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TUFTS UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES 
 
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 Webster Family Library of Veterinary Medicine 
 Cummina?. " "'^- ''Veterinary Medicine at 
 Tufts Uni* 
 
 200 WeSi. 
 
 North Grafton, IViA 01535 
 
THE 
 
 SPORTSMAN'S FRIEND 
 
 IN 
 
 A FROST. 
 
 BY HARRY HIEOVER, 
 
 AUTHOE OF 
 
 " STABLE TALK AND TABLE TALK ;" " SPOETING FACTS AND SPOETINa 
 
 fancies;" "PEOPER condition of HOESES ;" "HINTS TO 
 
 HOESEMEN," ETC. ETC. 
 
 LONDON : 
 THOMAS CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHER, 
 
 30, WELBECK STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE. ^.. . 
 
 1857. ■ /' 
 

 '\\ 
 
 
 J. BltLING, PRINTER AXD STEKEOTTrEH,. 
 GUILDFORD, SURREY. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 If I cousiclered an apology were required for bringing 
 out the present book, my respect for my readers and 
 the pubhc would have been too great to have permitted 
 my doing so. 
 
 In soHciting their usual kind forbearance and patronage 
 in its favour, I am actuated by two impressions ; the 
 one is, that those who may have flattered me by reading 
 my several writings in the " Sporting Magazine," may 
 perchance feel a wish to have them by themselves in a 
 volume. Those who have not, may perhaps find them 
 " A Friend in a Frost," to beguile an hour when the 
 sportsman is prohibited the far greater gratification of 
 pursuing his favourite pursuits. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE FIELD AND THE TURF .... 1 
 
 SPOETING AND ITS PATRONS ... 15 
 
 WHAT WE ARE NOW DOING . . . .31 
 
 THE TIME o'dAY ..... 44 
 
 HOUNDS ....... 58 
 
 HUNTERS AND HUNTING MEN ... 74 
 
 NOBS AND SNOBS . ..... 91 
 
 THE SEASON . . . . . . 106 
 
 GOING THE WHOLE HOG . . . . .125 
 
 AMATEURS AND PROFESSIONALS . . . 141 
 
 RED COATS AND SILK JACKETS . . .158 
 
 HINTS ON COACHMANSHIP . . . . 175 
 
 THE MONARCH OF THE WOODS . . . .190 
 
 THE RULING PASSION ..... 206 
 
 DOING THE NATIVES ..... 223 
 
 DARE DEVILS ...... 243 
 
 THE RING ....... 260 
 
iy CONTENTS. 
 
 TAGE 
 
 27 1 
 
 PIGEON SHOOTING 
 
 KNOWING WHAT WE WANT . • • • ~°^ 
 
 ON CHOICE 01 COUNTRY . • • ' 
 
 322 
 
 THE GOLDEN BALL ..•••' 
 THE MENAGEllIE ..•••• 
 
 357 
 
 THE PRIZE RING 
 
 373 
 
 IMPERTURBABLE JACK . 
 
Now Ready, in Two Volumes, 
 
 MYTHS 
 
 TRACED TO 
 
 THEIE PEIMAEY SOURCE 
 
 THROUGH LANGUAGE. 
 BY :^[ORGAN KAVANAGH. 
 
 The Author of this work, after accounting for the origin of 
 speech and the formation of letters and words, shows how the leading 
 events in the lives of Mythological characters must have been first 
 suggested by other meanings than their names are now allowed to 
 possess. Thus, to illustrate by a single example his mode of tracing 
 Myths to their primary source, the root of the name Mercury 
 must, according to the several forms it is equal to, and under 
 which it may have often appeared, have anciently signified not 
 only merchandize, as it does still, but also, god, thief, word, travel, 
 flight, guide, death, wand, serpent, &c. ; hence, the Author con- 
 tends, from the name Mercury being perceived to have such 
 meanings as these, the character so called was revered as the orod 
 of merchants, thieves, orators, kc, invested with wings, be- 
 lieved to be the guide of the dead, and was represented with 
 a wand, and a serpent, '&c. That is to say, the different 
 meanings his name, under its several forms, was once perceived to 
 have, must have first suggested the whole of the history, with, 
 perhaps, a few embellishments, we now have of the god Mercury. 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 And if it be in this way, as the Author contends, and as the 
 numerous startling results obtained through the application of his 
 principles seem to show, that all, or very nearly all, of whatever 
 is fabulous in the history and worship of the ancients is to be 
 accounted for, it follows, since truth, however slow its progress, 
 ultimately prevails over error, that this work must, while serving 
 the cause of science and religion, prove fatal, sooner or later, to 
 doctrines still extant ; but in which no one not under the influence 
 of old opinions, could for a moment believe, were their real origin 
 once made known. 
 
THE 
 
 SPORTSMAN'S FRIEND 
 
 IN 
 
 A FEOST. 
 
 TFIE FIELD AND THE TURF. 
 
 Whatever pursuit men may adopt, be it one of recrea- 
 tion or business, it is quite natural they should depict 
 and eulogise such predilection as one possessing advan- 
 tages of some sort or other that place it on high ground 
 when brought into comparison with the pursuits of other 
 persons. No man likes to acknowledge himself either a 
 simpleton or one of evil propensities ; and in patronising 
 any pursuit, unless he can — or, to say the least, fancies 
 he can — show good grounds for doing that which he 
 does, he virtually allows himself to be either a weak or 
 badly-disposed member of society. It is true his reasons 
 and arguments may not always be valid ones ; still they 
 are valid to this extent — it shows he has not the inten- 
 tion to play the part of the imbecile or rogue ; his prin- 
 ciple is therefore good, and few men are such bad judges 
 of right and wrong but that if they always took principle 
 
2 THE FIELD AND THE TURF. 
 
 instead of inclination for their guide, they would, in most 
 cases, act far better than they do ; and when the record- 
 ing spirit summed up the account of their earthly sins, 
 we may venture a hope that the balance against the 
 offending ones would at least place them within the pale 
 of forgiveness. 
 
 There are, we will rejoice in saying, few pleasurable 
 pursuits in this country that admit of unmitigated cen- 
 sure ; though censurable some unquestionably are. But 
 the two which form the^ubject of this article I trust are 
 not. For if they were, the category of my sins would 
 be a startling one ; for I have mixed in them con amove. 
 They have " grown with my growth and strengthened 
 with my strength ;" and, sooth to say, the animus as 
 regards them remains in full vigour, though the strength 
 is, like the sun (just bursting on my paper), fast verging 
 to the far west. 
 
 There is, most unquestionably, a very wide difference 
 between the man devoted to the turf and the one de- 
 voted to the field ; and when this devotion is exclusive, 
 I believe we must, in candour, allow there is collectively 
 (and, of course, not individually speaking) by far a 
 gre'ater portion of liberal, honourable, and hospitable feel- 
 ing to be found among hunting than racing men ; reason 
 must see it cannot be otherwise. The man who hunts, 
 but does not keep hounds, can have but the pleasure of 
 the chase as his inducement. I am now speaking of 
 gentlemen, or others who hunt with the same views. 
 The huntsman and whips are paid : but if they are, they 
 are paid for following a harmless, manly, honest, and 
 consequently (in its way) honourable employ. The 
 dealer may hunt to show his horses ; if he does, his act 
 is at least a perfectly justifiable one. He does not ask 
 you to buy, on what he says of his horse, but what he 
 
THE FIELD AND THE TURF. 3 
 
 shows his horse can do ; and I have generally found (of 
 course with exceptions) the hunting dealer a more 
 straightforward man in his dealings than the one en- 
 sconced in his counting-house, and with his ledger 
 plodding over the £. s. d. he found there. I have par- 
 taken of the hospitality of many a hunting dealer. 
 With such men, usually, their house, their cellars, and, 
 in a proper way, their stables, are open to you. They 
 must have a strong price for what is valuable, ask you a 
 couple of hundred, and do not stand pettifogging about 
 a five-pound note. Many a worthy tradesman in other 
 articles will ; and if a customer wanted to borrow a fifty- 
 pound he would have a greater chance of its being at 
 once done by the hunting dealer than if he walked up 
 and down Fenchurch Street till his legs ached, trying 
 to find one disposed to do the same thing. I do not 
 go so far as to even insinuate that because we may 
 know a man rides hunting, we are to jump to the con- 
 clusion that he is one liberal in mind or act ; but I am 
 happy in being able to pay hunting men the compli- 
 ment of saying they, more or less, usually are so. The 
 difference between the hunting man and the one who 
 merely rides hunting is a very wide one. Of the latter 
 lot there are as many close-fisted, narrow-minded gentle- 
 men as any that grace the sublunary world. They hunt 
 from vanity, for health and exercise, or to keep up 
 familiarity with those that it is their interest to be 
 familiar with, and, of course, many from liking the pur- 
 suit. I have, it is true, seen and known as liberal- 
 minded men, and as good sportsmen, as ever looked a 
 hound in the face, that were regular trading, plodding 
 men by vocation. So I have seen a bustard on the 
 Hampshire downs ; nay, more, during five years I lived 
 on them I think I saw four of these scarce birds. 
 
 B 2 
 
4 THE FIELD AND THE TURF. 
 
 Looking at it in a general way, it will be found that the 
 man who merely rides hunting, first screws his groom 
 down as closely as possible in point of wages, and will 
 then turn his eye to any advertisement, and cock his 
 ear to anything that throws out a hint as to saving in 
 horse-provender. I know an individual, who is a very 
 rich man ; he keeps several living creatures that he 
 calls (God forgive him) horses; he is always poking 
 about to find a cheap one, and with some one of these 
 he generally accommodates those with whom he has any 
 monetary transactions. To obhge him, they are taken, 
 but not (often) kept. He has asked my opinion scores 
 of times relative to horse-keep ; but whenever he did 
 this, it was not as to what produced the best con- 
 dition, but as to what could be done in the saving 
 way. He once told me he had used bruised furze 
 in Germany, as horse provender; and knowing there 
 was a large gorse-cover near my house, h'fe gravely 
 recommended me to give furze to my hunters. I 
 admitted I had never tried it for such purposes; but 
 as gravely assured him I had heard that as a change 
 for green peas, it made excellent soup. I do not know 
 whether he tried it; but if he did, I will answer for 
 it he tasted it before his cook put pepper and salt to it, 
 that in case of failure these costly ingredients might 
 not be wasted ; and as the liquor would doubtless 
 be the water a leg of mutton had been boiled in, the 
 experiment would cost nothing ; so probably the potnge 
 was essayed. 
 
 The man who merely rides hunting is one of the 
 greatest pests a dealer has. A hack or buggy horse 
 can be tried in a few minutes — a hunter cannot; so 
 before such a man will buy, he wants all sorts of 
 trials, and then probably would go on the same tack 
 
THE FIELD AND THE TURF. 5 
 
 as used to do — rest her in peace ! — an old aunt of mine. 
 She would go to a shop, occupy master and men for 
 an interminable space of time, have different lengths 
 cut off, and then learn the amount (say) £4 17s. 
 " I shall not give it, they are very dear ; there is £4 ; 
 you may take that, or keep your goods." The master 
 and men would, of course, stare and explain ; but it was 
 useless ; and seeing she was in a good-looking carriage, 
 they thought that perhaps no profit was better than 
 offending her. With submission to the old lady's 
 peculiarity, I should say that many a one is handed 
 over now-a-days to the police for less cause of pro- 
 vocation. 
 
 In some proof of my stating that such men as I have 
 mentioned really are pests as purchasers, 1 told a dealer 
 some few months back that I thought I could, through 
 a friend of mine, get him the custom of a very rich 
 man and his friends. He, of course, thanked me for 
 offering to do what I conceived would be a service to 
 him. But his reply was short and pithy : " I would 
 not give a shilling for the custom of the whole lot." 
 
 Now the regular lumting man — that is, the man who 
 is so from sheer love of hunting — is, in a general way, 
 quite a distinct character. He can expect no pecuniary 
 advantage from his pursuit ; and as he is satisfied with 
 getting amusement for his outlay of money, it shows 
 him to be at least no sordid character. Self-in- 
 dulgent he certainly is ; and this may be, in a certain 
 degree, termed selfish. Be it so ; the man who is self- 
 indulgent is at least better than the miser, who neither 
 indulges himself nor any one else ; and say what your 
 money -loving people may, the habit of spending money 
 liberally does away with that inordinate love of it that 
 causes many to feel each guinea they part from, with- 
 
6 THE FIELD AND THE TURF. 
 
 out expecting its return, as one of the life-drops from 
 their heart. We are not to expect a man to forfeit his 
 life to procure advantage or comfort for another ; the 
 man, therefore, who from habit has learnt to value his 
 money as he does his existence, will no more give the 
 one, or a portion of it, than he would the other for the 
 benefit of the dearest friend he has ; in fact, to perpe- 
 trate a pun, he would feel him very dear indeed if he cost 
 him a sovereign. 
 
 The man who curtails his expenses and deprives 
 himself of a portion of what constitutes his pleasure 
 or luxury, in order to afford himself the means of con- 
 tributing to the comfort of others, is doubtless a far 
 more estimable character than he who spends his whole 
 income, or nearly so, in self-indulgence. But such 
 characters are far more rare than the bustards I before 
 quoted. At least I conceive it to be so ; for I have 
 seen such birds, but I do not know such a man. 
 
 I stated at the commencement of this article that 
 each man not only defends, but eulogises, the peculiar 
 way or pursuit in which he pleases to spend his money ; 
 and great mistakes people make in the sophistry each 
 calls to his aid in his advocacy, and in my usual way I 
 will endeavour to bring a case in point. 
 
 I know a gentleman whose very good tastes and 
 means have enabled him to form a collection that I have 
 heard estimated at £60,000. His pursuits are pictures 
 and medals. These pursuits the most enthusiastic 
 fox-hunter, if he has any liberal ideas, must allow to 
 be not only perfectly gentlemanly, harmless, and com- 
 mendable, but of a higher order than his own. The 
 gentleman possessing these had, a few weeks since, a 
 goodnatured shy at me, by saying — " Horses eat, these 
 do not." This was a palpable hit ; there was no denying 
 
THE FIELD AND THE TURF. I 
 
 the truth of it. But I could have said that there 
 are those who could have made as home a thrust at the 
 worthy collector as he had done at me ; for had the 
 money that from time to time has been paid for these . 
 articles of taste, and has all along lain dormant, been 
 in the hands of Messrs. Paxton, Cubitt, or Stevenson, 
 or others, it would have been employed ; and now, 
 instead of £^) 0,0 00, would have been £120,000. And 
 further, no doubt the owner of these holds it he enjoys 
 his pets without expense. He certainly does enjoy 
 them without outlay, as " they do not eat." But 
 taking the moderate rate of ten per cent, in the employ- 
 ment of money, the £60,000 being unemployed, he is 
 virtually paying £6,000 a year for his whistle ; which 
 if mine, I allow should go to a merrier tune, and I 
 hope not a very ungentlemanly one either. I think I 
 remember something about a pubUcan and a sinner ; 
 no one could, of course, defend the latter, but I think 
 something was said of the other. I am, I cannot 
 deny it, the sinner ; query, who is the publican ? 
 
 They say " it is easy to find a stick to beat a dog.' 
 The fact of this learned aphorism is only comparative. 
 It is easy enough if you are close to a hedge or coppice, 
 but not quite so easy in the middle of SaUsbury Plain. 
 And, again, if it is easy to find the stick, it may not be 
 easy to beat the dog ; for if he is a bold one he won't 
 stand it, and you will get the worst of the attempt ; if 
 he is a timid one he will take to his scrapers, and cut. 
 Whistle you may, but the tune should be " OS" she goes." 
 The good-natured dog will do neither ; he will not savage 
 you for a little attempted correction ; his pluck is too 
 good to make him run away, but he will probably bolt 
 between your legs and throw you on your back; be 
 angry with him if you can. May I hope under the httle 
 
8 THE FIELD AND THE TURF. 
 
 correction the worthy collector gave me, he will allow me 
 to be the latter animal — a dog, and a sinner. Well, I 
 hold it better to be these than an ill-conditioned devil 
 who cannot take a joke, or a fool who cannot, or will not, 
 allow superior merit in others where it exists. 
 
 So much has not only been written, but proved, as to 
 the advantages hunting spreads over the country where 
 it is carried on, that they require no notice here ; but 
 we will just allude to its expense to those pursuing it. 
 To specify what this is in any precise way, would be im- 
 possible ; for it, of course, depends on the extent to which 
 it is carried, the situation of the person joining in it, and 
 no Httle on the kind of man who hunts. 
 
 To the man who resides in the country, and keeps 
 riding-horses, hunting, may be considered as no expense 
 at all ; for whether he rides on the road for health, or 
 with hounds for sport, it creates little or no increase in 
 expense. The man who keeps additional horses as 
 hunters, knows at once the expense of these ; but there 
 are others who cannot closely calculate their outlay. For 
 instance, the man who hunts from London must keep 
 his horses at livery in the country, or hire stabling ; and 
 further, he has expenses in his journeys, and expenses at 
 inns. Bad riders, bad judges of horses, and bad mana- 
 gers of them, hunt at a great expense, from various cir- 
 cumstances. The only wonder is that such men should 
 himt at all, unless they are beginners. The man who 
 thoroughly understands what he is about, hunts at very 
 little expense, if he chooses to avail himself of his know- 
 ledge, by parting with his horses when a good offer is 
 made him ; for the horses of a good and bold rider are 
 always in request. They must be good, or such men 
 would not ride them. Some of them might be difficult 
 or resolute to ride, and would not suit other men ; but 
 
THK FIELD AND THE TURF. 9 
 
 good performers they must be, or will be made so in 
 such hands. I therefore warn the man who hunts, not 
 to be certain he gets a nag he can ride in the first flight, 
 because he has gone there with the hunting man : his 
 horse may be purchased — his nerve, hands, and head he 
 keeps for other purposes. What ? To make horses to 
 sell to gentlemen who hunt. 
 
 We will now look a little at the turf, and those who 
 make that their pursuit, instead of hunting, and en- 
 deavour not to let prejudice for or against either pursuit, 
 or those following it, influence any ideas we may form. 
 
 There are men who hunt, but pay no attention to 
 racing further than going for a day's recreation to a race- 
 meeting in their immediate neighbourhood. There are 
 men keeping race-horses, who never hunt ; and men 
 zealous in both pursuits. Of the two first characters, I 
 must, in one particular at least, award the palm to the 
 latter. The racing man has no dislike to the hunting 
 one ; but, speaking generally, the regular hunting man 
 looks on the racing one with about the same kindly feel- 
 ing as the huntsman to a pack of foxhounds regards a 
 cry of beagles crossing his line, or a party of shooters in 
 a cover he intends to draw. The hunting man, disguise 
 it as he may, looks on the racing one as a shark — with 
 what reason, it would be uncourteous to even hint at. 
 This much we must in candour admit : the incentive of 
 the hunting man is amusement and sport ; that of nine- 
 teen in twenty of racing men is gain, or, at all events, 
 the hope of it. It may be said or thought that, as it is 
 a well-known fact that race-horses (taking the average) 
 cannot pay their expenses, if a man desires gain only, he 
 would not keep them. Such reasoning would be as fal- 
 lacious as the principle is true. I have in other places 
 stated, that no moderate race-horse, fairly run, can be 
 
10 . THE FIELD AND THE TURF. 
 
 made to pay his expenses, in a public training stable, 
 and under the ordinary circumstances in which race- 
 horses are kept ; but I never said an extraordinary or 
 uncommonly good horse will not pay. I have not even 
 said a moderate one will not pay under peculiar circum- 
 stances, if run fairly. Still less have I ever said a race- 
 horse is not to be made to pay in the hands of a very 
 clever scoundrel, with good judgment to back him, and 
 neither prhiciple nor honesty to mar his determination to 
 make money somehow. 
 
 It might be thought that the numbers of persons who 
 have been fleeced by the charlatans advertising their 
 " tips," would deter any one possessing common sense 
 from being victimized by these worthies. Daily expe- 
 rience, however, shows us it does not. A fool being 
 born every hour is now an absolute calculation ; for the 
 tipping system forces on us the idea that, though children 
 are not, as Sterne terms it, " brought into the world with 
 a squirt," fools — that is, betting fools — must now be 
 produced, like Novello's chickens, by steam, such is the 
 influx of them. If people will not listen, therefore, to 
 experience, " charm he never so wisely," in betting, why 
 should we expect them to do so as to keeping race-horses 
 for profit ? 
 
 Different men commence racing under different im- 
 pressions as to their chance of success in it. Some trust 
 that they will get a colt that they can call by no appro- 
 priate name but El Dorado — that he will make a fortune. 
 Eclipse did for O'Kelly — why not Mr. Softerbrain's colt 
 for him? His sire could go ''from end to end," and 
 tut down any living horse at long lengths, till he was 
 tantamount to a dead one. His dam, in shorter dis- 
 tances, could go like a d — 1 untied. Such a cross must 
 
THE FIELD AND THE TURF. 11 
 
 nick — but it don't. The colt goes to the corner, and 
 the owner to Old Nick. 
 
 Another trusts to his judgment. " Oh, upright judge ! 
 oh, excellent young man !" " A Daniel ! a Daniel 
 risen to judgment !" He finds, however, there are other 
 Daniels risen to judgment against him ; and the result 
 is, "his estates become confiscate to the state of" — not 
 Venice, but John Doe and the famed Richard. 
 
 The next more modestly trusts to his luck — that is, 
 such luck as he thinks ought to attend the fair sports- 
 man. We will cheerfully allow that not only luck, but 
 the best of luck, ought to attend such men. But it 
 don't. He finds he is " down upon his luck." This 
 brings his creditors down upon him, and then down he 
 goes. 
 
 Another, equally modest in his estimation of his racing 
 judgment and general pretensions, neither trusts to his 
 colt, judgment, or luck : he will go on the advice of 
 friends, and " stable information." Here, in parlia- 
 mentary phrase, we cry " Oh, oh !" He does, however, 
 trust to such unstable foundation ; and when the call 
 comes on to " divide," he finds the division is — he takes 
 all the loss, and his stable friends all the profits, thus 
 finding himself in a slight minority ; and he gives up 
 office. 
 
 We now come to another debutante on the — not stage, 
 but turf. He is, in stage phrase, a most useful general 
 actor. His line of character is wonderfully diversified. 
 The bravo, the bully, the sycophant, are parts in which 
 he is quite at home. The would-be gentleman he can 
 sustain for a scene or two — perhaps through a whole act. 
 The only part he cannot sustain is that of an honest 
 man ; he knows it, and therefore never plays in a piece 
 where he would be called on to perform it. It may be 
 
12 THE FIELD AND THE [URF. 
 
 supposed such an actor always succeeds. Too often he 
 does ; but if ever hissed, provided he gets his pay, he 
 cares not one farthing what is thought of his performance. 
 If his audience tire of hirn in one place, he changes his 
 theatre ; still playing well the parts of bravo, bully, and 
 sycophant — the latter particularly — carries a man on a 
 long time in this world ; and if these fail, as a little by- 
 play, our hero can enact the blackguard anywhere. 
 There is a far more pitiable part, however, that he is too 
 cunning to even wish to play anywhere — that is, "the 
 poor gentleman." 
 
 Every well-disposed person must look on such a cha- 
 racter as the one represented with feelings of hatred and 
 disgust ; but, notwithstanding this, a knowledge of the 
 world forces on us the unpleasing conviction that such a 
 man takes the right course to make money. That 
 honesty is the best policy, no one doubts. It is the 
 best, if it were only that it affords a man the means of 
 respecting himself; but, as the world goes, it is not in 
 all cases the best policy, if making money alone actuates 
 a man, and certainly is not so on the turf. On it, as 
 things go, you must, in a general way of speaking, rob, 
 or lose money. This, like many other truths, is a very, 
 sad and unpalatable one : it is fact, nevertheless. Which 
 alternative an honourable mind will take, admits of no 
 doubt. If to rob, or rather to circumvent, those that 
 we know were trying the same game with us, was all, 
 unpleasing as the act would be, it woidd admit of pal- 
 liation ; but the turf robber immolates friend promis- 
 cuously with foe; and yet here he has a shadow of excuse; 
 for, verily, on the tarf it is hard to know who is a friend. 
 " To this complexion " has it " come at last." 
 
 It is quite possible, and very likely, that a particular 
 man, especially if he be a young one, may get on the 
 
THE FIELD AND THE TURF. 13 
 
 turf from a love of the sport, the (very doubtful) eclat of 
 keeping, race-horses, and from hope of experiencing the 
 harmless vanity of seeing his horses win. May the 
 horses of such men ever win, so long as their owners 
 continue in the same frame of mind ! but there is little 
 more chance of that than there is of their hopes being 
 realized. The amount of winnings will very soon reign 
 paramount to the vanity or pleasure of winning. This 
 barrier between the gentleman and sportsman and the 
 mere turfite once stepped over, leads its subject into a 
 very precarious situation — namely, one that threatens 
 annihilation to liberality of mind and high principle, 
 
 I have heard men affirm that they played from a love 
 of the excitement of play. Such men (without at all in- 
 tending it) assert what is not fact. They play for the 
 hope of gain, not the pleasure the variation of chances 
 affords. We would put one plain question to any man 
 asserting that he played for the pleasure of excitement. 
 The question should be this : " Suppose I insure your 
 winning to a certainty every time you play hazard or 
 make a bet, would you at once leave off play and bet- 
 ting ?" If a gamester or betting man said he would, 
 I should not believe him. If he owned he would not, it 
 would show it was not the mere" excitement that actuated 
 him ; for where there is no chance of loss, there can be 
 no excitement, though plenty of avarice. It is fallacious, 
 talking of playing for pleasure. No man takes a hazard- 
 box in hand for amusement : conceal it as he will, he 
 does it to win money if he can, let it belong to friend or 
 foe. 
 
 I think it but quite fair to conclude that men who 
 keep a stud of hunters, as well as a string of race-horses, 
 are men of a more liberal turn of mind than the one who 
 keeps the latter only. Keeping the hunters shows that 
 
14 THE FIELD AND THE TURF. 
 
 their owner can still derive pleasure from that which 
 produces amusement only, and that keeping the latter 
 has not destroyed such feelings ; but if he gave up the 
 stud, and kept to the turf, I should hold him strongly 
 tainted with the disease of avarice. 
 
 If I saw a nobleman or gentleman keep his race -horses 
 at home constantly, or frequently seeing them at exercise, 
 work, and in their stables, I should give him credit for 
 having other gratification in keeping them than the mere 
 hope of gain. But where men scarcely ever see their 
 horses but when running, their hope of gratification 
 speaks for itself. Sportsmen, I venerate you all. May 
 I therefore hope for forgiveness, if I say that, from having 
 seen a good deal of both, I must, in a general way, say 
 I do believe the hunting man outweighs the racing one 
 on the score of liberality in pecuniary considerations, and 
 indeed in most other particulars. 
 
SPORTING AND ITS PATRONS. 
 
 That all those who devote their pens, time, money, or 
 influence, in attempting to forward any project or under- 
 taking, may be ranked as its patrons, so far as inclina- 
 tion goes, I conceive must be admitted as an axiom. 
 This patronage, however, frequently becomes somewhat 
 hypothetical, from the manner in which it is set about. 
 Indeed, it is by no means an uncommon case, that the 
 warmest friends of any circumstance unwittingly become 
 the greatest drawback on its success, from the mistaken 
 mode they take in endeavouring to promote the object. 
 " Defend me from my friends ! " is a too well-merited 
 bit of sarcasm on mankind in general ; but it often 
 happens that it is realised by the conduct of those who 
 really are sincere and warm in their endeavours to serve 
 us. When speaking of servants, I have frequently said, 
 " I would of the two prefer employing a rogue than a 
 fool ;" and for this reason — we may form a shrewd 
 guess at something like what a rogue would attempt, by 
 contemplating what it would be his interest to do ; but 
 we cannot guard against what a fool may do, not having 
 any fixed criterion whereby to judge of what the hallu- 
 cinations or vagaries of a weak mind might contemplate. 
 A rogue might make away with a spare saddle and bridle, 
 or some horse-clothing not in use : a fool might leave an 
 entire horse loose while he went to fetch either. The 
 first might rob us, till found out, of a few pounds ; the 
 
16 SPORTING AND ITS PATRONS. 
 
 latter might occasion us a loss of a couple of hundred by 
 his folly, and in some way or other we should daily be 
 exposed to some serious catastrophe from his want of 
 common foresight, arising from his want of common 
 sense. 
 
 Patrons are sometimes prototypes of the latter charac- 
 ter ; and though they may not exhibit the same direct 
 aberrations of intellect, from misguided enthusiasm 
 injure the very cause they zealously approve, and endea- 
 vour to promote. 
 
 The attention we award to the praise or dispraise of 
 any man or pursuit, is greatly influenced by the opinion 
 we entertain, or form, of him from whom criticism 
 emanates. Neither the ridicule nor applause of a man 
 we have reason to set down as a vulgar one, would be 
 attended to, should he advocate or deny gentlemanly 
 habits ; still less should we attend to him should he 
 write against them. A theological work would not rise 
 much in public estimation should we read a panegyric on it 
 that we were aware was written by the groom we see in 
 the circle of an amphitheatre ; nor should we hold the 
 opinion of the Archbishop of York or Canterbury as 
 strictly orthodox, when relative to the training of two- 
 year-olds, or Westhall the pedestrian ; while on the other 
 hand, if a favourable review of a work on divinity itself 
 was written by a divine, in spirit and language that we 
 could not approve, we should turn with disgust from the 
 man, and it would go far towards lowering in our esti- 
 mation the profession of which we knew him to be a 
 member. The advocacy of such a man would indeed 
 greatly tend to lower in our estimation everything of 
 which he approved. 
 
 It is pretty much the same as regards criticisms on 
 authors, or reviews of their works ; the attention such 
 
SPORTING AND ITS PATRONS. 17 
 
 commands is influenced by our opinion of the qualifica- 
 tion of the critic for his task, and the animus and general 
 tendency of the periodical or journal in which such 
 criticism appears ; for if we know there exists, or it is 
 usually thought there exists, any peculiar tendency and 
 sentiments as regards peculiar pursuits or men, we 
 naturally attach a certain degree of the praise or censure 
 more to the peculiar opinion of the review than to the 
 worth, or its reverse, of the work or its author. It is, 
 therefore, only general opinion that is to be depended 
 on as a safe and certain test. 
 
 Let us now come particularly to the patrons of sport- 
 ing. Of these there are patrons of particular sports, and 
 those of sporting in general — from the late (for we will 
 not mention present names) Captain Melhsh as a star 
 among the patrons of racing; the Duke of Beaufort the 
 same as regards fox-hunting; down to Mr. Sant, the 
 patron of the prize-ring. We have patrons of yachting, 
 cricketing, crack-shots, and as a honne-houclie, a prince 
 patronising the hitherto comparatively little practised 
 noble and now royal sport of deer-stalking ; and de- 
 scending from the very highest to the very lowest, we 
 have Jemmy Shaw, and his "Wonder" of rat-killing 
 notoriety. 
 
 I think I have produced a tolerably profuse category 
 of patrons ; somewhat different, we must admit, as re- 
 gards attributes of mind, position in life, and estimation 
 as regards the opinion of the w^orld, but still patrons. 
 
 Had the gallant captain, or the noble duke I have 
 mentioned, chosen to have written on their separate 
 pursuits, their works would have as much benefited each 
 pursuit as did their patronage of them. Probably 
 Mr. Sant, having been a very respectable man, a work 
 of his on pugilism might have acted beneficially towards 
 
 c 
 
18 SPORTING AND ITS PATRONS. 
 
 tlie prize-ring; but I should very much doubt the 
 lucubrations or morning studies of Mr. Jemmy Shaw 
 much forwarding the cause of his particular pursuit ; for 
 I should rather opine that the result of such study would, 
 as regards language, sentiments, and opinions, lead to 
 the conclusion that if such emanated from the maguus 
 Apollo of the rat-killing fraternity, ye gods ! what must 
 be those of his satellites ? 
 
 Ascend we a little higher : and let us speak of sports — 
 the pursuits of gentlemen, and gentlemen pursuing them. 
 There is a too common practice, indeed error, among 
 sportsmen, which consists in choosing for acquaintance 
 only, or principally, men addicted to the same pursuits 
 as themselves. This acts most prejudicially to their 
 being liked or estimated favourably by society in gene- 
 ral : it militates against it in two ways — first, hearing 
 constant eulogiums on a particular pursuit, and on those 
 most celebrated in it, a man is led to believe that such 
 pursuit and such persons are worthy of an estimation in 
 general society to which they have no earthly preten- 
 sion ; and secondly, the absence of hearing the opinions 
 of those not of the same turn of mind might, and no 
 doubt would, produce astoundment of the highest degree 
 in the mind of the mere fox-hunter, if he found that out 
 of his own clique he was set down as an ignorant booby, 
 and only fit associate for the functionaries of the stable 
 or kennel. Yet such would indisputably be the result 
 of any man who made any sporting propensity the 
 business of his life — the only ditierence being, the one 
 mentioned is onlv in his element with the huntsman or 
 feeder ; another with the trainer or head lad ; a third 
 with gamekeepers ; and another with pugilists, dog- 
 fanciers, bear and badger-baiters, rat-killers, and gentle- 
 men who in some way contrive to make the contents of 
 
SrORTIxXG AND ITS PATRONS. 19 
 
 one man's pocket find its way into that of another ; I 
 suppose patronising the principle of a floatuig medium 
 being beneficial in a trading country. 
 
 Of all propensities, barring criminal ones, I know of 
 none so totally humiliating and demoralising as the 
 determination of being estimated by, and hailed as a 
 star among the lower orders or functionaries of any 
 sporting pursuit. The being praised by, and looked up 
 to by such persons, creates an indifference to the esti- 
 mation of those whose esteem is desirable ; and if once 
 a man gives into the opinion that association with the 
 loAV is to be excused because they are the actors in, 
 professors of, or functionaries in any sporting pursuit, 
 he becomes lost to all proper feeling, and will very 
 naturally and properly be shunned whenever some un- 
 usual circumstance may induce him to, in a ternporaiy 
 way, emerge from the slough into which he daily sinks 
 deeper and deeper, till he finally becomes as lost to 
 those with whom he ought to have associated, as if he 
 were no longer a denizen of the same world. 
 
