Sulky " being drunk 
 in bed, and his wife having taken refuge with 
 a neighbour until her husband is all right 
 again. 
 
 When he is not in a hopeless condition 
 
THE MAN AT TEE TOLL-BAR. 241 
 
 he is as smart as needs be, and a very 'cute 
 man indeed it would have to be who could 
 manacle to evade the toll while the Man at 
 the Gate was on the look-out. 
 
 "What Pillings likes best is, on a market 
 morning to keep the gate shut, and then when 
 the farmers come hurrying up and shout : 
 " Now then, gate ; hi ! gate," he will turn 
 out, look up and down the road, and go slowly 
 up to the tax-cart, or whatever the indignant 
 individual may be in, and say " Toll." 
 
 " Hang you ; open the gate, and look 
 sharp," is the probable reply, as the money 
 is handed down. 
 
 " Shan't go no quicker ; ain't paid no more 
 for looking sharp. If ye'r in such a bloomin' 
 hurry, open it yerself," says Pillings, as he 
 slowly unfastens the bolt and swings the gate 
 back, laughing to himself as the farmers, 
 pouring imprecations on his head, dash 
 through. 
 
 More than once has " Ould Sulky" been 
 the object of such delicate attentions as having 
 
242 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 his door nailed up, and twice has the toll-gate 
 been lifted off its hinges and carried bodily 
 into the next parish. A very short time ago a 
 few adventurous spirits, coming home from 
 the market-town and finding the toll-gate 
 open, stormed the gate-house, where Fillings 
 was lying dead- drunk upstairs, and lifting him 
 into their trap they carried him off to the 
 nearest pound, where, having borrowed a 
 wheelbarrow, they left him for the night ; 
 and the next morning the people of the village 
 were astonished to see the keeper of the toll- 
 bar reposing, cl la Pickwick, " drunk in a 
 wheelbarrow." 
 
 John Fillings was perfectly furious, and 
 did all he could to find out with the aid of 
 the police who the offenders were ; but the 
 matter coming to the ears of Sir John Lap- 
 pington in his capacity as chairman of the 
 bench of magistrates, he thought it best to 
 give *' Ould Sulky " a timely hint that, unless 
 he reformed, he would find himself again on 
 
THE MAN AT TRE TOLL-BAR. 243 
 
 the world, and also recommended him strongly 
 to give up searching for his abductors. 
 
 Perhaps the Master's brother, Harold Lap- 
 pington, having been the prime mover in the 
 freak, had as much to do with this sage 
 counsel as Sir John's magisterial capacity ; 
 but no matter how that is, suffice it that 
 Fillings dropped the subject like a hot potato, 
 and fell back on his own thous^hts for comfort. 
 
 He says now : '' I'll be even with them 
 scamps some day, or my name ain't Fillings. 
 As soon as ever I finds out — and find 'em I 
 will, police or no police — I'll smash 'em ; 
 you see." 
 
 Old Tom and the Master he holds in great 
 dread, and looks up to them with as much 
 veneration as his nature is capable of feeling. 
 But for the common herd, alias the field, he 
 has no respect, and often makes himself 
 exceedingly unpleasant to boot. If the hounds 
 happen to run his way, and the macadam 
 brigade come galloping down the road, *' Ould 
 
 R 2 
 
244 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 Sulky" is out in a jiff, and bang goes the 
 gate, while he stands in front and utters the 
 monosyllabic " Toll." 
 
 " Oh, all right, open the gate, the last 
 man will pay," shouts someone. 
 
 " You'll only go through one at a time, 
 and you'll each pay, or I'll know the reason 
 why. I've never found that last cove 'as any 
 money along with him," retaliates Fillings ; 
 and there he will stand taking each man's 
 money and fumbling about for the change, 
 till all the luckless ones are throuoh and 
 the hounds are well out of sight and hearing. 
 
 Then " Sulky " will retire to his den with 
 a chuckle and put away the money, muttering 
 to himself : " Last chap 'ull pay ! Likely as I'm 
 going to be took in a that 'uns. Don't fancy 
 they'll see much of t' hounds again anyhow." 
 
 Of course if Sir John or Tom happens to be 
 there Fillings is civility itself, and there is no 
 question of first or last, for he knows it would 
 not do, and that if he were to play those sort 
 of pranks with the Master his place would not be 
 
THE MAN AT THE TOLL-BAB. 245 
 
 worth can hour's purchase. As it is, he is often 
 hard put to it to find an excuse for his 
 behaviour ; but he somehow manages to escape 
 by the skin of his teeth, and from constant 
 repetition his performances are looked upon as 
 a reguhir institution in the county. 
 
 It is, however, whispered abroad that 
 another year will see a different face at the 
 gate, for even the most conservative of mortals 
 is apt to tire of John's rudeness, and so they 
 are only w\aiting a favourable opportunity in 
 order to get rid of him altogether. 
 
 They have repeatedly tried to have the 
 turnpike removed from the road, and have 
 pointed out the inconvenience and annoyance 
 of the thing ; but hitherto their efforts have 
 been of no avail, so now they have given it 
 up as a bad job, and have banded themselves 
 together to catch out the principal cause of 
 the nuisance. If they are successful, and 
 Fillings is again out of employment, it will 
 be a difficult matter with him to find bread 
 for himself and wife, for it is extremely 
 
246 MEN WK MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 doubtful whether anyone in BuUshire would 
 care to have so morose and drunken a servant 
 about their premises. 
 
 Perhaps after a month or two in the 
 workhouse, he may turn over a new leaf and 
 so get some berth ; but under existing cir- 
 cumstances, as old Tom told him one day, 
 if he loses his place he will have either to 
 starve or let himself out as a scarecrow at 
 so much a-day. Therefore, for his own sake, 
 it is to be hoped next season he will improve 
 his manners, and so remain in the only position 
 for which he is suited' — to wit, the Man at 
 the Toll-bar. 
 
WHO- WHOOP ! 
 
 A BRIGHT warm morning in April, with just 
 enough keenness in the air to make one say to 
 oneself : " There's a chance of a scent this 
 morning." 
 
 A day on which that peculiar freshness of 
 the new-born spring seems to pervade every- 
 thing. The buds on the roadside hedges, wet 
 with a passing shower, sparkle and glint in the 
 sunshine, and the grass on the banks is green 
 and moist. 
 
 Even old Tom feels the effect of the 
 glorious day, though he does anathematise 
 the " stinking violets " as he rides to the 
 dosing meet at Fallow Field, and wonders 
 
248 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 '"ow in the name of all that's merciful 
 t' hounds can work in cover with the 'nation 
 primroses a-coming out." 
 
 Still, he knows well that there has been 
 such a thino^ before now as a real '' buster " in 
 April, and he looks approvingly on the sur- 
 roundings, and mutters to himself that, " If 
 t' sun wunna come out too strong, they may be 
 able to do summat arter all." 
 
 As the hounds move jauntily along, it is 
 evident to the merest tyro that their condition 
 is as nearly perfect as can be, and that the 
 wear and tear of the past season has had but 
 little effect on them. Indeed Tom is quite 
 ready to go on the whole year round if it were 
 possible ; and as Harry rides after Belldame, 
 whose spirits have got the better of her disci- 
 pline (an old hare in the hedgerow having 
 proved irresistible), he says : " Let t' ould bitch 
 alone, Harry ; 'er won't 'ave another chance 
 this year, more's the pity ; they mun do as 
 they're a-miud to-day — till wa cum to business 
 at all events." 
 
WEO-WEOOP! 249 
 
 So Belldame saves her bacon, and the old 
 hare having got clean off, she returns to her 
 place looking somewhat crestfallen. 
 
 Everybody in the country is at Fallow 
 Field — men on horses of all sorts, shapes, 
 and sizes. Even a donkey carries a living 
 freight for the day, and is transformed into a 
 "perfect fencer." Vehicles of every descrip- 
 tion are drawn up at the trysting-place, from 
 the mail-pliaeton and pair of steppers to the 
 more humble conveyance of the costermonger. 
 
 Those who can find nothing whereon they 
 may ride arc fain to turn out afoot, but turn 
 out they do in scores ; and no wonder, for in a 
 country like Bullshire, where every man, 
 woman, and child have the spirit of sport 
 strong upon them, each one is bound to see 
 the last day of the season, and if they cannot 
 all hope to be in at the death, still they can 
 see the hounds find and go away, which is 
 more than half the battle, and will give food 
 for conversation for many a week afterwards. 
 
 Of course all our old friends are there. 
 
250 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 The Parson and Doctor ride up together, and 
 receive quite an ovation from the foot-people ; 
 then shortly afterwards the popular Secretary 
 arrives, and causes the usual commotion among 
 the gentlemen in arrears with their subscrip- 
 tions. 
 
 The Simmses have joined old Tom and the 
 hounds on the road, and their advent is the 
 signal for a ringing cheer, which is quickly 
 suppressed when Sir John is seen cantering 
 up with Harold, Mrs. Talford, and the Colonel ; 
 the Major, with a heap more, bringing up the. 
 rear. 
 
 Of course the Major has a deal of fault to 
 find with everything, as usual ; and, equally 
 of course, the Boaster is spinning a yarn of 
 his own prowess, and endeavouring to impress 
 Mr. Betteridge with the idea that he is the 
 only man of the hunt who has gone straight 
 during the season. 
 
 Jack the Runner is making a good haul, 
 and, were he provident, might be able to lay by 
 a little store to help through the summer; 
 
wno-wnoon 251 
 
 but, as we know, he is exactly tlie reverse, and 
 whatever he earns to-day will be clean gone 
 by the end of the week, if not before. 
 