 Another very material error into which people are apt 
 to run is this : they judge of any favourite pursuit by 
 the standing it holds in the estimation of others in- 
 dulging in the same amusement or proceeding, forgetful 
 that it ranks very differently in the estimation of those 
 of an opposite taste. The mere fox-hunter forgets that 
 though he has a peculiar estimation of a huntsman, and 
 a peculiar veneration of his avocation, those who are not 
 fox-hunters rank the huntsman no higher than the head- 
 coachman, butler, or gardener, and can see no reason 
 why he should be permitted any freedom of speech or 
 manner not conceded to either of the other class of 
 servant, and hold any approach to familiarity permitted 
 him as much derogatory to a gentleman, as if permitted 
 
 c 2 
 
20 SPORTING AND ITS PATRONS. 
 
 it to either of the others. I may think, and do think, 
 tlie following distinguishing feature in the case may be 
 fairly brought in extenuation of a temporary familiarity 
 with the huntsman, that would not exist under similar 
 circumstances with the others, namely, we can with him, 
 but not with them, converse on subjects in which we 
 feel an interest ; but I cannot blind myself to the fact, 
 that though I and other fox-hunting men may hold this 
 opinion, others of different mould do not ; and as we are 
 not to confine our acquaintance and associations to fox- 
 hunters only, it behoves us so to conduct ourselves as to 
 meet, as far as we can, the approval of general society ; 
 and we must bear in mind that it is only within a very 
 short period that the zealous followers of field sports 
 have rescued themselves from the charge made against 
 them by mixed society, of being a set of boisterous, 
 ignorant men, and held in former days by the refined 
 man of ton and the world as only a shade or two above 
 the tiller of the soil, as regards the manners and habits 
 of civihsed society. It therefore doubly behoves the 
 fox-hunter and sportsman, for the credit of our favourite 
 pursuits, to be particularly careful in his manners, habits, 
 conversation, and associations, to keep up the enviable 
 position sportsmen now hold in general and refined 
 society. A mere fox- hunter should therefore, in these 
 days, be held as a black sheep, throwing a shade on the 
 bright prestige arrived at by his more refined brother 
 sportsmen. 
 
 There is, however, a still grosser error some men fall 
 into, which can only be excused by extreme youth, or 
 extreme ignorance. This is, conforming their manners, 
 habits, and sentiments so as to merit the approbation of 
 the mere agent in any pursuit we follow. It matters 
 not whether huntsman, jockey, shot, cricketer, yachts- 
 
SPORTING AND ITS PATRONS. 21 
 
 man, pugilist, pedestrian, or rat-killer; anything border- 
 ing on familiarity with either is a direct and gross 
 dereliction from the conduct of a gentleman, and dis- 
 gusts, if known, those who think correctly but not 
 partially of such persons. He who, under such circum- 
 stances, would be pointed at as a leading man, is guilty 
 of direct apostacy to his position and bearing as a gen- 
 tleman ; while, in truth, the fault would not rest with the 
 pursuit, but with the man. Any man possessing feel- 
 ings of warmer temperament than those of a fish, cannot 
 but entertain wishes favourable to pursuits in which he 
 indulges, and a certain esprit de corps equally inclining 
 towards his brethren of the same ilk. He therefore 
 becomes sensitive on the score of anything being done 
 likely to lower what he esteems in the eyes of others. 
 Noscitur a sociis, we learnt at school : thus, if any indi- 
 vidual of a particular pursuit does what lowers him in 
 the eyes of the right-judging, his compeers pay the 
 penalty of his errors or misconduct. 
 
 I have not taken up this subject ill- advisedly, or 
 without feeling it behoved some one to do so : a better 
 man wanting, I beg to offer my opinions on it. My 
 incentive to do it arose from the following circum- 
 stance : — 
 
 A friend of mine, a long-standing fox-hunter, one 
 who really venerates a fox-hound, loves a pointer, setter, 
 spaniel, or any dog used for field-sports, called on me a 
 day or two back. He hates a bull-dog, whom he holds 
 as a useless, dangerous animal, that ought not to be per- 
 mitted to live. A young man drove by the door, in a 
 very well-appointed phaeton. I made a remark on the 
 sporting, yet gentlemanly cut of the tout ensemble. 
 
 " I'd bet ten to one," says my friend, " that though 
 
22 SPORTING AND ITS PATRONS. 
 
 tlie owner may be a gentleman by birth, he is a black- 
 guard in habits ! " 
 
 "Wiiy?" said I. 
 
 " Did not you see that bull-dog between his knees ? " 
 
 1 winced to the quick at this, having in very early 
 life had a breed of these, that even Bill Gibbons desig- 
 nated as beauties. How far my friend's implied sweeping 
 general anathema against a man keeping such might hold 
 good, as regards my particular person, is not for me to 
 say ; however, I kept no bull-dogs after I was twenty — 
 a clause I may be allowed to bring forward in my favour. 
 I could but feel that whatever the gentleman who passed 
 might be, my friend's opinion was, as general judgment 
 went, perfectly right. 
 
 This brought on a conversation relative to pugilism. 
 My friend is a proved, brave, and fearless fellow as ever 
 stepped in shoe-leather, but never put on a pair of 
 boxing-gloves in his life : I, without pretending to his 
 attributes, have, with many of our fighting-men ; our 
 opinions as regards the P.K,. may therefore be readily 
 supposed to vary considerably. But he dumb-founded 
 me by remarking, after asking first if I had read a 
 description of a particular fight — 
 
 " Did you not consider it a most confoundedly low- 
 lived, blackguard production ? " 
 
 I admitted the particulars were couched in somewhat 
 technical language. 
 
 " Now," continued my friend, " I make no objection 
 to the doings of such brave men as Gully, Belcher, 
 Gregson, or Oliver, or the whole of the honest part of 
 the corps being chronicled as much as you please ; but 
 if the prize-ring is to be encouraged, as having a bene- 
 ficial national tendency, it ought to be the study of its 
 patrons to render it, and the actors in it, as respectable 
 
SPORTING AND ITS PATRONS. 23 
 
 as possible — not to lower it by using terms in descrip- 
 tion that can only be tolerated in a pot-house. Might 
 it not as well be said that Doublejoint got a severe 
 straight blow on the nose, ear, jaw, or stomach, as to 
 say it reached his ' smeller,' ' listener,' his ' left chaff- 
 grindef,' or that it paid a visit to his ' victualling-office?' 
 A blow on the nose, from which the blood instantly 
 followed, is quite as clear as ' drawing his cork, which 
 caused the claret to fly in all directions.' " 
 
 I could not deny the truth of this, but replied it 
 would not be so well liked. 
 
 " Liked ! " cried my friend, " by whom ? by the lowest 
 of the low, who are taught a zest for such language, 
 from the want of less offensive being laid before them. 
 If men who write, and whom consequently we look on 
 as superior to those they write about, will make us form 
 the opinion of them we must, from their style of writing, 
 what, in the name of all that is low, must their inferiors 
 be ? Depend on it, such descriptions only encourage a 
 morbid and vitiated taste in the lower orders, disgust 
 the better, and tend to keep in disrepute the very pro- 
 ceedings they are intended to encourage." 
 
 I would not, after this, have let my friend into the 
 exact secret of my own doings in very early life, for one 
 of the best horses in his stable. My opinions have, in 
 a mitigated degree, been pretty much the same as his 
 for many years. He has satisfied me of the truth of 
 them; and their spirit equally bears on what should 
 influence sporting men in following each and all their 
 sporting pursuits. 
 
 I have always recommended to younger sportsmen 
 than myself, and to the very few less informed, what I 
 know to be good tact, and good taste : — " If you are a 
 sportsman, ever make it a rule to be the very last man 
 
24 SPORTING i^ND ITS PATR-ONS. 
 
 in company to bring forward sporting as a subject of 
 conversation, unless among those who can duly appre- 
 ciate, converse on, or discuss such subjects ; and then the 
 less you mix with them the better. If a man likes such 
 society and such men, my only advice to him would be, 
 " Go into and mix with no other ; for if you do, you will 
 be set down as a kind of hybrid — half ignorance, and 
 the rest worse." 
 
 Very young men are apt, unless they meet with a 
 severe check, to indulge in technicalities, and a kind of 
 half-slang, that they imagine shows them deeply versed 
 in every pursuit they choose to mix in or patronise. 
 Should driving be their propensity, place them near a 
 coachman : they would not for worlds use the term 
 reins; they talk of the "ribbons." Buckling or un- 
 buckling the reins, they would hold as terms only to be 
 used by their grandfather. But " pinning the ribbons " 
 is quite the thing. They with a knowing wink talk of 
 " the prentice " in the " till," the " monkey," or " gam- 
 mon-board." Old Vaughan, Black Will, or Holmes 
 fooled such young 'uns " up to their bent," for which 
 they got five shillings in lieu of two, and a good laugh 
 at the " 'un " (knowing one) in the evening. All this is 
 wretched taste, and such men as I have mentioned had 
 quite sense enough to know it was. 
 
 The prize-fighter, supposing on any particular occasion 
 half-a-dozen gentlemen chose to take a dinner at the 
 Castle, in Holborn, would be obliged and flattered by 
 being desired to come up ; be asked a few questions, 
 and then told to order what he pleased below. He 
 would respect those who gave the order, and, above all, 
 would honour the " Captain," by swearing he was a 
 trump. But the younger tyro who sits in the parlour, 
 talking (I beg pardon — chaffing !) with all he meets 
 
SPORTING AND ITS PATRONS. 25 
 
 there, and treating all the company, is merely held a 
 tolerated intruder ; laughed at as an ass ; and, even by 
 such persons, held in sovereign contempt. The being 
 hailed by applause on entering the room by such per- 
 sons, is no more flattering to a man, as a gentleman, 
 than is the applause bestowed on the entrance of the 
 clovi^n complimentary to him as a man of sense. He is 
 hailed as something to laugh at, and be amused by ; 
 the other as something to profit by, and be laughed at 
 afterwards. 
 
 We will now speak of Avriting and sentiments. Nim- 
 rod is a name that, as a writer on sporting subjects, will 
 long be remembered. No man's works, of a similar 
 kind, have been more generally read ; this in a very 
 great measure arising from his having had the good 
 taste never to permit low expressions, or consecutive 
 slang, to disgrace his pages. He was a man of educa- 
 tion, and, I believe I am correct in saying, in no way ad- 
 dicted to low habits, or, unless for the express purpose of 
 gaining in formation, to low associations. There were'^niany 
 men in Nirarod's time, and since, who knew, and know, 
 six times over, far more of hunting than ever he did. 
 Actaeon for one. His Notitia Venatica is a large volume, 
 full of direct practical knowledge and well-digested opi- 
 nions ; a book of reference, that will ever be regarded 
 as indisputable ; not such amusing hglit reading to the 
 generality of readers as Nimrod's Chase ; but Actaeon 
 has since shown himself, in the Sj^orting Magazine, 
 equally capable of handling his subject artistically, when 
 he has not merely practical experience to dilate on. Of 
 race-horses, or the training them, Nimrod knew com- 
 paratively nothing ; yet he furnished good-gathered in- 
 formation, which is enough for the public. His driving 
 qualifications were — if 1 may trust to the given opinion 
 
26 SPORTING AND ITS PATRONS. 
 
 of coaclimen avIio knew him — very mediorre indeed ; 
 yet his Road must ever be read with zest ; and if it only 
 depended on the uncommonly well-told story of the old 
 gentleman travelling by the " Comet," " Regulator," 
 and " Mail," that in itself alone would show what was 
 indisputably the case, that Nimrod possessed descriptive 
 powers of a high order, set forth in language that placed 
 his subject, as well as himself, in a very advantageous 
 point of view. Had he descended to slang, or low 
 technicalities, his works would not have outlived him ; 
 for, except his Condition of Hunters, many men possess 
 far more practical information on every subject on which 
 Nimrod wrote. 
 
 Whiz, whose contributions to the Sporting Magazine 
 all its readers know, has not been eclipsed — I may say 
 equalled — by any one on road subjects ; his pen, like 
 Stevenson's pencil, has produced us sketches truly 
 graphic. Had he written a work of this kind, and got 
 the other gentleman to have illustrated it, I can conceive 
 they would have produced a work that would have been 
 read with avidity, and cherished as a pleasing reminis- 
 cence to this day ; for with all the fun and characteristic 
 deUneations of Whiz, often of low characters, he with 
 perfect good taste managed to bring them directly before 
 us, but still in such language that, however descriptive 
 it might be, was yet that of a gentleman. 
 
 I am quite aware that this article, which is of some- 
 what an unusual character, will with some persons, and 
 in some places, be held in great reprobation. This must 
 ever be expected where a writer condemns any line of 
 conduct pursued by particular persons. I can readily 
 conceive situations where it will be honoured by the 
 title of " humbug," by all the company assembled. It 
 has but one chance in its favour. I mention no names. 
 
SPORTING AND ITS PATRONS. 27 
 
 SO who will allow it hits hard enough to induce him to 
 say, " Did i/ou mean me ?" 
 
 I have heard the question mooted as to whether the. 
 bringing the crimes of the felon, the brutality of the 
 savage, or the degrading conduct of the profligate, before 
 the public, is attended with beneficial results, or the 
 reverse. I am in no way capable of deciding on such 
 a question ; but this I know : if the propriety of putting 
 down Greenwich Fair or retaining it was suggested, the 
 bringing forward all the low and profligate scenes enacted 
 there would not be likely to turn the balance of votes in 
 its favour. 
 
 It is pretty much the same as regards either persons 
 or pursuits : if we permit that which is reprehensible to 
 appear, it of course brings such persons or pursuits for- 
 ward in very questionable points of view. Any bad spe- 
 cimen should be carefully kept out of sight. 
 
 We will return to foxhunting. That I must be per- 
 mitted to hold as the prince — nay, emperor of field 
 sports ; admitting at the same time that racing tugs hard 
 at my heart, while the other has it in its grasp. " Oh !" 
 cries some one — and I know many very estimable men 
 who would join in the Oh ! — " I scarcely ever knew a 
 man fond of racing, a true foxhunter." Perhaps not, 
 gentlemen ; but it is not yet clearly proved that the true 
 foxhunter is a character particularly of an enviable no- 
 toriety, though held as such in your estimation. For I 
 suspect that if a man hunted four days a week, and 
 forewent the remaining two for the sake of a ball, 
 musical party, the opera, or a sale of pictures, he would 
 not come up to your ideas of his being the true : in 
 short, unless his heart and soul were in the kennel, or 
 the meet, he would not challenge the undivided applause 
 of you who glory in the title of true foxhunters. If 
 
28 SPORTING AND ITS PATRONS. 
 
 siicli is the case, I pray you vote me out of your society, 
 and let me enjoy my foxhunting when I please to take 
 it, which, like other amusements, I mean to be in its 
 turn. If you mean it to really be the business of your 
 life, I do not, for I do not mean to confine myself ex- 
 clusively to the " trices." 
 
 We will suppose one of the " trues " introduced by 
 a friend to a pleasant and aristocratic family. Possibly 
 while dinner lasted, his attention to his repast might 
 make an equivocal sort of excuse for his want of atten- 
 tion to anything or anybody else. The cloth removed, 
 neither hounds nor horses being mentioned, he passes 
 off as a stupid being, that the lady sitting next to him 
 earnestly prays, and inwardly determines, shall never 
 again be brought into so near propinquity to her. It is 
 possible — nay, probable, he may have ventured so far 
 as, " Do you ride. Ma'am ?" An answer in the nega- 
 tive shows him no communion can exist there ; if yes, 
 and that is followed by asking him if he has seen the 
 last new opera, the probable answer that he never saw 
 an opera, or had any wish to see one, equally satisfies 
 the lady as to the absence of any communion in so 
 barren a quarter. The ladies retire ; he finds no fox- 
 hunting introduced, so votes the whole party a set of 
 humbugs, seizes on the port, and when the move is 
 made for the drawhig-room, and from the table, he 
 holds them as humbugs double-distilled, who won't 
 drink, and are fit for nothing that, he thinks, ought to 
 occupy the attention of men. He mechanically follows, 
 never having felt more uncomfortable in his life, unless 
 when a frost threw him on his own resources to while 
 away the day in his stable ; or strolls down to Farmer 
 Somebody, where he is made the lion of the day, and 
 
SPORTING AND ITS PATROIS'S. 29 
 
 deliberates //ra and con. as to making the pretty blue or 
 black-eyed daughter of his host mistress of the Hall. 
 We have him, however, at present in a far different 
 sphere. Hoping to draw him out in compliment to his 
 introducer (God help the man !), the lady of the house 
 tries his knowledge of, or j^enchant towards, music, 
 drawing, dancing, the theatres; finds none of these 
 come under his patronage. " Her daughter will be 
 happy to engage him at chess." He does not play 
 at chess, but does draughts. The reply is quite satis- 
 factory. His introducer (regretting having been so), in. 
 mercy to him and himself, gives a whisper, and, unper- 
 ceived, gets the true foxhunter away. 
 
 Let me ask those who hold a man conversant with 
 hunting onl^, whether even they can be so blind as not 
 to see that such characters as I have briefly sketched 
 are not certain to bring that of the sportsman into direct 
 obloquy with men possessing a mind beyond the mere 
 hound they follow, or the horse they ride. Yet the 
 character is not an overdrawn one : it shows no abso- 
 lutely vulgar being, no demi-savage ; but merely a man 
 in whom we find no attribute or refinement, no taste 
 for anything intellectual, or what is esteemed or admired 
 in good society. I regret to say, even in these days, 
 there are many prototypes of my supposed hero of the 
 chase. The man who takes his hunting as one of, or 
 the chief of his winter amusements, but does not make 
 it the aim and end of life, blushes when he sees such 
 " bookless, sauntering youths " as we do, when we see 
 a gentleman derogate in any conduct from the character 
 he ought to uphold and act up to. 
 
 There are three classes of foxhunters — the hunting 
 groom, huntsman, or whip ; the boisterous and some- 
 
30 SPORTING AND ITS PATRONS. 
 
 what ignorant country half-gentleman, who makes ordi- 
 nary farmers or huntsmen his companions ; and the man 
 who hunts, as he does all other things, like a gentleman. 
 The habits, tastes, associations, language, and accom- 
 plishments of the man are a pretty sure criterion where- 
 by to judge to which class he belongs. 
 
WHAT WE ARE NOAV DOING. 
 
 Such a subject would, I should say, afford ample material 
 to furnish-out half-a-dozen honest portly quartos, and if 
 the brains of the writer were as prolific as the theme is 
 copious, such a work might not lose in interest from its 
 extension ; fortunately, however, for me, and still more 
 fortunate for my readers, my observations must be cur- 
 tailed to a limited space. 
 
 We are told that when Dr. Johnson, whose urbanity 
 of manners and speech were not always commensurate 
 with his learning, after a lady had brought forth her 
 great musical talent to gratify, as she concluded it would, 
 the feelings of the Doctor, was apprised that the piece 
 the lady had performed was extremely difficult — " I wish 
 to God ! madam," replied he to his informant, " it had 
 been impossible r 
 
 I have stated that the limits of this article must be 
 confined to a certain space ; it will be well for me if some 
 doctor does not say, I wish it had been altogether omitted. 
 It is quite possible such a circumstance might have been 
 desirable, but it did not arrive ; so the article went. 
 
 It is said " there is nothing new under the sun." 
 Allowing this as an axiom, we may come to the inference 
 that we are doing pretty much the same as has been done 
 before; but if we only look at the saying as liypothetical, we 
 may venture argument in favour of our doing a vast deal 
 that was never dreamed of in former years. Nay, further, 
 we may, I should say, roundly assert that, dreamt of or 
 
32 WHAT WE ARE NOW DOING. 
 
 not, at all events much that we do now never was done 
 before ; for if it had been since the time men could by- 
 writings transmit information of their doings to posterity, 
 we should have heard of things having been done, that 
 we are sceptical enough to consider as being perfectly 
 " new under the sun." And if these things were done 
 before we had the art of making such facts known, I 
 do not see on what basis the saying is founded, so little 
 complimentary to the " march of intellect," 
 
 Probably our worthy ancestors, who pertinaciously- 
 eschewed all innovation on what was doing and had been 
 done in the world of theirs, considered that because 
 land was ploughed, sowed, and reaped, that flocks in- 
 creased, and men ate, and that this had been done 
 from time immemorial (saA^e and except when Adam 
 did not work or eat mutton), therefore, there was really 
 " nothing new under the sun." But these good people 
 would find that, though the sun of 1856 is the same orb 
 of warmth and light it was in 56, it is not so with what 
 is done under it. How far the spirit of man, his misery 
 or happiness, may have retrograded or advanced during 
 the eighteen hundred years, is a subject that would in- 
 volve philosophical and ethical discussion, to which I am 
 not competent, nor this article suited. 
 
 There was a time when the 'squire of the village made 
 hunting the business of his life, save that he might be, 
 par excellence, a justice of the peace ; in which case, 
 unless a man was brought before him for poaching, a 
 crime that roused every energy of the dispenser of justice, 
 this worthy representative usually snored while his better- 
 informed clerk investigated the merits, or rather demerits, 
 of the alleged misdemeanour, and then roused his 
 superior to sign an acquittal or a mittimus, as the case 
 might be. Those were times 
 
 "When wretches hung that jurymen might dine." 
 
WHAT WE ARE NOW DOING. 33 
 
 But now, though hunting is carried on in a style that our 
 ancestors knew not of, it is very properly not the business 
 or occupation of life, but what it should be — merely one 
 among its several amusements ; and thus, though sport- 
 ing subjects are looked for in a sporting periodical, some- 
 thing like a manifestation that the writers of them have 
 ideas above mere dogs and horses, as well as " buttons," 
 is expected, Sam Chifney, who wrote that most ignorant 
 and egotistical of all egotistical productions, " Genius 
 Genuine," could doubtless have informed us of all that 
 was doing, or had been done, at Newmarket from the 
 Craven to the Houghton Meeting, but not quite in the 
 same style that we rejoice in when reading the " Turf 
 Pencillings ;" and erratic — nay, I will not flinch the 
 word — wild as are some of the effusions of Craven, the 
 slightest discrimination cannot but detect in the writer 
 the man of talent, education, and literary research. If 
 all could write as well as " Uncle " can " scribble," we 
 might congratulate them, and honestly too. 
 
 Will Watch, of Dibdin celebrity, could have by word 
 of mouth, or probably " somehow " in writing, very 
 truthfully described a cruise, and probably the denizens 
 of the Point at Portsmouth would greatly prefer his style 
 to that of Lord William Lennox picturing the same 
 thing ; but those not inhabiting or frequenting the same 
 locality are not, or would not be content with the bare 
 description of how the vessel behaved, or what were the 
 soundings at such particular points. Instead of such, 
 we get a graphic and spirited description, indicative, or 
 rather illustrative of mind and feelings that raise our own 
 to something like poetic imagination. 
 
 I have not the remotest doubt but that the sportsman of 
 former days would not merely affect to sneer, but actually 
 would sneer at those of the present time. It would not 
 
 D 
 
3i WHAT WE ARE NOW DOING. 
 
 be enough for him that men ride better, and lend their 
 aid and means to a greater extent than they did formerly 
 to promote field sports ; that they do not devote all their 
 time and attention to the kennel and stable (the former 
 particularly) would be sufficient to damn their pretensions 
 as sportsmen in the eyes of those who, from want of 
 inclination and habit to occupy their mind by superior 
 pursuits, held the knowing the pedigree of every hound 
 in their own kennel, and also of those in their neigh- 
 bours', as a species of knowledge that half the hours of 
 their lives were well bestowed in attaining. Raise up 
 your hands in wonder and derision if you like, ye hunts- 
 men, whips, feeders, and those of such ilk, when I 
 candidly admit I no more care whether such or such a 
 
 hound was by Lord 's Chaunter out of Sir 's 
 
 Merrylass than I do whether the omnibus horses of the 
 'bus that carries me were bred in York or Lincolnshire. 
 1 admire hounds doing their work well ; but, though the 
 strain may be, and is, of great importance to the master, 
 it can be of no importance to the stranger merely hunt- 
 ing with the pack. It is a treat to see thirty couple of 
 fine hounds in kennel, and I should, as a sportsman, be 
 mortified if I could not point out the particular beauties 
 or defects among them ; but whether the principal sire 
 was Gog, Magog, or Hobgoblin, I should only hold it 
 loss of time to inquire. Let me see them try, find, 
 chase, and kill. If they did this as they ought, it 
 matters not to me if the d — 1 got them ; if they did not, 
 my only wish, without farther inquiry, would be, that 
 they had not been got at all. 
 
 If I dine with a friend, I am gratified, for my own 
 and his sake, to see his servants do their business properly. 
 Their connexions may be of some importance to their 
 master, as indicating how far, from example and precept, 
 
WHAT WE ARE NOW DOING. 35 
 
 it is likely that they may be trustworthy or the reverse ; 
 but to me, it must be quite immaterial whether they 
 descended from Giles Jotho the ploughman in Yorkshire, 
 or Knowing Bill the dog dealer and stealer of Seven 
 Dials. It does not follow, from this, I am ignorant of 
 what sort of an artist a servant in his particular depart- 
 ment is. I should look to the breed and bringing up of 
 my own, but need not be expected to waste my time on 
 learning that of all my friend's domestics, nor need I 
 that of his hounds. It would be said, perhaps, by Hugo 
 Meynell that showing this indifference proved I was not 
 fond of hounds. It certainly would prove I was not as 
 fond of his hounds as he was ; and, further, it would prove 
 the fact that I should, as companions, prefer more in- 
 tellectual and refined ones in the drawing-room, after 
 hunting, to the dog or bitch pack in their kennel. Many 
 who perhaps are better sportsmen, probably would not. 
 Chacun a son gout. I must, however, as matter of opinion, 
 say, that " what we are doing now " in sporting matters 
 is of a superior order to what was doing — when ? When 
 men were demi-savages ; held literary attainment beneath 
 a man of fortune, accomplishments effeminacy, and had 
 no ideas beyond the stable and the kennel, excepting they 
 certainly knew- " a hawk from a hand-saw." 
 
 There are numbers of persons who, from their position 
 in life or their avocations, know so little of sportsmen, 
 that they form their opinions of them from what they 
 have read descriptive of such characters years ago ; others, 
 without this excuse, arrogate to themselves the right of 
 judging of the manners, habits, and attributes of the 
 hunting man with no better foundation on which to build 
 their opinions than what they conceive such men likely 
 to be. Such persons would not expect much, or any, 
 elucidation of talent from the sportsman ; but those who 
 D 2 
 
36 WHAT WE ARE NOW DOING. 
 
 are aware that numberless men of the highest talent and 
 refined education are among our most enthusiastic sports- 
 men, estimate the capabilities of such men by a far 
 different standard. I think, therefore, there are many 
 who will join me in expressing surprise that since the 
 days of Somerville nothing worthy the name of a poem 
 has been produced on the subject of field sports. That 
 it arises from no want of talent among those who make 
 such pursuits their chief winter amusement, is quite 
 certain ; and that such sylvan scenes afford ample scope 
 for the exercise of poetic talent, we have seen by the 
 solitary poem that has been produced. Almost every 
 other theme has been taken up and written on by various 
 poets, the imagination of each producing something new, 
 something indicative of his fertility of mind; but in a 
 country where field sports are entered into with more 
 zest, and carried on in a style unknown in other countries, 
 one poet is allowed to " walk over the course " of fame 
 without any competitor challenging the laurel that decked 
 his brows while living, and immortalize his memory when 
 gone. 
 
 Of prose writers on such subjects we have had, and 
 have, plenty and to spare. The subject or subjects have 
 been written on till they have become almost the same 
 things over and over again, somewhat exemplified by the 
 couplet — 
 
 " At the siege of Belle Isle 
 I was there all the while ; 
 I was there all the while 
 At the siege of Belle Isle." 
 
 If each and most of these prose writers think they can 
 produce something new in mere practical observations, 
 how wide a field is open to poetic imagination ! and 
 
WHAT WE ARE NOW DOING. 37 
 
 still adhering to truthful representation. We become 
 blazed, nay bored, by mere prosaic description or synony- 
 mous information ; but the poet can give a beauty, a 
 freshness to even a worn-out subject by the music of his 
 words and the imagery of his mind. But in this, what 
 are we doing novi^ ? Literally nothing. 
 
 What are we doing in racing matters ? I think those 
 who wish well for the turf will rejoice in saying, We are 
 doing things better than they have been done. I do 
 not mean better than they ever have been done, but less 
 badly than they were done during some years since. 
 Direct, bare-faced robbery does not come constantly be- 
 fore us ; at all events, when such things take place, a 
 little sense of decency is shown, and, as anything like a 
 licentious expression should, be, they are neatly wrapped. 
 up. Doncaster is rescuing her once fair fame from latter 
 disgrace. It is now just possible that if a man has a 
 good horse, and he is well watched, he may, if it suits 
 the owner's book, be permitted to win. These are not 
 mere steps, but seven-league strides in amendment of 
 racing results. Not that it is to be for a moment sup- 
 posed that the morale of the racing world has got to such 
 ascendancy that the winner of (say) the 2000 will be at 
 all sure to beat a far worse field should he meet such a 
 short time after his great victory over a better. But 
 then who shall openly impugn imperial Csesar, or those 
 who covertly can mar his sway ? Csesar has " gone ofl" 
 since the memorable day. " He has not got over the 
 drilling he got for the 2000." " If Nat, Frank Butler, 
 or Charles Marlow had ridden him in the latter race, he 
 would have won." Unfortunate Jock, if put up to ride 
 a horse after a great achievement ! But it is really good 
 policy to have every excuse at hand, when we want to do 
 anything that is not quite "straight running." Who 
 
38 WHAT WE ARE NOW DOING. 
 
 can say a horse has not gone off when his appearance shows 
 that he has ? — who can say he does not feel the effects of 
 the " drilHng spoken of," when it is quite evident some- 
 thing has affected his fitness as to condition ? Nat, 
 Butler, or Marlow can, and we have no reason to doubt 
 would, make anything win that had winning in him ; but 
 lucky and clever little Wells, even with his tiny weight, 
 could not bring a horse in front if he has not the powers 
 to get there. " Horses are very uncertain in their running." 
 Truly, they are so at times, under any management ; but 
 intention is far more uncertain than the horse, to those 
 not in the secret. I for one can pardon all this ; for it 
 only affects the Ring, for which I never had, or have, the 
 least feeling of sympathy ; and if an owner is permitted 
 the vast privilege of having his orders carried out, it is, 
 I think, quite fair, as regards him and the bettors, to let 
 every one take care of himself. If I advise you to back 
 my horse when knowing I do not mean (I beg pardon 
 for the insinuation, and will say expect) him to vdn, as 
 Ealstaff says, " call me horse " or rascal, for I should 
 deserve it ; but if you advise yourself, I am not bound 
 to sacrifice my interest to prove you a prophet. 
 
 Few, if any, men would buy, breed, or keep race- 
 horses unless expecting gratification or advantage from 
 so doing ; consequently anything that frustrates his 
 wishes as regards them tends to driving him off the Turf. 
 But thwarting the interest of mere bettors will not do 
 this ; for there would be always betting enough among 
 racing men to make the Turf attractive ; but if a man 
 cannot calculate on what his horse will be allowed to do, 
 he will not be weak enough to bet, though thousands 
 who scarce know enough of a race-horse to distinguish 
 between one fit to win and a mare in foal, will back their 
 own judgment. I have seen hundreds of these sapients 
 
WHAT WE ARE NOW DOING. 39 
 
 wink knowingly, and in their favourite phrase declare 
 " they know where the money is on," when they know 
 as much about the matter as they do of the pecuniary 
 resources of the Ottoman Empire. They come like 
 sacrifices to the altar they raise for themselves. Let 
 them, if a hecatomb of such could benefit better meu> 
 let the offering recur as often as a race meeting takes 
 place : their prototypes would in time learn to keep their 
 fingers out of the fire. 
 
 What are we doing in steeple-chasing ? We are doing 
 an immense business in that way — for a business it really 
 is ; and I should say we are doing far more good to our 
 continental neighbours than ourselves ; for we did not 
 want steeple-chasing as an incentive to get the best 
 breed of horses in our country, for we had them as hunters 
 and race-horses : our neighbours had not. They found 
 this out, and now give the best prices for horses, and 
 liberal prizes for them to contend for. It is rumoured 
 there is no little partiality shown in some places as re- 
 gards the awardment of such prizes. Perhaps it is so, 
 but, as the true spirit of the sportsman gets infused 
 among them, this will no doubt be set to rights ; and as 
 a beginning with a nation lately devoid of any sporting 
 propensities worthy the name' of them, and with a people 
 fond of excitement and spectacle, steeple-chasing was 
 and is far more likely, than with their habits would 
 have been the sudden introduction of fox-hunting, to 
 teach them there are other amusements of as exciting a 
 nature as, though widely different from, la danse. They 
 are fine fellows, with all the courage and quickness of 
 the lion in them ; still a cross with the bull-dog will be 
 advantageous to them, while, as we are a trading nation, 
 a large importation of their urbanitj^ of manner will in 
 time do us much good. " Tout cela vieiidra ;" and I 
 
40 WHAT WE ARE NOW DOING. 
 
 trust the time will also come when we shall hear of My 
 Lord with his dozen hunters going to his friend Le 
 Marquis on a visit during the hunting season. 
 
 A little work that has lately appeared on the subject 
 of the description of horse now in use in our cavalry, 
 tends to the inferring that " what we are doing now," 
 and indeed what we have been long doing, in such 
 matters, has been, and is, wrong. The gallant officer, 
 the author of this book, is so far better qualified than I 
 to judge of this, that even if I differed in opinion with 
 him, I certainly should not attempt to dispute his ; but 
 as regards the breed of our light cavalry horses, I con- 
 sider his observations perfectly correct. I only base my 
 ideas on what I know to be the powers of horses in 
 general, under certain weight and exposed to certain 
 hardships and casualities. 
 
 Those who have flattered me by reading what I have 
 written, are quite aware that I have ever advocated the 
 using of horses as highly bred as we could get them, 
 provided we got sufficient strength for the purpose to 
 which we put them. I suspect the author alluded to 
 does not object, or mean to object, to high breeding, but 
 as being conducive to producing an animal too light for 
 military purposes. 
 
 We will suppose the ass to be able (and it is said he is) 
 to carry a greater load, in proportion to his own specific 
 gravity, than can a horse : this in no way shows he is 
 adequate to a weight the horse can carry. It is some- 
 thing like this with high breeding. We know that 
 thorough-bred horses of good symmetry are vastly 
 stronger than low-bred ones of the same or even some- 
 what larger size. This, however, only goes so far as. 
 where the attributes of the thorough- bred constitute his 
 strength. These attributes are wind, speed, and game 
 
WHAT WE ARE NOW DOING. 41 
 
 or bottom. If we wanted a horse to stand under fivc- 
 and-tbirty stone weight, a thick or even broken-winded 
 dray-horse would probably do so better than Haco ; but 
 make it twenty, and require the dray-horse with that 
 weight to get into quick motion, Haco would beat him, 
 though under such enormous weight. We see light, nay, 
 spindle-limbed thorough-breds carry a weight far beyond 
 what we should suppose tliey could, four miles across 
 country, in a steeple-chase. This only lasts, on an 
 average, say from twelve to fourteen minutes. The same 
 horse would be dreadfully distressed to bear a dragoon, 
 fully accoutred, on his back for eight or nine hours. The 
 closer and more compactly-made horse, though only quite 
 half-bred, would do it better. The speed, wind, and 
 game of the thorough-bred are not called into play in 
 the troop horse ; for wind and game are only properly 
 tried when speed and distance are required, Gameness 
 and wind will not avail much where the back and loins 
 are under a weight they are incompetent to sustain. If 
 troops were wanted to charge four miles under even 
 twelve stone, at a greater pace than the enemy, mount 
 them, by all means, on strong thorough-bred horses ; 
 but where the charge is only a very few hundred yards, 
 under, on an average, of perhaps sixteen stone, I should 
 look for far greater strength ; for a horse must be slow 
 indeed if not equal to the usual pace of the fastest 
 charge ; and I think it would be found that in a charge 
 of a couple of hundred yards at top speed there would 
 not be any great difference between the time of the Blues 
 or Lancers ; for the speed of large, strong horses is often 
 surprising in very short distances. 
 
 I think I remember to have somewhere said that I 
 quite believe thorough-bred horses " would draw one 
 of our once eight -horse road waggons better and far 
 
42 WHAT WE ARE NOW DOING. 
 
 faster than waggon-horses." I have no doubt they 
 would ; but then we must have twelve instead of eight, 
 for in such case the bodily weight of the large animals 
 then used did half the work. The pace averaged three 
 miles an hour ; make that pace six, and the twelve 
 thorough-breds would be at Newbury by the time the 
 old gee-who's got to Maidenhead Thicket. 
 
 Fond as I am of the thorough-bred, I hope it will be 
 understood I do not mean the mere tilings we daily see 
 in our streets. Even with hounds, a weedy, racing- 
 looking animal always carries about him the appearance 
 of having been bought for twenty pounds — and quite 
 enough for such animals. 
 
 I am no advocate for the usual specimen of thorough- 
 breds in harness : they have a poor, and what I can only 
 call a comfortless look about them, and produce in me a 
 feeling something similar to what I should experience 
 should I see a lady in full dress and white satin slippers 
 paddling along a dirty and wet pavement. Give me 
 four something the cut of Sir Hercules, Plenipo, Bran, 
 or Ratcatcher, I should glory in a team of such ; and 
 something of the kind is always to be got even at a 
 moderate price — say £100, for I have had many — but 
 then it must have been proved beyond doubt that such 
 horses could not race, at least, not so as to pay expenses. 
 Mendicant, we will say, could, and at one time would 
 have cost a large sum ; but, suppose a man had got her, 
 she would have looked a mere wretch in harness. She 
 could go over the turf, but even by the cover side would 
 have looked a haggard, inferior animal. I have had some 
 of the best and most delightful horses I ever possessed 
 for harness that were quite thorough-bred : but they were 
 muscular, and a comfortable-looking sort ; and perhaps, 
 nay, most probably, the very symmetry that was their 
 
WHAT WE ARE NOW DOING. 43 
 
 recommendation to me, was the very circumstance that 
 had rendered them good for nothing as racers. 
 
 The sul)ject has been again brought forward of trying 
 EngUsh against Eastern-bred horses. The Pacha, to do 
 him justice, seems to wish the thing tried in the true 
 and fair spirit of a sportsman. If half-a-dozen picked 
 Enghsh and Eastern horses were pitted against each 
 other on a description of ground of a fair galloping sort, 
 and each jockey had positive orders not to uselessly or 
 severely punish his horse, the proof might take place 
 without any very censurable suffering to the animals en- 
 gaged in it ; but if it is to be — which I quite foresee it 
 will be, if tried — the actual butchering of two good 
 animals, to try which may be made by whip and spur to 
 stagger home first, I shall do what I never did before — ■ 
 blush for my countrymen, and, in such case, the prosti- 
 tuted name of sportsmen. 
 
''THE TIME O'DAY." 
 
 When men's habits, dress, manners, and expressions, 
 bordered on or evinced a far nearer approximation to a 
 cast of character that can only be described as " slang," 
 the heading of this article was an expression very rife 
 among those v\'ho thought they were (but most un- 
 questionably were not) a part and parcel of a class to 
 be admired and respected. No greater mistake ever 
 warped the direction of the mind from its straight 
 line to deformity : had such deformity resulted from 
 natural causes, it would have called forth pity, and the 
 liberal mind would have abstained from levelling the 
 shaft of ridicule at what had " fallen from " its " high 
 estate." Pity a being owning such a mind we must ; 
 so we do any one whose conduct is a tissue of weakness 
 and folly. Such pity is, however, of a far different 
 character from that drawn forth by the fall or mis- 
 fortunes of the great and deserving ; for the pity 
 awarded to folly is accompanied by contempt. 
 
 Many men fancy that in boasting of an utter careless- 
 ness of the opinion of the world, they evince a greater 
 superiority of mind than those who shape their con- 
 duct with a proper deference to the usages of society : 
 if they really think so, they are only laying bare the 
 weakness of their mind, instead of manifesting tlie 
 supposed superiority of it. We will trust, however, for 
 
" THE TIME o'dAY." 45 
 
 the credit of onr fellow-men, that few really do entertain 
 such erroneous ideas, for such men deceive themselves ; 
 they are most anxious for the applause of others, and 
 where and in what they assume a character and habits 
 contrary to those pursued by the generality of men, they 
 do so to " seek the bubble reputation" among a parti- 
 cular clique, whose suffrages they seek as more according 
 with their ideas of style and excellence than the conduct 
 and opinions of the ordinary class of society. 
 
 Many men aim at the very equivocal and dangerous 
 notoriety of pecuharity of conduct : if it is peculiarly 
 commendable, no doubt they will very deservedly rank 
 higher in the estimation of their compeers and society 
 than do others of no prominent virtue ; but if their 
 eccentricity merely evinces a departure from the usual 
 habits of men in the same position of society, their vanity 
 must be overweening indeed if they imagine they can 
 show the rest of the world that they are and have been 
 in error. Eccentricity is really (not very modestly) 
 telling the world this, and the consequence is (that 
 world holding that its collective members really know 
 as well what is right or wrong as a solitary eccentric), 
 instead of being astonished at, or influenced by, his 
 mode of acting, sneers at the folly, and contemns the 
 presumption. Few men are so weak, or possess feelings 
 so obtuse, as to aftect singularity that they suppose 
 would render them the ridiculed or despised of universal 
 society ; but, on the contrary, let them deceive themselves 
 as they may, each man affecting peculiarity of conduct, 
 be it shown in what particular it may, inwardly chuckles, 
 while he says to himself (in whatever terms he may 
 choose to select), what is tantamount to — 
 
 " This is the time o'day." 
 
 This brings us to consider a little the general applica- 
 
46 "the time o'day." 
 
 tion and tendency of that unique expression " slang." 
 Of its tendency there can be but one opinion enter- 
 tained, namely, that it goes very far towards rendering 
 every man under its influence the very reverse of vrhat 
 the Duenna describes Isaac as being, for it makes him 
 very much of the scamp, and very little of the gentleman ; 
 it evinces a mind capable of no higher effort than an 
 attempt at superiority in what and among whom to be 
 held as superior is utter degradation. 
 
 I have called the term " slang" unique — I consider it 
 so ; for, to the best of my knowledge and belief, it is 
 purely English. All nations have their jeu d'esprits, 
 their equivoques, quaint idiomatical terms and expressions, 
 as also emblematic allusions, &c., but not " slang." For 
 instance, /^j/ez^ ne vaut pas la chandelle is quaint and 
 applicable on many occasions — in sooth, the reader may 
 perchance think it applicable to the trouble of reading 
 this article compared with the article itself (I am sorry 
 it is not a better one) ; but whether the saying be ap- 
 plied or not, it is not " slang." " The kiddy's fly to the 
 gammon," I think my readers will agree with me, borders 
 very closely on what is. Oh, my poor country ! such 
 terms are indigenous to your soil, there's no denying it. 
 Pat, with all his richness of brogue, his bulls, and quaint 
 expressions, knows comparatively nothing of " slang." 
 Many a man is a greater ruffian than John Bull ; but for 
 an accomplished, thoroughly-versed, thoroughly-paced 
 bl — gd, London only can produce a perfect sample. We 
 are not a particular people, nor do we confine ourselves 
 to sex or age ; we have specimens, and choice ones too, 
 of every sort and age ; we have the hopeful embryo of 
 eight years of age, M^ho can cry when he pleases, and 
 blaspheme to horrify the mature hearer ; Mr. Robin 
 could not abstract the contents of a pocket half so 
 
" THE TIME O DAY. 47 
 
 adroitly, wonderful as is his performance in legerdemain. 
 We have the more experienced youth of twelve (for 
 wonderfully precocious such youths are), with a pipe in 
 his mouth, a head to plan, and a hand to execute, who 
 can and dares " do all that may become a man," and 
 a little more. We next see him, in accordance with 
 " slang," in " swell toggery," his hair hanging over his 
 coat collar, imless, peradventure, his taste leads him 
 towards the prize-ring, which, miradile dictu, does make 
 him a shade less absolutely sunk in infamy ; if so, 
 we see him with his locks shorn of their " fair propor- 
 tions," and cut close to his justly-styled " knowledge- 
 box ;" he is ready for anything, from " nimming a 
 reader" in the streets to " chanting a stave" — w^here 
 and with whom w^e will leave to imagination, further 
 than that the ready smiles of the fair applaud what long- 
 uncalled-forth blushes have lost even the pretension to 
 contemn. We have him, in the matured man, in the 
 dress, and with the (somehow contracted) address of a 
 gentleman, foreigner or English, as suits the occasion — 
 head and chief of a gang (I beg his and their pardons) — 
 a society of gentlemen (cracksmen), flying at the highest 
 game, from pigeoning the unthinking youth, to planning 
 the wholesale robbery of a nobleman's mansion. Should 
 his lucky star have been ever in the ascendant, and 
 transportation have been avoided, we shall have him 
 anon as a hoary reprobate, " old, used up, and turned 
 out of the stud," singing, in seedy attire, in some low 
 class of infamy, songs at which decency shudders, ren- 
 dered doubly disgusting when coming from the lips of 
 ao-e ; and for what ? for the pence he may collect, and 
 for the gratuitous indulgence in the liquid-fire, that only 
 increases the hectic cough that is fast hurrying him to a 
 grave that will shortly hide the remains of vice, infamy. 
 
43 " THE TIME O DAY." 
 
 and all that is despicable and disgraceful to the name of 
 man, and only eulogised by his quondam friend, if, in 
 utter hardness of heart, he shows " game to the last," 
 by uttering some " slang" expression showing he had 
 forfeited all claims to respect here, though let us trust 
 not all hope of mercy hereafter. 
 
 Such have been the consequences to many who began 
 life in the indulgence of the habits, and mixing with 
 those whose highest attributes were proficiency in 
 " slang." 
 
 Now turn we to something of more cheering aspect. 
 " That's the time o'day." 
 
 I have ever considered the terms " fashionable," " in 
 good taste," or " gentlemanly," as quite indescriptive of 
 any general way of doing anything ; for w4iat is the one 
 or the other, is only so as being in accordance with what 
 persons of fashion, good taste, or gentlemanly habits are 
 in the habit of doing. I make no doubt but that our 
 ancestors ate their peas with their knife : hence the then 
 fashion of the knives being made with the old round and 
 broad ends to their blades ; most certainly peas could 
 not be eaten with the two-pronged forks then in use. 
 Consequently we may infer it was perfectly en regie to, 
 in common parlance, eat with one's knife. The same 
 thing may be said of dress : I quite remember, as a 
 young one, sporting a white blanket top-coat, with pearl 
 buttons larger than a crown-piece ; an all but white grey 
 mixture of Newmarket-cut coat, silver basket buttons ; 
 striped groom-like waistcoat, white cords, top-boots, and 
 a light blue bird's-eye spot-silk tie ; as morning cos- 
 tume, such dress really was then " the time o'day," the 
 boot-tops not more than six inches deep — with the out- 
 and-out fast man not so much, and a very light cream 
 the colour: my father patronized the " mahoganies," for 
 
{C m„T, mx^rr^ <-.'^ . ,r " 
 
 THE TIME O DAY. 49 
 
 which I, impudently enough, voted him the "Bristol 
 blue," a notoriously slow coach of those days ; nor did 
 I leave him alone till he adopted the veritable creams : 
 now, lo and behold ! the mahoganies that have been 
 held up to ridicule and detestation for the last five-and- 
 thirty years, are quite " the time o'day," and I can easily 
 imagine top-boots becoming again the morning dress of 
 those who can lay " the flattering unction to their souls" 
 of being riding men ; the bootmakers will not object to 
 it, but it will be martyrdom to the young gentlemen 
 who introduce a new muslin to our wives' notice. An 
 artistic spring over the counter in trousers is all very 
 well ; but the same thing done, exhibiting a pair of Mr^ 
 Bartley's artistically-made top-boots, might tend to a 
 surmise that such feat was the only saltatory exploit they 
 had ever played a part in. 
 
 Most persons have seen the old print representing 
 " Leprimier baiser d'amour," and have laughed at (to 
 them) the grotesque costume of the idol of St. Pierre ; 
 this in (we will say) 1820, when waists were indicated 
 by the shoulder-blades. We now hold the veritable 
 waists of the days of Rousseau as the acme of elegance 
 and good taste. My father's comfortable, quite straight- 
 cut hunting-frock showed slow beside the Melton swallow- 
 tail ; but we shall see that swallow-tails, like swallows 
 themselves, will only have their season ; for 
 
 " Fashion in everything bears sovereign sway, 
 And swords and periwigs have each their day." 
 
 The advocate of the old sentry-box frock may ridicule 
 among his friends the swallow-tails of the fast countries 
 and fast men ; he may say — Is that tJiin^ one to keep 
 a man warm on a cold morning ? or will it protect 
 the knees of the wearer from rain ? Certainly not, my 
 
 E 
 
> . _. " 
 
 50 " THE TIME DAY 
 
 old bit of the right stuff; but in fast countries, what 
 you call morning the fast men term the middle of the 
 night. 
 
 The sun near its meridian is no bad substitute for 
 half a yard of scarlet cloth ; and at the pace hounds 
 and horses now go, the air that velocity converts into 
 opposing current soon converts the venerated straight- 
 cut skirt into the swallow-tail, and then where is the 
 vaunted protection it affords ? Chaque jjays cliaque 
 onocle, quite holds good between a flying fox-hunting 
 country with a flying lady-pack, and a closely-enclosed 
 one with a cry of blue mottles, threading the mazes 
 of a hare that perhaps never was four miles from the 
 form from which she started. No intended affront to 
 hare-hunters : they rank among the best of sportsmen ; 
 and the only way in which they show themselves as 
 being too fast, is where they meddle with the doings 
 or habits (cry ye mercy for the unintentional pun) of 
 faster men. 
 
 " That's it, old Trueboy 1" cries the master or hunts- 
 man of the old Southerons, as some trustworthy old 
 hound throws his honest tongue like the tenor bell of a 
 cathedral. " That's the time o'day !" cries the hunts- 
 man of the flying ladies, as Jessica hits it off on the 
 other side of the. Whissendine. Ten miles as the 
 crow flies, which the swallow-tail flies in forty minutes, 
 keeps up circulation, albeit the extra allowance of 
 west-of-England goes for cuffs and collar for another 
 Melton cut. 
 
 Did I see such dress, such men, and such horses 
 when I was a boy ? No, reader, I did not : I began 
 my apprenticeship at seven years old, in a country where 
 hounds were fast enough ; but " heads up and tail 
 down" only lasted across one ten-acre field, and then a 
 
" THE TIME O DAY. 51 
 
 scramble to get into the next. I liad not then learned 
 that finding a fox at Panshanger with Lady Salisbury- 
 boded a far different thing to finding one in a Leicester- 
 shire gorse with the Quorn : in the former country, the 
 careful jumper was the ne 2)lus ultra of a hunter ; there 
 the foxhound had often to condescend to creep a fence ; 
 there horses and hounds taking these fences at a swing 
 was all but unknown. 'Tis thy fair fields, O Leicester- 
 shire ! that kindle the electric spark in the breast of the 
 fox-hunter ; thy hundred-acre pastures alone can show 
 what real going is ; not to have seen thee, is not to have 
 lived — to feel we shall never see thee more, is but a living 
 death ! 
 
 " Was Leicestershire always as prominent, as a hunt- 
 ing country, as it shows at present ?" asks some one 
 who has never seen it. I should say that from its na- 
 ture it must have been ; for it is the country, far more 
 than the speed of the hounds, that makes a fast thing ; 
 figuratively speaking, every pack of high-bred foxhounds 
 are fast enough in a country that holds a scent, and 
 where small enclosures do not impede them. A pack of 
 highly-bred harriers, with a fox before them, would over 
 Leicestershire give the thorough- breds a proof they must 
 not console themselves with the prospect of a mere 
 canter. That hounds in fast countries were not, three- 
 score years ago, as fast as they now are, is no doubt the 
 case ; and w^here anything is come at by degrees, change 
 creeps on imperceptibly ; but I should be tempted to 
 say the Quorn could and did go pretty nearly or quite 
 as fast when Hugo Meynell had brought them to what 
 he left them, as they do now. 
 
 It may be asked, " Why, if hounds do not go faster 
 than they did in the days to which I allude, do men 
 now find it necessary to ride race-horses, or all but such, 
 
 E 2 
 
53 "the time o'day." 
 
 as hunters to keep their place ?" I think I can answer 
 this query. In those days, when hounds went off on 
 good terms with their- fox, and scent lay high, they ran 
 away from the horses ; now they do not : we do not 
 now hear of a " Billesdon Coplow day," when " the 
 headmost horseman rode alone." Hounds did get away 
 from Meynell, "pioneers and all;" they did not from 
 Clinker or Polecat, or, of later date, from " The Sea" 
 or Sir John. 
 
 Some sixteen years ago, or a little more, when Lord 
 Howth took to stag-hunting, I told his Lordship that 
 his field would have to change their horses ; for the 
 class of Irish hunter then in use, I predicted, would not 
 live with hounds, the stag as their game. I gave this 
 opinion on fair grounds, namely, having had eight suc- 
 cessive seasons with the (then) Kings in England. I 
 mentioned the same to many excellent riders and sports- 
 men, with whom I had the advantage of being ac- 
 quainted ; they laughed at my prediction — they found, 
 however, I was right. Lord Howth, riding mostly 
 thorough-breds, sailed away on them, showing, though 
 not saying. This is " the time o'day." The fact was, 
 the hounds were as they were ; but not having to stoop 
 to a scent, and going over a flying country, little short 
 of a race-horse could live with them. It is not so much 
 the going, as the not stopping, that makes a run tell so 
 severely on horses. 
 
 I verily believe that to this introduction of stag- hunt- 
 ing Ireland is more indebted than many think ; it taught 
 them jumping^ alone would not do : they found blood 
 was wanting to enable them to go ; for super-excellent 
 as the Irish hares and harriers are, ujany who with 
 them took the Lough of the bay as a matter of course, 
 found either that it had grown wider, or their horses 
 
" THE TIME o'dAY." 53 
 
 jumped shorter, after a burst with a stag before them. 
 They got better blood into the veins of their hunters 
 and all their horses, and now as fine specimens of the 
 race-horse come from Ireland as from- any part of the 
 globe. 
 
 There was a time, ere steam and railroads brought 
 all countries together, when our Irish neighbours thought 
 no one but an Irishman could ride, no horse but an Irish 
 one could jump, and England showed no fences worthy 
 ths name of one ; they have long since found their mis- 
 take — have found men here who could and do go, horses 
 that can jump, and fences that have bothered their best 
 hunters to get over. They now, with the liberality of 
 feeling inherent in Irishmen, admit this, and join with 
 us hand and heart in showing that England and Ireland 
 possess, and I think we may say ever will possess, the 
 finest breed of horses in the world, for beauty, speed, 
 and stamina combined. 
 
 In further elucidation of the various occasions on 
 which the heading of this article has been used as ex- 
 pressive of what may be conceived to be near perfection, 
 I was, many years since, in the studio of that then 
 prince of animal painters, Marshall ; the subject of the 
 late Lord Darlington hunting his own hounds was in- 
 troduced. " Ay, that's the time o'day !" says Captain 
 Treacher, who was then present. I, though then a very 
 young man indeed, ventured to differ from the decided 
 approbation of the Captain, and the same idea I held 
 then keeps possession of my mind to this day, I quite 
 agree in the maxim, that what is worth doing at all, is 
 worth doing well ; and certainly what a nobleman does 
 should be w^ell done. If he keeps foxhounds, they 
 should be as near perfection as judgment, good taste, 
 and money can make them ; but to bring them to this, 
 
54 " THE TIME O DAY. 
 
 it is not necessary, nor in fact becoming, tliat their noble 
 owner should take the place of huntsman or dog-feeder : 
 he who is the first should, so far as superintendence 
 goes, be also the latter — an occupation I hold somewhat 
 beneath the dignity of a nobleman ; let him be as en- 
 thusiastic in the cause as he pleases, but he certainly 
 need not make himself a functionary in the field or 
 kennel. A nobleman should be a good judge of the 
 merits and perfections of everything he professes to derive 
 pleasure from ; but if an undue proportion of that time 
 he can so far more appropriately make use of in higher 
 pursuits, is to be occupied in rendering himself efficient 
 as huntsman and feeder, I think one possessing a mind, 
 not only " above buttons," but above dogs, will agree 
 that a nobleman hunting his own hounds, is an exhi- 
 bition that, under ordinary circumstances, is more to be 
 " honoured in the breach than the" performance. Can 
 one suppose a greater anomaly than would have been 
 the late Duke of Beaufort, with his high bearing and 
 refined manners, forcing his way on foot through a wet 
 tangled cover, too thick and intricate for a horse to tra- 
 verse ? Yet such must sometimes become the necessary 
 duty of a huntsman; nor would the dignity of the 
 nobleman be at all restored by afterwards standing by 
 the feeding-troughs, inhaling odour not ambrosial, liis 
 valet wondering my Lord prefers it to the somewhat 
 more refined atmosphere of his dressing-room. I can- 
 not but think the Badminton do as well under the con- 
 trol of Long, as did the Baby under that of their former 
 noble owner, and with such a master as was the Duke 
 of Beaufort, I dare say Long thought so too. 
 
 If a man is poor, and undertakes the unenviable task 
 (for a task it is) of managing a subscription pack, 
 I in no shape consider him deserving censure by saving 
 
" THE TIME o'dAY." 55 
 
 the expense of a huntsman : a man may quite preserve 
 the character and conduct of a gentleman though acting 
 as huntsman ; but if he is a man of large fortune, I 
 must say I think his position is somewhat more imposing 
 as master, instead of huntsman, of the pack. A private 
 individual, if he is choice in his breed of terriers, may, 
 sub rosa, go to see a favourite try his mettle in a rat-pit; 
 but the public would be somewhat astonished to see the 
 Prince Albert at such an exhibition. A nobleman must 
 pay some penalty for the dignity he enjoys ; and should 
 any one consider the not hunting a pack of foxhounds 
 as such, I must say I think the penalty should be ex- 
 acted to the uttermost farthing. 
 
 It has latterly become quite " the time o'day" for 
 gentlemen to ride steeple-chases. Speaking of their 
 doing so, as an abstract act, even hypercriticism can find 
 no fault ; it is a manly and in no way an ungentlemanly 
 one. But I must shghtly hint that I do not think a 
 nobleman quite as much in his place as he might be, if 
 he rides as forming one of a field where avowed profes- 
 sionals are his competitors. I am not prejudiced turf- 
 man enough to wish to deny gentlemen or even noble- 
 men riding races (of any sort if they ride well), and 
 with each other it is a fair competition for superiority in 
 horsemanship ; and so far from (as mere betting men 
 contend) " races to be ridden by gentlemen" rendering 
 a meeting less interesting, I am quite sure it renders a 
 provincial one popular. But I would hint to some early 
 performers that I have seen, that a race-course is a 
 place to exhibit not to learn the seat and hands of a 
 jockey. I can make no more excuse for an awkward 
 amateur performer in the pigskin on a course than for 
 an equally incompetent one in the sock and buskin, 
 ranting on the boards of a regular theatre ; the in- 
 
'_ . _. " 
 
 56 " THE TIME DAY 
 
 struction of Hamlet to tlie players should be a lesson 
 to both, to prevent their exhibiting as "journeymen, 
 and bad ones too." 
 
 It was " the time o'day" to have a four-in-hand in 
 its ensemble as like a stage-coach as possible : nothing 
 could show worse taste. Have it a perfectly driving-like 
 turn-out as possible ; but let it show as the one of Lord 
 or Mr. Somebody's, and not that of Messrs. Costar and 
 Co. Acknowledge a coachman if he had ever driven 
 you, but not by the fraternal up-turn of the whip-wrist, 
 and side-shake of the head, as Black Will on the up- 
 Oxford would acknowledge Bill Williams on the down- 
 Reading. We will only suppose it possible that such 
 things have been as a nobleman taking the finishing 
 draught from a pot of heavy on his box, and in true 
 artistic style throwing the dregs aside ; yet once I saw 
 a young honourable do this, and crown the act by say- 
 ing to a servant, " Hand over the browns, Bill." This 
 might have been " the time o'day," but certes not " the 
 time of taste" — at least, not of a good one. 
 
 One morning, at breakfast, close to the end of Feb- 
 ruary, I read in the Times the appointment of Lord 
 Eglinton as representative of Royalty in Ireland; I 
 could not help indulging in a wee bit of slang on the 
 announcement, and exclaimed to my wife, giving an 
 energetic slap to my knee, " That's the time o'day !" A 
 twelve years' residence in Ireland, and consequently a 
 tolerably intimate knowledge of the Irish character, led 
 to the exclamation ; for well I knew a heart big enough 
 to cause princely expenditure, and bold enough to show 
 the way in "the foremost flight," would be -a sure 
 passport to the warm and energetic one of the sons of 
 the ever-green isle. Many such hearts we boast — many 
 
"the time o'day." 57 
 
 of such are now ready and preparing to show their 
 daring spirits in other fields than those of Dian. Let 
 us hope that many of those who have so triumphantly 
 crossed Whissendine, will as triumphantly and unscathed 
 cross the Danube, should it become necessary. 
 
HOUNDS. 
 
 " Hounds of their various sort, and no less various use." 
 
 What was tlie origin of tlie term hound I never heard ; 
 others may have done so, but I never have been informed 
 of the derivation of the epithet. If intended to specify 
 a dog used in the pursuit of game in general terms, why 
 not apply it to all used for such purpose ? the pointer 
 and setter would then be distinguished as partridge or 
 grouse hounds. It was not meant to specify dogs hunt- 
 ing by scent ; for we originally spoke of the gaze, now 
 grey-hound. We can only, therefore, conclude it to be 
 a word that, like many others, has come into general 
 use, why or wherefore we know not. It is by no means 
 a perfect or specific appellation, because we are obliged 
 to make use of an antecedent ere we can clearly specify 
 the particular kind of hound we allude to. 
 
 In specifying and attempting to accurately describe 
 different sorts of hounds of chase, it will be absolutely 
 necessary to first mention the staghound, not out of any 
 peculiar respect for him or his pursuit, but that in point 
 of antiquity he takes precedence of the foxhound, or of 
 the various kinds of hound that are in use to hunt 
 hares ; in fact, without we had first had the staghound, 
 our present race of the foxhound would not have ex- 
 
HOUNDS. 59 
 
 isted ; and it would sound no little discordant in the 
 ears of my brother fox-hunters, should I say — and fact 
 only induces me to write the truth — the foxhound we 
 so glory in is, as regards his family and ancestry, a 
 mongrel. 
 
 I must, I fear, anticipate no trifling expression of 
 indignation from fox-hunters on reading a word so re- 
 pugnant to the ideas of the sportsman, and the more so 
 when applied to an animal his beau-ideal of perfection 
 in the race of dogs. I trust, however, he will suspend 
 his denouncement of me till I have brought forward 
 such reasons as I consider, or at least hope, will justify 
 me in the unusual remark — in fact, assertion — that I 
 have made. 
 
 Although we may feel quite certain the staghound 
 existed long before any other modern sporting dog in 
 use, we must not (or, at all events, it would be quite 
 useless) to say anything about his native (or rather 
 original) country. A few centuries ago no such animal 
 as our present staghound was known in any country. 
 We talk about the old English bloodhound : this would 
 seem to infer that the bloodhound is an indigenous 
 animal of our country : this is by no means certain ; 
 nor, from what I have read, do I believe it to be the 
 case. I should rather say, his original country was 
 Spain ; but whether this be correct or not, it is quite 
 certain he was known there long before he was so here. 
 That he was the dog chiefly used in former days as the 
 chief hound of chase, I should very much doubt ; for, 
 judging by very old pictures, the dogs represented there 
 are far more of the greyhound breed than that of the 
 slow, but sure-scenting animal, such as the bloodhound 
 Talbot, or, indeed, any dog that trusted to his nose more 
 than his speed ; and this most likely was the case ; for 
 
60 HOUNDS. 
 
 in tiras when to get the haunch for table was the chief 
 incentive, and a run from Slough or Maidenhead thicket 
 to Hendon was an exploit, on the part of deer, hounds, 
 horses, or men, unknown and unwished for, it is pro- 
 1 able such practice was adopted as appeared (or probably 
 really was) the quickest mode of securing the game 
 pursued. To this end, if pictorial representations are 
 correct — independent of archers, who aimed at, wounded, 
 or killed the game as it passed any open space, at such 
 openings men were placed, who each held a couple of 
 dogs in leash, ready to let slip at the proper moment ; 
 these probably, like our greyhounds, either pulled down 
 the game while it remained in sight, or, if they faded, 
 were again coupled, to be let slip on the next occasion — 
 probably the bloodhound or Talbot was employed in 
 driving the game from the thickest parts of the woods 
 or forests ; but it is quite clear these were not trusted 
 or considered to be alone the agents by which the game 
 was to be secured. 
 
 In after-years, when hunting became a pastime as 
 well as pursuit, and the country became more peopled, 
 these thick forests were more or less cleared and cur- 
 tailed ; this led to game being easily forced through, and 
 indeed from cover, and as in such cases it took across 
 the open country, archers on foot became useless ; the 
 hunters all took horse, and, as it seems, they found the 
 bloodhound too slow to run up to game in any reason- 
 able time. So they found it would not do to trust to 
 hounds that ran by sight only ; an increased speed, 
 with scenting powers, became necessary in their dogs of 
 chase ; to cflFect this, it is quite probable they crossed 
 the bloodhound with the strong kind of gazehound then 
 in use, and from that cross descended the staghound in 
 use in the last century. 
 
HOUNDS. 
 
 61 
 
 So far as I can ascertain the fact, there were origmally 
 three distmct colours, distinguishmg the different race 
 of bloodhounds, and probably the different countries to 
 which they belonged. There was the direct black and 
 tan; the dark brown, with darker markings on the 
 muzzle, down the back, and in other parts ; and there 
 was a breed of entire fawn colour : from the latter, I 
 conclude, the staghound in use in the last century was 
 descended, as those hounds were to a dog all fawn, or, 
 as it is sometimes called, lemon and white pied. Such 
 were the pack in use with his late Majesty George the 
 Third. These hounds were of great size; their tone 
 deep, like that of their ancestors, the bloodhound ; and 
 their speed far greater than might have been supposed ; 
 but, like the game they pursued, let the pace be what it 
 might, they never appeared to be going fast. It is the 
 same with the stag, he always appears to be taking the 
 thing leisurely, even with the hounds close to his 
 haunches; at least, this much I can say, that during 
 seven consecutive seasons that I hunted with staghounds, 
 I never saw a hunting deer so exert himself as to give 
 the impression that he was at the top of his speed. If 
 we see a hare closely pursued, there is an increased and 
 energetic jerk with her hind legs, that at once shows 
 the great speed and exertion she is making use of. If a 
 fox is unexpectedly run up to, while he has any increased 
 exertion in him, he lays his ears in his poll, and his legs 
 to the ground, in unmistakeable evidence of being at his 
 best speed ; but in the deer (that is, the large red deer) 
 I never could perceive any corresponding increased speed 
 or exertion : whether out of hearing of hounds, or with 
 them close on him, he strides along with a cool, col- 
 lected, even stroke; the only perceptible difference I 
 could ever perceive in this was a more lengthened stride, 
 
62 HOUNDS. 
 
 and a somewhat quickened stroke. We all know that 
 the smaller the animal, the quicker appear — nay, indeed 
 are — its motions. I beheve that, as regards compara- 
 tive size, small animals are more speedy than large ones ; 
 still we are much deceived in this respect. The mouse 
 appears quick as thought in its motions — so it is ; but 
 in an open space, a man can far outwalk its utmost 
 speed ; this might account for why a large animal like 
 the stag appears to be always going at his leisure. But 
 we must bring against this the race-horse : in him we 
 do see, at diiferent times, very apparent difference of 
 speed and exertion ; and he, when near the ending-post, 
 shows at once that he is at the top of his speed — a 
 manifestation we never see in the stag. 
 
 It is just the same with the hounds that followed him 
 at the period I have alluded to ; they went with the 
 same measured stride as the stag they pursued, and from 
 this no excitement stimulated them. What would have 
 been the maximum speed of a staghound, if tried, it is 
 impossible to say, as I believe the experiment never was 
 made; but, under any circumstances, I should say it 
 would have been found greatly inferior to that of the 
 foxhound, the greatest proof of which is, that after 
 Majesty no longer honoured the royal chase by its pre- 
 sence, and the taste and wishes of gentlemen who 
 hunted with the Royal Pack could be consulted, the old 
 deep-flewed, pendant-eared, yellow and white-pied hound 
 was at once put aside, and the regular foxhound intro- 
 duced to his new vocation of hunting the stag. The 
 consequence of this has been, that stag-hunting has 
 become a chase, short, sharp, and decisive. We hear no 
 more of " takes," twenty miles or more from the turn- 
 out ; and, in my humble opinion, a great change this 
 for the better. I dislike a journey on horseback under 
 
HOUNDS. 63 
 
 most circumstances, but a journey with hounds is sad 
 work indeed. 
 
 The very horses used in these days in the royal hunt- 
 ing estabhshnient at once show the different pace the 
 hounds now go, to what they did fifty years ago : those 
 used in such times were a good wear-and-tear sort, that 
 did not mind one of the hunting journeys (then of 
 frequent recurrence), provided the pace was not too 
 great ; but now Davis finds the Traverser not a bit too 
 fast for his hounds. A somewhat deUcate Newmarket 
 gentleman this said flyer, that one of the old sort would 
 wear out in a month, if equally worked ; but then, on 
 one of those enduring ones, if the turn-out was the race- 
 course, the hounds would be at Swallowfield ere their 
 huntsman had passed Swinly Lodge enclosure. " Calf- 
 hunting," as fox-hunters jocosely, I must not say deri- 
 sively, call stag-hunting, has now lost many of those 
 features that formerly subjected it to such unsporting 
 appellation. The pace equals fox-hunting ; there it is no 
 stopping hounds to accommodate royal convenience or 
 prescribed etiquette : so far, therefore, as the actual 
 chase goes, it is as exciting as any other for those whose 
 object is riding, and a certain gallop. " But," says a 
 brother fox-hunter, " there is something so tame in turn- 
 ing out an animal merely to catch it again." I quite 
 agree with my friend, and I thiuk this destroys all 
 the zest of the thing ; but we must not forget that, in 
 fox-hunting, there is occasionally such a thing as a 
 bagman. 
 