 " Well, Tom," says the Parson, from the 
 middle of the pack (he has dismounted, and is 
 surrounded by his favourites), " I suppose you 
 won't be sorry to give the horn a bit of rest, 
 eh ? What say you. Minstrel ? " turning to 
 the old hound. 
 
 "Sorry, Master Halston; I shanna know 
 what to do wi' mysen till wa begin cubbing. 
 It's alias the same, and t' hounds feel it just like 
 I," replies Tom. "But never mind," he con- 
 tinues with a smile, "if so be as you'll gie us 
 a sermon now and again about fox-'unting, I 
 make no doubt we shall do." 
 
 " Well, Tom, I should be puzzled for a 
 text, I think," rejoins the Parson; "perhaps 
 you will find one for me." 
 
 At which remark the bystanders smile, for 
 old Tom is not a very regular attendant ; but 
 the smile breaks into a loud peal of laughter 
 when the Huntsman retaliates as quick as 
 
252 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 thought by saying : " Ay, I wuU ; you wunna 
 have far to look. You can take for the first 
 Sunday, 'Many dogs a-cum about me;' and 
 then for the next week, as a wind-up, you can 
 give us 'The fat bulls of Bashan,' and say 
 what a murdering nuisance they was a-crossing 
 the line." And with a " Coop, coom away, 
 hounds," he rides away, having scored one 
 most emphatically. 
 
 At this juncture Sir John, having pulled 
 out his watch, gives the signal, and away they 
 trot to the first draw, which unfortunately 
 proves a blank, as does the next, whereat 
 Tom's soul waxeth wroth, and for five minutes 
 the vengeance of the gods is called down on 
 the "stinking violets," and other articles 
 which in his opinion militate against the 
 scent. 
 
 The third essay seems likely for a long 
 time to be as unproductive as the two former, 
 when suddenly a whimper from Eanter, backed 
 up by Harbinger, sends a tlirill through the 
 veins of the eager field. 
 
WHO-WHOOPf 253 
 
 Tom is all life in n, moment, and his " 'Ave 
 at 'im. Eugh, 'ave at 'im ! Eugh, boys ! " 
 rings out clear and shrill. 
 
 Not so shrill, though, as Charles's " Tally- 
 ho ! gone awa-a-y ! awa-a-a-y ! " which comes 
 pealing through the trees from the bottom 
 end, while the pack, catching it up, ring out 
 a chorus that would waken the dead. 
 
 " Hounds, please, hounds ! Hold hard, 
 gentlemen ! " roars Sir John to some of the too 
 enthusiastic j5re- eaters as they gallop down the 
 squashy ride, vainly endeavouring to get 
 ahead of Tom, who, with white hair flying in 
 the breeze, is vigorously cheering his hounds 
 on to the line, occasionally giving them a 
 chink of music to dance to. 
 
 At last the wood is cleared, and the pack 
 are streaming over the grass. Nearly every- 
 body has got a good start, and each man, 
 kno^\ing it is his last day, rides his best. 
 
 Mrs. Talford, as usual, is going along to 
 the fore, second to none ; and Mr. Halston is 
 determined that if the " fat bulls " do cross 
 
254 3IEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 the line, lie at all events will be well enough 
 up to note the exact spot where the catastrophe 
 occurred. 
 
 Falls are plentiful, for the pace is hot, and 
 the weather being of the same temperature, 
 horses are soon, as Tom says, "all a muck o' 
 sweat," and find the fencing no light matter. 
 
 However, ''For'ard on" they race, and for 
 five-and-thirty minutes without a check, till 
 they throw up suddenly by a thick ivy-grown 
 hedge. 
 
 " By Guy," says Tom, as he makes his cast 
 and mops his face with a large red silk ban- 
 dana, " by Guy, it's warm, and no mistak'." 
 Then after a bit, as the hounds seem quite at 
 sea : " Dashed if the varmint 'ain't melted." 
 
 Not quite. He has only run the hedge 
 right along the top of the ivy till he came to 
 the cross-fence, and then jumping down has 
 set his head straight for AVoodborough ; and 
 Minstrel, casting on his own account, hits off 
 the spot where he landed on terra-firma, and 
 
WEO-WnOOPf 255 
 
 in loud tones proclaims it to the world in 
 general and his companions in particular. 
 
 At it again they are in a crack, and the 
 welcome check havino- allowed a chance of 
 
 O 
 
 getting " second wind," the field are all well 
 up and as merry as crickets. Soon, however, 
 the pace begins to tell, and the " tailing" is 
 terrible ; as they go on each successive ditch 
 holds a victim, and the flyers of the hunt are 
 all forced to take a pull. 
 
 The best of the horses are beginning to 
 sob, and old Tom has serious misgivings about 
 havinor to finish the run afoot. But it's a lonof 
 lane that has no turning, and two fields ahead 
 the fox is seen crawling along dead beat. The 
 hounds run from scent to view, then comes a 
 last final rush. 
 
 A confused mass, a worry, and then Tom's 
 ''Who -whoop! who-whoop!" is heard a 
 mile back, and tells those struggling in the 
 wake that the gallant pack have run into their 
 fox, and that the Bullshire hounds have 
 
25G MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 finished their season with a rattling run ending 
 in a kill. 
 
 As the word " Home " is given by Sir John, 
 and old Tom rides off amid the congratulations 
 of all who have managed to get to the end, he 
 casts a look of pride at his darlings clustered 
 round him, and mutters : " Ay, bad luck to 
 it ; it's ' Who-whoop ' till next season." 
 
THE FIRST OF THE SEASON. 
 
 Old friends are all meeting and gathered 
 
 together 
 In batches, discussing the crops and the 
 
 weather ; 
 It has been a hard struggle for some with the 
 
 rent, 
 But their troubles grow light as the talk turns 
 
 on scent. 
 
 The landlord and tenant, the farmer and 
 squire, 
 
 Have all had to suffer and pocket their ire, 
 
 s 
 
258 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 At the sun's fitful gleam and the rain's 
 
 ceaseless pour ; 
 But they meet in good fellowship round the 
 
 inn-door. 
 
 Their thoughts are all bent upon horses and 
 
 hounds, 
 For shortly the covert will echo with sounds, 
 As the eager pack top the wood-fence with a 
 
 crash, 
 The young entry all bustle and brimful of 
 
 dash. 
 
 Now see to your girths if you mean to be 
 
 there. 
 Old Tom looks like business ; his hand's in 
 
 the air. 
 A whimper — a chorus — hark, hollo ! they've 
 
 found, 
 And his old mare pops over the rails with a 
 
 bound. 
 
THE FIRST OF TEE SEASON. 259 
 
 Aw cay fling that weed, catch your horse by the 
 
 head, 
 He's young, and he's hot, but he's clean 
 
 thoroughbred ; 
 Don't rush at the timber or else you'll be 
 
 down. 
 Let him see what's before him — he'll jump 
 
 o'er a town. 
 
 They are over the brook, which is bankful, I 
 
 swear ; 
 See, yonder they go with their sterns in the 
 
 air. 
 There's young Flyaway in, and, by Jove, 
 
 what a cropper ! 
 Ah, the others won't have it — I thought 
 
 'twas a stopper. 
 
 Thank goodness, they're checked by that herd 
 
 of Scotch kine. 
 But, hark for'ard, old Minstrel has hit off the 
 
 line. 
 
 s 2 
 
260 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 There'll be " bellows to mend " if this goes on, 
 
 I fear, 
 For the pace is too hot for the first of the 
 
 year. 
 
 Down the meadow — they view — see the hounds 
 
 how they tear ! 
 They have him ! Who-whoop ! And the field 
 
 are all — where ? 
 Here we come. Scarce a coat but betokens a 
 
 fall, 
 But who-whoop ! what a cracker to open the 
 
 ball! 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 Fox-hunting and fellowship go hand in hand. 
 And a true sporting mind by a friend's sure to 
 
 stand ; 
 So let each drain a bumper nor think it high 
 
 treason 
 To follow The Queen with " The First of the 
 
 Season." 
 
THE FIRST OF THE SEASON. 261 
 
 The bond of good feeling is found in the 
 
 field ; 
 As the Squire meets the Farmer the compact 
 
 is sealed. 
 And each vows, as the moments flit merrily 
 
 by. 
 
 The world has no music like hounds in full 
 cry. 
 
UNCLE JOHN'S NEW HORSE. 
 
 A LETTER I found Oil my table, addressed 
 to Edward Milford, Esq., Duke Street, St. 
 James's, wliich, being my name and address, I 
 took the liberty of opening, reminded me of 
 the fact tbat I was engaged to my uncle 
 for tlie Christmas holidays. 
 It ran as follows : 
 
 *' The Grange, Slopton. 
 
 "My Boy, 
 
 " You are booked to us for Christmas, 
 so don't fail. It is to be ten days this time, 
 and no telegram ' on important business ' to 
 call you away, as, if I remember right, was 
 
UNCLE JOHN'S NEW EOBSE. 263 
 
 the case on your last visit. There are many 
 attractions here, or will be by the time you 
 arrive. First, myself ; secondly, a new horse, 
 which you will have the pleasure of trying for 
 me ; and, thirdly, your cousin Grace. There 
 are a few pheasants, and, besides, some of the 
 old port. You will find a hearty welcome ' 
 from your affectionate 
 
 " Uncle John." 
 
 Uncle John (whose surname was Dawson) 
 was the sole surviving relation from whom I 
 had any expectations. He was my mother's 
 brother, and on the death of both my parents 
 had been left my guardian. He had never 
 married ; but about the same time that he 
 undertook to train me in the path in which I 
 should go, he had adopted the orphan child of 
 his brother, and it was almost an understood 
 thing that his property would, at his demise, 
 be equally divided between myself and Grace 
 Dawson, the lady referred to in his letter as 
 cousin Grace. 
 
264 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 A thorough sportsman of the old school, 
 whose creed lay in horse, hound, and hospi- 
 tality, he made The Grange as pleasant a 
 place to stop at as one could well find. But 
 there was (as there is in every enjoyment) one 
 drawback — to me at least — and that lay in the 
 "new horse." 
 
 My worthy uncle, excellent rider as he 
 was, happened to be the worst judge of a 
 horse in the world, and was always picking 
 up wonderful bargains which, unfortunately, 
 he insisted on my trying for him. How it 
 is that I have hitherto escaped with an 
 unbroken neck I cannot say ; for there is 
 scarcely any circus-rider in the United King- 
 dom who dare lay claim to more double 
 somersaults, and I might almost say that I 
 am an expert at flying in all its branches. 
 
 However, nothing venture nothing have ; 
 and I was not going to quarrel with Uncle 
 John through any fear of Uncle John's new 
 horse, besides the attraction of cousin Grace. 
 So I sent an answer accepting the invitation. 
 
TJNCLIE JOHN'S NEW EORSE. 265 
 
 and giving the train by which I should 
 arrive. 
 
 It was a cold cheerless afternoon when, 
 having wrapped myself up iu my railway-rug, 
 I selected a regalia reina and proceeded to 
 settle myself in the space allotted to me by 
 a magnanimous railway company in a smok- 
 inof carriaire attached to the 3.50 p.m to 
 Slopton. 
 
 There are three things that, when travel- 
 ling, invariably strike me as peculiar; and 
 which I am forced to put down either to the 
 perversity of human nature or the desire not 
 to give too much comfort for the money. 
 
 First : Why is it that the examination of 
 tickets never takes place until nearly the last 
 moment, when one is well wrapped up and 
 settled — the finding of the required piece of 
 cardboard entailinsr an undoino; of the w^hole 
 arrangement, a search through an infinity of 
 pockets, a loss of temper, a letting in of much 
 cold air, and, to wind up, the almost positive 
 certainty that, having worked oneself into a 
 
200 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 fever because the blessed article is not forth- 
 coming, one suddenly remembers that, with a 
 chuckle at one's own 'cuteness and in order 
 not to be disturbed, it had been slipped into 
 the band of one's hat, where it had been 
 starinty an idiotic examiner in the face for 
 fully five minutes, he pretending all the while 
 not to have seen it ? 
 
 Secondly: Why, just as you have recovered 
 from the effects of the official visit and have 
 rearranged yourself with, perhaps, your feet 
 on the opposite cushion, if the door opens and 
 another passenger gets in, should he be cer- 
 tain to choose the very seat w^here you have 
 deposited your legs, notwithstanding that 
 there may be three or four other vacant places, 
 and that by sitting opposite he inflicts the 
 maximum of discomfort on both ? 
 
 Thirdly : Why is it that the carriages are 
 built with a projection, whereupon you are 
 supposed to recline your head if disposed to 
 sleep, but to effect which purpose you must 
 perforce sit bolt upright, the said projection 
 
UNCLE JOHN'S NEW EOBSE. 2G7 
 
 invariably being, for ordinary mortals, some 
 four inches tOo high ? 
 
 And why, if either you yourself or your 
 next-door neio-hbour, neojlect to assume the 
 rigid and perpendicular position necessary, 
 but venture to fall asleep in a more comfort- 
 able posture, should it be very long odds that 
 you find yourself reposing peacefully on his 
 shirt-front, or vice-versa ? 
 
 Before I had arrived at any solution of 
 these j^henomena, the train ran into Crosby 
 Junction, and, together with a foot-warmer — 
 which, so far as I could make out, was filled 
 with cold water — there entered a portly indi- 
 vidual, whose vocation was plainly stamped 
 on his garments — to wit, a horse-dealer. 
 
 After the lapse of a few minutes, during 
 which. time the portly one kept the door open, 
 he was joined by another member of the fra- 
 ternity, who, from the likeness between them, 
 was evidently his son. After we had started 
 again, the father began the conversation by 
 saying to his son: "Jim, I wonder how the 
 
268 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 old gent likes liis horse," at which the youth 
 allowed a smile to steal over his face, and 
 remarked sententiously : " Lucky you got the 
 money down, dad." 
 
 Who, I wondered, was the old gent ? 
 Somebody else's " Uncle John " perhaps, I 
 thought, and began to reflect on the possi- 
 bility of his having a nephew to risk his neck 
 over doubtful purchases. I felt a curiosity on 
 the subject, as I knew most of the inhabitants 
 of the country we were approaching, and made 
 up my mind to try and find out. 
 
 So turning to the elder I said : "I see, 
 sir " (it is always " Sir " in a first-class, 
 "Mister" in a second, and " Mayster " in 
 a third, I have noticed), "that you know 
 something about horses, and, being a stranger 
 in this country, I should be extremely glad if 
 you could tell me where I am likely to pick 
 up a couple or three at a reasonable price. I 
 have a commission to buy three hunters for a 
 friend in London, and am going down to a 
 place called The Grange, to look at one 
 
UNCLE JOEN'S NEW BOUSE. 269 
 
 beloiKdno: to a Mr. — Dawson I think is tlie 
 name ; but I should be glad to hear of two 
 others. By-the-way, do you know what sort 
 of cattle Mr. Dawson keeps ? " 
 
 As I concluded my speech, which I thought 
 decidedly artful, I saw father and son exchange 
 significant glances, and then my portly friend 
 replied : 
 
 " Well, sir, you've come to the right shop 
 for what you want. I have three of the very 
 best you ever cla^^ped your eyes on. If you 
 will favour me with a call to-morrow or the 
 next day we might do business. Though I 
 must tell you that I am a one-price man, and 
 keep none but the best. Perhaps, sir, you 
 would take my card," and he presented for my 
 inspection a highly-glazed piece of pasteboard, 
 whereon was imprinted 
 
 JOSIAH BELL & SOX, 
 
 Commission Stables, ' 
 
 102, Brklrje Street, 
 
 Muxford. 
 Hacks, Hunters, Harness. 
 
270 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 When lie saw that I had dio;ested the contents 
 and had transferred the card to my pocket, he 
 continued in a more confidential tone : " I'll 
 give you a little bit of advice, sir. Don't be too 
 sweet on Mr. Dawson's horse ; I know he has 
 one for sale which he bought up in town, a rare 
 good 'un to look at, but a regular beast. If 
 he takes it into his head he will do nothing 
 but stand still and kick, and if he can't shift 
 you at that he'll lie down and roll. Poor old 
 gentleman, he was awful took in over it ! He 
 should have come to me. You can't mistake 
 the 'oss, it's a big upstanding bay with a white 
 stocking on the near fore. But here's Muxford, 
 so I'll wish you good-day, and 'opes to see you 
 to-morrow or the next day. If I ain't at home 
 my son here will show you the nags;" and he 
 got down. 
 
 Just before the train moved on again, 
 however, he came to the window and said, 
 " Don't you buy the bay 'oss on no account." 
 
 It was not hard to put, in this instance, 
 two and two together, and when we arrived at 
 
UNCLE JOE^TS NEW HORSE. 271 
 
 Slopton I had quite made up my miud where 
 the " new horse " had been bouo^ht. On eettinfr 
 out of the train I was nearly deposited under 
 the wheels by a vigorous slap, administered in 
 the centre of my back, coupled w^ith the remark : 
 *' Why, my lad, you look like a Polar bear 
 in that ulster. It isn't cold. How are you ? " 
 
 Having recovered my equilibrium, I turned 
 round and encountered the jovial face of Uncle 
 John, whose nose, however, belied his speech 
 anent the weather, for it was fflisteniusf red, 
 like the sun throug^h a London foof. 
 
 •'' I'm all right, uncle," I replied ; " I can 
 see you are. How are they all at The Grange ?" 
 
 *' Fit as fiddles," responded my guardian. 
 " Grace is outside in the carriage, S(j get your 
 traps together and let's be off. By-the-bye, 
 I have such a grand new horse for you to try. 
 You shall ride him on Tuesday, when the 
 hounds meet at Abbot's Hill. A big upstand- 
 ing bay ; such a beauty ! Got him dirt cheap ; 
 but there, I'll tell you all about him when we 
 get home." 
 
272 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 " Has he got a white stocking on the near 
 fore ? " I asked. 
 
 " Yes ; how the deuce did you know, 
 I wonder ? " queried my uncle. " But look 
 sharp with those things : you take as long 
 collecting your traps as a fox does to leave 
 a big wood." 
 
 " Alas, poor me ! " I thought. " It is Mr. 
 Bell's horse;" and I went out to see cousin 
 Grace with anything but a feeling of "pleasures 
 to come." The sio-ht of her dear face and the 
 warmth of her greeting, however, soon made 
 me forget all about the white stocking, and 
 the journey home was passed in questions 
 asked and answers given. She told me that 
 on the morrow the remainder of the party 
 were expected down, among them old Lady 
 Ventnor and her son Lord Ventnor, a young 
 gentleman who gave himself considerable airs 
 on the strength of his title, and for whom I 
 had an intense dislike, owing perhaps in a 
 great measure to an idea that he had designs 
 on Grace's affections, which, although I had 
 
UNCLE JOHN'S NEW HORSE. 273 
 
 never hinted a word of love to her, caused me 
 more uneasiness than I liked to say. 
 