 Now for the " mongrel " I have spoken of. 
 
 " What's in a name ? a rose by any other name would smell as 
 
 sweet." 
 
 As sweet as a foxhound ! some one may ironically re- 
 
64 HOUNDS. 
 
 mark. In making the quotation, good critic, I did not 
 mean it to bear on sweetness, or its reverse, but on the 
 Kttle importance of epithets ; but I will meet you on the 
 score of what may affect the olfactories. A foxhound, 
 I admit, is anything but sweet, if kept in an improper 
 state ; but with all deference to superior man, I main- 
 tain that a foxhound, kept in proper (that is, perfect) 
 cleanliness, and in a well- ventilated habitation, is no 
 more objectionable as regards his person than many 
 animals we sometimes meet with, ranking higher in 
 usual estimation ; in fact, I should say, far less so 
 than would be the person whose inattention to clean- 
 liness might cause objection to be made to his proximity 
 to the hounds. 
 
 I believe any animal whose origin is not confined to a 
 particular and distinct species, but on the contrary, is the 
 offspring of two different breeds, is literally a mongrel ; 
 it matters not if one parent was the highest-bred grey- 
 hound that ever won at Amesbury and Newmarket, the 
 other the best pointer that ever gun shot over, a direct 
 mongrel the produce would be. That no such animal 
 as the foxhound formerly existed as a species of the dog 
 is, I believe, an indisputable fact ; he has, therefore, arisen 
 from an admixture of breed of some sort ; that the 
 bloodhound was on one side the founder of the fox- 
 hound there can be little doubt, but of what strain the 
 other parent was is left in obscurity ; it might be sur- 
 mised that the foxhound was still the bloodhound dege- 
 nerated in point of size ; but this would not have altered 
 the general appearance and characteristics of the animal. 
 To effectually get rid of the enormous ears, large head, 
 loose loins, over-hanging upper lip, dewlap and general 
 throaty appearance of the bloodhound, a cross with a 
 lighter and cleaner-bred dog must have been made use 
 
HOUNDS, G5 
 
 of, probably tlie terrier (call him what they might in 
 former days) ; for before fox-hunting was carried on as 
 it has been for the last hmidred and fifty years, foxes 
 used to be destroyed in their earths as vermin, and for 
 this purpose a dog was used, no doubt the prototype of 
 our terrier. Of pointers, setters, or spaniels, we know 
 little, or rather hear nothing of in ancient records, so 
 we will not admit them as forming any collateral branch 
 of the foxhound family. The shepherd's dog, no doubt, 
 existed ; but the bob or no-tailed animal we have, or the 
 small bush-tailed Scotch dog, are both so totally unlike 
 the foxhound, that we must equally reject them as the 
 relatives of foxhounds. 
 
 It is admitted by all naturalists, that no animal indi- 
 genous to this country is seen in such variety of form as 
 is the dog ; this, of course, arises from the spontaneous 
 crosses that take place ; but these circumstances only 
 occur among dogs of common breed, the purity of whose 
 blood is a matter of no importance to any one. But 
 dogs of value are so scrupulously watched at particular 
 periods, that having got our breeds of sporting dogs 
 perhaps as near perfection as they can be, there is no 
 fear of our permitting them to degenerate while kept in 
 this their own country ; yet, whatever pains may be 
 taken, no means have as yet been found to prevent sporting 
 dogs losing caste, in every particular, shortly after their 
 arrival in foreign ones : this, I believe, is found to be 
 more the case with hounds than with pointers, setters, 
 or dogs of any kind used in the pursuit of winged game ^ 
 at all events, I know it is so with foxhounds. Whether, 
 after a generation or two bred in such countries, a pack 
 might not be kept up as with us, if in a climate similar 
 to ours, I am not prepared to say ; but hounds taken 
 from here degenerating so much, and so shortly, seems 
 
66 . HOUNDS. 
 
 to more than indicate they were not in point of ancestry 
 originally of foreign extraction. 
 
 There is one peculiarity in the foxhound that does not 
 exist in any other dog that I know of. I never saw 
 (what in dog language is termed) "a whole coloured 
 one ;" nor have I ever heard of an entire black, brown, 
 liver-coloured, fawn, red, or mouse-coloured foxhound. 
 All but white I have seen, the same with black-and-tan, 
 also brown ; but still there was with the white some 
 slight mark of colour in some part, and in the others the 
 feet, legs, or throat, more or less showed white. This 
 is not the case with pointer, setter, spaniel, greyhound, 
 or the original bloodhound or Talbot — thus, 1 consider, 
 showing the foxhund to be of mixed breed. 
 
 In point of action, in his canter or when running 
 hard, he stands alone : perhaps the greyhound is the 
 most similar to him in this particular ; there is a beauti- 
 ful race-horse-like stride with the foxhound shown by 
 no other dog living, the greyhound excepted. The 
 setter sweeps over the ground very handsomely ; but 
 there is a dwell in his action in no way indicative of the 
 speed of the foxhound, nor does he possess it. Many 
 pointers go in good style, but there is a hurry in their 
 movement not racing-like : there is a certain determi- 
 nation even in the canter of the former that the others 
 in no shape evince. With every respect for the pointer, 
 when a good one, his general demeanour is currish when 
 seen by the side of the dog of all dogs. There is a kind 
 of gravity, an apparent air of conscious superiority and 
 importance in all the demeanour of the foxhound, that 
 no other dog exhibits. The Newfoundland and the 
 bloodhound are each soberly enough conducted in their 
 manner and habits ; but then, where is the dash of the 
 foxhound, that we can see even in his quietest moments 
 
HOUNDS. 67 
 
 and movements he shows ready to exhibit, the moment 
 proper occasion rouses him. 
 
 In point of gameness and high com^age the foxliound 
 yields to no animal of his species ; he does not show it 
 by the ferocity of the bulldog, who will seize any inof- 
 fensive animal if set on ; neither has he the same pecu- 
 liarity of endurance under absolute torture as has the 
 other. His high spirit, when compared with the bull- 
 dog's, is like that of the soldier compared with the 
 prize-fighter : no fatigue, no surmountable impediment, 
 can stop his career in pursuit of his game ; and though 
 not classed among fighting dogs, if he begins he will 
 fight desperately ; many will not tamely submit to cor- 
 rection even from those they know ; and unless a stranger 
 was very well versed in dog language, with a voice and 
 manner to awe hounds, on entering a kennel alone, he 
 would find, perhaps at the cost of his hfe, that foxhounds 
 can be even ferocious at times, or if unusual liberties are 
 taken with them ; in fact, I strongly suspect that if a 
 man was strongly scented with fox odour, and hounds 
 got on his (drag I must, I suppose, call it), if they ran 
 into him they would pull him down ; and if they did 
 while their blood was up, they would certainly kill, and, 
 if unchecked, eat him. 
 
 In speed, either the greyhound or lurcher have a 
 decided advantage over the hound ; but how it would 
 be in a five-mile run is, I beheve, unknown, never having 
 been tried ; nor could it be, for we can invent no excite- 
 ment to induce the greyhound to exert himself for so 
 long a distance. But the speed a foxhound can, or 
 rather has been induced to exhibit, was shown by Merkin 
 running a drag over the Beacon course at Newmarket 
 (if my memory is correct) seven minutes and one, two, 
 or three seconds.— I think (claiming the like reservation 
 
 F 2 
 
G8 HOUNDS. 
 
 as to memory) about the same time as was occupied by 
 Violante and Bramworm : be it remembered Merkin ran 
 a drag. Could a fox have been kept in her view, I think 
 it fair to conclude this greater excitement would have 
 made her do it in still less time. The same course was 
 also done by Mr. Barry's couple of hounds in a few 
 seconds over eight minutes — a great falling off certainly 
 from the astonishing feat of IMerkin's. Still, this was 
 fair racing time : I think something over that of Ham- 
 bletonian and Diamond in their match. It is quite 
 probable, had time been the object in this match, either 
 horse could have done the distance in less ; but, in jus- 
 tice to the hounds, we must recollect the pace mentioned 
 is only the pace they v:)ent, which in no way proves that 
 it was the greatest they could have exhibited. 
 
 The average height of foxhounds, taking the packs of 
 the United Kingdom throughout, I think I may set 
 down as twenty -three inches, dogs ; twenty-one, bitches ; 
 or perhaps a shade under that. I should say the height 
 I have mentioned is for most countries pretty near what 
 would be found the most useful. The largest true-bred 
 foxhound I ever saw measured twenty-eight inches : he 
 looked a giant. 
 
 Colour is a matter of taste ; and that which any 
 master of foxhounds prefers will usually predominate. 
 If I may be permitted to mention my own predilection, 
 it certainly is a good share of black markings relieved 
 with tan. I cannot but fancy them generally a deter- 
 mined high-couraged kilhng sort. The fawn or lemon- 
 pied strike me as looking like staghounds, and, like a yellow 
 chestnut horse, carry a soft look with them. The brown- 
 pied, with lighter broAvn shaded off, is a good colour ; 
 but I fancy a little pointer-looking, and, I must hold, 
 small round markings no little in the same way ; but, if 
 
HOUNDS. 69 
 
 the shape, make, and indications of speed and endurraice 
 are right, the colour must be very objectionable indeed, 
 or the master over-fastidious, if a hound is rejected for 
 colour only. I must, however, mention a hound I once 
 saw, whom I really would have objected to from colour 
 only : he was black, with the exception of white half- 
 way up his fore-legs, and up to his thighs behind, and 
 his face entirely white before the ears ; he was, in short, 
 marked like the bald-faced horses we often see in a cart : 
 he was, notwithstanding, a choice favourite. 
 
 Without, however, being prejudiced by admiration of 
 the foxhound, I think we may fairly say t^at, taking his 
 perfect shape, style of going, speed, endurance, and 
 courage altogether, we may rank him at the very head 
 of all the canine species. 
 
 We now come to the harrier and beagle — terms (most 
 improperly) indiscriminately used to designate any pack 
 of hounds that hunt hares. It is true, they are all hare- 
 hunting dogs ; but by no means all harriers or all beagles, 
 for there are packs of harehounds that differ as much in 
 look, size, shape, and attributes, as does the cocker differ 
 from the terrier : all these will own a scent, and run in 
 pursuit of game ; but hunting a hare does not make a dog 
 a harrier. Though we technically say we are going -out 
 with the harriers, it is immediately understood that the 
 game will be the hare : what the dog may be is quite 
 another matter. 
 
 There are two descriptions of persons who keep hare- 
 - hounds, or constantly follow them : these two have 
 diametrically opposite tastes as regards hare -hunting. 
 The true and legitimate hare-hunter must, to be satis- 
 fied, see a hare followed in all her doubles, and would 
 as soon think of " lifting " his hounds as he would the 
 horse he rides. Provided the hare is hunted every yard 
 
70 HOUNDS. 
 
 of ground she runs over, he cares little how long the 
 chase may last ; in fact, with him the longer the chase 
 the longer the pleasures of it last : he makes it, in fact, 
 the very reverse of the fox-chase. 
 
 There is another class of hare-hunters who make their 
 chase as much like fox-hunting as the nature and habits 
 of the game pursued will admit, 1 fear I should be of 
 the latter class, if only harehounds could be got at. I 
 look with no disrespect on the direct hare-hunter — quite 
 the reverse ; and admit that, so far as the pleasure of 
 hunting is confined to admiration of the working of the 
 pack only, the.hare-hunter enjoys the chase in its greatest 
 perfection ; but I am free to confess that I, like numbers 
 of my brother fox-hunters, should not be content with this 
 only, without some other attendant stimuli that we find 
 in crossing country at first-rate pace. Perhaps, to avoid 
 the criticism of more orthodox sportsmen, Ave may as 
 well not specify what these stimuli are. 
 
 Such opposite tastes must, of course, require different 
 means whereby to gratify them. Those means chiefly con- 
 sist in the hounds employed for the purpose, which must 
 differ as much in their qualifications as do the different 
 duties required of them. The close line-hunting southern 
 hound, or true old-fashioned beagle, would want speed 
 to please the fast man ; while the dash of the dwarf fox- 
 hound would electrify, indeed disgust the lover of saddle- 
 flap ears and veritable dewlaps. Each kills his hare, but 
 quite in a different way. The latter would hunt her 
 through all her intricate doubles with most admirable 
 patience, astonishing instinct, and all but certain success. 
 The first could not, indeed would not, have patience to 
 do this ; but his superior speed renders it unnecessary 
 that he should : he drives Madam Puss at a pace that 
 prevents her having time for all the circumbendibuses 
 
HOUNDS. ■ 71 
 
 she puts in practice before the slow hoimds, with whom 
 she practises very extraordinary vagaries that the speedy 
 hoimds put an end to very quickly ; and she finds that 
 fly she must, or die if she lingers. True hare-hunters 
 may say, this is not giving the fair exercise of the cunning 
 Nature has given her for her safety. Do we leave earths 
 open to the fox for his ? We give him the chance of 
 beating the hounds, if he can, by his speed, stoutness, 
 and any device they give him time to make use of : he 
 gets no further favour than this. It may be said the 
 fox is stouter than the hare. No doubt he is ; but 
 against this the hare has greater speed, and possesses a 
 very great natural advantage in not leaving so strong a 
 scent ; and, moreover, reversing the case of the fox, as 
 he tires, and then would want a turn in his favour, 
 unluckily for him, the turn is against him, for the nearer 
 his death the stronger is his scent ; whereas, with the 
 hare, when she is nearly beat she scarcely leaves any 
 scent ; and, again, if we inflict on her contention with 
 even the dwarf foxhound, we take away the greater and 
 finer sensibility of scent possessed by the southern 
 hound or true-bred slow harrier, against whose per- 
 severing patience and keen nose she stands even less 
 chance of escape, if in a country much enclosed. On 
 downs, I grant we diminish that chance by hunting her 
 with fast hounds ; but in such a locality the old slow 
 hounds would never catch, unless they run her from 
 Brighton to Horsham, and wear her out by the day's 
 journey. 
 
 That the southern hound and the beagle are both 
 derived from the old Talbot, I think cannot admit of a 
 doubt ; for they are, both in shape and general features, 
 and many in colour, Talbots in miniature. How their 
 diminished size was brought about is somewhat mys- 
 
72 HOUNDS. 
 
 terious, unless it arose from breeding " in-and-in ;" for 
 had it arisen from any cross, the leading features of the 
 original stock u^ould, as is the case with the foxhound, 
 have been softened down. Even the LiUiputian lap-dog 
 beagle is still a little Talbot : and a very handsome, or 
 rather pretty animal it is ; and, in comparison to its 
 size, its speed is extraordinary — certainly faster than the 
 old larger southern hound. I must here give an anec- 
 dote of one of these sturdy old-fashioned fogies : 
 
 I was out with a pack of them that I never saw before 
 or since. While trying, I remarked a whole-coloured 
 black-and-tan hound remarkably busy. I made an ob- 
 servation to the farmer, who acted as huntsman, relative 
 to this hound. " Ay," says he, " it's ten to one but he 
 finds a hare for us ; he always does." And sure enough 
 he did, and put her up not three yards from him. I, of 
 course, expected to see him make a rush forward. Not 
 he : he stood stock still, and gave a yow-yow that might 
 have been heard half-a-mile. The pack all came up to 
 him, and away they went. I observed my friend, the 
 black-and-tan, just keep with them ; but without in any 
 way interesting himself in the chase, as if he thought it was 
 not in his vocation. The first check that occurred, the 
 pack made their cast ; my friend stood perfectly still till 
 they came back to him : each hound feathered about for 
 some time, the black-and-tan still preserving his cool 
 imperturbability. At last, as if he meant to say — 
 " Now you have done your best, I will try what can be 
 done ;" he set to work. Though sitting on my horse, 
 I clearly heard, when he was near me, the working of 
 his expansive nostrils in snuffing for a scent. At last he 
 stood still as before ; and giving his sonorous yow-yow, 
 the pack owned the well-known omen, '' hit it oflT," and 
 
HOUNDS, 73 
 
 ran into their game; my imperturbable friend leaving 
 them the honom' of the kill. 
 
 The ordinary harrier is clearly related to the foxhound. 
 I should say, perhaps, as an intermediate sort between 
 the southern and the flying dwarf foxhound, he is the 
 best for the common run of countries, and for the 
 amusement of the generality of those hunting with 
 harehounds. 
 
 But stag, fox, or hare-hunter, choose what game you 
 will, or what description of hound you may, if my good 
 wishes could avail, your chase through life should ever 
 be a joyous one ; nor should your prospect be ever 
 marred by " drawing blank." 
 
HUNTERS AND HUNTING MEN. 
 
 In using the term " Hunters," the sportsman will natu- 
 rally conclude that I allude only to the horses that carry 
 us. It is not, however, quite thus ; for before I say 
 anything relative to the quadruped, I have a word or 
 two to say about the biped hunter. 
 
 Now speaking of a man as a hunter, no more conveys 
 the same ideas to the man of the present half-century, of 
 a hunting man, than does using the term " waggoner " 
 carry our thoughts to the ojice artists that tooled the 
 Quicksilver, Berkley Hunt, Manchester Express, Brighton 
 Age or Pearl ; though those " lights of other days " were 
 frequently in road language mentioned as first rate wa(/- 
 ^oners. It is quite true the rail is beyond comparison 
 faster than the " Wonders " of such times, even over 
 their best bit of five-mile ground, where a team of four 
 all but thorough-bred s, half cripples, who could go in 
 no other way but a gallop, went a pace that would not 
 have been thought bad over the flat at Newmarket; 
 and the momentum of the coach once got in full swing, 
 they had little more to do than to keep out of its way. 
 Everything is more or less (a something) by comparison ; 
 so the next stage out of Hounslow, that I have so often 
 driven over with perfect delight, when the old uns had 
 got settled a bit to their collars, began to find their legs, 
 and only wanted holding together, was slow to the ordi- 
 
HUNTERS AND HUNTING MEN. 75 
 
 nary working of the iron-way. So far, my still-clierislied 
 conveyance is beat ; but if our coaches were slower than 
 our steamers, let me tell the rising generation that the 
 men of those clays were a good deal ""faster " than are 
 the majority of those of the present one ; for the man is 
 not made in technical terms " fast," because the tender 
 that draws him is. It is true, it may sound " fast," if, 
 with an affected yawn, a young gentleman raises himself 
 on the well-stuffed cushion of a first-class carriage, and 
 lisps his opinion that " we are going confounded slow," 
 when thirty miles an hour is the speed. I must, how- 
 ever, tell the gentleman that, though the train is actually 
 fast, he is determinedly slow, when compared to men I 
 have seen — a very slow coach indeed, if he could be 
 placed by their side. He may drive his mamma in her 
 Croydon basket ; ay, or her George the Fourth's 
 phaeton ; we will admit he may manage a pair ; but 
 perhaps some reader may remember the time when ilie 
 — he was indeed not merely a Marquis of Worcester, 
 could lay hold of four of the greatest rogues that ever 
 revelled in the name of bokickers, and in a mile bring 
 them together as if no one of them had ever dreamed of 
 a bit of mischief in his life ; and this done by a noble- 
 man whose courtly demeanour challenged admiration 
 where all was courtly, respect from all who came within 
 his sphere of action, and regard and gratitude from 
 thousands whose misfortunes had awakened the sympa- 
 thies of his noble mind, and ever kind and benevolent 
 heart. 
 
 I believe we may truly say, that the inhabitants of 
 every nation are more or less hunters, but differing 
 widely as to their incentives to be so, and as widely in 
 the sort of game they pursue. It may be objected, that 
 the man who merely takes an animal in a trap or pitfall 
 
76 HUNTERS AND HUNTING MP^N. 
 
 can scarcely be termed a hunter. As regards our ideas 
 of hunting, he certainly could not be so termed ; but 
 though he may not, as we do, hunt the animal when 
 found, he hunts or seeks to find him ; so he is most 
 indubitably in his own person a hunter ; and if we may 
 judge of enthusiasm by the danger, difficulty, or depri- 
 vation encountered, the chamois hunter encounters more 
 danger in his single person in one week, than does a 
 combined field of Leicestershire sportsmen in a whole 
 season. The beaver-trapper undergoes difficulty and 
 privation, in his lonely and solitary pursuit, that w^ould 
 not be endured by the fox-hunter to see the gamest fox 
 killed that ever faced the picked part of Leicestershire. 
 No doubt the Alpine hunter and the New World trapper 
 encounter what they do as a mode of livelihood ; but as 
 in each country there are other modes by which a living 
 may be, and is obtained, it shews each prefers hardships 
 as a hunter, to more ease and less danger in labouring 
 in other pursuits. Those who have conversed with 
 many hunters of the two descriptions quoted, assure me 
 that the chamois-hunter speaks of the thrilling ardour of 
 his chase with the most intense enthusiasm, and the 
 trapper hails with delight the season that sends him a 
 solitary wanderer in the endless forests, where no human 
 voice responds to his own. Could we but instil a little 
 of his patience and silence into our collected " Pield," 
 till their game was fairly "tally-ho'd away," what a 
 blessing it would be ! then we would freely admit them 
 all the enthusiasm the most enthusiastic chamois -hunter 
 could feel and shew. 
 
 " But if thy proud, aspiring soul, disdains so mean a 
 prize," there is the bristly pard, the far more dangerous 
 tiger, the tawny lion, or the gigantic elephant, wdiose 
 bare tread would crush his pursuer, as that pursuer does 
 
HUNTERS AND HUNTING MFN. . 77 
 
 the worm he treads on ; and "a walk over," where this 
 giant is the actor, would not be quite so satisfactory as 
 a walk over the T.M.M. or Ditch-in at Newmarket. 
 
 Thousands think pork a delicacy ; few object to a really 
 good sausage as a relish at breakfast, and with great gout 
 we discuss them, when Piggy has been killed to our hand, 
 and the sausao-es brought to our table ; but when we 
 have to chase him, at the risk of his making sausage- 
 meat of us, a modus operandi to which I am told he is 
 somewhat prone, he would appear to our unpractised 
 eye a far different animal to the Chinese, whose little 
 eyes twinkle at us through the fat that encompasses 
 them, as he complacently grunts in his pen at a cattle 
 show. 
 
 Thousands, again, are partial to shell-fish ; so am I, 
 and probably my reader ; but est modus in rebus. Now 
 I have heard of men who jump on the backs of croco- 
 diles, clap a stick between their jaws, and quietly guide 
 them to the banks of " reedy Nile ;" a kind of snaffle- 
 bridle nag, I must say, I should not be anxious to 
 mount, nor would my predilection for shell-fish quite 
 induce me tq make the attempt. If, as it is said, the 
 Nile has its source in the Mountains of the Moon, pro- 
 bably these crocodile riders originated in the same place ; 
 so this accounts for their somewhat singular exploits. 
 
 We read of Nimrod, and other " mighty hunters " of 
 old ; then come, in more modern phrase, sundry monarchs 
 " devoted to the chase," some of them a royal true old 
 English set, whose last representative ceased when, what- 
 ever his failings or afflictions may have been, that truly 
 English monarch, George the Third, ceased to exist ; 
 and, be it borne in mind, that if that monarch was not 
 so great an encourager of the arts that may embellish a 
 country, as was his more elegant and more accomplished 
 
78 HUNTERS AND HUNTING MEN. 
 
 son, he most liberally encouraged all things whose really 
 beneficial effects to the country were not so doubtful as 
 is much that has been so lavishly encouraged since — that 
 such line of conduct was appreciated and approved by 
 the nation over which he reigned, be it remarked, that 
 the name of George the Third is never mentioned but as 
 being of " revered " or " respected memory," the highest 
 tribute of regard and respect a nation can pay to de- 
 parted royalty. It may be asked, did so common-place 
 a measure as joining in the chase produce a national 
 feeling of attachment to the royal person? Certainly 
 not ; that is not the act alone, but it shewed a bias of 
 mind towards things in general, the love of which is in- 
 herent, natural, and indivisible from the feelings and 
 predilections of Englishmen. Splendid festivities, where 
 Majesty is scarce seen, or if seen, only surrounded by 
 next to equals, may excite an evanescent admiration, its 
 intents may be hypothetically held as laudable ; its effects 
 to certain classes may be beneficial, and among such 
 classes produce a certain (possibly) fleeting popularity ; 
 but a monarch fearlessly riding home from hunting, 
 accompanied only by his grooms or an attendant noble- 
 man, produced in the mind, and often to the voice, a 
 homely but hearty " God bless your Majesty !" that 
 shewed when an escort accompanied its monarch, it only 
 appeared as an appendage usual, but not necessary to 
 royalty. 
 
 We read of a country being devastated, by its villages 
 being destroyed for miles round, to form an uninterrupted 
 area on which a king might hunt. Such accusation 
 comes before us in very questionable form. That a nest 
 of poachers, who devastated a forest of its game, and 
 rendered its precincts dangerous to the traveller, may 
 have in such times been rooted out, is more than pro- 
 
HUNTERS AND HUNTING MEN. 79 
 
 bable and more than justifiable ; but as now, when 
 hunting is in its glory, we do not find a village any draw- 
 back on a hunting country, why, when the country was 
 far less populous than it is now, should a village have 
 been objectionable ? If, indeed, a monarch so-conducted 
 himself as to fear an arrow or a bullet from behind each 
 bush, he might, from such fear, depopulate the scene of 
 his amusement. If such was the case, it becomes a 
 matter of surprise that extirpation did not take another, 
 a readier, and far more reasonable direction. 
 
 After the original era, when " devoted to the chase " 
 was the term used, came in the shorter one of " sports- 
 man ;" these were about the days when Goldsm.ith 
 figuratively describes " every rood of ground maintained 
 its man." Whether this was the case or not, in those 
 times, figuratively speaking, every farmer maintained his 
 hound, and these were clubbed on hunting days ; of 
 these, no doubt some were most comfortably slow, but 
 then neighbour Giles's two couple were as decidedly fast : 
 Farmer Blackthorn had a couple of most roguish skirters ; 
 but his old bitch Madam was a trusty old line hunter, who 
 stuck as perscveringly to the trail, as females usually 
 do to anything they determine on. Young Sheepshear's 
 two couple of ladies were a little apt sometimes to throw 
 their tongues somewhat freely — other ladies sometimes 
 do the same — but then there were some couples who ran 
 perfectly mute : wise dogs they were ; for when hidden 
 from sight, no one knew what they were at, possibly 
 getting a bit of " currant jelly " to themselves, of which 
 sometimes a rather full-looking paunch caused suspicion ; 
 but they wisely kept their own counsel, which we must 
 not anticipate was the case with a field where there were 
 so many masters ; such packs did not quite run as did 
 George the Third's harriers, when Davis hunted them. 
 
80 HUNTERS AND HUNTING MEN. 
 
 or rather, when he had them so perfect, that a turn of 
 his horse would turn them. What matter ? hunting is 
 but amusement after all ; and be it well or ill done, if 
 those out are pleased, it is all that can be desired. Now 
 the pack by contribution really possessed several advan- 
 tages His Majesty's did not; for instance — 
 
 There is considerable difference of taste among different 
 sportsmen as regards hounds ; some like them very 
 large, some prefer small ; again, some patronise the most 
 useful general sort, that is of medium size; many men 
 are great martinets in the field as respects hounds being 
 unerringly steady ; others prefer a little more " dash and 
 fling " among them ; some men will have speed at any 
 cost } others are not so particular in this respect, but 
 will have hounds hunt every inch in the coldest scent. 
 Now the King's, I hold, taking all their attributes 
 together, were faultless ; but if a man wanted some 
 particular quality in a pack, at the expense of other 
 things, he would probably have wished this pack a little 
 more (something) than they were, for merit does not 
 always command approval from all persons. But with 
 our scratch-pack it was otherwise : each party that was 
 out was sure to be pleased with some of them ; those 
 who liked to go fast, would find two or three couple 
 quite ready to accommodate them ; the soberer sort 
 would have a few couple of the regular " yow-yow " 
 sort, who would " tie upon a scent," and in place of 
 demonstrating the velocity of sound, would fill the same 
 spot with harmony by the hour together. Then for 
 those who did not like straight going, a couple or two 
 of skirters formed a nice little chosen pack for the special 
 enjoyment of those who thought the longest way round 
 was sometimes the nearest or safest v\^ay to go. But 
 again, there are other advantages to be enjoyed in hunt- 
 
HUNTERS AND HUNTING MEN. 81 
 
 ing with an omnium gatherum pack. It is all very well 
 to talk of a table-cloth covering a pack in chase. I 
 admit that, among others, I am one to greatly admire 
 such concentration of act and attribute, but the scratch- 
 pack man might say, I don't quite like trusting to such 
 concentration, for suppose an error should occur, or 
 scent be over-run, the whole pack are stopped as dead 
 as is a steam-boat, when the " Stop her ! " is called by 
 the boy who takes his cue from the signalling hand of 
 the captain. Now^ with our infallible scratch-pack it is 
 widely different : if the leading fast ones have been too 
 fast, and consequently are compelled to throw up their 
 heads, the sober ones bring on the chase to its true 
 point ; the Brilliants wait for them, or perchance have to 
 hark back to them; then, confident in the unerring 
 decision of their less volatile companions, with unblush- 
 ing effrontery join in the chorus — a type of the eclat 
 awarded to many a member of the Cabinet, many a 
 military commander in the field, where the working ones 
 are graciously permitted to work, that the influential 
 may enjoy the credit and emolument : verily a Scratch- 
 pack Ministry often are. There is, however, one very 
 distinguishing feature between a scratch-pack of hounds, 
 and one of Ministers : the first are expected to please 
 their huntsman and the whole field ; if the latter please 
 their huntsman and do all he wishes, and he all his 
 employer wishes, the field is permitted to be pleased or 
 displeased, as it thinks proper. What business has a 
 field to think at all ? Refinement in our venatic pur- 
 suits has caused a great reformation in scratch-packs 
 of hounds. Reformation in the biped pack has been 
 long talked of; it is, however, only promised, as is a 
 fixture in a long frost, " weather permitting." 
 
 As established packs of hounds under one master 
 
82 HUNTERS AND HUNTING MEN. 
 
 increased in number, scratch-packs diminished, for vari- 
 ous reasons ; these were, of course, merely harriers, and 
 having the Uberty of the farm-yard and adjacent mea- 
 dows, they often took the further hberty of any near 
 cover, thus greatly disturbing foxes ; and the farmers 
 finding that, if good sportsmen, they were welcomed in 
 the field by their landlords and the master of the hounds, 
 they took their day with the foxhounds when convenient 
 to them. They now, however, found that Dobbin, who 
 carried the farmer or his wife as each might want him, 
 could not make a fight of it with foxhounds, even in 
 those days ; nor did the well-worn dark corduroys and 
 leggings look seemly by the cover side. It is quite true 
 that in those times the boots of the 'squire acknowledged 
 no higher polish on the lower part than oil and lamp- 
 black mixed afforded ; the tops got washed, and when 
 dry, a little milk sponged over them was a bit of dandyism 
 practised by those Avho were particular. But the accom- 
 plished artist who first found out that white of egg pro- 
 duced an undeniable polish, I have heard my father say 
 (for the servant was his), sold his receipt to other servants 
 for miles round. 
 
 Tops were in those days held to be at their highest 
 beauty when, like the meerschaum, they exhibited a 
 deep brown. Pumice-stone was comparatively quite a 
 new application to leather breeches ; for prior to this, 
 rubbing off" actual mud or splashes was the only attempt 
 to clean them ; they consequently shortly became striped, 
 like the skin of a zebra, and were only thought at their 
 best when a universal brown gave them a uniform 
 colour. Yet I have been told these, with a pair of shoes 
 and silk stockings, were no unusual dinner-dress for the 
 good 'squires of old. These were the days when a good 
 dewlap was not held unsightly in a foxhound, and a 
 
HUNTERS AND HUNTING MEN. 83 
 
 kind of Talbot head, with a capacious pair of jaws, and 
 a throat that gave the idea of swallowing a fox whole, 
 was rather held desirable than otherwise. Even so late 
 as the celebrated Jack Raven's time, report says, that on 
 the master objecting to a hound on account of a large 
 head, Jack's excuse for it was, " It has a great deal of 
 sense in it." 
 
 This was, I think it may certainly be said, the age of 
 sportsmen, but certainly not of riders ; for I remember 
 perfectly well, when as a boy nine years of age, and in 
 my boyish second season's fox-hunting, being with my 
 father on a visit to a relative in Northamptonshire, we 
 were shown the leap said to be the celebrated one taken 
 by Dick Knight. My relative addressing me, said — 
 " What do you think of that, young un ? " " Why," 
 said I, " I would ride the chesnut mare over it now if she 
 was here." That hunters (I mean horses) were more ac- 
 complished (if I may use the term), or I will say, perfect 
 fencers then, than we have them now, I verily beHeve ; 
 they had not the same energy in them as highly -bred 
 horses have ; they were allowed to take their fences more 
 leisurely ; and to find footing on a rotten or razor-backed 
 bank, required no little judgment and practice in the 
 animal. Could one of our forefathers have been put on 
 the back of Moonraker, Griraaldi, Paulina, or Lottery, 
 in one of their swings, the good man would have thought 
 he never should alight on the earth again. 
 
 In such days, if a man kept a couple of hunters for 
 his own riding, it was considered as many as he could 
 possibly really require ; the keeping of three was held as 
 a little useless extravagance that affectation or a peculiar 
 turn alone occasioned. Three feeds of corn a day, and, 
 in their technical term, a " handful of beans," were a 
 hunter's allowance. Hay, we may consider, was given 
 
 G 2 
 
84 HUNTERS AND HUNTING MEN. 
 
 nearly without stint ; for in their groom's phrase, a 
 horse having " something to kick against," or looking 
 like " carrying his dinner with him," was a high recom- 
 mendation. I suppose they w^ent upon the same prin- 
 ciple as had done a horsekeeper I once took in my 
 employ : I insisted that each horse's rack should be 
 cleared out three hours before he was put to the coach. 
 " Lord, sir ! " says the fellow, " I always likes *em to 
 have something to start with ; it carries over the 
 stage." 
 
 There ever was, and ever will be, first, second, and 
 minor-rate grooms in all ages ; first-rate ones, when 
 horses having " a good bread-basket " was in vogue, 
 made it a point, when a horse with a coat like a Siberian 
 goat or sheep came in, " never to leave him till he was 
 as dry as a bone ;" so a tired horse was thump-thumped 
 by a succession of whisps by a man on each side, till his 
 return home was made a penalty to him. 
 