 As a set-ofF against this (to me) obnoxious 
 element, my old school-fellow and almost 
 brother, Jack Fisher, was already in the 
 house, together with his sister, who was Al 
 whether across country or in a ball-room, and 
 the life and soul of any house she might be 
 staying in. 
 
 Old "young ladies" no doubt used to 
 shake their heads and say, in their jealousy, 
 that she was "so fast;" but a better girl, 
 in every sense of the word, than Lettie Fisher 
 did not exist, despite her boisterous spirits and 
 reckless daring. 
 
 Naturally when we arrived at The Grange 
 Jack and I had lots to talk over — old days, 
 old sayings, and old friends ; and in the 
 smoking-room, when Uncle John, seated in 
 his favourite armchair, with a long church- 
 warden, fast colouring from constant usage, 
 in his hand, endeavoured to inflict on us a 
 detailed description of the big upstanding 
 
274 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 bay, we simply refused to listen to liim, 
 and I told liim I would prefer to form my 
 judgment from actual experience. 
 
 Next day the rest of the guests arrived, 
 and I had the pleasure of seeing young 
 Ventnor doino; his little best to ino;ratiate 
 himself with my cousin. I am afraid that 
 my manner showed that something was wrong, 
 for after dinner in the drawing-room Grace, 
 having for a moment freed herself from his 
 lordship's attentions, came across to where 
 I was sitting moodily contemplating the 
 piano, and said : 
 
 " What is the matter, Ned ? You look 
 as cross as two sticks. Everyone will think 
 you have commited a murder if you go on 
 staring into vacancy. Ventnor says you 
 would make a beautiful Hamlet." 
 
 "Very likely," I retorted. "I was just 
 then thinking with the Prince of Denmark 
 that some of Nature's journeymen had made 
 men, and not made them well, they imitated 
 humanity so abominably. Tell Ventnor I 
 
UNCLE JOHN'S NEW BOUSE. 275 
 
 am highly flattered by his opinion of me 
 as a representative of the Dane." 
 
 Grace only raised her eyebrows and left 
 me to my thoughts, which were interrupted 
 by the arrival of the butler, who informed 
 Uncle John that the stud-groom was waiting 
 for orders about the morrow. 
 
 My Uncle, who had gone to sleep over 
 his paper and was still in the land of dreams, 
 astonished us all by saying: "No more, 
 thanks ; not a drop more. Excellent claret, 
 but no more, thank you." 
 
 However, the roar of laughter thoroughly 
 awoke him, and he proceeded to tell us off 
 to our respective mounts. Of course it fell 
 to my lot to ride the "new horse." Ventnor 
 had brought his nags with him. Jack and 
 his sister were to ride The Drake and Topthorn, 
 two of the best hunters in the country, while 
 Grace had her own mare Kitty, Uncle John 
 reserving to himself his favourite animal 
 Corkscrew, so called from his ability to 
 bore through any bullfinch in the world. 
 
 T 2 
 
276 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 Having arranged these matters, candles 
 were liorhted and we all retired — the ladies to 
 
 o 
 
 bed and the men to the land of tobacco and 
 long tumblers. 
 
 "Are you nearly ready, Ned? It's a 
 a lovely day," said Jack, as he rushed into my 
 room on the following morning to borrow a 
 razor (Jack had a way of borrowing razors, 
 and a most inconvenient habit of forgetting 
 to return them), " Tell you what it is, if I 
 were you I should take plenty of sticking- 
 plaster in my pocket, and, if you have any, 
 a bandage or two, for James (the footman) has 
 been gratifying me with an account of your 
 mount for to-day. He says no one can ride 
 the beast if it takes it into its head to be 
 obstinate, and that it has nearly reduced one 
 of the helpers to a wafer by going down with 
 him at exercise and rollino^ over with him." 
 
 " Well," I replied, '* you are a nice sort of 
 Job's comforter. Here, drop it," as Jack 
 seized my razor. " Do, for goodness' sake, go 
 and get one of Ventnor's." 
 
UNGLE JOHN'S NEW HOUSE. 217 
 
 But he turned a deaf ear, and, making 
 good his retreat, left me to struggle into my 
 boots, and reflect on the pleasures of the chase 
 before me. 
 
 When I arrived downstairs I found 
 everyone assembled at breakfast in full 
 hunting fig, and Uncle John sticking up for 
 his new purchase, utterly refusing to believe 
 Jack's history of the brute's manners. 
 
 "Ah Ned," said he, as I entered the room, 
 " they are all trying to put me out of conceit 
 with my nag, but you will show them a 
 different story ; even if he is a little awkward 
 — which, mind you, boy, I don't believe — he 
 will find his master to-day, eh ? " 
 
 "Ladies and gentlemen," said the incor- 
 rigible Jack, rising, " I venture to propose a 
 toast, with which I am sure you will all agree 
 — ahem ! The toast is that of my esteemed 
 Mend Mr. Edward Milford, who is about to 
 be created Master of the Rolls." 
 
 Shouts of laughter greeted this sally from 
 all except Grace, who remarked : " I think it is 
 
278 MEN WE MEET m THE FIELD. 
 
 a great shame to cliaff my cousin, and if there 
 is any accident you ^^ill all be sorry." 
 
 I thanked the dear girl by a look, and 
 turned my attention to pigeon-pie, ignoring 
 Ventnor's question as to " Whether I did not 
 feel too nervous to eat ? " 
 
 Ten o'clock saw us under weigh, and 
 strangely enough the big upstanding bay was 
 on his best behaviour, and walked along by 
 the side of Kitty most sedately — a cir- 
 cumstance which Ventnor, who hoped to 
 monopolise Grace, did not seem particularly 
 thankful for. 
 
 Arriving at the meet in good time, I found 
 myself in the midst of a host of old friends, 
 who admired my horse, and said he looked all 
 over like G:oino;. The first draw from Abbots 
 Hill was a cover called " The Eough," and it 
 was noted for being a very nasty one to get a 
 start from, as there were only two ways to 
 choose, either through a boggy hunting gate- 
 way at the corner, which was always kept 
 closed until the fox was away, or over a rasping 
 
VNCLE JOHN'S NEW BOUSE. 279 
 
 great fence, with a ditch fully ten feet broad 
 on the far side, which was, to say the least 
 of it, not an inviting object to commence 
 with. 
 
 Knowing the topography of the land, I 
 slipped down to the gate as the hounds were 
 thrown in, and soon had the satisfaction of 
 seeing a fine old fox steal away and make 
 across the lonor orrass-field on the other side of 
 
 o o 
 
 " The Kouoh." Givintr him a few moments to 
 make good his departure, I holloed, and down 
 came the whole field pounding away for the 
 2fate, 
 
 Directly my uncle's steed heard them 
 coming he began his tricks by shooting up 
 straicfht on end. A crack between the ears 
 
 O 
 
 with my crop, and a gentle reminder of both 
 spurs as he came down fully roused his temper, 
 and, placing himself across the gateway, he 
 started to kick in a way I should never have 
 believed possible. With his head (notwith- 
 standing all I could do) nearly touching the 
 ground, he pirouetted round in a circle, lashing 
 
280 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 out viciously the whole time, and rendering it 
 perfectly impossible for anyone to pass. 
 
 A few adventurous spirits charged the 
 fence, but the majority of the field were kept 
 back, and seeing that hounds were running 
 hard with a burning scent, blessings (or the 
 reverse) fell fast and thick on my devoted 
 head. 
 
 At last, after I had thrashed him till my 
 arm ached, and tried everything I could think 
 of to induce him to shift his ground, the brute 
 played his trump card, and down he went as 
 if he had been shot, rolling over into the 
 ditch, where he lay, and sending me flying 
 well into the middle of the boggiest place, but 
 fortunately clear of himself, so that I escaped 
 without personal injury. 
 
 Covered with mud, and my hat squashed 
 flat, I presented a pretty picture as I picked 
 myself up and scrambled out of the way to 
 allow the more fortunate sportsmen a means 
 of egress, which they were not slow to take 
 advantao^e of. 
 
UNCLE JOHN'S NEW HORSE. 281 
 
 Grace, riding through, pulled up on the 
 other side, and asked me, with some concern, 
 if I was hurt. 
 
 " Not a bit," I said ; " go on, I am all right, 
 only take care of yourself." 
 
 " Don't get on that brute's back again, 
 dear boy," shouted Uncle John. "It has 
 frightened me out of my life. I thought you 
 were f]:oinof to be killed." 
 
 " Never mind me, Uncle, you will lose the 
 hounds if you wait here ; get for'ard and see 
 after Grace ; I will get this beast home," I 
 replied ; and, beckoning to two labourers who 
 were standing gazing at the prostrate form of 
 the "upstanding" one, I sent for a cart-horse 
 and ropes, and we soon had him out of the 
 ditch and standing, thoroughly subdued, in 
 the field. 
 
 The saddletree I found smashed, and the 
 stirrup-iron crumpled up, so there was no use 
 in trying to go on. The horse was not 
 damaged, luckily, with the exception of some 
 hair off ; but I had to lead the brute four miles 
 
282 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 home, and had had quite enough of it by the 
 time I reached The Grange. 
 
 " Good Lord, sir, you are in a mess ! " 
 remarked the stud-groom ; " I was afraid there 
 would be summat happen. He is a nasty 
 one ; why, I rode him myself the other 
 mornin' into the village, and he played me 
 the very identical caper, just before you come 
 to the bridge. He wouldn't pass that there 
 duck-pond by the pub., and when he went 
 down, as near as a toucher put me into the 
 water. The lads do tell me as nothing will 
 make him go by there now. Ah, master 
 should a listened to me, and not go a-buying 
 nags from a pair of copers like them Bells of 
 Muxford." 
 