 These were days when Bass's bitter ale was unknown, 
 and would not have been liked if it had been. Malt 
 and hops were then the leading ingredients in ale, and 
 each farmer brewed and drank his own ; the good wife 
 made her cask of gooseberry or currant '"' wind." 
 
 " All very well for the women," as her good man would 
 deridingly but good-naturedly remark. Farmers had 
 not began a beverage " that nobody knows how it's 
 made in they foreign parts." The 'squire stuck to good 
 old port, and would as soon have drunk the w^aters of 
 Rhine as the wine that came from its country : " Rot- 
 gut stuff"; very well for a foreigner;" forgetful that the 
 wine he patronised was foreign also. He held his port 
 to be as pure and unadulterated a liquor as his own 
 October ; little thought he of depots between here and 
 
HUNTERS AND HUNTING MEN. 85 
 
 Spain, where Benecarlo is entered in, and a light tawny 
 port, if desired from it, entered out. 
 
 Nothing stands still — though we sometimes fancy 
 good-luck does, when we hear that it is coming, but 
 do not see its arrival. At all events, habits, manners, 
 and fashion, do not : the latter, it is true, in some things 
 " harks back" to what was seen a century ago. Long 
 waists, for instance, were coeval with powdered heads, a 
 club or pigtail for the gentlemen, and the hair raised as 
 high as Mont Blanc for the ladies. But the saddest 
 " hark back " of all, is the old sack-like cuff now revived ; 
 a most cruel, illiberal, and unfeeling change it is, who- 
 ever brought it in. Till lately, if a man wore a shirt 
 for a fortnight by economically sleeping without one, he 
 could, by wearing his tie groom-fashion, make the under 
 article go on another week. He resolves the ensuing 
 week shall exhibit a hght-coloured shirt, which his last 
 has not been these last fourteen days : but conceive his 
 horror, when by chance raising his arm before the glass, 
 he finds the state of his linen has been exposed to public 
 view for a fortnight, from the wristband to the elbow ! 
 I have heard of people laughing in their sleeves ; but 
 such an unfortunate wight as he alluded to may well cry 
 over his. 
 
 About the time I speak of, when leathers and boot- 
 tops, both brown in colour, were in use, Seymour, the 
 then greatest horse-painter of his day, had about closed 
 his career. If, as we may suppose was the case, the 
 portraits he left behind him were faithful likenesses, it 
 shows our grandsires rode a pretty good sort of nag ; 
 and judging by their heads particularly, they could not 
 have been very coarsely bred on the side of either parent ; 
 the tapering lower portion of the head, the fine promi- 
 nent eye, wide jaw, and expanding nostril, showed no 
 
86 HUNTERS AND HUNTING MEN. 
 
 " cart " was in their blood. Where the large, strong, 
 somewhat coach-like hunter was used, I should say it 
 arose from our ancestors not properly appreciating the 
 strength of the high-bred horse ; so all men who were 
 not light weight, conceived that great bulk of body, and 
 size of limbs, were indispensable to carry weight ; and 
 possibly as what we call three parts, or, perhaps, three- 
 fourths bred horses, were not much bred then among 
 horses less highly bred, sheer strength may have been 
 necessary. There did not then exist the gradations from 
 the thorough-bred that exist now. 
 
 Hunters' plates first called for such ; the secret then 
 came out, and it was found better breeding stood in 
 good stead of greater apparent strength. Hounds being 
 bred faster, rendered still higher breeding in the horses 
 necessary. I have heard of a huntsman who Avished he 
 could have a balloon to carry him by the side of his 
 hounds ; such horses as Bright Phoebus, Advance, 
 Clasher, and Clinker, had not then appeared ; yet the 
 mere sportsman was fast growing into the hunting men, 
 and among the hunting men, the still more modern term 
 and style of " fast men," sprung up. Such names as 
 Warde, Lampton, Corbet, and many others, convey to 
 us at once the true meaning of what were thorough 
 sportsmen and fox-hunters ; but it remained for such 
 names as Forester, Gardiner, Germaine, Holyoake, Maher, 
 White, Dearsley, &c., to show us what " fast men " 
 meant — a leelle too fast we may conclude at times, 
 judging from certain little ebullitions of anger and words 
 that people have heard escape The 'Squire, when he 
 expected the impetuosity of his field would put his fox 
 out of danger and his hounds into it. 
 
 Among the fast ones, though of different grade, we 
 must not forget two never-to-be-forgotten — Jack Stevens 
 
HUNTERS AND HDNTTNG MEN. 87 
 
 the Whip, and Dick Christian the " anything that was 
 wanted :" colt-breaker, horse-breaker, he constantly was ; 
 d — 1 breaker he would have been, if asked, and had a 
 chance ; steeple-chase rider when wanted ; agent to buy 
 or sell at any time, I believe he could wind a clever 
 hunter for sale a hundred miles off. The last time I saw 
 him, he came to buy a horse of mine, about a dozen 
 years since, to carry, as he said, Lord Wrancliffe. Of 
 the two, it may be said, the first could ride anywhere, 
 the latter anything. 
 
 Be a man a plain good general sportsman, a hunting 
 man, which indicates a stud in his stable, or be he a 
 veritable fast one, he must always speak of Leicestershire 
 as the finest scenting and fastest- going country in such 
 part of the world as we are acquainted with; but we 
 must not infer from this, that having ridden across it 
 qualifies him to ride anywhere ; it may, so far as pace 
 and big fences go ; but it really requires far more 
 judgment and knowledge of hunting to ride well to 
 hounds in many other countries. Great judgment of 
 pace, and what and wliere liberties may or may not be 
 taken with a horse, as in riding a race, are indispensable, 
 if a man means to be carried to the finish in such a 
 clipping country as Leicestershire. But far more know- 
 ledge of fox-hounds and hunting is required, to see the 
 finish in many others. A horse having been hunted a 
 season in Leicestershire, is certainly a feather in his cap, 
 if he went well ; go, jump, and last, it proves he can ; 
 but other qualities, more useful if not so brilliant, are 
 wanted in other countries. 
 
 Some months since, a friend who hunts in Essex told 
 me he had bought a horse at a very high figure. " Then 
 of course," said I, " he is a clever one." '' I don't know," 
 said my friend, looking not quite pleased, " much about 
 
88 HUNTERS AND HUNTING MEN. 
 
 his mere cleverness ; but this 1 can tell yon, he has been 
 hunted two seasons in Leicestershire," and looking a 
 little more complacently, " I want your advice as to what 
 is best to do with him till the season comes on." " Sell 
 him," said I. " Sell him ! " literally roared my friend. 
 " You asked my advice," I said, '' and you have it. 
 Sell him ; he'll break your neck in Essex." Such catas- 
 trophe luckily did not happen ; but he came head-over- 
 heels the second time he was out, and broke one of his 
 knees most comfortably, so a letter informed me. 
 
 Personally, I never could ride a sticky jumper ; they 
 always made me nervous ; I could not give them credit 
 for intending to jump. I never could ride, or did, 
 except occasionally, in a sticky, pottering country. I 
 say this from no affectation, for I candidly allow such 
 horses and such countries frightened me to death. I 
 once bought a horse solely on the character given of him 
 by the stud-groom, which was — " He jumps like a cat, 
 and has always a leg to spare." This was quite true, 
 but I could not ride him ; put him at a fence as freely 
 as you v^ould, he always would take it comparatively in 
 a stand, and would make one-two of a leap that any 
 good free-going galloway would clear at one. I sold 
 him to an Essex farmer, of whom Lord Petre bought 
 him, solely from his handiness in fencing. There can be 
 no doubt but the most brilliant and determined jumpers 
 are quite useless in a blind country. A man, therefore, 
 in such a country has but the choice of three measures 
 — to learn to ride what I call pottering jumpers ; get a 
 roll or two every day he goes out on other sorts ; or 
 leave the country. As regards myself, I should say, in 
 betting phrase, " the latter for choice." 
 
 With studs as had such men as Lords Plymouth and 
 Wilton, and many others with their fortunes, and if I 
 
HUNTERS AND HUNTING MEN. 89 
 
 could ride as well as them, I should, perhaps, prefer 
 Leicestershire to any other country ; but if a man can 
 keep but (say) four hunters, he has no business there, 
 except for a week or two occasioaally, to see how the 
 thing is done at head-quarters. 
 
 How men " go " now, who are domesticating afc Mel- 
 ton, Leicester, and thereabouts, I only know from hear- 
 say ; most probably quite as well in Life-Guardsman's 
 boots as with white tops, though the former, to my pre- 
 judiced eye, do savour a little more of La Chasse and 
 Le Forit than the Market Ilarbro' country. 
 
 However the field may go at home, it seems we are 
 likely to have a field for operations of quite a different 
 kind elsewhere, a pretty extensive country to cross, 
 where the would-be masters are not likely to carry on 
 their differences quite as courteously as do M.F.H.'s 
 usually settle their misunderstandings as to disputed 
 countries. Doubtless the same good old strain of blood 
 still exists that was always ready to " fly to a halloo " 
 when game is afoot, enterprise to be undertaken, and 
 glory to be achieved. The old hardy sort are mostly 
 gone; their hunting days are over. Let us hope the 
 young entries will not, from our change of habit in the 
 more luxurious mode of treating them " at walks," 
 prove softer than were the old Bruisers, Boxers, Dauntless, 
 Termagants, and Terribles of old. 
 
 To drop figurative representation, it is no doubt very 
 luxurious never to be exposed to the so-styled " rude 
 elements." The complexion becomes more delicate — 
 " Oh ! great desideratum in a man." We undergo no 
 fatigue — very proper, we must allow, for a young, old, 
 or any lady. We sit on luxurious soft cushions as we 
 travel, instead of the straw-stuffed ones of a mail or 
 stage-coach; so even the part we sit on becomes soft 
 
90 HUNTERS AND HUNTING MEN. 
 
 and delicate. There can be no possible objection to 
 this, when our present youth seldom get into a saddle. 
 An omnibus is far more comfortable than used to be 
 the Stanhope in a wintry day. It is so, and warmer. 
 Let us hope that those thinking so may not feel a 
 little chilly should any of them find themselves enjoy- 
 ing their caviare on the banks of the Dnieper or Dnies- 
 ter. Won't they ? 
 
NOBS AND SNOBS. 
 
 It is a common observation, when we find anything to 
 be of a more than usual complex nature, to say that " it 
 would puzzle a Philadelphia lawyer to make it out." 
 Now whether any peculiar statistic organization of matters 
 of transatlantic origin cause a more than usual complexity 
 of arrangement, or whether Philadelphian lawyers are 
 endowed with more astute powers of unravelling mys- 
 teries, I know not, nor does it matter to us Englishers ; 
 but this I can truly say, I did once ask a veritable Phila- 
 delphian expounder of laws, if he knew the derivation 
 of the term " snob." He admitted he was in a *' regular 
 fix ;" therefore if I use a term of which I merely know 
 the import, I may well be excused. Nimrod, that great 
 authority of his day, uses it, but candidly admits him- 
 self as much in the dark as to its derivation as myself. 
 We minor planets should not criticise a star that shone 
 so resplendently ; but, aware of the light in which 
 Nimrod regarded the word, I think he has done some- 
 thing like injustice to the owner of the " little bay," in 
 designating him by any epithet that savoured of decided 
 inferiority ; for our author states Snob " went well," so 
 much so as to attract observation and admiration, where 
 to excite either is no easy matter, and that he went as 
 long as he could : our author as a writer did the same — 
 no man can do more. Again, Snob, though so desig- 
 
93 NOBS AND SNOBS. 
 
 nated, speaks of his horse as the best in his stable. This 
 shows he was not one accustomed to get a day now and 
 then, with always the same pair of ears before him. But 
 much further than this, when such a man as Lord 
 Alvanley could, on a five days' acquaintance in the field, 
 ask Snob to his table, any one who had had the advan- 
 tage of being known to the above nobleman, must be 
 quite aware he was not in the habit of inviting guests of 
 vulgarity of manner, or of decidedly coarse address. 
 A " rural-looking man," as some exquisite termed our 
 hero, Snob might be ; a provincial he was ; and allowing 
 Leicestershire men their " crown of bays," as regards 
 their high-breeding, fortunes, style, and riding, candour 
 will not be silenced on asserting, that as finished gentle- 
 men, and perhaps more perfect sportsmen, are to be 
 found in the provinces, as are to be found located at 
 Melton, Leicester, Qaorndon, Oakham, Lowesby, or any 
 of the many localities in which we find stabling and 
 boxes to suit the extent of all studs, from the unpre- 
 tending, but good and judicious rider, who with four 
 horses gets regularly his three or four days a week, and 
 usually sees his fox killed, to the one who with ten, and 
 a second horse each day, could not, perhaps, give in as 
 good an account of noses he saw run into. 
 
 That a man may do this we know, and if his means do 
 not admit of his doing more, he is a sensible man who is 
 content to get what hunting he can with a short stud. I 
 have at times, hunted (for a time) six days a week with 
 four horses ; have had half-a-dozen to do the same thing ; 
 sometimes only half the number, to get as much hunting 
 as keeping my horses up to the mark allowed. It was 
 not, however, choice that induced me to bring my stable 
 so low in number ; but not having a fortune to keep up 
 what could be termed a stud of hunters, without an 
 
NOBS AND SNOBS. 93 
 
 occasional pull on the right side of the book, I often sold 
 out when a tempting price was offered me, and have 
 often parted with a horse for the consideration of the 
 two hundred, that had I had a large fortune, and been 
 asked his price by a nobleman, I should have said, 
 " Your estate." From my not being in such enviable 
 situation, probably Nimrod might have called me a Snob ; 
 so be it : we are told in dramatic language that it is the 
 fate of some mortals to bear '' the proud man's con- 
 tumely ;" why should not I the author's ? for we are not 
 all Nobs. But as such proceedings as I have mentioned 
 are much more in use among sporting men than it may 
 be supposed they are, let us see how far they may or 
 may not merit reprehension. 
 
 A noble lord with whom I had the honour of being 
 acquainted, has more than once told me he calculated on 
 five hundred a year as about the sum it usually cost him 
 in, as we technically term it, " wear and tear of horse- 
 flesh :" the sum appears a large one no doubt, but I 
 believe it was about fact, and is to be accounted for. In 
 the first place, for himself, his huntsman, and whips, 
 he had usually about five-and-twenty horses in his 
 stables ; six or seven carriage horses ; then his own hacks, 
 ladies' riding horses, phaeton horses, ponies, servants' 
 hadvs, two or three kennel hacks, and a supernumary or 
 two that were for any and everybody's use ; thus, he 
 really had about five-and-forty at rack and manger ; his 
 horses of every class were of the first-rate sort, and among 
 such a lot there was always a moderate stable-full of, as he 
 termed them, the lame, halt, and blind. He was one 
 who would not part with a favourite horse if a princi- 
 pality had been ofPered for him ; in proof of which, his 
 lordship was told by his huntsman a most extravagant 
 price was oftered for one of the horses he rode : " Weil," 
 
94 NOBS AND SNOBS. 
 
 said the truly noble master, " if the horse carries 
 you as you like, say he is not to be sold ; but if you 
 choose for your own advantage to give him up — he cost 
 me eighty as a five-year-old — put the extra money in 
 your pocket, buy another, and make a hunter of him as 
 you have of Broadcast." His lordship's veterans on the 
 superannuated list would have furnished a troop for a 
 veteran cavalry battalion, if such a corps existed, for he 
 never sold a good, or kept a bad one ; so when, from 
 age or accident, three hundred was reduced to thirty, 
 and ocasionally death or severe injury sent a high-priced 
 horse to feed the hounds he had followed, five hundred 
 might be the amount of wear and tear to a man who 
 never made a shilling by any horse in his stable. 
 
 There are men who are qiiite content with a couple of 
 himters, or at most three, and would hold it infra dig. 
 to let it be known they sold a horse to put fifty or a 
 hundred in their pocket. I quite applaud them, admit 
 their habit as more commendable — nay, more gentle- 
 manly than mine ; but I had an unfortunate mania for 
 seeing a certain, or perhaps rather uncertain, but still a 
 number of uniform suits of clothing, and horses under 
 them, in my stable ; and although no man detested 
 more than I ever did anything like horse-dealiug, and 
 never volunteered the sale of any horse to make money 
 by him, my love of walking behind a number of full 
 stalls was greater still \ so I sold out when asked to do 
 so : thus far, I was a Snob. Had I owned ten thousand 
 a year, I should have acted differently. 
 
 It might be asked, why should any man wish to have 
 sixteen or six hunters in his stable, if three would give 
 him all the hunting his time or opportunity afforded him 
 the means of enjoying ? I can only reply to such a ques- 
 tion by asking, if a man has a gallery full of pictures. 
 
NOBS AND SNOBS. 95 
 
 why sliould he purchase more, when he would be puzzled 
 to find a place to hang them up ? The answer is easy : he 
 sees a picture that he has not ; the subject, the drawing, 
 grouping, or colouring pleases him ; he buys it. Another 
 man has as many horses as he wants, but he sees another 
 that has some attribute that pleases; he buys him. No 
 man of sense can deny but that a wish to possess a fine 
 specimen of artistic talent shews a more refined taste 
 than a wish for a specimen of mere animal creation ; but 
 the thirst for possession of what we wish, but do not 
 want, is only the more justifiable, or its reverse, in the 
 estimation of persons of difi'erent habits and pursuits, or 
 in the thing itself. 
 
 Could such a lusus naturce be produced as an animal 
 who could, with ease to himself and pleasure to his rider, 
 carry him with hounds six days a w^eek, a sensible man 
 and true lover of hunting would highly prize such a 
 specimen of all but perpetual motion ; he w^ould see the 
 find, the chase, and the kill. Lord Plymouth, with his 
 once nearly or quite thirty hunters, could do no more. 
 But I am free to say, that could such an animal be pro- 
 duced and presented to me, carry me as he might, I 
 would at once decline hunting rather than everlastingly 
 ride the bay horse ; and I could mention many others 
 who would do the same. This may be attributed to 
 pride and vanity : I cannot refute such allegation ; but 
 independent of this, there is (at least I and many others 
 have found it so) an indescribable pleasure in seeing a 
 fresh pair of ears before us. It is really something like 
 the gratification of dressing for dinner. We are not 
 perhaps more comfortable in an old thread-bare coat and 
 trowsers, than in an easy shooting-jacket, and certainly 
 not more expensively attired ; but if we only sit down to 
 a herring and a mutton chop, we feel something like the 
 
96 NOBS AND SNOBS. 
 
 gentleman if we have doffed the gaiters and see a 
 stocking below the trowsers, albeit that stocking be a 
 cotton one. 
 
 There is, moreover, to a riding man, a certain plea- 
 sure in humouring or counteracting the different habits 
 and tempers of different horses. But beyond this, oh ! 
 the pleasure of a servant coming in — " The men are 
 gone to stable, sir." This, when a pint and an extra 
 two glasses of port, furtively as it were stolen from your- 
 self, has put you in a mood to be pleased with all that 
 can afford pleasure ; we will say a friend is with you ; 
 you sagely reflect that the remains of a bottle of port 
 are only available for lunch, so " let to-morrow take care 
 of itself," you take care of what remains for the day ; this, 
 with the half-a-dozen half-glasses of sherry at dinner, just 
 about puts you and your friend in the cue to delight in 
 seeing half-a-dozen nice ones, neatly bedded up, hoods 
 stripped off their loins, and your ears saluted by a gentle 
 grinding operation of mouths, that indicates he that has 
 gone to-day is none the worse for it, and that either of 
 his companions is more or less fit to go to-morrow. 
 " Be this eternity !" a man might, in the language of the 
 poet, say ; but he recollects, or is reminded, " Coffee 
 waits, sir ;" and then higher attraction in the drawmg- 
 room calls him from the contemplation of what is only 
 surpassed by objects of far higher order that he knows 
 he shall meet there, and to challenge the smiles of whom 
 he is precisely in the humour to call forth every attribute 
 he may own, to please. It would be improper to call 
 this heaven, but it is an earthly elysium that only those 
 who have lost its presence can appreciate. Let me hope 
 there is nothing Snobbish in this, though a little judg- 
 ment in buying, nerve and hands to make a hunter, may 
 conduce to a man's keeping down stable expenses, by 
 
NOBS AND SNOBS. 97 
 
 letting the last season's five-year-old go a year after at a 
 hundred over cost price. The bit of steel worth only 
 a half-penny, made into a razor is worth five shillings. 
 Hunters certainly do not bring such advance on cost to 
 the manufacturer of them ; still they may be made by 
 an artist a means of bringing the corn-merchant's bill 
 into small compass, and to a man who does not require 
 them to pay for his living, may more or less be made to 
 pay for theu' own. More than this no man can expect, and 
 at the same time to hold his position as a gentleman. 
 
 The amateur in pictures will consider an insatiate 
 desire of fresh purchases as natural and commendable ; 
 but no powers could make him think a desire for more 
 horses than would be absolutely necessary for use could 
 be entertained by any sane man ; he would hold the man 
 who did so, as meriting an appellation (if there is one) 
 synonymous to a Snob. Some amateurs of horses, but 
 let us hope only a very few, would hold the other in about 
 the same estimation, though there can be no possible 
 doubt as to which of the two evinces in his taste and 
 pursuit the most refinement of idea. Let a man admire 
 both, and we will set the one predilection against the 
 other, and the admiration of that which is admirable — 
 the one the production of art, the other of nature — shews 
 a mind capable of estimating anything beautiful in its 
 way : but if a man can merely admire a living horse, he 
 comes much into the character that Somerville, true 
 sportsman as he was, satirizes in the following biting 
 terms of reprehension and contempt : 
 
 " See how mean, how low, the bookless, sauntering youth. 
 Proud of the seat that dignifies his cup, 
 And rusty jingling couples by his side ! 
 Be thou of other mould." 
 
 Observations that alone would show that, if our poet 
 
 H 
 
98 NOBS AND SNOBS. 
 
 was versed in all the mysteries of kennel discipline 
 kennel management, and hunting craft, he was versed in 
 matters and ideas of a far higher order. 
 
 There are two opposite characters, that in the field 
 would both be termed Snobs — one knowing little or 
 nothing of sporting ; and one who knows all about 
 hounds and horses, but nothing or little of anything 
 else. Both would deserve the title, though the last 
 might pass muster with the huntsman and whips, but 
 certes with them only, or those whose ideas soared no 
 higher. 
 
 This brings to my mind observations I have lately 
 read, eulogising raih'oads as a great acquisition to hunt- 
 ing men. Such observations, if a writer seeks popularity 
 among a particular class, may produce such desired 
 (which is not synonymous with desirable) effect ; but not 
 seeking popularity with any particular clique, I venture 
 to differ in opinion, and must consider that where the 
 iron way brings weekly one real sportsman to a fixture, 
 it favours a hunt with a dozen veritable Snobs. I mean 
 no illiberal allusion as to the position or avocation in life 
 of these London exports, and occasionally a sample may 
 be brought down that would be welcomed by a whole 
 field ; but where a cargo is brought down, I should con- 
 sider their arrival would be hailed by a M.F.H. with 
 about the same feelings as would be experienced by the 
 owner of a house in Belgrave Square, if a couple of 
 omnibuses brought their forty insides and outsides from 
 Cheapside, as an addition to his, or rather his lady's 
 guests at a rout. 
 
 In the first place, a man hunting once a week, and 
 that probably usually with the Queen's, as being certain 
 of a gallop, is certainly a man hunting, but I do not con- 
 sider as QUITE a " hunting man." Such men have no 
 
NOBS AND SNOBS. 99 
 
 standing in a country ; probably their names are un- 
 known, and their persons also, further than as the man 
 on THE chestnut horse, who is seen when the fixture 
 suits him. He cares nothing for the anger of Farmer 
 Giles ; thinks no more of his fences, clover, or turnips, 
 than Giles cares about the other's consols, bills of lading, 
 trowsers, calico, or satinet, as the case may be; so the 
 known are expected to, and in fact do, produce their 
 purses, to make amends for the depredations of the 
 great or little unknown. 
 
 Horse-dealers hunting merely to shew their horses, 
 unless they are of the superior kind, are sometimes ob- 
 jected to, by masters of hounds ; but such persons are 
 sure to be known by many of the hunt, so they usually 
 conduct themselves properly. But a man may sell 
 stockings for years, and yet not be recognized by any one 
 out, unless it be by his neighbour who sells carpeting at 
 200 and something, in Oxford Street ; so he may do all 
 the mischief he possibly can, and then the rail carries 
 him home where he fears no censure, and ensconces him- 
 self comfortably in his easy-chair, as a certain nameless, 
 but often in London to be met with little animal, does 
 in one of the good man's own rugs. 
 
 Real hunting men usually reside on their own estates, 
 or rent a country residence for the hunting season ; so, 
 when they find convenience in the rail, it is to take them 
 to a meet in a drawing-room in London, at eleven 
 o'clock at night, not to one at the cover- side at half-past 
 ten in the morning. A great gratification, no doubt, it 
 is to see fifty beautiful women, with all the advantages of 
 brilliant light, superb dress, and high spirits ; yet this 
 WAS dispensed with, for five months in the year ; and 
 perhaps it would be just as well for many if they dis- 
 pensed with coming from London to see fifty fox-hounds 
 
 H 2 
 
TOO NOBS AND SNOBS. 
 
 in the open air. If a man hunts and ever has hunted 
 but seldom, he is most probably something closely bor- 
 dering on a Snob — in the field, at least, wiU be thought 
 so, if he hunts enough to make himself a sportsman ; 
 unless his fortune is already made, he runs a great 
 chance of becoming anything but a Nob in his business. 
 
 Of course, such observations in no way aim at men of 
 high standing and large means, although such may and 
 do hunt from London. Such men are known ; have 
 possibly hunted much, and are persons who could keep 
 their hunters and become inhabitants of the country ; 
 but that they prefer, and perhaps wisely prefer making 
 three thousand a-year of their capital in business, to 
 living on one, as its produce, in the way men unaccus- 
 tomed to turn capital to its best account would do. 
 Such men are welcomed by the field, and in many such 
 cases the chief regret is, that their occupations prevent 
 their being oftener seen. Such men do not come in 
 swarms ; they are not the Jackeens who only began 
 hunting yesterday, and keep as many hunting coats (or 
 perhaps more) than horses, and would not hunt at all if 
 their coat was not a scarlet one ; nor am I at all certain 
 but if we could oblige such to wear a top -coat to hide 
 " the pink," as they universally term it, but that such 
 privation would all but put a stopper on their desire for 
 hunting. " Faugh !" as Hamlet says, when he throws 
 down the skull of Yorick. And having said this, let us 
 say no more. 
 
 That any dislike of a field to such such high-breds or 
 low-breds does not arise from their not being of the aris- 
 tocracy is shewn by the cordial greeting often — nay 
 usually shewn to any farmer or yeoman who spares his 
 day from his business to '" go with my lord to-morrow." 
 He sports his blue, green, or brown frock, a nag that can 
 
NOBS AND SNOBS. 101 
 
 go, and is not unfrequently looked to as a pilot who 
 knows where he is going, and gives a shrewd guess as 
 to where a fox means going to, also. Should the kill 
 take place in the neighbourhood of the worthy yeornan, 
 the highest in the field accepts — not the merely proffered, 
 but produced luncheon, with the same feelings of cor- 
 diality as evinced by the donor ; who, in his turn, under 
 similar circumstances, would be as cordially welcomed 
 where foreign produce sparkles in its cut crystal, instead 
 of home-production in the foaming jug. And why? 
 He is in his place in the hunting-field ; is a friend to 
 sport, a preserver of game, and, better still, a preserver 
 of his own respectabihty. He, in his turn, would be 
 held an intruder, if, with half-a-dozen boisterous friends, 
 he and they obtruded themselves in a box at the theatre, 
 and astounded the audience by unseemly applause or 
 exclamation in the deepest part of a tragedy, or by 
 laughs that could shake the very seats under them, 
 because that inimitable little unapproachable Mrs. Keeley 
 justly merited the properly-elicited plaudits of the 
 house ; he would be there a Snob ; and the man hunt- 
 ing from Oxford Street would be, if there, one of the 
 first to show he knew more of London etiquette, by his 
 condemnation of the countryman's gaucherie. 
 
 But in the reverse order of things, we have been 
 giving our attention to Snobs, when, in the proper order 
 of precedence, we should have tirst paid our devoirs to 
 the Nobs ; but in some palliation of such seeming dere- 
 liction from due respect, we are not to read for Nobs, 
 Noblemen, or always men for whom we can feel much 
 admiration or respect. A man who is fond of bulldogs 
 encourages any scamp who, if he met that staunch and 
 disinterested patron of humanity and punisher of cruelty 
 or vice, Mr. Bishop, of Bond Street, might well quote 
 
102 NOBS AND SNOBS. 
 
 " Of all men, most I have avoided thee." The encou- 
 rager of bulldog sport is hailed among the promoters of 
 bull, bear, or badger-baiting ; he is among them, and in 
 the localities they frequent, a Nob. 
 
 The man who is known to all the fair and frail 
 frequenters of the saloons of the theatres, the saloon in 
 Piccadilly, and elsewhere, and spends his money there, 
 is there a Nob. 
 
 I have said that we must not for Nob, read Noble- 
 man ; but verily I have known many, and now know 
 some noblemen, who are quite satisfied by being thought 
 Nobs, and that among those with whom, so long as they 
 mix. Nobs only will they remain. 
 
 But we are not to imagine that Nobs are only to be 
 found in the cock or rat-pit ; they are patent among all 
 non-professionals in any particular pursuit, and unless that 
 pursuit is one of a high order, a great debasement of the 
 character of the gentleman is certain to be the result. 
 The patroniser of theatricals, so long as he merely sought 
 and kept up the acquaintance of such characters asKemble, 
 Young, Macready, and others of equally estimable con- 
 duct and standing, rather elevates than degrades him- 
 self, be he who he may, by selecting men of such talent 
 and conduct as his intimates. But he who (if it still is 
 in existence) is an ostensible character among the low 
 employes of a theatre at the O.P. and P.S. Tavern, 
 becomes a Nob there, but a Snob everywhere else. 
 
 Let us now look more particularly to Nobs of a 
 sporting character ; and somewhat low, to speak of them 
 in the most favourable terms, such men are. Be he 
 hunting-man, racing, steeple- chasing, match-against- 
 time-man, cricketer, pedestrian, or patroniser of the 
 pugilistic ring — though he may in a proper manner 
 patronise or participate in each pursuit, and yet not lose 
 
NOBS AND SNOBS. 103 
 
 the standing of a gentleman — the moment he makes 
 the regular professor of either his companions, is the 
 moment from whence may be dated his abandonment of 
 gentlemanly ideas and habits. Each man who will hold 
 the professor of a favourite sport, as one with whom to 
 be on terms of intimacy, lays himself open to the charge 
 I have made against him ; there is here no feeling of 
 prejudice. 
 
 A low man, be he as distinguished as he may in 
 pursuits that do not elevate him, is no companion for a 
 man above the common herd; his particular pursuit 
 makes no difference, among pursuits none in themselves 
 intellectual. Some, no doubt, are more to be esteemed 
 than others ; but none of such as I have particularised 
 are of a character elevated enough to render the pro- 
 ticients in them, from that cause alone, companions for a 
 gentleman. 
 
 We will suppose a case : We have had a capital run, 
 and killed our fox handsomely. There could be nothing 
 ungentleraanly in sending for the huntsman, giving him 
 half-a-dozen glasses of wine, talking over the day's run, 
 and hearing all we could of the pack we admired, and 
 the men who rode the chase to admiration. I could 
 find hundreds who would agree with me in this. But 
 suppose I proposed doing the same thing by my lord's 
 valet, I should have all of them in open arms against me. 
 And why ? Because Furzeblossom, the huntsman, could 
 talk of subjects that they could only appreciate, and Le 
 Maire could not. Now most certainly for the evening I 
 should send for the huntsman, and as certainly should 
 not for Monsieur Le Maire. But suppose I was obliged 
 to be inflicted with the company of one or other of these 
 individuals every night for six months, the case would 
 be widely altered. In a night or two I could get all out 
 
104 NOBS AND SNOBS. 
 
 of Mr. Furzeblossom that he knew, his knowledge being 
 confined to the kennel and hunting ; but Le Maire has, 
 with his lord, been in countries in which I have not 
 been, and seen men and places I have not seen. So, if 
 I am to pass a hundred and eighty-two and a-half 
 evenings with a servant, in mercy give me the most 
 intellectual one, and one from whom I may, and probably 
 should, get valuable information. 
 
 Associating with professors of any sort frequently 
 turns out far less satisfactory than might be anticipated ; 
 but mixing with the professors of low or common-place 
 pursuits is sure to be expensive, and all but as sure to 
 be degrading. 
 
 Sporting-men, unless men of high standing, are apt 
 to be very improperly stigmatised by persons of opposite 
 habits. Low such characters may be, and are ; but not 
 a bit more so than actors, musicians, singers, dancers, 
 lawyers'-clerks, medical pupils, or any other set of men, 
 if they are of a low order and low habits. It is not the 
 avocation alone that makes a man low, it is the habits 
 and mind of the man. Mr. Jackson, the teacher and 
 professor of boxing, though he did exhibit in the 
 prize-ring, was a man that those of unblemished charac- 
 ter and high standing often shook hands with. I once 
 dined at table with him and eight other persons, when a 
 duke, and a highly-estimated duke, was the host ; that 
 noble was not a mere Nob, or ever held as such ; nor 
 was Jackson a Snob — in truth, his manners were 
 gentlemanly, and still more, his universal conduct 
 exemplary. 
 
 Among our professional steeple-chase riders are to be 
 found men of high respectability, good manners, and 
 irreproachable conduct; those who are, I rank higher 
 than Nobs. But suppose I could point out not only 
 
NOBS AND SNOBS. 105 
 
 a Nob, but a nobleman who gave and received hospitali- 
 ties to and from one of our steeple-chase riders, and he 
 not one pre-eminent in the estimation of the generality 
 of men. Suppose we will say at cards, language was at 
 times used between such individuals as only befitted 
 their (then) liason, I think it may fairly be said that 
 EVEN Nob was too high a term for the one, but quite 
 appropriate to the other — a distinguishing title we will 
 hope he will eventually grow to estimate at its proper 
 value. 
 
 My pen not entitling me to the disthiguished position 
 of Nob, and not being emulative of such distinction in 
 its general phase, I trust I shall be permitted to shelter 
 myself under its antagonistic epithet. 
 
THE SEASON. 
 
 " There is a season for all things." The old adage 
 that puts forth such axiom, alludes, I conceive, meta- 
 phorically, to the taking a fitting moment to perform 
 any act we perpetrate ; but without any figurative 
 meaning, there is a season at which all things are at 
 their best, and flourish most, if dependent on fluctua- 
 tion of periods. All the vegetable kingdom has its 
 particular season. The denizens of the water, salt or 
 fresh, have theirs. All animals of the earth, in a wild 
 state, have equally certain seasons assigned them, in 
 which they periodically are guided by natural impulses. 
 They love (if such term may be applied to mere animal 
 desire), breed, fatten, undergo privation, sleep, or are 
 on the alert. Their dispositions are greatly dependent 
 on the season ; for there are those of a gregarious genus 
 which live in perfect unity together the greater part of 
 the year, at a particular season separate, each seeking 
 its own gratification, and, when then meeting, com- 
 mence a hostile onset that only terminates in the 
 strongest or most determined driving his adversary 
 from the trysting spot. 
 
 These fluctuations in the state and habits of wild 
 animals, and in some degree in the dispositions also, 
 are greatly modified, and in some particular points 
 totally changed, by domestication : eradicated altogether 
 
I 
 
 THE SEASON. 107 
 
 they cannot be, while the ordinary impulses of nature 
 remain ; nor is it necessary they should be, so long as 
 we can so control them as to prevent consequences 
 occurring that would be prejudicial to ourselves or to the 
 other animals we domesticate. 
 
 Man seems (indeed is) the only animal who at- 
 tempts to make a season for himself. Figuratively 
 speaking, he does do this ; but it is only in figurative 
 terms we can say he does so. Art can render every 
 passage, staircase, hall, vestibule, and apartment of the 
 mansion as warm during an intense frost in January 
 as in the warmest day in July ; but here his limited 
 power very properly ceases ; the effect of his hot air 
 or hot water tubes, ingenious and triumphant as are 
 their effects in the prescribed space where his in- 
 genuity is permitted to prevail, would be of no avail 
 if exposed to the stern out-of-door presence of nature : 
 over that we have no earthly control. It is true, 
 steam can drive a vessel through the waters, even to a 
 certain degree against the wind itself ; but it is only 
 to that certain degree that it can do so, and the beautiful 
 idea emanating from that mine of poetic imagination, 
 the mind of Byron, describes the vessel's course by 
 saying — 
 
 " She walks the waters like a thing of life. 
 And seems to drive the elements to strife," 
 
 though it could be still quoted as even more ap- 
 plicable where steam gives an extended power to 
 navigation, yet leaves the most powerful production 
 of naval architecture a mere child's toy in the 
 hands of the giant, when the season brings the over- 
 whelming and roaring tempest in contact with the 
 compai-atively fragile specimen of man's ingenuity. 
 
108 THE SEASON. 
 
 The conviction that it would be so, under certain 
 circumstances, need in no way cause any cessation in 
 the efforts of man in this or in any other way, to 
 render natural effects as innocuous as our limited 
 powers may permit us to render them ; the conviction 
 when attained is only a salutary lesson to man not to 
 overrate his pretensions, or to fancy that because we 
 can by art shield ourselves from some of the effects of 
 natural causes, that art can subdue Nature in her course. 
 The wall may, if strong enough, shelter us from some 
 of the effects of the tempest ; but that tempest still 
 rages on, and boasted man is in such a case but the 
 prototype of the sheep : instinct teaches that animal 
 to shelter itself by some prominence erected by nature, 
 man by one raised by art; the one has no more 
 power than the other : in such a case the very lamb 
 might say to Imperial Caesar, " We are not in Rome now." 
 Thus it should seem, that though man may to a 
 certain degree make a season for himself, that is, 
 constitute a particular part of the year as the season 
 in which he may be pleased to do particular things, it 
 is only in certain cases in which he can do even this. 
 It is quite certain he may give balls and routs at any 
 time of the year he may think proper, if he can find 
 persons silly enough to attend them if given, when the 
 months are those which render such assemblies any- 
 thing but agreeable. He may ride up Rotten Row any 
 day, from the 1st of January to the 31st of December ; 
 but a little snipe-shooting in the country, or a little 
 skating on the Serpentine in August, in some such words 
 as Burns uses : 
 
 " r faith he canna fa that." 
 Yet, to my unsophisticated and unfashionable mind, 
 
THE SEASON. 109 
 
 he does do what appears as unaccountable as would be 
 the wish to shoot snipe or skate at a season unfitted to 
 either. 
 
 I am penning these sheets in the month of April, a 
 period that is considered the commencement of the 
 London season : for the last month we have been 
 accommodated with ladders on the pavement, which 
 if a man is superstitious enough to believe it to be 
 unlucky to walk under, he is permitted the option of 
 walking into the street to avoid ; or if of more heroic 
 mould and mind, he dares the penalty of walking under, 
 his clothes are accommodated by a superstratum of stone- 
 coloured wash from the brush of the artisan above him. 
 But Mivart's must be brushed up, for the reception of the 
 foreign potentate ; Limmer, for those who shrewdly 
 guess that West Australian would have some chance 
 against old Mountjoy and his wheelbarrow. Those who 
 have been bankrupt must titivate, to show that though 
 the master or pretended master of the concern has had 
 a certificate of the third class, there remains still the 
 shop ; and somehow, there remains, or at least is, a 
 stock as select and abundant as ever. Those who intend 
 to become bankrupt, titivate for two reasons — first, that 
 such intentions may not be suspected (though doing up 
 expensively really does look suspicious) ; and secondly, 
 because it may give a fillip to trade for a few weeks 
 prior to — in racing phrase — " the event coming off;" 
 and when it does, the cost only goes down to trade ex- 
 penses, but farther than trade expenses being allowed. 
 Mr. Stickemalltightly having had a villa at Twickenham, 
 is seldom brought against him by the kind of jury his 
 conduct is tried by, where all sail in the same boat, and 
 usually on in the same tack ; but it would be derogatory 
 to the trade in general, to carp at such gentlemanly 
 
110 THE SEASON. 
 
 expense. Noblemen have villas; why should not the 
 trade have theirs ? Possibly the leniency among the 
 cHque arises from the idea, or rather fact — " Your turn 
 to-day, ours some other ;" so each losing or gaining a 
 few hundreds in turn, keeps up the ball, and verily the 
 villas. 
 
 Lodgings to let, or apartments furnished, now vanish 
 from windows where for some weeks they have remained 
 stationary. Visions of one guinea or ten, expected and 
 scrupulously demanded on Monday morning, float before 
 the eyes of craving landladies : sixpence a scuttle for 
 coals, which brings them to about thirty-five shillings 
 per ton, when to be bought for about twenty. Joints 
 that are to be cut from, before dressing, without leave, 
 and sometimes afterwards with, hold out not a prospect, 
 but a certainty, as is often said — that one person does 
 not know how another lives ; though living in lodgings 
 very much elucidates how landladies, their servants, and 
 occasionally their friends, do live. 
 
 House-agents and their subordinates now bustle about 
 like the inferior myrmidons of the law in term time. 
 Mr. Findahome, having been honoured by instructions 
 to procure a house in a fashionable situation for Lord 
 
 , engages one at five hundred for the season, by 
 
 which Mr. Findahome pockets about thirty pounds for 
 his commission, drawing up agreements, and making 
 out an inventory. 
 
 My Lord gets a most uncomfortable home, when com- 
 pared to the one he is accustomed to at the Castle Hall 
 or Park, but tolerates it from its situation. The servants 
 find there are not things for their use in their several 
 capacities, but are silenced by a sovereign or two pro- 
 perly applied ; and then it is wonderful how they find 
 they can make a saucepan do duty for a stewpan, and 
 
THE SEASON. Ill 
 
 one of the valet's brushes for a housemaid's ; with this 
 reservation only — that they undergo no personal in- 
 convenience. 
 
 Riding-masters, at the begnming of the season, buy 
 up a few worthless blood-like weeds at Tattersalls', useful 
 for no other earthly purpose than that of permitting 
 novices to sit on their backs : these will be seen with 
 John and Joe and Sam and Dick on them, riding lady- 
 fashion, with a rug imitative of a habit-skirt, practising 
 so as to be trusted, as accustomed to carry ladies : after 
 John and Joe and Sam and Dick, comes — not Dorothy 
 Draggletail, but the riding-master's daughter, who gives 
 the finishing touch, and, if a good horsewoman, pro- 
 bably renders the horses fit to carry ladies, whatever the 
 master may do as to rendering the ladies fit to ride 
 them. 
 
 That there are good and capable riding-masters and 
 mistresses to be had in London, is quite certain ; but it 
 would be invidious to mention names. I should cer- 
 tainly, in a general way, recommend the mistresses ; for 
 where they make riding their study, I must, under 
 ordinary circumstances, award the superiority to them 
 over the men ; that is, in teaching ladies. One great 
 feature in their superiority is, they have usually better 
 hands ; and having so, horses more readily become 
 handy and docile under their control, than when under 
 men, who are a little apt to attempt that by force, that 
 a woman is sure to succeed in by patience and more 
 gentle usage. 
 
 Scarlet coats are now laid by ; the bleaching liquid 
 stands untouched on the shelf; the top-boots, with their 
 soles upwards on their rack, seem as if kicking at a 
 season when their resplendent polish is no longer heeded. 
 The huntsman and whips, nothing loth, put aside their 
 
112 THE SEASON. 
 
 pinks for full six months, unless produced for a day or 
 two where their wearers keep the course at some races 
 patronised by their hunt. Hunters get their dose of 
 physic, as a preliminary step to the setting about repair- 
 ing the damage done to legs by all the casualties the 
 hunter is subject to during his season ; those to be kept 
 over are got fresh, to invigorate them for the next season ; 
 those to be sold, to invigorate them prior to their appear- 
 ance at " the Corner," The huntsman and feeder, in 
 accordance with their simple but efficacious formulae, 
 administer their tonics or laxatives in the kennel, as 
 each case may require, and produce their dressing for 
 skin and coat : the season of rest has begun, and hounds 
 yawn and stretch themselves, not from fatigue, but in 
 pure enjoyment of their ease and quiet. 
 
 The keenest sportsman, though he may have looked 
 with regret on the termination of his sport, when in 
 prospective, finds, as the sun gets warmer, his enthu- 
 siasm relax, turns his attention to other pursuits and 
 other pleasures, and feels, while he confesses it, that 
 there is a season for all things. 
 
 Steeple-chase horses may now thankfully consider 
 their season as over : happy the one whose pretensions 
 do not cause him to rank high as a hurdle-racer, other- 
 wise his season would probably continue so long as his 
 powers rendered him a good speculation to his owner. 
 
 If we were disposed to disgrace the name of sporting, 
 by inserting in its category events that have no redeem- 
 ing points to urge in mitigation of their usual atrocity, 
 we may say matches against time have no prescribed 
 season : they unfortunately, like many other acts of a 
 disgraceful nature, are ever in season, if an opportunity 
 to make money by cruelty or robbery, and sometimes 
 by both, presents itself. I am not one to carp at the 
 
THE SEASON. 113 
 
 calling upon any extraordinary powers of speed and 
 endurance in horse or man, when by mere fair exertion 
 such attributes can be exhibited. I have taxed the 
 powers I once possessed in my own person too often 
 and too severely, to be likely to be guilty of hypercriti- 
 cism on any event that has taken or may take place. I 
 have seen matches against time won by horses without 
 more exertion, or indeed nearly as much, as I have often 
 made myself; but because such a circumstance may 
 occasionally occur, it in no way renders unwarrantable 
 calls on the powers of the best of horses (for of the best 
 they must be) less cruel, less monstrous, or less atrocious. 
 Sport and amusement, w^here they exist, are no excuse 
 for wanton cruelty, or cruelty of any sort ; but in long 
 matches against time, there is neither sport nor amuse- 
 ment : a fiendish, disgraceful avarice is the only usual 
 incentive to making such a match. Witness, for instance, 
 the one that lately occurred in driving a pony from Oxford 
 to London, and back, where a brute in man's form could 
 sit for hours behind a too good little animal, and calmly, 
 and without any compunctious feeling, witness the powers 
 of nature gradually sinking under efforts to accomplish a 
 taskj that it will inflict eternal disgrace on the owner of 
 the animal to have attempted to make him accomplish. It 
 is true, that most laudable of societies, the one for the sup- 
 pression of cruelty, sent a proper person to witness the 
 match, and note down such cruelty as he might see take 
 place. Laudable as was the motive of the society in send- 
 ing, it availed little -. to our discredit as a nation, there was 
 not, nor is, any law to prevent such exhibition. The fine, if 
 the wager is lost, only makes the loss a mere trifle more ; 
 and if won, the savage who pockets his winnings laughs 
 at a fine that brings no punishment : give the fellow a 
 couple of hundred at the cart's tail, and then we should 
 
114 THE SEASON. 
 
 deter him from such conduct in future. It has been 
 very strongly and very properly proposed to do away 
 altogether v^^ith flogging in the army, nor ought a brave 
 fellow to be subject to such disgrace ; but we cannot 
 disgrace such a brute as I have alluded to, and, what is 
 worse, we cannot in any way severely punish him. I know 
 but of one way in which this could or can be legally done 
 — which is, for every man who holds himself, I will not 
 say a gentleman, but one wishing to be respected in the 
 town he lives, to evince his disapproval of such conduct 
 by never darkening the door of one who could perpe- 
 trate it. 
 
 But a far different subject now comes before us as 
 regards the season. It is now that thousands of the 
 loveliest forms and faces the world can produce arrive 
 from the country, and grace our metropolis, as if to 
 show the vast amount of beauty indigenous to our native 
 land : nor, in our happy country, is the contemplation of 
 such beauty confined to the saloons of its magnates ; no, 
 here, as the glorious tints of the sky are alike open to 
 the peasant as the peer, elevating the mind of man to 
 thoughts and feelings of sublimity, so does the contem- 
 plation of beauty in its softest guise raise the thoughts 
 to a proper appreciation of the fascination, worth, and 
 character of woman. 
 
 If anything were wanting to prove the influence, nay, 
 the sovereign sway of fashion, few things could do this 
 so efficaciously as the London season ; for be a man's 
 pursuits and propensities what they may, one and all, if 
 above the poorer classes, leave town and come to town 
 at the same time. The man fond of country sports, very 
 naturally resides in the country during those months his 
 favourite amusements can be pursued, and he sets the 
 enjoyments of those against the bleak and cheerless fea- 
 
THE SEASON. 115 
 
 tures of the country at such time ; but he is not alone 
 in residing out of town during the winter months. The 
 man who never saw or would wish to see a pack of 
 hounds, most unaccountably seeks his country seat at a 
 time when a love of sport alone makes it tolerable. 
 
 Few men, from inclination, pursuits, and habit, are 
 more attached to a country life than myself; few more 
 fret and chafe at being confined to London at a season 
 when I have from boyhood been accustomed to 
 
 " Top the barred gate and brush the thorny-twining hedge." 
 
 But if I cannot do that, or hear 
 
 " Shrill horns proclaim his flight," 
 
 I would rather in winter hear the horns of the itinerant 
 band of Germans, who give us an overture, or a selection 
 from one, in our streets, than revel in the sylvan discord 
 made by 
 
 " The noisy geese that gabble o'er the pool." 
 
 The beauties of the country must be appreciated by any 
 mind and taste not formed of the coarsest materials ; 
 but to be appreciated they must be seen ; and commend 
 me to any beauties visible in any ordinary locality, where 
 leafless trees, frost-parched meadows, and arable land 
 guiltless of a green stem, alone constitute the beauties of 
 nature, these enUvened by the occasional presence of 
 
 " A cock on a dunghill, or a crow on a tree."^ 
 
 The non-sportsman may say, that ensconced in an easy 
 chair in his library, he neither heeds the prospect out 
 of doors, or cares for society in. No doubt he might 
 thus sit 
 
 " Alone in his glory ," 
 
 I 2 
 
116 THE SEASON. 
 
 but SO he might in one of the old-fashioned, but truly 
 comfortable houses in Harley Street ; or if 
 
 " On sylvan scenes intent," 
 
 a house overlooking the park would give quite as much 
 reminiscence of the country in winter as any reasonable 
 man could require, so far as picturesque scenery in 
 December is concerned. 
 
 " The feathered songsters of the grove" are a constant 
 and fertile theme for poetic praise, and the country is 
 delightful when we do hear them ; but when we don't, 
 and listen and listen in the hope of hearing something 
 to remind us of animated nature, but cannot " by this 
 and that," as Pat says, I would rather hear oysters 
 bawled, as they passed my door, than hear nothing. 
 
 It may be asked, are these the feelings of a fox4iunter, 
 these the sentiments of a countryman ? Quite so ; that 
 is, they are about the feelings of a fox-hunter if debarred 
 from hunting fox, of a countryman if not (from any 
 cause) enabled to follow the pursuits of the country. A 
 more imaginative, more enthusiastic, or better-regulated 
 mind than mine might suggest the pleasure of lingering 
 about localities where such pursuits as he was wont to 
 join in are carried on : some men might find gratification 
 under such circumstances ; so they might in hngering in 
 
 " Some banquet-hall deserted." 
 
 I cannot even in imagination conceive any feeling but 
 that of melancholy regret in either case. Would the 
 direst London man feel happy in London, if prevented 
 seeing, hearing, or mixing in London pursuits ? I should 
 say not. If he remained in it under such privations, it 
 could only arise from his being the slave of habit. The 
 majority of those who remain in the country during the 
 winter season (not being sportsmen) do not stay there 
 
THE SEASON. 117 
 
 from liking the country, but from disliking still more to 
 be seen in London at any unfashionable season; they 
 punish themselves for fashion's sake. I must say, I 
 think fate awards a quite sufficient share of punishment 
 in this life to every man, and over which he has no con- 
 trol ; whether it is wise to punish ourselves for fashion's 
 sake, I leave wiser heads than mine to determine. 
 
 I believe (from hearsay) that the arrival of families 
 from the country, which may be considered as a proof 
 that the London season has commenced, has for more 
 than a century taken place at about the same time of the 
 year it does at present ; but 1 gather from the same 
 source, that the duration of the season has been con- 
 siderably extended. In the days of that truly English 
 monarch, George the Third, the royal birthday was the 
 4th of June ; this kept and passed, was the signal for 
 fashionable movement to country-seats or watering-places : 
 now grouse-shooting seems the first indication of any 
 move from the metropolis. I quite believe why the 
 period of arrival from the country has remained the 
 same for such a length of time, arises from a cause that 
 the non-sportsman would perhaps hold as infra dig. to 
 the magnates to permit to influence their movements ; 
 though in the respect alluded to, it certainly does. This 
 is fox-hunting. Even the non-protectionists (of foxes) 
 must admit that a vast number of the most influential 
 and noble of our land are fox-hunters. However fashion- 
 able it may be held to be as foreign as possible in our 
 habits, dress, pursuits, and amusements, the fox-hunting 
 blood of Englishmen still gamely fights, and defeats all 
 attempts to render that truly English sport less attrac- 
 tive — and let us hope it ever will do so. 
 
 Masters of hounds and their friends wifl not be beat 
 off their habit of seeing an April fox killed, and the end 
 
118 THE SEASON. 
 
 of the first week in April is the earliest period such men 
 will consent to leave their country-seats ; though, in 
 conformity with fashion, they do consent to continue the 
 season in London much longer than meets the private 
 incKnations of many of them. If any man wishes to be 
 convinced of the absorbing enthusiasm of fox-hunting, 
 its determined resistance to example or fashion by its 
 continuance will afford him quite sufficient proof. 
 
 The high and noble among the masters of fox-hounds 
 may, and many do, in conformity with the sway of 
 fashion, and the wishes of the fairer members of their 
 families, fall into style and habits in their houses strictly 
 foreign, consequently strictly fashionable. Their assem- 
 blies, conversations, nay, their dinners, are now often 
 quite foreign. The noble baron or " rich sirloin" of 
 beef, the plainly-roasted fat capon, the turkey and chine, 
 and — last remnant of old England — the ponderous plum- 
 pudding, are not only things untalked of, but absolutely 
 unseen — that is, on the table : whether such antediluvian 
 adjuncts may exist or not on side-tables, can be only 
 ascertained by diligent search through the printed carte 
 laid by the side of each invited guest; and there, if 
 among the host of foreign dishes enumerated such things 
 should by diligent search be found, the asking for either 
 would cause you to rank about as high in the opinion of 
 the attendants as would the fixing on a servant-of-all- 
 work among the domestics advertised in the Times. 
 
 A dinner-table was formerly held as a board, on which 
 was displayed the hospitality of the donor of the feast, 
 and the food for the guests ; the hostess, when visible 
 through the steam of abundance, was seen at the head 
 of the table ; mais nous avons change tout cela. Figurez- 
 vous a lady in the year '56, with a carving-knife in her 
 hand. " Are not then the good things of this life still 
 
THE SEASON. 119 
 
 produced on the dinner-table ?" might inquire some one 
 who had spent the last thirty years in the back woods of 
 America. No doubt they are — that is, such good things 
 as gratify the sight, not the gross sense of feeding. 
 There is the centre ornament that you must dodge round, 
 as you would Nelson's pillar, if you wish to get a glimpse 
 of your vis-a-vis. Plated epergnes, and nameless silver, 
 silver gilt, or silver manufactured under Messrs. Elking- 
 ton's process, into symbolic designs of endless variety ; 
 flowers at four times as much cost per head for each 
 guest as formerly gave the whole banquet : these con- 
 stitute the display on the dining-table. 
 
 " But nothing to eat on table," perseveres our uncom- 
 promising trans- Atlantic querist. Patience, my friend ; 
 you have only your first category of good things yet, you 
 will have two more : the last will enumerate various 
 admissible things, and by the time the ice makes its 
 appearance, if you have not fared luxuriously, I can 
 recommend but one course — go back to America, kill 
 a beaver, dress his tail yourself, you will then have 
 no difficulty in selecting the ^'plats' you wish to dine 
 from. 
 
 There can be no doubt of one thing : the high and 
 fashionable do lose the gratification of seeing their 
 country-seats when in the zenith of their beauty. I 
 should feel that no agrements of a London season could 
 in any way compensate for such loss ; but the feelings 
 of any particular man are no rule whereby to judge of 
 those of another, and the feelings of persons in one 
 position in society are no criterion at all by which to 
 appreciate those of persons in another. The man living 
 in a puggy house at forty-five pounds a year, may 
 " pugh" and " fugh" at the heat, and wonder a noble 
 hke, we will say, the Duke of Beaufort and family, 
 
120 THE SEASON. 
 
 should remain in, as it would be called, the heat of 
 London in July • every one would very properly wonder 
 that the noble duke should do so, if he felt the heat 
 described, but he does not ; the appliances to Beaufort 
 House render that mansion in all its parts as perfectly 
 cool as Badminton, or either of the other country resi- 
 dences annexed to the title. The dust of London is 
 another theme of animadversion from the mouths of 
 many. No doubt the inhabitant of Whitechapel or 
 Commercial Road does feel the dust intolerable, and, 
 as a matter somewhat to be wondered at, so usually does 
 he frequenting the road to Bayswater; but where the 
 aristocracy ride or drive, dust is unseen ; in fact, a 
 splashed riding-habit is a thing of no uncommon oc- 
 currence ; but a dusted riding-hat is unknown. 
 
 " The great ought to be made to feel dust and heat, 
 cold and wet, as well as others," says the low-born and 
 low-bred. Think ye so — why ? It is not their fault or 
 doing that you are poor or that they are rich ; and where 
 persons are deserving of consideration, the great being 
 rich is much oftener than is supposed to be the case, 
 a circumstance that often causes the effects of poverty 
 to be greatly ameliorated in the case of those that 
 are poor. 
 
 The sittings of the Houses of Parliament no doubt 
 greatly direct the stay of its members in London ; the 
 Peer, as a matter of course, indeed necessity, attends ; 
 but what is the incentive to Commoners ? Feeling, as 
 they do, the overwhelming wish to get M.P. attached to 
 their name, is a secret only in the keeping of the clique. 
 The expenses of getting in are great, the confinement of 
 remaining in is great, and if we are to believe assertion 
 from their own lips, their patronage now is anything but 
 great. A relative of mine, who was in Parliament, was 
 
THE SEASON. 121 
 
 once told by the then Minister, that he had asked for 
 more situations under Government for different persons, 
 and had more appointments ceded to his wish, than any 
 member then sitting. " I dare say I have," said my 
 grandfather (for it was he), " and so I intended it should 
 be. I am, my Lord, a man of pretty large independent 
 fortune, and should certainly never have troubled myself 
 to get into Parliament, but with a view to provide for 
 my friends." Members are either less thought of, or 
 think less of other persons, in these days. 
 
 Since the railroads have knocked up all other roads, 
 inns, or rather taverns and hotels (for the old regular 
 inns have long departed), look now to seasons far more 
 than they did in former times ; for then Bagnigge Wells, 
 Kilburn Wells, Copenhagen Fields, the Horns at Ken- 
 nington, and sundry other tea-gardens, were the limit 
 of the Sunday country excursions of metropolitan air- 
 seekers ; but now twenty miles " is too small a bound " 
 for them. Tea-gardens have vanished, from want of the 
 patronage of the cockney. Prince Walkers and the 
 George at Hounslow now no longer constantly expect 
 the traveller. Old Hartford Bridge could once calculate 
 on its regular receipts, and they were great ; so it may 
 now (if still an inn), and may calculate them at about 
 what were once the perquisites of its ostler. Hotels and 
 other places of public entertainment now show each side 
 the line of rail (not road), with perhaps a paltry stable 
 for three horses, when houses of the same size used to 
 have stabling for twenty : these, during the winter, 
 employ one man as boots, ostler, and gardener to a piece 
 of ground the size of a dining-room, unless a bowhng- 
 green is perpetrated ; the house, stable, garden, and 
 man, during winter, looking each as desolate as the 
 other. 
 
122 THE SEASON. 
 
 But summer alters the aspect of affairs ; fourth-class 
 waiters are engaged, who make as much clatter in a 
 room as does the locomotive on the rail. Parties of 
 ladies and gentlemen, comprising at different times inha- 
 bitants from the Minories and Hounsditch to Charing 
 Cross and Oxford Street, arrive ; these comprise two 
 classes — those who intend to dine at the ordinary at the 
 usual hour of two o'clock, or others who order a private 
 dinner at the politer hour of three ; and as, of course, 
 gentility is manifested by the expense incurred, a dinner 
 is ordered, amounting to three times the expense that 
 would be entered into in such a place, should a party 
 of gentlemen be obliged to dine there. Our private 
 party poison themselves with execrable wine, which they 
 gallantly press on the ladies ; on their retiring, pipes are 
 ordered, and some kind of manufacture called brandy is 
 also demanded : let us hope no serious catastrophe may 
 follow such amalgamation ; for if it should, a charge of 
 intended suicide I think would lie. 
 
 Our party of the ordinary sort, in the public room, 
 are by far the wiser of the two. A roast leg of mutton 
 at top, boiled round of beef at bottom, and a hospitable 
 beef- steak-pie to grace the centre, can hurt no man. 
 Potatoes are perfectly innocuous. Of the cabbage, with 
 its shining exterior indicative of its late close proximity 
 to the boiling beef, we will say little, except may the 
 powers of the stomach that can bear it, as Pat says, 
 " never grow less." Of the malt that we may suppose 
 accompanied the dinner, we will only conclude, that if a 
 man takes public-house beer, he holds confinement to 
 his bed from deranged stomach a pleasing little relief 
 from his usual occupation. But is this all ? No ; gin, 
 the cockney's Eldorado, his fides Achates, his gutta vit(S, 
 follows. Now let us do justice to gin : of all the abo- 
 
THE SEASON. 123 
 
 minations invented for the use of man, so far as flavour 
 goes, I do think gin the most abominable ; but there is 
 a peculiar quality in gin, that my old friend, the late 
 Mr. Warde, M.F.H., who was fond of it, once explained 
 in terms not to be mentioned here, that renders it, if 
 taken occasionally as a medicine, really salutary : thus I 
 will back our ordinary lot to feel far less ill effects from 
 their day^s pleasure than the more aristocratic mock 
 wine-bibbers. 
 
 The ladies returned to our first-rate party; tea is 
 ordered, and hot toast or hot rolls. Our ordinary party 
 also take tea, with mustard-and-cress, or as Bobadil 
 says, " a radish to rehsh with all." Punch, to keep all 
 quiet, follows the tea with the magnates. One of the 
 gentlemen, in gratitude to the compound he has par- 
 taken of, volunteers " Wine, rosy wine ;" a lady and 
 gentleman immolate that seemingly simple, but difficult 
 duet, " All's Well." Our party below, the gentlemen 
 waxing warm, now in their shirt-sleeves, prolonging the 
 contents of a clay as none but a regular smoker can, also 
 grow musical, and some one gives " Jump Jim Crow," 
 with proper gesticulations, much to the deHght of the 
 ladies, who exclaim, " Well now" — a somewhat inde- 
 finite exclamation I allow, but perfectly understood ^V^ 
 its place. The waiter at last, as directed, comes to give 
 a quarter of an hour's notice, prior to the arrival of the 
 train that usually takes such parties back to Town j 
 pipes are put down, and coats put on ; great coats and 
 railroad wrappers are produced, and the bill produced 
 and paid, the gentlemen having taken enough, take a 
 little more, that is something " short," to keep ofi* the 
 night air ; the ladies are invited to do the same, who 
 " well now" again at the idea. The train is reached. 
 No one would insinuate that the " cold without" or the 
 
124 THE SEASON. 
 
 " warm within" had begun to take any effect; but 
 certes the ladies laugh somewhat often and somewhat 
 loud, and sundry little half-screams and chidings indi- 
 cate certain little gallantries on the part of the gentle- 
 men when a tunnel hides any hand that might inad- 
 vertently stray from its usual course. Well ! if our 
 party are a shade behind-hand in manner and habit from 
 one returning from a flower-show at Chiswick, they are 
 ten times more jovial, and probably to the full as happy ; 
 so let them remain : their ideas of amusement injure 
 no one ; so let us not turn cynic, and grudge them their 
 season. 
 
 But is the season for all sporting at an end in April ? 
 Quite the reverse : one of its most exhilarating features 
 has but commenced, namely, racing. Look not invidi- 
 ously at me, brother fox-hunters ; but I do love a bit of 
 racing. I love a race-horse ; I really warmly regard 
 riding-boy, head-lad, trainer, and jockey, when each does 
 his duty. I hold the owner of race-horses, when he 
 runs them as a true sportsman, in the highest respect, 
 as one who supports a national amusement — as one who 
 encourages a breed of the finest animals in creation, and 
 conduces to the gratification of thousands ; but I do 
 most cordially and wickedly hate, detest, and despise 
 those who would, and often do, thwart the success of 
 such a man. I hate their books, lists, and all that 
 appertains to them. To each severally and separately 
 I say, your season has commenced ; to you may it be a 
 short one, and your last. 
 
GOING THE WHOLE HOG. 
 
 Most civilized nations are sufficiently acquainted with 
 the general character and habits of each other, to be 
 perfectly conversant with the peculiarities of each, and, 
 as single individuals are prone to do, consider that as 
 extraordinary (if not reprehensible or ridiculous) which 
 others do, if at variance with universal, or indeed parti- 
 cular habit. 
 
 The Frenchman holds John Bull as gross, because 
 speaking of him, as a type of his nation, he likes his 
 beef, veal, and mutton roast, instead of stewed. Johnny 
 returns the compliment with interest, because the 
 Frenchman does at times eat frogs, but at no time 
 subjects himself to a fair stand-up fight with fists only. 
 The Italian and Spaniard are held by the inhabitants of 
 Great Britain as assassins, because they avenge their 
 wrongs, or gratify unjustifiable feelings by the stiletto : 
 no one doubts the enormity of such crimes ; but is the 
 crime of burking, garotting, or throat-cutting, one ex- 
 hibiting less of the cowardly assassin, than does the 
 stiletto's point? I should say such show a far more 
 determined cruelty and brutality of mind and act ; and 
 we must, with regret, allow that when murder is com- 
 mitted in this country, it has not usually even the pal- 
 liation of mind frenzied by injury, real or supposed ; but 
 has for its incentive, that chief part of English ideas of 
 
126 . GOING THE WHOLE HOG. 
 
 all good, namely, getting possession of money. Some 
 persons would imagine, that no man could traverse a 
 transatlantic wood without finding a bowie-knife stuck 
 into his body, or could meet an Indian and come off 
 with the hair on his head. This I could assure such 
 person : he would be far more likely to bring away his 
 scalp safe and sound from among a thousand Indians, 
 than he would his purse from among a similar number 
 of his fellow-countrymen, viewing the funeral of the 
 Duke of Wellington ; and further, I can tell him that, 
 on the score of any compunctious feeling, his scalp 
 would be taken by the pale-faced London pickpocket, 
 just as soon as his purse, if he could whip it off as 
 quickly as a copper-faced Indian, and the wig-makers 
 would purchase it.- If such were the case, and oppor- 
 tunity offered, there would be more bare pates in Lon- 
 don, by a hundred to one, than in all the back woods of 
 America. Rowland might shut up his Macassar oil 
 shop, and Mr. Ross, the wig-maker, would literally 
 supply perukes from pole to pole. 
 
 To our American friends are attributed (or, at least, 
 we attribute) two peculiarities — a levelling distinction 
 of persons, and carrying all they do to the extreme ; in 
 a more concise and figurative term, " going the whole 
 hog." I do not quite see that they level persons more 
 than is done here, but they do it in a different way : for 
 instance, they hold that, prima facie, all men are equal, 
 and that merit alone, of some sort or other, raises one 
 man above another ; thus, though they may level the 
 mere persons of man, they in no shape level their attri- 
 butes. In England, we level far more ; for if a man 
 belongs to an influential family, be he fool or philoso- 
 pher, he is pretty sure to command (or, at all events, 
 get) places, though he may be quite unfit to fill them 
 
GOING THE WHOLE HOG. 127 
 
 — sinecures, if quite incapable, and pension for having 
 held high situations, in which, possibly he did nothing. 
 If rich, a man is not only considered as somebody, but 
 as a most worshipped body ; if not rich, he is without 
 distinction — nobody. If this is not levelHng all men, 
 en masse, it is a sweeping levelling of them in classes. 
 It may appear to us an incongruity to hear a person 
 keeping a store or public-house addressed as Colonel : 
 it sounds strange, granted ; but if the man has com- 
 manded a regiment of any sort, Colonel he virtually is : 
 against this, what have we to say, to addressing a pork- 
 butcher as My Lord, because his brother tradesmen 
 have chosen to select him as their head and chief ? 
 This strikes me as " going the whole hog," in point of 
 elevation, with a vengeance. 
 