 " Oh," I said, " he came from Bell's, did 
 he I I thought so ; " and I recounted my 
 conversation in the train. 
 
 When the rest returned of course they 
 had had a capital day, and I (as is usual in 
 these cases) had to stand the brunt of many 
 condolences and much sympathy with my 
 
UNCLE JOHN'S NEW HOBSE. 283 
 
 bad luck. I bore it for some time, but a 
 climax came at dinner. Everybody, Uncle 
 John included, had been vilifying the new- 
 purchase, when young Vcntnor broke in witli 
 affected drawl, saying : " Ah, yes, but a fellah, 
 YOU know, should not ride such a horse unless 
 he knows how to prevent him rolling. It 
 ain't safe — ah — you know." 
 
 Grace flew up in arms in a moment, and, 
 with her eyes flashing with anger, said : " I 
 do not believe, Lord Ventnor, that you or 
 any man could have prevented the horse 
 rolling. My cousin Ned can ride as well 
 as most men, and" (here came the unkindest 
 cut of all) " anyhow I do not think he w^ould 
 have turned away from Cleasby brook." 
 
 Then, catching my eye, she stopped short, 
 and blushing crimson betrayed her secret, 
 for I knew in that moment that she cared 
 for me, and that I had nothing to fear from 
 fifty Ventnors. 
 
 Uncle John, seeing how the land lay, 
 said : "Well, Ventnor, if you are so confident 
 
284 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 that my nephew ought to have done better you 
 shall have a chance of showing him how, for 
 you shall ride the horse to-morrow if you like." 
 
 Ventnor was about to reply, when Grace 
 gave the signal for the ladies to retire, and 
 as soon as they had gone and we had drawn 
 round the fire. Jack turned to his lordship 
 and spoke up as follows : 
 
 "If you ride the bay to-morrow, I'll bet 
 you ten sovereigns he puts you down." 
 
 " Oh yes, I'll — ah — ride him, and take 
 your bet, Fisher," replied Ventnor. 
 
 "I'll do more than that," said I; "I'll lay 
 you fifty pounds to thirty that you do not 
 ride from this door to the villao-e and back in 
 half an hour ; it's under a mile, so you have 
 ample time." 
 
 " Ah — done," quoth the young gentleman ; 
 and the bets were 2:)romptly booked, the time 
 being fixed for the start at 10 a.m. 
 
 Next morning everybody, from my Uncle 
 down to the boy who cleaned the knives, 
 turned out to sec Lord Ventnor c^ive me 
 
UNCLE JOHN'S NEW HOFSE. 285 
 
 a lesson in riding. Jack, Lettie, and Grace 
 I had let into the secret of the duck-pond, 
 and thither we repaired to see the fun. In 
 a few moments along the road came Ventnor 
 with a sort of I -told -you -how -it -would -be 
 smile on his face. 
 
 A snort— a full stop — down went the 
 bay's head, and up went his heels. 
 
 " Mind he doesn't roll with you, or it 
 will cost you forty pounds," shouted Jack, 
 and " Look out, man," as the animal's forelegs 
 began to tremble. 
 
 Nearer and nearer the pond they got, 
 when all of a sudden down dropped the new 
 horse, Ventnor jumping off as he fell; but 
 unfortunately for himself he caught his near 
 spur in the saddle as the animal turned over, 
 and with an " Oh ! " from the two girls, 
 we saw him disappear head first into the 
 pond, while the " white stocking " made tracks 
 homeward as hard as he could go. 
 
 " My dear sir," said Jack, as we pulled the 
 dripping lord out of the pond, " a fellah, 
 
286 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 you know, should not ride unless he knows 
 how to prevent a horse rolHnpr; it isn't safe, 
 you know." 
 
 This was too much for both Grace and 
 Lettie, and they were forced to retire in order 
 to hide their laughter. Ventnor was so angry 
 that he would not speak, and he paid us our 
 money with a very bad grace the same evening. 
 However, it taught him a lesson that it will 
 take him years to forget. 
 
 I told Uncle John after this of my meeting 
 in the train with the Messrs. Bell, and he 
 decided at once to send the brute up to 
 Aldridge's, where the fine upstanding bay 
 fetched exactly twenty-five guineas, and was 
 dear at that. 
 
 On Christmas Eve I ventured to ask Grace 
 for a Christmas present, to wit, herself, and 
 as Jack, who was my best man, said at the 
 wedding breakfast: "Though the mount was 
 not a pleasant one, still as it was instrumental 
 in obtaining for me my wife, I had no right 
 to be too hard on Uncle John's New Horse." 
 
THE HOG-BACKED STILE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 COMING EVENTS. 
 
 Towards the middle of December, 1878, a 
 dofT - cart mis^lit have been seen standing 
 
 DO O 
 
 outside the small station of Newcome, in 
 Slopshire. There was nothing particularly 
 remarkable about the turn-out — a goodish- 
 looking animal in the shafts and a certain air 
 of neatness stamped it as belonging to a 
 gentleman, but beyond that there was no 
 particular feature to attract attention. No 
 gaudy red wheels, nothing dazzling in the 
 way of " pickiug out ; "' simply an ordinary 
 
288 MEN WJE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 dog-cart, which had come down from Belton 
 Hall to meet the 5.35 train from London. 
 
 Belton Hall, an old Elizabethan mansion, 
 belonged to the Vivians, was inhabited 
 by Colonel George Vivian and his daughter 
 Mildred, and they were expecting two visitors, 
 who had been asked to the Hall for Christmas 
 and hunting — one, Jack Vivian, the Colonel's 
 nephew ; the other, a Mr. Thomas Simpson, 
 who was known to the world in general to 
 be followino- that callino; which covers a 
 multitude of sins, which means so much 
 yet expresses so little, viz. "something in 
 the City." 
 
 Colonel Vivian was as keen a sportsman 
 and as good a man to hounds as there was in 
 Slopshire, and his daughter followed closely 
 in his footsteps — too closely sometimes, for on 
 one occasion, when the Colonel came down at 
 a stiffish stake - and - bound fence, Mildred, 
 unable to stop in time, jumped right on the 
 top of him, her horse's near hind-foot going 
 slap through the crown of his new hat, which 
 
THE HOG-BACKED STILE. 289 
 
 luckily did not at the moment contain her 
 father's head. 
 
 Belton was therefore a certain find, and 
 the Master, knowing this, always had a fixture 
 there in the Christmas week. 
 
 Both Mildred and her father were too apt 
 to gauge a man by his powers of getting over 
 a country, and woe betide any unfortunate 
 individual who had been seen to exhibit any 
 — well, I will say hesitation — when hounds 
 were running. If he happened to be staying 
 at the Hall, he was chafted most unmercifully, 
 and under any other circumstances he was 
 immediately set down in the mental tablets 
 of the Vivians as a man who was not worth 
 knowing^. 
 
 There was but little fear of Jack not 
 coming up to the mark in the way of riding, 
 for, born and brought up in the country, his 
 first recollections were associated with hounds, 
 and his earliest lessons comprised " the run of 
 a fox," Of late years he had not been able 
 to hunt as much as he would have liked. 
 
290 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 for there were two fatal objections in his 
 way — want of time and want of money. 
 
 Jack Vivian was a barrister, and a hard- 
 working one withal. He had got his foot 
 on the second rung of the ladder of success 
 and meant going upwards ; therefore he had 
 little time for play, and but a small balance 
 of spare cash ; so it was only now and again 
 that he could snatch a brief holiday, and, 
 finding neck and spurs against a friend's horse, 
 engage in his favourite pursuit. Notwith- 
 standing this, there were few men who would 
 care to back themselves against Jack across 
 country, and there was probably not one 
 (old Jim the Huntsman excepted) Avho knew 
 more about a fox or what hounds were 
 doing. 
 
 Mr. Simpson, on the other hand, was 
 rolling in wealth, and as his " something in 
 the City " did not occupy much of his time, he 
 tried in every way to assume the appearance 
 of a country gentleman, and to be considered 
 a modern Nimrod. 
 
TEE HOG'BACKED STILE. 291 
 
 SomeboWj though, his three hundred- 
 guinea hunters did not carry Mr. Simpson 
 to the end, and it was marvellous the 
 extraordinary and unforeseen obstacles that 
 had prevented his appearance at the death. 
 
 Rivers suddenly had sprung up where 
 none had been known before, and six-foot 
 posts and rails, with broad double ditches, 
 had caused Mr. Simpson alone to tarry on 
 his course. In other words he was an arrant 
 "funk," though of course he would not have 
 acknowledged the soft impeachment. 
 
 It was, as you may think, very odd that 
 such a man should be the guest of so ardent 
 a sportsman as the owner of Belton, but it 
 happened thus. The previous year the Colonel 
 and his daughter were staying in Leicester- 
 shire, and at a friend's house they met Mr. 
 Simpson. So taken up with admiring his 
 horses was the Colonel that he either omitted 
 to look at the owner, or else invested him with 
 a halo which was the overflow of the equine 
 
 worship. 
 
 u 2 
 
292 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 Besides, open house, hunters five days a 
 week for himself and daughter, and a large 
 establishment, were not to be maintained for 
 nothing ; and the Colonel, in the matter of 
 £ s. d., was a remarkably practical man, and 
 had no objection to the possibility of a 
 rich son-in-law, even though he might be " in 
 the City." 
 