 I humbly conceive there is no nation of earth who 
 goes the entire animal more than John Bull. M. Kos- 
 suth was pretty well aware of our tendency in this 
 respect, and found a pretty sprinkling of those, not only 
 going the whole hog, but the entire fool in his case. 
 We cannot fairly and Uberally patronise a singer, so as 
 to enable the artist to get a thousand a year ; but a 
 hundred a night is to be the little modicum of which 
 John Ball allows himself to be gulled. We will set 
 aside Mademoiselle Jenny Lind ; no price was too much 
 to pay her, not as a cantatrice only, but as a high- 
 minded, liberal, and exemplary woman. But against 
 this, I could mention a retired singer, who, as a man, 
 once created as great a furore, though during a long 
 life he never gave away as much as Jenny has done in a 
 single gift, among the many she has given ; thus show- 
 ing, that fashion, furore, and the " whole hog" system, 
 has more, or quite as much influence, as a proper appre- 
 ciation of amiability and worth. Had the beastly exhi- 
 
128 GOING THE WHOLE HOG, 
 
 bitiori of a woman on a bull's back, attached to a bal- 
 loon, been allowed to go on, probably it would have 
 been " a hit," and she would have been patronised, 
 Cremorne Gardens crammed, and the public disgraced. 
 To save our credit somewhat, we have in the United 
 Empire one society, and that but little encouraged, that 
 is a check on such unnatural exhibitions. In this, how- 
 ever laudable it must be allowed such check to be, we 
 certainly cannot be accused of going the whole anything, 
 unless it be the most blessed apathy. 
 
 Going up the Rhine is just now an immense hog 
 with our countrymen, and those who are lured there by 
 the somewhat exaggerated description of " the beautiful 
 Rhine," may boast some elevation of thought and mind 
 in their determination ; but it is visited by thousands 
 who would hold the renowned Tun of Heidelberg as the 
 best thing they had seen, if it were to be seen ; the 
 inundation of such beings rendering the line of tour 
 about as pleasant as the road to Brook Green Fair in 
 fair time. Thus, the man of any mind, who travels 
 with the laudable wish to become acquainted with 
 foreign countries, foreigners, and foreign habits, is gra- 
 tified, each step he takes and way he turns, by meeting, 
 in the shape of humanity, numberless specimens of 
 ignorance and vulgarity, that with a blush he must 
 admit to be his countrymen, with this addendum, that 
 as such persons " like to live well when they are out 
 pleasuring," the man content with his cotelette and 
 half bottle of Rhenish, finds he pays for it about the 
 price of a good dinner at Stevens' ; and a bed, where 
 one is to be had, causes sleeping to be a most expensive 
 relaxation; the usual result of such trip to persons who 
 had no business in such places, being — the son returns 
 as ignorant as before, but a greater puppy ; the young 
 
GOING THE WHOLE HOG. 129 
 
 ladies who seldom did much that they ought to do, now 
 of course will do nothing ; mamma gives more " tea and 
 talk parties " than before, having more to talk about ; 
 and pa' drinks more porter than ever, from lately having 
 had none to drink, at least none of Barclay and Perkins's 
 genuine, fresh pumped up for his use. A travelled gen- 
 tleman is an entertaining and instructive companion : 
 a travelled vulgarian only disgusts by his ignorant, in- 
 vidious, and illiberal remarks on every person and every- 
 thing he has seen, that he had not seen in his own country. 
 John Bull has the character of always grumbling, at 
 home : I suppose he does so ; but this I know, a veri- 
 table John Bull grumbles twice as much abroad. 
 
 John has lately had a hog of still more unusual size 
 to have a go at, and at him he went headlong, and a 
 grand Exhibition many made of themselves in so doing. 
 No doubt the idea and intent under which the project 
 was conceived and carried out, was a great and philan- 
 thropic one, and of incalculable benefit it might have 
 been, if the public had regarded it as it was meant they 
 should have done, namely, as a place of instruction as 
 well as amusement ; but ninety-nine in a hundred went 
 to it as a puppet-show — a kind of Punch-and-Judy 
 affair — from which they came away about as much im- 
 proved as they do after seeing the dog take the devil by 
 the nose, which is certainly very funny ; and no doubt 
 so, many thought, were the Gladiator and the Asiatic 
 Howdah. I have sounded a few mechanics on the 
 results of their visits to the Exhibition, and, to their 
 credit, I can say most of them had made acute obser- 
 vation on different specimens of their craft exhibited 
 there ; but among a class, from whom one might have 
 expected better things, very few indeed had cast an eye 
 on anything of a scientific character ; in fact, such parts 
 
 K 
 
130 GOING THE WHOLE HOG. 
 
 of tlie building as were devoted to such objects were all 
 but deserted. The stalls where silks, tapestry, Bohe- 
 mian glass, and bijouterie were displayed, were thronged 
 by spectators ; the poor Greek slave was stared at till 
 she seemed ashamed of herself, or the gazers ; but of 
 these not one in ten would have detected it had she 
 been humpbacked, if the malformation had been slight ; 
 they gazed because she was the Greek Slave, not because 
 she was a beautiful figure, probably thinking how much 
 improved she would have been by a hustle^ not at the 
 same time being shrewd enough to think how much 
 worse they would have looked without one. That ex- 
 traordinary machine that drew up water and threw it off 
 in Niagarian cataracts, drew some attention while work- 
 ing, and sundry little squeals and squalls lest it should 
 splash the gossamer dress, or bonnet ; but any obser- 
 vation on the important purposes to which it might be 
 applied, I will, in courtesy, suppose to have been made 
 mentally. I certainly heard one from, no doubt, a very 
 precocious juvenile — " Lor', Pa ! it's twice as big as our 
 shower bath !" Mamma (I suppose it was) caught him 
 up in a rapture of delight, no doubt cherishing the 
 astute remark, to be retailed as indicative of a scientific 
 turn of mind in her pet. Well, it did show the boy 
 was led to make comparisons. I heard no one else even 
 go so far. Let us hope that, the first furore having 
 subsided, the second edition of the Exhibition will, to 
 speak figuratively, be regarded as what it was meant to 
 be — an immense book of knowledge, open to all, though 
 hitherto but looked at in a cursory way by the many. 
 
 I will now get a little more into my right line of 
 country. We are told that formerly the real living hog 
 was an animal pursued in England — rather a crusty 
 gentleman to make game of, we will say; but as game I 
 
GOING THE WHOLE HOG. 131 
 
 believe he was held. In Germany, I believe, he is still 
 an object of the chase ; and in India his wild habits 
 render him no bad apology for an Ashby Gorse fox ; 
 but we have lately had a touch at the whole hog in 
 another way. Thousands have gone to California, 
 thousands to a nearly opposite side of the globe — gold- 
 digging. But tens of thousands have had their gold- 
 digging, or rather digging for it, without stirring from 
 London. They have not looked to this river, that ravine, 
 or the other mountain as their ideal mines of wealth ; 
 but they have had their Dutchman, Voltigeur, Tedding- 
 ton, Nancy, Baron Nicholson, and sundry other objects 
 from which they trusted the California would come to 
 them, instead of troubling themselves by going to Cali- 
 fornia ; and no doubt a mine of wealth some list- 
 keepers hit upon at first. Oh ! that "atfrsL^" How 
 many thousands of persons made their thousands at first ! 
 how few came off winners, or even scathless, at last ! 
 Although it is quite certain many list-keepers made a 
 great deal of money at first, I very much doubt if they 
 did so in the end. Betting offices were suggested as 
 localities where betting men and sporting men might 
 find ready means to lay such odds as were the current 
 odds, as regarded different horses, in different races. 
 These odds were usually taken from those betted at 
 Tattersall's, when on races that were in the betting; 
 there we will, therefore, suppose they were fair odds. 
 So far, though harm there might, and may be, in any 
 place that aff'ords facility for betting, there was no more 
 barm in a betting-house existing in Cranbourn Street, 
 than in St. James's : thus far, all went on well enough 
 for a time ; the list-keeper betted the betting man the 
 current odds against the horse he selected ; the other 
 backed the horse or horses to such reasonable amount as 
 
 K 2 
 
132 GOING THE WHOLE HOG. 
 
 he though proper, and at first all list-keepers paid, nor 
 was there any grumbling on either side, or much harm 
 done ; but shortly, " the whole hog " mania stepped in 
 here. So because Mr. This, Captain That, a trainer, a 
 jockey, and a groom backed horses, a whole host of 
 idiots — at least, idiots in this particular — must do the 
 same. Government clerks, merchants' and lawyers' 
 clerks, shopmen, shopboys, apprentices, and porters, all 
 at once fancied they could get money by betting on 
 what they of course knew nothing on earth about ; from 
 this, of course, they lost their money; so would the 
 list-keeper lose, if he commenced dealing or trafficking 
 in muslins or mutton-pies, if he knew nothing of either. 
 Then came the outcry that betting-houses were traps for 
 the unwary. We might just as well call Tattersall's 
 sale a trap, because, if a man, knowing nothing of 
 horses, chose to go and buy there, the odds are, he gets 
 a lame, half-blind, broken-winded, or restive brute for 
 his money. What business had he there ? Mr. Tat- 
 tersall did not ask or induce him to pick out a parti- 
 cular horse, or to buy at all ; and knowing him, as I do, 
 I am quite sure he would recommend (if asked) such a 
 man not to buy without better advice than his own. 
 The list-keeper gave no advice ; for of course no one 
 would take it, or suppose he would give an opinion to 
 put money in another man's pocket, and out of his own. 
 There being places where a man may receive a hundred 
 for risking one sovereign, would induce, and no doubt 
 has induced, thousands to risk their money, who would 
 have kept it in their pockets, if no such places had 
 existed. The truth is, it is not that the fair list-keeper 
 was a rogue or a trap, but that half his customers were 
 fools, or they would not have dabbled in what they 
 could know nothing about. I really consider the 
 
GOING THE WHOLE HOG. 133 
 
 business and system of a respectable betting-office was 
 as fail' as any game of chance can possibly be, — ten 
 thousand times more fair than most public billiard-tables. 
 Here is often a trap laid for a young player ; for he plays 
 comparative ignorance, and open display of what he can 
 do, against consummate skill and masked play. 
 
 Now comes the accusation against the list-keeper, of 
 taking bets on scratched horses. This, probably, has 
 occasionally been done, but not by the better class. But, 
 suppose it had, I would just ask persons in the habit of 
 betting, one question : — If they had got intelligence that 
 such a horse had won a race, before it reached the list- 
 keeper, and they saw that horse open on his list, would 
 they not instantly back him to the greatest amount they 
 possibly could ? I care not what they might answer ; 
 but I tell them they would. So it is not all honour on 
 one side, and roguery on the other ; but sometimes it 
 was which rogue could be the quickest. 
 
 Having now said what I believe to be fair, as regards 
 the many respectable men who were list-keepers — and 
 many there were as respectable as other men whose 
 business it is to make money — we will turn to hundreds 
 in the same line who were anything but respectable. 
 Seeing many betting-offices doing well (or, at least, 
 seeming to do so), they could not be permitted to go on 
 without opposition. So a pack of scamps, who could 
 just find means to erect a desk, got a show-board made, 
 and took a front room, or ground-floor, at a guinea 
 a-week, perhaps paying a week in advance, and set up a 
 betting-office. Could any man be pitied who was duped 
 out of his money by such men — men known to no one, 
 unless to such as most men would be ashamed to be 
 known to ? But even here, such man-traps, as no doubt 
 they were, were not traps in the way the public suppose. 
 
134 GOING THE WHOLE HOG. 
 
 They betted fairly enough, so far as giving sufficient 
 odds : the unfairness was, they gave too long odds. The 
 trap was in their running off without paying. They took 
 no advantage by betting a novice ten to one, when twenty 
 was the real betting. Any child might get the proper 
 odds laid him. The trap and rascality was, in racing 
 phrase, " bolting when called upon," or, indeed, before. 
 If a fool will put his finger in the fire, let him, — he gets 
 burnt : but all the fires in London need not be put out. 
 Keep the fool at-home, or let some one accompany him 
 with a string to him, and then the fires may go on, for 
 such persons to warm themselves by as are conversant 
 with the nature of burning matters. Scamps and rogues 
 of the very lowest degree, no doubt, were many keepers 
 of betting-lists. Yet, even among those, perhaps some 
 were men with large famihes, and no means to support 
 them by. These men might not set out with a determi- 
 nation to rob ; but, on the contrary, hoped so to square 
 their books as to go on ; for it must be quite clear it 
 would be more to a man's interest to make his (say) two 
 hundred a-year, than to make himself an avowed rogue, 
 and run off with three hundred — perhaps less — of the 
 pubUc's money. But a particular event came off — did 
 so in a way to call for money on the list-keeper's part. 
 He had no capital to back himself on, and was swamped. 
 Down he went, or rather (in this) off he went. It might 
 truly be said, he should not have risked other persons' 
 money. No doubt, he should not. But it is not quite 
 unnatural that he should have risked the money belonging 
 to those he cared nothing for, rather than to a certainty 
 see those dear to him starve. 
 
 " He ought to starve, or sweep the streets, rather than 
 do wrong. I would !" says a man with his bottle of 
 madeira, or even humble port, before him. 
 
GOING THE WHOLE HOG. 135 
 
 "How do you know that ?" another might say; "it 
 is very easy to be courageous with a red hot poker in 
 your hand, and no one to oppose you. It is very easy 
 to be the height of honour, with no temptation to be 
 otherwise." 
 
 " Nothing should make me do a dishonourable thing," 
 again says the man with eight hundred a-year to keep 
 him honest. 
 
 All that I should say to him, in compliment to his 
 boast that he would not do wrong, would be, " What a 
 precious rascal you would be, if you would." And when 
 I saw him with his broom in his hand, actually sweeping, 
 I should believe him ; but till then I should be some- 
 what sceptical. " Human nature is human nature still," 
 and that is not saying it is the soul of honour, or honesty 
 either. 
 
 I remember once buying a very clever-looking horse 
 at auction, that I had never seen till at the hammer. The 
 moment he was put into the stable I saw he was a lame 
 one. Now, though I had been simpleton enough to 
 purchase a horse of which I knew nothing, and, further, 
 which looked worth eighty, though I bought him at 
 thirty- five, I was not silly enough to go and complain to 
 the auctioneer, or let my folly be seen \ so I got him 
 saddled, got on him, and clapping my heels to him, I 
 cantered him out of the yard; so no one but myself 
 guessed I had got hold of a screw. However, I found 
 the lameness proceeded only from a very bad corn in a 
 state of suppuration. I sold him in less than a month, 
 with a three-quarter shoe on, for seventy. 
 
 It may be said I had no cause to complain. As it 
 turned out, I had not ; but I did not know it when I 
 took him off. He might have been an incurably lame 
 one, for all I then knew. 
 
136 GOING THE WHOLE HOG. 
 
 Now, this bears closely on people going to promiscuous 
 betting-houses. They lose their money, and then, in- 
 stead of quietly putting up with the loss, they go 
 proclaiming their folly all over the town. What business 
 have they betting at all ? And, above all, what business 
 had they risking their money with a person of whom 
 they knew nothing ? Why, about as much as I had to 
 buy a horse of which T knew nothing. 
 
 Peter Pindar mentions, in one of his works, a sailor 
 who would always shirk going to prayers ; and one 
 Sunday morning the boatswain roused him out from 
 behind a cask, and ordered him to go and attend the 
 church service. " I'll go," said the fellow ; " but, mind, 
 G — d d — n me if Pll pray." 
 
 You can no more make people leave off betting, if 
 disposed to bet, than make them pray if they have no 
 sense of religion in them. 
 
 Now, what has the putting down of betting-houses 
 virtually said to the public ? Why, this : " You are such 
 a set of fools, that unless we put the means of getting 
 into mischief out of your way, you will be sure to get 
 into it." The Serpentine river will drown people who 
 cannot swim, if they are foohsh enough to go into its 
 deep parts. Is it to be dried up on that account? There 
 it is, and there were the betting- houses : no one was 
 forced or asked to walk into either. Let them keep out 
 of both ; then neither could do them any harm. But it 
 may very justly be said, betting-houses induced people 
 to bet. Doubtless they did : so does the river induce 
 people to cool themselves in it, in hot weather. They 
 must not, however, unless they are swimmers, go into it 
 in improper places : nor must they bet, unless proficient 
 in betting ; and then they must go to proper places to 
 bet, just as much as they must to bathe ; otherwise, they 
 
GOING THE WHOLE HOG. 137 
 
 will get swamped in both cases. Putting down betting- 
 houses by the Legislature was, after all, treating the 
 public like a great booby, who has not sense to see a 
 fire, without putting his fingers into it. Let him burn 
 his fingers. No doubt he will roar out lustily. Other 
 boys will ask what he roars for. He will tell them he 
 put his fingers in the fire, and burnt them. Hearing 
 this, the others will keep their fingers out of fires, 
 though a hundred burned round. So, when older boobies 
 lose their money, and tell how and where they lost it, 
 others will keep out of places of the same kind, so soon 
 as they are satisfied they will lose their money there. 
 But it is quite certain, till this is the case they will not — 
 legislate as you will. 
 
 Let it not be supposed I would not hold in respect 
 any measure that would put down betting in all its 
 phases. No man ever has shunned it more than myself. 
 But I fear it will be found, that nothing but the popu- 
 lation themselves can put it down. Betting-houses might 
 all have been put down in a month, if the public had 
 chosen they should be so. Had people kept away from 
 them, they would all have disappeared much faster than 
 they had accumulated. Sensible people did keep from 
 them, or betted properly. It may be said, " It is not 
 from the fear of men of sense losing their money that we 
 put them down." On whose account, then, did you 
 resolve to take the step ? The true answer must be — 
 " On account of the booby alluded to." And who is he ? 
 Why, a large portion of the public. 
 
 If we saw a man of sporting cut coming out of a 
 betting-office, we should not set Jdm down as a simpleton ; 
 nor should we any man, whatever his cut might be, if 
 we knew he was conversant with the business — for busi- 
 ness it is. But what should we say of a man going to 
 
138 GOING THE WHOLE HOG. 
 
 dabble in the Stock Exchange, if, like myself, for instance, 
 he did not know Three per Cent. Consols from Reduced 
 or Unredeemed somethings I have heard of, but neither 
 remember, nor know what they mean if I did ? Yet 
 would, and did, people go to betting -houses, who knew 
 no more of the relative merits of horses, than I do of the 
 chances, or rising or falling of funds or stocks, or what- 
 ever they are called. Then came a dodge on the part of 
 the public, and, no doubt, a knowing one they thought 
 it. They consulted advertising oracles, having " a cer- 
 tainty " for every event that is to come off. It seems 
 almost a slur on public sense, to believe men can be 
 gulled by such assertions. Yet, daily experience tells us 
 that it is so. Does it never strike people, that if the 
 Cotherstones, Voltigeurs, Harry Edwards, Chifneys, and 
 scores of others, had certainties, that they need not solicit 
 half-crown "tips?" Why, one racing season, with cer- 
 tainties to bet on, would make a man a millionaire. The 
 best certainty a man could go on, would be to bet the 
 oracles ten to one against each of their prophecies. If 
 the prophets Avould take the bet, which they would not, 
 the better of the odds would not do badly. 
 
 Then there was another dodge in practice. A given 
 number of sapient young, old, or mixed gentlemen 
 clubbed together, and made up a weekly purse for some 
 fellow who had tact enough to persuade them he got cer- 
 tain stable information from all the training establishments 
 we know of, and on his advice they betted their money. 
 Very likely he did know, not only more, but a good deal 
 more, than his paymasters. He tells them, to use the 
 usual term, he knows " where the money is on." It is 
 all nonsense ; and he is aware it is. AVhere and when 
 the thing is to be done in a particular way, the scent is 
 
GOING THE WHOLE HOG. 139 
 
 among a very few indeed, and is only found out when 
 the event is over, and not always then. 
 
 The great cleverness shown by these prophets and 
 touts, is, the convincing their dupes that, hit for a 
 something, the horse they named must have won. No 
 doubt he must have done so, if he had not been beat ; 
 and the hd for is, that their assurance as to how the 
 race was intended to come off, or did come off, would 
 have been correct, hut that they knew nothing about the 
 matter. Why, these very men would, if they had a 
 scent worth knowing, keep it to themselves, and not spoil 
 their own market by telling it to others. 
 
 Now, I really am a prophet that may be depended on ; 
 for I tell the large majority of those " going the whole 
 hog " in betting, that all of them will in the end rue the 
 doing so, and will lose their money ; and those who bet 
 on purchased advice, will find out what the figurative 
 description of the animal means — namely, " Great cry, 
 and little wool." 
 
 Well, betting-list houses have been put down. So 
 much the better. The great were strenuous enough in 
 their measures there; though, at worst, betting only 
 causes money to change hands. It is still in the country ; 
 not lost. Now, where going the whole hog in ignorance, 
 imbecihty, apathy, and clique courtesy, has immolated 
 human life in thousands, and money in hundreds of 
 thousands, let us see whether those in power will be as 
 strenuous in their measures to censure and put down 
 their compeers, whose acts have been more fatal in their 
 effects than all the miserable betting-hsts in London. 
 Rank, place, power, esprit de corps, and (for all we 
 know) gain, or hopes of gain, in the great, have, figura- 
 tively, made them list-keepers in the great game of the 
 
140 GOING THE WHOLE HOG. 
 
 state ; and the country has been the sufferer. But one 
 class of that state have at least opened their eyes. It 
 will, perhaps, be well if the other open their ears, albeit 
 they may hear some unpleasant truths. 
 
 In sporting phrase, we have " scratched " a few of the 
 over-weighted and incompetent ones. We may possibly 
 see some of the others pulled up, though as yet making 
 strong play— /or themselves. 
 
AMATEURS AND PROFESSIONALS. 
 
 We all know there exists a direct line of demarcation 
 between the professional and non -professional, in all the 
 pursuits and avocations that both undertake, or rather 
 perform ; and such distinction may at first appear so 
 perfectly demonstrative as to require but little consider- 
 ation, and less, or perhaps no explanation. It will not, 
 however, be found quite so easy in many cases as it may 
 be imagined, to find out the precise distinguishing point 
 or hne where the limit of the amateur ends, and that of 
 the professional begins, or vice versa. 
 
 Professors there are, goodness (or rather badness) 
 knows, in plenty in all cases ; and most people, I 
 imagine, have found such class particularly numerous 
 among friends and acquaintance ; but when they are 
 really called upon, they fall off so much on trial, that 
 they, so far from shewing themselves even amateurs, are 
 found to be " journeymen, and bad ones too" — they act 
 up to their professions " so abominably." 
 
 Returning to professionals, in the ordinary phases of 
 professions, I consider the distinctive marks to be — one 
 who has been taught any craft by a professor, with a 
 view to acting professionally, as a means of making an 
 income, or adding to one. If a man has been thus 
 qualified, but has never acted professionally, he cannot 
 be termed a professional ; though if a man may be self- 
 
142 ^ AMATEURS AND PROFESSIONALS. 
 
 taught, and makes a living, or greatly adds to his means 
 of living by acting professionally, he may, in many cases, 
 be very appropriately termed a professional, for he does 
 for pay that v^hich professionals do. 
 
 We will come, by degrees, to sporting avocations, 
 vrherein the professional is employed. Mr. Benjamin 
 Marshall, the animal painter (deceased), though at the 
 top of his profession, or at all events in its first rank in 
 his day, was never (as he has told me) professionally 
 instructed ; yet he established a new style of painting, as 
 regards light and shade, that at the time perfectly as- 
 tonished the public. Ilypercriticism could not call him 
 otherwise than professional, though not professionally 
 taught. 
 
 I know a lady who has studied drawing from child- 
 hood, under professors, and great credit she does to her 
 instructors ; she did not study with a view to making 
 drawing a profession ; circumstances have since rendered 
 it convenient, though not necessary, to turn her acquire- 
 ment to account; at times she does so, both as regards 
 the sale of drawings, and also in instructing. Not being 
 publicly a professor, she may by some be still held as an 
 amateur. I must consider her professional, as I do all 
 who perform any professional calUng for pay. 
 
 I will now touch on authors, and very ticklish gentle- 
 men they mostly are to touch, be their usual themes what 
 they may. Their being professionals or not, I consider, 
 in the strict sense of the word, depends on circumstances. 
 Lord Byron was a very voluminous author ; he was paid, 
 no doubt ; but, at the same time, he was a hterary noble- 
 man of unrivalled imaginative and poetic powers, who 
 chose to write. His afterwards selling what he had 
 written, I do not consider made him professional. If a 
 man is regularly engaged to write as an author, be it 
 
AMATEURS AND PROFESSIONALS. 143 
 
 in what way or on what subject it may, he is a profes- 
 sional author ; if not, he is an individual who at times 
 avails himself of such talent as he may possess, and makes 
 money by it when he can. I should sny-, it is being in 
 the habit of engaging to do a thing for pay, that makes it 
 a profession, and the man a professional. 
 
 Now comes the tug of war — " define what is a gentle- 
 man jockey." Good reader, I shrink from such a task ; 
 for wherever and whenever we touch on the definition of 
 a gentleman, as it afl'ects any particular individual, or 
 indeed class of individuals, we are pretty sure to get into 
 a scrape, and render ourselves liable to be charged with 
 ignorance, prejudice, partiality, or malevolence, or perhaps 
 all together ; unless in a case where, in applying the term 
 " gentleman," or " plebeian," its appropriateness is so un- 
 equivocal as to prevent the possibihty of a diversity of 
 opinion. But although I will "touch not" either "the 
 lords" or gentlemen " anointed," I w^ill venture a few 
 remarks on professional or non-professional riders as 
 jockeys, leaving the pretensions of any and all as gentle- 
 men, to pass the ordeal of what would be considered as 
 authority, which what I might say perhaps would not. 
 
 I have often heard much outcry against races expressly 
 arranged for gentlemen riders, with, I must say, I think, 
 no clause in favour of such objection; but on the con- 
 trary, with no little probability of producing a bad eff'ect, 
 or, at all events, tending to prevent the progress of a 
 good one. Such outcry as I have mentioned, I have 
 only found raised by a certain clique, or persons enter- 
 taining similar views and wishes. Why do such so 
 virulently abuse races ridden by gentlemen ? Is it from 
 the only objectionable feature I should bring against 
 them, namely, that horses do certainly often get much 
 abused from the want of skill and judgment of many such 
 
144 AMATEURS AND PROFESSIONALS. 
 
 riders ? Is it this consideration that produces the whole- 
 sale anathemas brought forward against non-professional 
 jockeys ? Not a bit ; the set loudest in their depreca- 
 tions would see a horse cut up piecemeal, if it could 
 promote their interest that he should be thus treated. 
 The secret, or rather fact (for I should think it could be 
 no secret), is where gentlemen ride in gentlemen's races : 
 they mostly do so from a love of sport, and, no doubt, a 
 little harmless vanity. That vanity is gratified by the 
 dress in itself ; is more gratified by the preliminary canter 
 in sight of their friends ; but immeasurably more grati- 
 fied, if their horse is proclaimed a winner ; which, in most 
 cases, leads, deservedly or not, to a compliment — nay, 
 sundry compliments to his jockey. 
 
 Aware that the desire to win is in such a man so strong, 
 quite satisfies certain parties that the influence of money 
 would here succumb to that of vanity, and more than all, 
 any rascally offer made would probably ensure a kicking 
 or horsewhipping, and consequent exposure ; and as a 
 further guarantee of the fairness of intention in such 
 races, they are not often for sums, nor is the betting on 
 them heavy enough to warrant a moderate independence 
 being offered, as an inducement to risk character. There- 
 fore, should there be a black sheep among the lot, he 
 would not be weak enough to bleat here. Such races 
 are therefore lost time to the " leg," who takes the time 
 the running them occupies, as the proper one in which to 
 take his creature comforts. 
 
 There is a further circumstance attending races to be 
 ridden by gentlemen, which would always render betting 
 in such events more complex than when taking place on 
 others. This is, the quality of the riders, as to skill, 
 judgment, and horsemanship, which varies quite as 
 much — indeed, a vast deal more than do the pretensions 
 
AMATEURS AND PROFESSIONALS. 145 
 
 of the horses as racers ; so here must come in no little 
 handicapping of the riders. 
 
 . We will suppose a Welter Cup on the eve of being 
 run for. '' What will win the Cup ?" says a country 
 gentleman, who likes to have a trifle on, be the event 
 what it may, just to keep his mind a little on the quivivc. 
 *' Why," replies the friend addressed, " it will be between 
 three of them — Tom Leadem, Contest, and Lucy Lag- 
 last." " What on earth do you mean, my good fellow ?" 
 cries the first speaker ; " why, when the three ran to- 
 gether in the spring, for the Hunter's Stakes, at Early, 
 Lucy was not even placed !" " Well ! what odds will 
 you bet me she don't win?" " Why, anything you like 
 to name in reason." " I'll take twenty to one, and give 
 you the field, including the two favourites." " You shall 
 have it, my victim, with pleasure," cries our country 
 friend, laughing, " Well !" replies the other, laughing 
 in his turn, " as I am a victim, I will make up my mind 
 to be victimized. Will you make it fivers instead of 
 sovs. ?" " I will ; and now, my good fellow, do tell me 
 what hiduces you to make the bet?" " Did not you sec 
 the mare run in the last race?" " T did, and saw Mr. 
 Choke'em ride her head off." " Do you know who steers 
 her to-morrow ?" "No," says the other, "I do not." 
 " Well then, I'll tell you. Captain Eagle-eye will be up ; 
 and now I'll turn prophet, and tell you how the race will 
 come off : If I am not much mistaken, Tom Leadem and 
 Contest are to be ridden by their owners, both fine horse- 
 men across country ; but this has not much to do with 
 race-riding. Still, their horses will be well ridden, and 
 will make a close thing of it for second place ; but I 
 know the mare is seven pounds better than either, and 
 I'd give away seven more for the Captain to steer her ; 
 and now I'll give you a bit of advice worth the hundred 
 
 L 
 
146 AMATEURS AND PROFESSIONALS. 
 
 I think you may book as lost to me : Never in an amateur 
 race attempt to judge of the merits of horses by their 
 running, unless you well know the merits of the riders. 
 Good-bye till to-morrow." How our prophet sped, those 
 who can handicap amateur jockeys will judge. 
 
 There is one circumstance, and but one, that I know 
 or can conceive, that ever has prevented gentlemen 
 jockeys riding as well as professionals, and that is loant 
 of practice. This want arises from three prominent 
 causes — want of leisure ; disliking the privations neces- 
 sary to keep down weight and keep up condition ; and, 
 lastly, the few amateur races there are to ride for ; and, 
 of course, the less such races are encouraged, the less 
 opportunity for practice gentlemen have. 
 
 It will not, I trust, be supposed that I in any way 
 would wish to see amateur races preponderate in point of 
 number over others. Far otherwise; I only consider 
 that a sprinkling of them among others at a race meeting 
 has a beneficial effect, in giving meetings, where such 
 is the case, a peculiar interest among sportsmen, quite 
 independent of mere gambhng with race-horses in lieu of 
 dice, which is pretty much the feature of most races. It 
 conduces to making a race-course a place of sport, and 
 not a mere " Hell" in the open air. 
 
 We call Ascot, " par excellence," a royal and aristocra- 
 tic course. It very properly holds this prestige from its 
 being usually distinguished by the presence of Majesty ; 
 but, in point of aristocracy, I should give that merit far 
 more to Croxton Park, where I should say that in pro- 
 portion to the different numbers assembled at the two 
 different meetings, the aristocracy preponderate by far at 
 the latter-named meeting. I should say, more legs, 
 sharpers, and blackguards are to be found in one day at 
 Ascot, than in two or three years' meetings at Croxton, 
 
AMATEURS AND TROFESSTONALS. 147 
 
 solely because " locusts" will not darken by their num- 
 bers a spot where they find a scarcity of that they feed on. 
 Nor need gentlemen disposed to race-riding be deterred 
 from doing so, under the supposition that to ride a race 
 Avell, it is necessary that they should have passed the 
 ordeal of several years as exercise boy. Riding exercise 
 alone would never make a jockey ; riding trials is the 
 practice that renders a lad capable of riding a race. I 
 hold it quite necessary that to make a man a perfect 
 general horseman, he should begin at a very early age ; a 
 very short time gives such a younker a sufficiently good 
 racing seat. It is trials that teach pace and the capa- 
 bilities of the race -horse ; these teach him when distress 
 begins : riding exercise will not ; for at such work a horse 
 should not feel distress, however strong the work. It is 
 the quickness of perception when a horse is in a state to 
 be made use of, or when he must be eased (and this 
 sometimes occurs more than once or twice in a race), that 
 constitutes one of the great niceties of riding a race ; and 
 riding trials and races will alone and only do this ; and 
 as I have no hesitation in saying, a cultivated mind will 
 learn this much quicker than ignorance : the gentleman 
 needs not the long practice of the exercise lad, to become 
 a very fair jockey ; and I am quite clear that a certain 
 portion of the plain part of the education of the gentle- 
 man would greatly accelerate the progress of the boy in 
 becoming a refiective, intelligent, and accomplished jockey. 
 People talk a great deal of the qualities of jockeys, as to 
 their style of riding, and each has his admirers. There 
 can be no doubt that a jockey, to be perfect, should be a 
 fine horseman ; but I must observe that we have no 
 jockey among those who are worthy the name, that can- 
 not, as a horseman, ride well enough to win races ; but 
 it is the faculty of combining circumstances, calculating 
 
 l2 
 
148 AMATEURS AND PUOFESSIOK ALS. 
 
 their effects — quickness of discernment, presence of mind 
 in difficulty, and promptness of decision and action in 
 availing himself of casualties in the race he rides for, that 
 makes the perfect master of his profession. These quali- 
 ties emanate from the head. Very long practice acts as 
 a substitute for the want of early information ; but where 
 the qualities of the head give one man a decided ad- 
 vantage over another in any craft, the earlier and the 
 better furnished the head is, the sooner and the most 
 decidedly will one man become superior to the other in 
 whatever the two may undertake. Poor Arthur Pavis 
 was a very successful jockey, no doubt ; for this he was 
 greatly indebted to the weight he could ride. No one 
 will accuse Pavis of great powers of reflection, or of pos- 
 sessing great sense ; yet it may be said he could ride, 
 and ride to win. He could so ; but though he rode well 
 enough for any man as a horseman, he would have been 
 a far better jockey if he had had a head, or one with 
 anything in it. Had not circumstances, more than his 
 actual merits, afforded him opportunity to be a successful 
 jockey, he would have been only considered a very cox- 
 combical, self-sufficient simpleton. We laughed at, but 
 could not help admiring poor little Arthur. We never 
 laughed at, but always did and always must, so long as 
 the recollection of a jockey remains, respect and admire 
 Jim Robinson. With Pavis up, with boys to ride against 
 (an advantage he so frequently got), we could reasonably 
 calculate on the result. Put him against veterans, that 
 result became very doubtful. With Robinson up, we 
 were pretty sure, if the race was in his horse's powers, 
 the race would be his. All jockeys have heels — Robin- 
 son, and a few others, have heads ; and such are the only 
 men that, in the long run, are to be depended on. May 
 I hope the reader will take this in support of my hypothe- 
 
AMATEURS AND PROFESSIONALS. 149 
 
 sis — that to make a perfect jockey, we should begin by 
 making a well-informed man. A very old jockey has 
 happened to call on me while concluding this portion of 
 these sheets ; I have read them to him. " You are quite 
 right, master," says the veteran. So with the suffrage of 
 my old acquaintance, I will quit amateurs and profession- 
 als as jocks, and turn to them in other guise. 
 