 Therefore, for Christmas week, Simpson 
 and his horses were ofifered bed and board at 
 Belton ; and already, in his own mind, had 
 Mr. S. drawn up a deed of partnership, with 
 Miss Vivian as the Co., for he had been com- 
 pletely knocked out of time at the first sight 
 of Mildred, and had fallen head over ears in — 
 what he was pleased to call — love. What 
 his chances of success were may be gathered 
 from the following conversation, which took 
 place in the drawing-room after the dog-cart 
 had gone down to the station. 
 
 Mildred — it was a non-hunting day — was 
 seated in a low easy-chair, occupied with five- 
 o'clock tea, and by her side, on a cushion. 
 
TEE HOG-BACKED STILE. 293 
 
 reclined her cousin Ethel, a young girl of 
 sixteen, while opposite was the Rev. Mr. 
 Wilton, the clergyman of the place — one of 
 the old school of sporting parsons, who was 
 good for a fiist twenty minutes either in the 
 field or the pulpit ; and though he had, for 
 fifty odd years, hunted regularly four days 
 a-week, there was not a man, woman, or child 
 in the parish whose every trouble was not 
 known to him, and there was not one of 
 them who would not willingly have given 
 up everything to help their idol, " t' owd 
 parson." 
 
 With his back to the fire stood the Colonel, 
 engaged in conversation with Florence Wing- 
 field, sister to the expected Jack. She was 
 staying in the house with her husband, 
 Captain Tom Wingfield, of the 23rd Hussars, 
 who at this moment was trying a new purchase 
 by riding over to the kennels, some ten miles 
 away. 
 
 " Which room has Mr. Simpson got, Milly?" 
 said the Colonel suddenly. 
 
294 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 "The best bachelor's room, papa," replied 
 the young lady ; " I put him there because 
 I thought the gorgeous pattern of the new- 
 carpet you chose would suit his taste, 
 and I have hung up some of those old 
 sporting prints for him to take a lesson 
 from. 
 
 " And what room has Jack got V continued 
 the Colonel, not best pleased at the impression 
 his intended guest had produced on his 
 daughter. 
 
 " Oh, dear old Jack has, of course, his own 
 room. Florence arranged it just as it used 
 to be, and before tea came I sa^v the fire was 
 all right." 
 
 "I suppose you did not happen to see 
 if Mr, Simpson's fire wan all right, Mildred V 
 said Mr. Wilton, wdth a sly t\vinkle in his 
 eye. 
 
 " No ; Ethel did that," she replied, laugh- 
 ing ; " besides, with that red face he can't be 
 cold." 
 
 "Milly, never judge by appearances," 
 
THE HOG-BACKED STILE. 295 
 
 interrupted Mrs. Wingfield, who saw by 
 lier uncle's face that the conversation was not 
 particularly agreeable to him. Woman-like, 
 she had read him like a book ; and, though 
 willing to keep the peace, she had long ago 
 made up her mind that Mildred was to be 
 her brother's wife or an old maid — aut Ccesar 
 aut nihil ; and having settled this, she set 
 herself down to carry out her plans. 
 
 " Who is talking about judging by 
 appearances ? " put in a manly voice, as 
 Tom Wingfield, somewhat muddy of coat, 
 walked into the room. 
 
 " 1 was," said his wife. " I was telling 
 Milly not to judge by appearances, for I 
 thought you a nice fellow once, and — 
 ahem ! — I was taken in by your appearance." 
 
 " All right, Mrs. Impudence," retorted 
 Tom ; "no hunting for you. I thought I 
 had two beautiful ladies' hunters, but I was 
 deceived by appearances. Anyhow, let me 
 have a cup of tea. I have given my new 
 nag a lesson he won't forget. He refused 
 
296 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 that fence out of tlie road by the windmill, 
 and put me down twice ; then tried to bolt 
 for Paradise Hill, but after a fight we got 
 on terms, and he goes like an angel now." 
 
 " I must make a note of that, Wingfield," 
 interrupted Mr. Wilton. "It is a curious 
 coincidence of an animal being stopped on its 
 way to Paradise, yet suddenly becoming an 
 angel." 
 
 " Capital text for next Sunday, Wilton," 
 said the Colonel. " But hark ! I hear the 
 dog-cart, and here they come round the 
 corner of the drive." 
 
 " Oh Lord ! " ejaculates Tom ; *' can any- 
 one tell me how gray shirtings are ? J\Iust 
 talk to a man who is in the City about 
 shirtings or backwardations, you know. I'll 
 ask Jack what he gave for his flannel shirts." 
 
 Amid the shouts of laughter which 
 followed this sally the door opened, and 
 the butler announced : " Mr. Simpson and 
 Master Jack." 
 
TEE HOG-BACKED STILE. 297 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 OF THE CITY CIVIC. 
 
 "Delighted to see you, Mr. Simpson," said 
 the Colonel, takin^: that gentleman's some- 
 what flabby hand, and introducing him to 
 the others in turn. "Ah Jack, my boy, 
 how are you ? I have such a horse for you ; 
 but no spurs allowed, mind." 
 
 "All right, uncle," replied Jack, coming 
 to the fire; "I'll remember. But how are 
 you all ? Florence, you are getting most 
 abominably fat. Why, Milly, ain't you going 
 to say How do you do to me ? — not that 
 way," as Mildred put out her hand. " I ask 
 you, is that the way to welcome your long- 
 lost cousin ? Come to my arms " — a proceed- 
 ing that he promptly tried to put into force, 
 and had he not stumbled head over heels 
 over Ethel, who from her position on the 
 
298 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 ground lie had not noticed, would have 
 succeeded in his endeavour. 
 
 As it was, like a drowning man, he 
 clutched at the first thino; that came to 
 hand, which, hapj^ening to be Simpson's 
 coat-tail, brought that worthy gentleman 
 down with him, and cut short the polite 
 little speech he was about to address to 
 Mildred. 
 
 It was rather hard lines on the unfortunate 
 individual, for all the way^ down in the train 
 he had been (when Jack's eye was not upon 
 him) rehearsing it, and now it was lost for 
 ever. 
 
 " I beg your ten thousand pardons, 
 Simpson," said Jack, struggling to his feet. 
 "Why, it's Ethel. What on earth do you 
 go and curl yourself up like a fox-terrier on 
 the hearthrug for, and make people do 
 these pantomime tricks over you ? You 
 nearly were the death of two of Her Majesty's 
 most esteemed subjects." 
 
 " Heavy fall in shirtings," whispered the 
 
TEE HOG-BACKED STILE. 299 
 
 irrepressible Tom to Mildred, who was obliged 
 to go out of the room, ostensibly to see the 
 liousckeej)er, but in. reality to hide her 
 laughter. 
 
 " Not hurt, I hope ? " asked the Colonel. 
 
 "No — ah — Colonel Vivian, I thank you; 
 but I must apologise to Miss Vivian. It must 
 have astonished her. Ah, she is gone," said 
 Simpson, wdio was, if possible, of a more 
 rosy hue than ever. 
 
 "Oh, Mildred's all right," put in Jack; 
 *'it's not the first time she has seen a man 
 down by many a hundred, nor will it be 
 the last if hounds run to-morrow. Which 
 is my room, uncle ? I'll show Simpson his 
 too. It's nearly time to dress." 
 
 " You are in your old quarters. Jack, 
 and J\Ir. Simpson is in the bachelor's room, 
 which, I hope, ho wall find comfortable," 
 said his uncle. 
 
 " Come on then, Simpson ; I'll take you 
 to your diggings, and then I'll go and see 
 Phillips the stud-groom, and tell him to 
 
300 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 show your man where to put himself and 
 his horses too," continued Jack, and out they 
 went. 
 
 "What a ridiculous contretemps!" said 
 Florence as the door closed. "I never saw 
 anything half so funny as Mr. Simpson's face. 
 My dear Ethel, I thought I should have died." 
 
 "I thouo;ht I should have been smothered," 
 replied Ethel. " I shall never be able to 
 look Mr. Simpson in the face again." 
 
 Mr. AVilton, who had hitherto been a 
 silent spectator, here interrupted with "I 
 am afraid the gentleman is not in the same 
 happy state as Wingfield's horse, for I 
 distinctly heard him as he fell utter a most 
 unangelic word beginning with a D." 
 
 " A falling angel can't be particular," said 
 Tom. " What do you say, Colonel ? " 
 
 " I say that it's very wrong of you to 
 make fun of our guest, and that if you don't 
 go to dress at once you will be all late for 
 dinner ; " with which the master of the house 
 walked out of the room followed by the rest. 
 
THE nOG-BACKED STILE. 301 
 
 At seven o'clock the whole party were 
 reassembled in the drawing-room. Mr. 
 Simpson, in all the consciousness of a spot- 
 less shirt in which blazed an elaborate 
 diamond stud the size of a sixpenny piece, 
 was trying to make himself agreeable to 
 Mildred, while Jack was in a deep discussion 
 with Tom and his uncle over the prospects 
 of the season, and listening to the accounts 
 of past performances. "Dinner is served" 
 from the butler took them all into the 
 dining-room, where they were soon hard 
 at what Tom called "trencher- work." 
 
 " What horses have you brought, Mr. 
 Simpson ? " said the Colonel during the 
 pause after the soup. 
 
 "Ah — two, Colonel Vivian. A bay mare 
 I had last season, and a new horse I bought 
 from Ward the other day ; a splendid fencer 
 — nothing is too big for him. Ah — I had to 
 give four hundred for him though, so he 
 ought to be good," replied Simpson. 
 
 " He ought indeed. I wish I could aflford 
 
302 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 to give such prices," rejoined the Colonel, 
 on whose ear the statement of £ s. d. grated 
 somewhat harshly. " I advise you to ride him 
 to-morrow ; the hounds meet here, and the 
 keeper tells me there are a brace of foxes 
 in the osiers, and if they take the usual line 
 it wants a 2;ood horse to live with them." 
 
 Mr. Simpson's face did not express a vast 
 amount of rapture at this, and he almost 
 wished he had not been quite so fulsome on 
 the subject of his new purchase. However, 
 turnino; to Mildred, he said : " Miss Vivian 
 — ah — I suppose you follow the hounds 
 to-morrow ? " 
 
 " Yes," replies Mildred ; " I ride my 
 favourite horse Birdcatcher, and I hope we 
 shall show you some sport." 
 
 " Follow the hounds ! " muttered Jack 
 under his breath, who was getting rather 
 jealous of his fellow-traveller. "He did not 
 suppose the hounds would follow her, did he ?" 
 an idea that he imparted to Ethel, who was 
 next to him, and which seemed to amuse her 
 
THE EOG-BACKED STILE. 303 
 
 mightily. " I believe the fellow's a funk," 
 he went on. "Anyhow, I'll draw him," and 
 across the table he said : " Simpson, is your 
 naff orood at water and timber, for the Belton 
 brook runs below the osiers, and there are 
 one or two rather awkward stiles to be 
 neo^otiated ? " 
 
 " Oh yes. Ah — he is a first-rate water- 
 jumper, and, I believe, very good all round." 
 
 " That's all right . then ; you will be 
 cutting us all down," put in Tom ; whereat 
 Simpson smiled a sickly and most unbecoming 
 smile, by which he meant to insinuate that 
 he was going to try, and thought it extremely 
 probable that he would succeed, but which 
 conveyed to everybody the impression that he 
 wished Belton brook and the stiles at the 
 bottom of the sea. 
 
 Florence, who saw this, immediately pro- 
 ceeded to set his mind at rest by telling a 
 number of stories anent the difficulties of the 
 country, and the number of men that had 
 come out in the morning in all the pride of 
 
304 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 their scarlet, and had returned bemudded and 
 besmirched after a visit to the bottom of the 
 brook, all of which anecdotes she referred to 
 Mr. Wilton for verification. 
 
 After dinner Mr. Simpson made the 
 running very strongly with Mildred, much to 
 Jack's diso;ust : and as he found that, do what 
 he would, he was unable to get a word in edge- 
 ways without having his eyes nearly put out 
 by the glitter of the City gentleman's diamond 
 stud, he took refuge behind the paper, which 
 position, notwithstanding Mildred's glance of 
 entreaty, he maintained resolutely till the 
 appearance of candles and the Colonel's orders 
 for the morning Avarned everybody that it was 
 bedtime. 
 
 '' Good-night, Jack, my boy," said his 
 uncle, after the ladies had retired. " I shan't 
 come to the smokinsj-room to-nio^ht. Mind, 
 breakfast at nine sharp. I have ordered a 
 real flyer for you to-morrow, and I want 
 you to keep up your reputation and show 
 them the way, also to give an eye to Milly. I 
 
THE nOG-BACKED STILE. 3(5^ 
 
 can trust her with most horses, but Bird- 
 catcher is, as you know, an awkward customer 
 if he gets his temper up. Mr. Simpson," 
 turning to his guest, "you will find every- 
 thing in the smoking-room. Jack and Tom 
 will show you where it is. I am rather tired, 
 and will wish you good-night and good sport 
 to-morrow," 
 
 " Tom," said Jack to his brother-in-law, 
 " you take Simpson to the den. I'm oflF to 
 bed ; you will excuse my not coming. I've a 
 bad headache, and I want to look over a case 
 I have in hand which is rather important. 
 Good-night, old man ; good-night, Simpson ; " 
 and with that he retired, mutterinix to himself : 
 " How the deuce Uncle George could have 
 invited such a cad down here I can't think." 
 
 On arriving in his room he found his sister 
 waiting for him, and she immediately com- 
 menced : " Dear old Jack, I knew you would 
 not smoke to-night, for I saw you were put 
 out. You need not be afraid about Milly 
 and Mr. Simpson ; she detests him. If Uncle 
 
306 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 George thinks she will ever marry a man like 
 that he is mistaken." 
 
 " What's the odds, Florence," said Jack in 
 a desponding tone ; " it is no use denying the 
 fact that I am awfully fond of Milly, but 
 what chance have I, as poor as a church 
 mouse, against a man rolling in wealth ? And 
 even if she doesn't marry Simpson, some other 
 rich son of a gun will be after her, and it will 
 break my heart to see her married. By-the- 
 way, how can uncle ever tolerate such a 
 vulgarian as Simpson ? " 
 
 " ' Money makes the mare to go,'" replied 
 his sister; "and I fancy Uncle George has 
 been spending a little too much lately. But 
 cheer up. Jack dear ; perhaps our old Indian 
 will die, and leave you a heap of money. 
 Meanwhile, rely on me to keep ofl" all intruders : 
 'Trespassers will be prosecuted/ and all that 
 sort of thing ; spring-guns and the extreme 
 penalty of the law, you know." 
 
 " Florence, you are a darling," said Jack, 
 kissing her; "but you can't kill the Nabob, 
 
TEE EOG-B ACRED STILE. 307 
 
 and even a woman's wit can't keep Milly 
 under lock and key till your pauper brother 
 makes enough money to enable him to see 
 papa in the study without feeling that he 
 may be shown out of the door by the butler," 
 
 " Si c^est possible c'est fait, si cest impos- 
 sible cela cefera" laughed Florence, as she left 
 her brother to think over what she had said. 
 
 The old Indian, Sandford by name, was 
 the great hope of both Jack and his sister. 
 He was their mother's only brother, and 
 though he had been home but once in forty 
 years, an event which occurred some nine 
 years back, he had on that occasion intimated 
 that Jack was to be his heir, and when 
 driven to India by what he called " the cursed 
 climate and infernal fogs " of his native 
 country, he had left a thousand pounds to be 
 used for Jack's advancement in life, and resfu- 
 larly every Christmas a letter arrived from 
 Simla to Jack, enclosing an order on Messrs. 
 Drummond for two hundred pounds, bearing 
 the simple signature "John Sandford." 
 
 X 2 
 
308 MEN WE MEET IN TEE FIELD. 
 
 When his sister had gone Jack threw him- 
 self into a chair, and after musing for some 
 time tumbled into bed, and was soon dream- 
 ing of Milly, the Nabob, and Simpson, all of 
 whom were trying to catch an animal that 
 occasionally took the shape of Birdcatcher, and 
 as often that of his sister. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 FLOOD AI^D FIELD. 
 
 " A SOUTHERLY wind and a cloudy sky," sung 
 loudly by his bedside, woke Jack on the fol- 
 lowing morning, and, opening his eyes, he 
 encountered those of Tom Wingfield, who, as 
 soon as he saw that he had effected his 
 purpose — to wit, waking Jack — said : " How's 
 the head, old man ? It's a ripping fine 
 morning ; tumble up. Here's the shaving- 
 water/' as the footman entered the room. 
 " I've called Simpson. By Jove, whaj a bore 
 
THE HOG-BACKED STILE. 309 
 
 that mau is ! he told me last night exactly 
 how much he had given for everything he 
 possessed. However, Phillips, whom I saw 
 just now, says his four hundred guineas 
 worth looks a nailer, hut I doubt if our 
 friend's heart is in the right place." 
 
 "Heart be blowed!" growled Jack ; "the 
 only heart he knows of is the heart of the 
 City. Clear out, Tom, though ; it's late, and 
 I shall never be dressed in time for breakfast." 
 
 However, he was, and as he entered the 
 dining-room he thought he had never seen 
 Milly look so well as, in her well-fitting and 
 workmanlike habit, she dispensed the honours 
 of the tea. 
 
 Simpson was simply gorgeous, and evi- 
 dently fiincied himself considerably, though 
 as the clock marked the hour of ten and the 
 first contingent arrived, his rubicund features 
 went many degrees paler at the thought of 
 Belton brook and his four-hundred-guinea 
 hunter. 
 
 Punctual to the minute the hounds arrived. 
 
310 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 and after a quarter of an hour, during which 
 time refreshment for man and horse was in full 
 swing, the signal to move ojff was given. 
 
 " Mornin', Master Jack," said old Jim the 
 Huntsman, as Jack came out of the stable- 
 yard, his mount bucking like an Australian. 
 " I'm main glad to see you wi' us again ; we 
 shall soon find summat to take the play out o' 
 you" (alluding to the horse). "If I mistake 
 not, you mean a-showing 'em what for, and 
 I'm sure I hope you wiU." 
 
 *' Jim, you get younger every day. They 
 tell me you are going to be married again 
 and give up hunting ; is it true ? " was Jack's 
 reply. 
 
 " Get along with you ; you're no better 
 than you used to be, Master Jack," retorted the 
 old man, who was fast nearing his seventieth 
 
 year. 
 
 At this moment the Colonel rode up, 
 accompanied by Mildred and Mr. Simpson, the 
 latter, it must be confessed, looking far from 
 comfortable. " Jim," said he, " we will draw 
 
TEE HOG-BACKED STILE. 311 
 
 the osiers first, please, up-wind, and send 
 AVilliams" (the First Whip) "down to the 
 corner. Mr. Wilton and myself will stop by 
 the gate and view him if he tries back. 
 Mr. Talbot" (the Master) "has gone on to 
 the w^ood, and wished me to tell you." 
 
 " Right, Colonel," replied the Huntsman, 
 lifting his cap ; and with a " Coop, coome 
 away ! " he trotted off down to the bottom end, 
 the hounds clustering all round his horse. 
 
 ''This way, Milly," said Jack. "Come 
 on, Simpson and Tom," and the quartet 
 established themselves out of sight at the 
 top end of the osier-bed. Presently old Jim 
 was heard cheering his hounds, and a w^himper 
 from old Solomon proclaimed the fox to be at 
 home, as usual. 
 
 "Eugh, at him !" cheered Jim, and as the 
 whimper swelled into a chorus a regular 
 traveller slipped out close to Mr. Simpson, and 
 headed straight over the dreaded brook. 
 
 " By gad, he's off ! " said Jack, and " Gorne 
 awa-a-y ! " proclaimed his departure to the 
 
312 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 expectant field. The hounds tumbled out of 
 covert all of a heap, and plunging into the 
 brook in a body were away on the other side 
 in a trice, with a scent breast high. 
 
 " Miss Vivian, for goodness' sake don't 
 attempt the brook," implored Simpson ; " I 
 will stop and look after you." 
 
 But Mildred, vouchsafing him not so much 
 as a look, caught the impatient Birdcatcher by 
 the head, and with Jack and Tom on either 
 side the trio rattled down at the water, which 
 was negotiated with safety. 
 
 " Bravo ! " said Jack ; " here comes Simpson ;" 
 and come he did, for his perfect hunter was 
 not made of the stuff" to be Mt behind if he 
 could help it, and seeing his three companions 
 careering away down the opposite field, he, to 
 use a nautical expression, *' took charge," and, 
 before his rider knew what had happened, had 
 landed him safely on the other side of the 
 obstacle. 
 
 " Down the lane," said Jack to Mildred as 
 they popped over the fence that led out of the 
 
THE HOG-BACKED STILE. 313 
 
 meadow ; " it's straight for Boltby big wood. 
 Here you are, Jim," as the Huntsmau came up 
 to where the hounds had checked for a 
 moment in the lane; "they made it good as 
 far as this. Hark for'ard ! Minstrel has it ; " 
 and away they went a cracker, turning sharp to 
 the right into some rolling grass-fields. 
 
 By this time Mr. Simpson was beginning 
 to pluck up his courage, and in company with 
 those who had not been so favoured at the 
 start was going fairly well. Ten minutes 
 more brought them to the stales that had 
 been the subject of discussion at dinner the 
 previous evening, and nasty-looking objects 
 they were. The first was not so bad, but the 
 second was a regular teaser — hose-backed, with 
 a yawning ditch, spanned by a footboard on 
 the far side. 
 
 "Steady, Milly," said Tom, as Birdcatcher 
 rushed at No. 1. 
 
 " By gad, she'll be down if she goes at 
 that pace," shouted Jack in an agony, his 
 horse, a young 'un, having refused. 
 
314 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 At this crisis Mr. Simpson appeared on 
 the scene, the rest of the field preferring 
 the safer course down the lane. Tom managed 
 the hog-back successfully, and was too much 
 occupied with the hounds, now racing a field 
 ahead, to think of Mildred, who had evidently- 
 got as much as she could manage in the 
 thoroughly-roused Birdcatcher. 
 
 Jack's feelinors can be better imao-ined than 
 described as he saw Milly rush at the stile and 
 Birdcatcher turn a complete somersault, send- 
 ing his mistress flying, happily, some yards 
 away from where he fell. 
 
 " Come up, you brute," he yelled, driving 
 his spurs home and fairly lifting the astonished 
 young 'un over both fences. Scarcely had he 
 landed over the hogj-back than he was off his 
 horse and kneeling by Milly in a paroxysm of 
 grief. 
 
 " My darling child, are you hurt ? My 
 God, she's dead ! " he cried, as he tried to lift 
 her. 
 
 But she was only stunned for the moment. 
 
TEE HOG-BAGKED STILE. 315 
 
 and to his ineffable joy IMilly opened her eyes 
 and said : " It's all right, Jack ; I'm not hurt. 
 Catch my horse and let's get on." 
 
 The " Thank God " came from the bottom 
 of his heart as he cauolit the two nagjs and 
 lifted her on ; but the agonised expression on 
 his face told Mildred plainer than any words 
 the " old old tale," and in her inmost heart 
 she blessed the fall for the revelation. 
 
 The fox meanwhile, who had been headed 
 by a labourer, turned short back, and as they 
 came round, about two fields above the spot 
 where the accident tbok place, everyone was 
 much amused at the sight of Mr. Simpson, 
 who, unable to muster up courage to ride at 
 the place, and thinking that no one was likely 
 to see him, had got off his horse, and having 
 promised a yokel a sovereign to catch him on 
 the other side, was doing his best, with the 
 aid of his hunting-whip, to induce his four 
 hundred guineas' worth to take it by himself. 
 No further mishap occurred, and in half an 
 hour, after running hard all the time, they 
 
316 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 viewed and killed their fox in the open, 
 Mr. Simpson arriving just as the last morsel 
 disappeared down old Solomon's throat. 
 
 By this time Mildred was feeling the 
 effects of her fall, and Simpson was only too 
 glad to offer to be her escort home ; an oppor- 
 tunity which he took advantage of to propose 
 in due form, the effect of his solicitations being 
 somewhat marred by the aversion his horse 
 displayed to walking. 
 
 " I'm very sorry, Mr. Simpson," said 
 Mildred, in reply to his entreaties that she 
 would consent to be the " Co.," " I'm very 
 sorry, but it can never be." 
 
 " There's some other fellow in the case ; I 
 will know who. It's that horrid cousin of 
 yours," said the man of money with his innate 
 vulgarity, for he could not understand any girl 
 refusing his gold. 
 
 "Mr. Simpson, you have no right to speak 
 to me like that ; and seeing that my cousin 
 picked me up when I fell, while you were too 
 much alarmed for your own safety, / have no 
 
THE EOG-BACKED STILE. 317 
 
 reason to consider him horrid," was Mildred's 
 cutting reply, after which she refused to speak 
 till they arrived at the Hall. 
 
 Whether it was the rebuff that he had 
 received, or joy at finding himself safe, I cannot 
 say, but at dinner Simpson drank more than 
 was his custom, and Avas proportionately 
 talkative and bombastic in consequence, and 
 towards the end he entertained the company 
 with a description of how he got over the most 
 enormous places. 
 
 "You — ah — see, my horse" (he called it 
 "'orse" now that the wine was in) "refused that 
 stile where Miss Vivian fell, and Mr. Ward 
 told me it was no use ridino; him at the same 
 thing twice, so I had to look out — ah — for 
 another place. I saw there was nothing for it 
 but the fence at the side" (it was an overgrown 
 blackthorn, with a six-feet post and rails run 
 through the middle), "and — ah — by Jove ! 
 my horse cleared it without touching a twig 
 —ah." 
 
 " My word, Simpson, that was a jump — 
 
318 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 almost as bis: as the cow took when it vaulted 
 over the moon," said Tom. 
 
 " Fact, sir, 'shure you," replied he of the 
 City, when the butler came up behind his 
 chair and in an audible voice said : " I beg 
 pardon, sir, but there's a man downstairs who 
 says you told him to call — says you promised 
 him a sovereign for catching your horse when 
 you turned it over the stile." 
 
 It may have been rude, but the guilty look 
 of Simpson and the utter ludicrousness of the 
 whole affair was too much, and everybody, 
 including the Colonel, fairly shrieked with 
 laughter, during which Mr. Simpson bowed 
 himself out to see about this "tale of the 
 sovereign," as he called it. 
 
 Later on the butler appeared a second 
 time, bearing in his hand a yellow envelope, 
 which he handed to Jack. 
 
 Opening it carelessly he read : " As agents 
 to John Sandford, acquaint you of his death. 
 Yourself left sole heir. Telegraph instructions. 
 Money and securities, eighty thousand. Three 
 
THE HOG-BACKED STIl^. 319 
 
 large tea estates, besides otlier property. Letter 
 follows. — Kirkmau and Co., Calcutta." 
 
 I am afraid Jack's face did not express 
 sreat sorrow for liis deceased uncle. Indeed, 
 as he glanced across at Milly, a great look of 
 joy came into his eyes, and after dinner he 
 found an opportunity to ask her a question, 
 receiving a very different answer to that vouch- 
 safed to Mr. Simpson. 
 
 Christmas morning he interviewed *' papa 
 in the study " without fear of the butler, and 
 that evening the Colonel, with tears in his 
 eyes, made a long speech, wherein he gave his 
 daughter to his favourite nephew, with solemn 
 injunctions to take care of her. 
 
 Jack, in returning thanks, said he would 
 do his best to see that she did not break her 
 neck ; he had already had a turn he should 
 never forget ; but as it was somewhat instru- 
 mental in helping him to gain Milly, he begged 
 to propose the health of The Hog-backed 
 Stile. 
 
 Simpson, when he saw the game was lost, 
 
320 MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD. 
 
 turned out a mucli better fellow than anyone 
 gave him credit for, and Milly found on her 
 table a pearl necklace and a card, on which 
 was written : " AVith T. Simpson's best wishes 
 and apologies for rudeness." 
 
 Now, whenever he meets Jack and his wife, 
 he tells them that the lesson he got at Belton 
 taught him that money and bluster were not 
 everything in this merry world of ours. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 CHABLliS DIC£Ut<^j JlND BTANil, OBTSTAL FALACIi rUBSS. 
 
Webster Family Library of Veterinary Medicine 
 Cumn:-iings School of Veterinany iViedicine at 
 Tutts Univsrsity 
 200 Westboro Road 
 North Grafton, MA 01536