 AMATEUR AND PROFESSIONAL HUNTSMEN. 
 
 "Ah!" cries the fox-hunter, "here seems something 
 more in my 'line of country,' than Pavises, Robinsons, 
 and men of whom I know nothing, and for whom I care 
 less." So be it, good reader ; "chacim a son goid, soit-il 
 bon, soit-il mauvaisy But, good reader, it may turn out 
 that the line of country I shall take may be widely differ- 
 ent from such as you have been accustomed to, and, in 
 many particulars, far from what you may consider a good 
 one. You may consider I am " running riot," and all I 
 may get from you is "a rate" instead of a cheer. How- 
 ever, I must risk it, and having " settled to my game," I 
 must not now " run mute." 
 
 Althougli, as it is said in the play, in most things 
 " much may be said on both sides," no man can consci- 
 entiously and effectively uphold two opposite doctrines, 
 or, in more vulgar parlance, "blow hot and blow cold ;" 
 so I hope to at least nail the opinion of my reader to one 
 side or other of the argument. 
 
 Most persons are enthusiastic in their statements of 
 the niceties, beauties, and difficulties of any pursuit they 
 particularly admire. The cricketer will expatiate for an 
 hour together on the splendid specimen of batting or 
 bowling exhibited by somebody on a particular day — 
 nay, will speak in all but rapture of the way in which the 
 seventh or any other ball in such an innings was disposed 
 
150 AMATEURS AND PROFESSIONALS. 
 
 of; he will tell you it takes many years' private and 
 public practice to make a finished cricketer. So be it ; 
 he therefore admits by this, that much valuable time has 
 been consumed in such practice. I therefore nail his ad- 
 mission of this fact. 
 
 The player of that still more difficult and intricate game 
 " tennis" will tell you the same thing. 
 
 Perhaps it would take the third of a Hfe to make such 
 a violinist as Paganini was ; and, as a professional man, 
 that great artist did right and well in devoting all his 
 time and energies of mind to his vocation. He wished 
 to become the first violinist of his day, and I suppose 
 succeeded. Now, playing the violin scientifically, and in 
 a masterly way, is an accomplishment that any nobleman, 
 so far from being ashamed, may well be proud of, if to 
 be achieved leaving ample time for the cultivation of 
 other parts of education and other accomplishments fitting 
 the position of a nobleman, and consequently man of 
 fashion, and, we will suppose, man of sense. Now comes 
 the plain state of the case : It either does require the de- 
 votion of many years of a man's life to become an accom- 
 plished violinist, or it does not, I think this nails the 
 fact to one side or other. If it does not require an undue 
 proportion of time to learn the instrument, the noble 
 would be quite right in making it a part of his studies. 
 If it really does require as many years as enthusiastic 
 violinists avow it does, to acquire proficiency, quaere, 
 could not the nobleman find higher pursuits to occupy 
 so much of his time than becoming a fiddler? 
 
 Enthusiastic fox-hunters will say, that to become a 
 perfect huntsman, a man should, figuratively, be born in 
 a kennel. That is, a kennel should be among his first 
 associations of ideas ; that he should be conversant with 
 all the routine of kennel management and kennel dis- 
 
AMATEURS AiND PROFESSIONALS. 151 
 
 cipline ; he should be entered, like the young hounds, cub- 
 hunting; go through the gradations of riding second 
 horse, acting as second, then first whip, and then, after 
 many years' practice in these several vocations, he may, 
 if an intelligent man, aspire to the situation of huntsman ; 
 which finished step attained, he will still require some 
 years' practice to become a finished artist, in the profes- 
 sion in wiiich he has spent probably the half of his 
 allotted life. 
 
 We will now "hark back" a little, and see why it is 
 necessary a huntsman should go through such initiatory 
 probation to quality him for his ostensible and really 
 arduous situation ; for I quite agree with my brother 
 fox-hunters in their opinion that it is so ; and having 
 mostly found fox-hunters as straightforward fellows out 
 of the field as in, I have no fear of their dodging about 
 and attempting to qualify an opinion once given, because 
 they might find that in a particular case or circumstance, 
 they had got into something like " a hole," by having 
 unequivocally stated it. 
 
 The huntsman should be introduced to the kennel as 
 a boy, to give his mind a bias towards fox-hunting in a 
 general way. Secondly, to thoroughly learn that most 
 indispensable part of a huntsman's business, namely, the 
 management of hounds in kennel ; for unless well 
 managed there, it is quite certain they will be unfit — 
 nay, unable to perform their duties in the field. He 
 should learn to consider the condition, breeding, and 
 pedigree of a fox-hound to be of as much importance as 
 an owner or trainer holds that of a race-horse ; he should 
 learn to consider a fox-hound as the finest animal living, 
 and to become a huntsman the most important aim of 
 life. He should go out cub-hunting, to give him a love 
 of hunting ; but further to teach him the diff'erent con- 
 
152 AMATEURS AND PROFESSIONALS. 
 
 duct of young, untutored hounds, and that of the old 
 hunting ones, who want no one to tell them theii- busi- 
 ness. He will further, in cub-hunting, learn the different 
 hunting terms and halloas, and the appropriate circum- 
 stances under which each is used ; it will teach him to 
 get himself and horse quickly through covers, and to get 
 hounds also quickly through it to the huntsman's horn or 
 halloa, when such duty may devolve upon him as whip ; 
 and finally, it will teach him to judge of what hounds are 
 about when he cannot see them. 
 
 He should ride second horse for somebody, to make 
 him a horseman, teach him to cross country at as little 
 expenditure of the animal powers of his horse as possible ; 
 and as it will not be his present business to tie himself 
 to the line of the pack, it will teach him the points foxes 
 usually make for, under ordinary circumstances, in the 
 country where he expects to hunt ; and by learning the 
 habits of his game in general, he will learn the most pro- 
 bable and ready way to recover hounds in any country, 
 when particular circumstances may have caused them to 
 slip him, or his duty as second-whip may have compelled 
 Tiim to remain behind the field. 
 
 Of his duties in the field as second- whip I need say 
 nothing here ; if he is of quick apprehension and anxious 
 to learn, he will pretty well inform himself of these while 
 riding second horse. 
 
 First -whip is, indeed, a most important post to hold 
 in a fox-hunting establishment — one extremely difficult to 
 effectively fill. So much of the sport of each day depends 
 on the quickness of act and thought in the first-whip, 
 that he cannot take too much pains to make himself per- 
 fect in his most arduous duty. He should be perfectly 
 capable of hunting the pack himself, but must practise 
 the self-denial of never attempting to do so, unless from 
 
AMATEURS AND PROFESSIONALS, 153 
 
 any particular circumstance the huntsman should happen 
 to be so far behind as to render the waiting his coming 
 up hkely to mar the day's sport ; the first-whip may then 
 very properly take upon himself the temporary duty of 
 huntsman, till his head and chief comes up. 
 
 The first- whip being the disciplinarian of the pack, if 
 I kept hounds one of the chief qualities I should make a 
 point that he possessed, would be good tenqjer. I would 
 do so for humanity's sake, as regards the animals subject 
 to his discipline ; and I would do so from the conviction 
 that an irritable savage as first- whip would risk the spoil- 
 ing any pack of foxhounds in the kingdom ; for where a 
 man lets his bad temper blind his judgment, hounds will 
 frequently get punished when they know not for what the 
 punishment is inflicted, consequently will be as likely to 
 be awed from doing right as wrong. The high blood and 
 temper, and natural boldness of the fox-hound, must be 
 kept in due bounds ; but he must not be cowed, or his 
 fine spirit broken ; for destroy the dash of the fox-hound, 
 and his great characteristic will be gone — he will become 
 timid, morose, or sulky, and consequently worthless. 
 
 A man having gone through the ordeal I have in a 
 summary way described, may fairly feel himself quali- 
 fied to commence his career as a huntsman, in whose 
 duties practice only will render him perfect. 
 
 I would not say it would be absolutely objectionable 
 to make a man huntsman to the same pack to which he 
 had acted as first-whip, but I would rather prefer a man 
 who had not done so. It is true, he would have the re- 
 commendation of knowing the hounds, and the merits 
 and demerits of each of them — no small advantage. 
 I admit ; but against this the hounds know him, and will 
 not readily forget the discipline they have experienced at 
 his hands ; they should, and mostly do, love their hunts- 
 
154 AMATEURS AND PROFESSIONALS. 
 
 man ; they fear, and in many cases, bate the first- whip 
 as a supposed enemy ; and it will be long ere they gain 
 sufficient confidence to dash up with alacrity to the halloa 
 or cheer of a voice from wdiicb they have so often heard 
 a rate, or readily trust to the encouragement of one under 
 whose lash they have so often cowered. We may awe 
 a bound from hunting wrong game, skirting, lagging in 
 cover, or even heedlessly rushing on when not certain 
 he is on the line of his game ; but we cannot flog or rate 
 a bound into bunting. We may force a horse into the 
 water, or a bound into cover ; but we cannot make the 
 one drink or the other hunt — both are voluntary acts. 
 Hounds, to hunt with alacrity and attention, should at 
 the time feel their spirits buoyant, their actions free, and 
 their labour cheered by a voice they are accustomed to 
 listen to with pleasure and confidence. 
 
 As T am in no way attempting a treatise on hunting, 
 I have said enough for my purpose, if I have, as I trust 
 is the case, shewn the numerous qualities required in a 
 huntsman, and consequently the time it must occupy to 
 learn his manifold duties and qualifications. 
 
 Now comes the consideration of the prudence of a 
 man taking on himself the character of Amateur Hunts- 
 man. 
 
 That every man has a perfect right to follow the bent 
 of his inclinations, where they are neither criminal nor 
 absolutely wrong, no one would attempt to deny. We 
 then come to the question as to how far the thus follow- 
 ing thein is to his credit or not ; and, in deciding such 
 question, we must not be guided, or even influenced by 
 the particular opinion of a particular chque, but by the 
 opinions of men in general, of good sense and good 
 taste ; for it is the suff'rages of such we presume a man 
 would wish to gain. As regards, then, our question m 
 
AMATEURS AND PROFESSIONALS. 155 
 
 hand, namely, " how far, under ordinary circumstances, 
 it is in a general way judicious in a gentleman to act the 
 part of huntsman," we will not ask the opinion of pro- 
 fessional huntsmen, for we are quite sure what that 
 opinion would be ; we will not seek that of one who 
 occasionally eschews the streets of London for a gallop 
 with fox-hounds, for his opinion for or against would not 
 be worth having. We will not ask that of a man who 
 does not hunt at all, so knows nothing of hunting or 
 hounds ; nor of one who knows all about both, but 
 knows nothing or little else ; but we will zealously seek, 
 and would with confidence be guided by the opinion of 
 him whom we could recognise as a man of sense, a 
 thorough sportsman, and at the same time a man of edu- 
 cation and a perfect gentleman ; I can but fancy he 
 would say, that " take it on the broad scale, the gentleman 
 would be the least likely to subject himself to unplea- 
 santry and animadversion, who abstained from taking 
 upon himself the office of amateur huntsman to a pack 
 of fox -hounds." 
 
 A gentleman hunting his harriers is quite a different 
 affair ; he keeps them for his own amusement and that 
 of his friends and acquaintance ; his field is not usually 
 numerous. If he is not extremely self-sufficient, he will 
 probably leave his hounds a good deal to themselves, in 
 which case he will most likely get fair average sport. If 
 he commits an error that a professional huntsman would 
 not have done, no one in the shape of a gentleman would 
 be rude enough to attempt to ridicule, or make offensive 
 remarks on the circumstance ; he is virtually a gentle- 
 man, taking his morning ride with the pleasing accom- 
 paniment of his pack of hounds, instead of doing the 
 same thing without them. No one can condemn his 
 taste. 
 
150 AMATEURS AND PROFESSIONALS. 
 
 If of more enthusiastic temperament, without pretend- 
 ing to keep an established pack, a man's taste induces 
 him to exchange his twenty couple of harriers for a 
 moderate pack of fox-hounds, and with a couple or three 
 hunters for himself, and two good screws for his single 
 whip, he hunts fox twice a week ; he does not place 
 himself in any objectionably ostensible situation in 
 hunting his little scratch pack, and in proportion to the 
 number of days he hunts during the season, may pro- 
 bably enough shew a very sporting number of noses at 
 the end of it. He is nearly in the same position as a 
 gentleman hunting his harriers ; the chief difference 
 being, the one hunts hare, the other fox. 
 
 We now come to the amateur taking upon himself the 
 management and the hunting an estabhshed pack of 
 fox-hounds, hunting three or four days a week, his fix- 
 tures made public, so as to ensure a large field — an 
 arduous and truly hazardous undertaking for any one ; 
 how far more so then for a gentleman ! Nor let him 
 flatter himself that in so ostensible a situation, his being 
 held as a gentleman will shield him from ridicule, and 
 even rudeness, if he performs his office inefficiently ; on 
 the contrary, his self-estimation will be met wdth sarcasm 
 by the higher class of his field, and the gentleman hunts- 
 man will be certain to challenge obloquy, rudeness, and 
 probably impertinence, on the part of the lower. 
 
 I might be asked, why I consider it by no means ob- 
 jectionable, the gentleman acting the part of amateur 
 jockey, yet so injudicious his performing or attempting 
 to perform that of amateur huntsman ? I judge on 
 these premises : We may reasonably suppose no man 
 would contemplate riding a race who had not from 
 practice become a good general horseman, and (unless 
 the business of a huntsman is over-rated in point of 
 
AMATEURS AND PROFESSIONALS. 157 
 
 difficulty) one-twentieth part of the time requisite to 
 quaUfy a man to hunt a pack of fox-hounds, would make 
 a man, already a horseman, a quite sufficiently good 
 jockey to ride an amateur race well ; even if he does not, 
 he mars the sport of no one, consequently calls forth no 
 disappointed expectations from any one ; whereas the 
 errors of the huntsman call forth remark, and also 
 anathemas, often both loud and deep, from a whole field 
 — from which Gods of the Chase deliver us ! 
 
 A gentleman hunting his harriers or private pack of 
 fox-hounds is about on a footing with another who drives 
 his four-in-hand. Hunting an established pack is, as it 
 were, making himself body coachman. The question 
 therefore merges into this, " Is it worth a gentleman's 
 while to devote half a life to qualify himself to do that 
 which, probably, after all, a servant would do quite as 
 w^ell, or better ?" If a man is content with the praises 
 of a few boon companions, or a number of uneducated 
 bruising yeoman riders, let him learn the duties of a 
 huntsman to the neglect of higher attainments, and 
 much good may. his taste do him ! But if he wishes to 
 be admired by those whose admiration is worth having, 
 let him keep his fox-hounds by all means ; but let his 
 huntsman hunt them. There is no reason then why he 
 should not shine in the drawing-room at night as an 
 accomplished man, as much as he did as a fine sports- 
 man and fine horseman in the morning. But I much 
 fear, yet say it with diffidence, that if a man has de- 
 voted enough of his time to the kennel and management 
 of hounds to be held as 2^ jjerfect huntsman, he runs no 
 small risk of being estimated by men of education, 
 fashion, and taste, as but a somewhat imperfect gentleman. 
 
RED COATS AND SILK JACKETS. 
 
 If, or when it is found, by those who write on any 
 subject, that a little scepticism is indulged in by those 
 who read, as to the representations made, writers are no 
 little prone to at once set up their bristles, sometimes 
 show their teeth, and eke sometimes to make a deter- 
 mined snap at the (so estimated) offender. And should 
 the estimated culprit happen to be one of the same 
 clique, we can often detect visible indications of a strong 
 inclination to lay hold, and not only hold, but to shake 
 in true rat-pit style. Rats have, however, pretty sharp 
 teeth ; and it is only very superior dogs, and very clever 
 dogs, who can worry them, and come off themselves un- 
 scathed. It is fortunate for writers of a moderate class, 
 that they, Hke the rats, have teeth also ; otherwise the 
 clever dogs of critics would be ever waging war against 
 them. 
 
 Now, this is all very wrong, and very unjust, for " live 
 and let live," though a homily, is really an amiable sen- 
 timent; and "let him who is faultless fling the first 
 stone." If such a maxim was strictly adhered to, no 
 such missile would ever be launched. If, as I conceive, 
 such figurative flinging of stones be wrong, so is it foohsh, 
 or at least weak, to, as I have stated, set up one's bristles 
 because others may differ in opinion from ourselves : 
 when such difference does not arise from any circum- 
 
RED COATS AND SILK JACKETS. 159 
 
 stance that is reprehensible in either party, overweening 
 vanity may call for castigation at the hands of the critic ; 
 the promulgation of absurdity, his just reprehension ; or 
 an attempt to undervalue that which is estimated as 
 proper by men of sense, his pity. But a harmless differ- 
 ence of taste and inclination, where each is equally 
 estimable and gentlemanly, may very properly be good- 
 naturedly descanted on, but criticism is uncalled for. 
 
 However much a man may be disposed, or in his own 
 mind determined, to argue or write on any favourite 
 subject with impartiality, he will find (or, if not, others 
 will find it out for him) that he will, imperceptibly to 
 himself, represent the pour in glowing colours, while the 
 contre is so slightly touched as to be all but imperceptible. 
 It will be just the same if he compares any favoured 
 pursuit with one to which he is more indifferent ; and in 
 any case where he treats on his favourite passion, and at 
 the same time on one for which he has no predilection, 
 I fear it will be found, that his partial view of the two 
 subjects will lead him into very considerable error. 
 Hence, though a man of allowed talent, good sense, good 
 taste, and intended justness of decision and argument, 
 he may be severely and justly criticised, or, more properly 
 spaaking, his writing on such particular subjects may ; 
 yet he has no right to " set up his bristles :" the man, 
 the author, or the writer, is not personally attacked— his 
 mistakes and partial representations only are corrected. 
 We all run occasionally into such errors. So, if the lash 
 is shown us, or if we even get a touch of it, it would be 
 bad feeling to show our teeth, — worse pohcy to attempt 
 to bite. The best thing is to take to our heels, and 
 laughingly allow that we have come pretty well off; for 
 should we snarl, woe be to us the next time when caught 
 tripping. 
 
160 RED COATS AND SILK JACKETS. 
 
 I once saw the good effects of something of similar 
 conduct in a fox -hound. He had somewhat of a sweet 
 tooth, rehshed a bit of currant jelly, if he couhl surrep- 
 titiously get hold of it ; in other respects faultless. 
 Jasper had been indulging, in cover, in a little mute 
 chase of the fur. Unfortunately for him, out bolted 
 puss, close to where the whip and I were standing, and 
 out came Jasper, all but upon her. Will threw himself 
 off" his horse, and called the hound to him. Whether 
 the culprit thought his doings had not been seen, or 
 hoped to evade anger by humility, I know not ; but he 
 came, put his two paws on the whip's body, and looked 
 blandly up in his face. " D — m thee ! I meant to give 
 thee a good hiding," says Will; "but I can't now." So 
 he contented himself with, " What are you at here, eh ? 
 Goo, hark in," and the sounding smack of the thong told 
 Jasper (who was not long in taking the hint) what he 
 had escaped. 
 
 " Sic parvis componere magna solebam." 
 
 In taking up my present subject, I am at least under 
 no apprehension of being influenced by particular predi- 
 lection on the one side or the other ; for if the scarlet 
 coat and cover side have power to rouse my every energy 
 of mind and body into action, — if the cheering horn, or 
 rattling tally-ho, thrills through every nerve, — so the 
 silken jacket, the thronged race-course, the bell (where 
 there is one), and the " They're? off!" causes a tingle that 
 extends to my very finger-ends. If the somewhat stal- 
 wart body of Tom Hills, or the neat person of Charles 
 Payne, can call forth anticipations of the glories of a burst 
 and a kill, if a kill be possible, so does the black jacket 
 of Frank Butler, or the spotted one of Charles Marlow, 
 ensure the seeing a race handsomely won, if it is in the 
 
RED COATS AND SILK JACKETS. 16i 
 
 horse to win it. I will not disparage either pursuit by 
 putting steeple-chasing on a level with them ; but who 
 can see Black Tom's whiskered, and really handsome 
 countenance, and not remember the numberless stirring 
 scenes in which he has been engaged through a life that, 
 judging by the escapes he has hid, we might hold as a 
 " charmed " one ? 
 
 Riding in the outskirts of Dublin, my horse shied, and 
 thus threw himself over a very low wall, into some ground 
 excavated for houses. The fall was at least twelve feet. 
 An Irishman ran up — " Are ye much hurt. Sir ?" " Not 
 at all," said I, shaking my feathers. " Then, by Jasus ! 
 you'll never be kilt by a fall with a horse." Ten times 
 more might it be said to Oliver. 
 
 I have said, I do not fear writing partially in alluding 
 to either of the subjects I have taken up. It may be 
 hinted, that I may not write judiciously on either. This 
 I admit as very possible ; some may add — as very pro- 
 bable. Be it so. If it turns out to be the case, I shall 
 bear in mind what I have said about smiling at the lash. 
 So here goes to do my best. 
 
 If an argument was to be general among the patrons 
 of the coat and the jacket, and it was put to a show of 
 hands, Which, on the whole, most contributes to the 
 good of the country, hunting or racing? I can figure to 
 my imagination what a pretty Babel of voices we should 
 hear! what a countless exhibition of digits we should 
 see ! No doubt the four conditions proposed to the late 
 Emperor of All the Russias may be, and doubtless are, 
 of more paramount interest to Europe ; but the enthu- 
 siasm that will be shown by the representatives of their 
 different nations will be tameness personified, to what 
 would be evinced by partisans of the coats against 
 jackets, and jackets against coats. " What's it to us," 
 
 M 
 
162 RED COATS AND SILK JACKETS. 
 
 cries the huntsman, " whether the Turks or the Roosians 
 keep Betsy Rabier? It's of more consequence to the 
 country whether Winnington Gorse is to be my Lord's 
 or Sir Thomas's, or whether it's to be nootral." 
 
 " I do not care a dem," cries a natty Uttle jockey, 
 taking his cigar from his mouth, " whether the Sultan or 
 the Czar wins, or whether they run a dead heat ; but I'd 
 back the Sultan for choice, for I lost a ride by our not 
 running for the Vase last year." 
 
 But talk to either, of the merits of their separate 
 vocations — 
 
 " Then what a noise, hurrah, loud laugh, low gibe, and bitter joke !" 
 
 Without being quite as indiflPerent to circumstances on 
 which depends the fate of nations as the characters alluded 
 to, or considering it a matter of national importance to 
 whom Winnington Gorse is handed over, or even giving a 
 thought to the Emperor's Vase, we may be permitted to 
 hold a predilection for the hunting-coat and racing-jacket 
 — both to be upheld, as keeping up certain characteristics 
 of our country and Englishmen. We will not pretend 
 to say, that athletic sports can make a hero ; nor do they 
 in any way contribute to make a man a soldier, so far as 
 military tactics are concerned ; but they unquestionably 
 contribute to produce the stuff that has stood us in good 
 stead when opposed to those of more military habits and 
 inclinations. It is the hardy frame, and bull-dog courage 
 of the Englishman, that enable him to cope with superior 
 military tuition. It is this particular species of courage 
 and determination that at hand-to-hand, bayonet-to- 
 bayonet work, causes the superiority of the English 
 soldier to be seen. And this is the only position in 
 which he does shine conspicuously. 
 
 Supposing that field sports thus do tend to render us 
 
RED COATS AND SILK JACKETS. 163 
 
 hardy and manly, it may be alleged that racing can tend 
 bat little towards such advantages. We must admit 
 this, as comparing it with more athletic pursuits. It 
 has, however, to say the least of it, this all but negative 
 virtue, — it frequently leads to the other sports that do ; 
 and, if it did not, it is far better, more healthy, and more 
 manly, than the exclusive devotion to London evening 
 amusements, in which those indulge who have no sporting 
 propensity about them. 
 
 " What are the advantages that the country in general 
 derives from our hunting and racing propensities ?" I can 
 fancy 1 hear many a keen fox-hunter exclaim, " It de- 
 rives hundreds of advantages from hunting, and is only 
 robbed by racing." A sweeping allegation, truly — I 
 should rather say imtruly, for such assertion could only 
 be made under the influence of prejudice and error. It 
 is pleasing to find a man enthusiastic in the praise of a 
 favourite of any kind, if a commendable one; but it is 
 not equally desirable that he should be as enthusiastic in 
 decrying that which may not equally challenge his parti- 
 cular attention or pursuit. Let us, in what we say, give 
 as fair a meed of praise to each of the subjects in hand 
 as our judgment will permit. We will not wade through 
 the hundreds of advantages mentioned by our supposed 
 enthusiast, as derived from fox-hunting, but mention a 
 few of the leading ones ; setting in opposition, or rather 
 in comparison, those derived from turf pursuits. 
 
 Hunters were from the earliest ages proverbially a 
 hardy and manly race, and in many countries necessarily 
 a brave and daring class. The man who would lure the 
 lion from his den, or trace the tiger to his lair, cannot be 
 supposed to fear any mortal foe. We have neither the 
 necessity, nor opportunity, of putting a similar exhibi- 
 tion of daring to the test in this country ; but in our 
 
 M 2 
 
161 RED COATS AND SILK JACKETS. 
 
 venatic pursuits, though we have nothing to fear from 
 the game we seek for our chase, still, if we are foremost 
 in the fray, we are called on to exhibit an indifference to 
 hurts or dangers that are quite sufficient to keep the 
 craven ones at home, or, if not, at such distance as to be 
 nearly the same thing. Very shy riders may excuse 
 themselves, — some by saying they do not like the exertion 
 of riding boldly ; others may aver, they think it foolish 
 to risk their persons in such a cause ; and depend upon 
 it, all — ay, the rankest coward that ever stepped — will 
 insinuate, that in otlier particulars they are men of un- 
 flinching courage. Many may be, and doubtless are so ; 
 and, when we know they are, we will give them credit 
 for it, and, if they do ride shy, we will impute it to the 
 cause they allege. But we should find such instances 
 rare. And the real truth is, that nine out of ten are 
 afraid — that is the honest term — and the truth is, that 
 he who may possibly be a bold man on other occasions, 
 is in this instance afraid also. Thus we may fairly infer, 
 that if even in our chase, to do the thing well requires 
 nerve and daring, and many cannot, will not, or dare not 
 show such, the chase is at least a nursery for daring 
 enterprise. 
 
 We may be told, that racing is no such nursery for 
 stout hearts. We must admit it. But a very timid man 
 would make but a very sad jockey. Many a spicy young 
 gentleman — whose highest aspiration is to be invited to 
 a rout, and who would very soon be put to one if danger 
 were in the way — may think he would look very interesting 
 if in Marson's place, taking a preliminary canter. He 
 would create a great deal of interest, no doubt, in such a 
 situation ; a good deal more surprise, and still more 
 ridicule. But such — and all gentlemen not conversant 
 with race-horses and race- riding — should be told, that 
 
RED COATS AND SILK JACKETS. 165 
 
 getting on a half-wild, and perhaps viciously-disposed 
 two-year-old, does not only require some, but a good deal 
 of nerve, that they would probably fail to exhibit, even 
 in defence of the fair Georgiana, in whose eyes he is an 
 mitr led h.ei'0. Nor is the riding, surrounded and followed 
 by a host of determined three-year-olds, a service unat- 
 tended with danger ; and, in case of a fall, the hoofs of 
 a dozen racehorses following, are likely to produce as 
 dire a catastrophe as those of a squadron of an enemy's 
 dragoons. Thus, it will be perceived, the career of the 
 jockey is not, in point of absence of danger, «// sil^. 
 
 The chase — in point of the promotion and continuance 
 of health — is, as its patrons may and do say, " worth 
 twenty doctors." AVe admit it : render it the just tribute 
 of (all but) ensuring a hale constitution, strengthening a 
 weak, and repairing a shattered one. " Throw physic 
 to the dogs ;" to which an old friend of mine used to 
 add, " and follow the hounds "-—he at eighty-four — 
 " Bravo fox-hunting ! " 
 
 It in no way deteriorates the merit of any one thing, 
 that there is merit also in another ; and the life of the 
 jockey satisfies us that health is confined to no one 
 regime. Habit will render that healthful to one man 
 that would be death to another. The fox-hunter eats 
 and drinks what he pleases, and works hard ; the jockey 
 works equally hard, at times harder, and neither in 
 quality nor quantity takes what he would wish : yet 
 both are in health. The foxhunter is robust, the jockey 
 thin as his frame will allow ; the former looks the pic- 
 ture of health, the latter often as if he had risen from a 
 bed of sickness. Your hunting friend gives you a grasp 
 from a hand that makes your own tingle to the fingers' 
 end : the jockey presents one serai-transparent, with the 
 knuckles and tendons sharply developed as the head and 
 
166 RED COATS AND SILK JACKETS. 
 
 strings of a violin. The foxhiinter throws physic to the 
 dogs : the jockey throws Epsom or Glauber salts down 
 his throat as a kind of a natural summer morning 
 beverage. The foxhunter half consumes in summer 
 heat (to which he is no friend), though clad in the 
 lightest vestments he can find : the jockey puts on his 
 worsted stockings, a couple of pair of flannel drawers, 
 two under-waistcoats of the same material, his coat, and 
 an over-one. The former sits still as much as he can, 
 and drinks iced beverages : the jockey walks his three 
 or four miles out and in, takes a hot drink, and, while 
 the former cools himself at a window, the latter calls for 
 blankets, and sends forth perspiration like a squeezed 
 sponge. The two disciples of the field and turf meet : 
 the former puffing and blowing at the heat like a 
 grampus ; the latter with his top-coat on, cool as a 
 cucumber, after his sweat, his only anxiety being, 
 whether he has " got enough off." The foxhunter (if of 
 the old school) d— ns tea : the jockey drinks it, wishing 
 he could indulge in more. The hunter takes a chop or 
 (in his opinion, better still) a steak at breakfast, takes 
 his glass of ale, and in his heart toasts fox-hunting : the 
 jockey takes his dry toast, and not much of that. Some- 
 what different these modes of living ; yet each lives : 
 and I believe it to be fact, that on the average the 
 one lives as long, though not as well as the other. But 
 the Houghton over, now comes our abstemious hero's 
 turn. A fresh supply of wine and other good things are 
 placed in his cellar for the winter campaign ; three 
 weeks fill up the sunken cheeks, the limbs become 
 rounded, and he stands out a well-proportioned, close- 
 knit, little fellow, ready for any fun or devilry that 
 presents itself. 
 
 The trainer next comes within our mind's eye. He is 
 
RED COATS AND SILK JACKETS. 107 
 
 • 
 
 a very different personage to the jockey, though both are 
 equally important in carrying out racing affairs. The 
 jockey cannot, under ordinary circumstances, make a 
 horse win unless he is well trained ; and no one can 
 make the jockey try to win unless his honesty and 
 inclination induce him to do so under any circumstances. 
 The trainer is very commonly a stout, athletic man, 
 unless it be in cases when he was originally a jockey, and 
 then the change of his mode of living makes so great a 
 one in the man, that to name him and a silk jacket 
 together, as connected with each other, would appear as 
 incongruous as to mention a cob and a two-and-a-half 
 pound saddle. Who, in the comfortable-looking per- 
 sonage of Dockeray, could recognise one of the neatest 
 jockeys that formerly rode over the turf; proverbial as 
 he was for a most racing-like seat, and hands that were 
 perfection ? Time has not stood still since I saw him 
 ride his father's filly, Honeysuckle, at Ascot, at, I guess, 
 about or under six stone. 
 
 Few men indulge in better living than trainers ; and 
 if the head is clear enough at night to enable the body 
 to rise willingly early in the morning, it matters not how 
 they live. The care of race-horses in no way calls for 
 abstinence in all the functionaries employed ; which any 
 one would be quite aware of, who had seen a lot of 
 riding-boys at breakfast after two hours on the downs. 
 One thing is, however, indispensably necessary in all 
 employed about race-horses, if they mean to succeed in 
 their several vocations ; this is sobriety : and to do such 
 persons justice, they do, as a class, deviate from such 
 conduct less than most others. Now and then we see 
 an exception ; and not long since we saw its fatal con- 
 sequences in a jockey and trainer, now no more, who, 
 but for that besetting sin, would have lived and died a 
 
168 RED COATS AND SILK JACKETS. 
 
 very wealthy man. There is, therefore, some moral ten- 
 dency in racing : we could wish there was more. In 
 answer to the " bravo fox-hunting ! " a page or so back, 
 as racing conduces as much as it to health, and certainly 
 far more as a necessity to sobriety, we may fairly say, 
 " Well done, silk jacket !" 
 
 Plunting, no doubt, has, ever since horses became 
 necessary accessories to the chase, greatly conduced to 
 the improved breed we now possess. What those for- 
 merly indigenous to our island were, we have no means 
 of judging. Pictures certainly show, or have attempted 
 to show, the kind in use at the time such were painted ; 
 but Landseer, Herring, or Cooper, did not exist then ; 
 so for the truthfulness of representation we have no 
 guarantee. If their style of gallop was such as repre- 
 sented, hunters would never have been wanted if Meux 
 and Co. had then lived and had a horse to dispose of. 
 But trusting, as I doubt not we may, to portraits of 
 horses before an Arab or Persian horse had been im- 
 ported, our ancestors had somehow contrived to manu- 
 facture for themselves a very good, useful sort of wear- 
 and-tear hunter, with quite speed enough in the gallop 
 for all purposes in the field as hunting then was, and 
 more than the state of the then roads enabled them to 
 exhibit in the trot. We certainly have changed things 
 since those days most wonderfully ; must allow we have 
 improved them : yet does the noble, baronet, squire, and 
 peasant see more happy faces around him than he did 
 in those days ? No one can solve this myth ; but this 
 any one can say, " We see plenty of long faces now." 
 
 We need scarcely say how much the improved stamp 
 of hunter altered our harness, road, and troop horses — 
 that is, improved them as regards modern taste ; for the 
 old stump-tailed carriage-horse took the family to church 
 
RED COATS AND SILK JACKETS. 169 
 
 or theatre just as comfortably, if not so fast, as does the 
 more lathy bang-tailed baroucher, and possibly, to un- 
 prejudiced eyes, was as fine an animal. We certainly 
 altered, say improved, our cavalry horses ; and for a 
 time we felt the benefit of it, and boasted enough about 
 it. This was not permitted to last long. Our conti- 
 nental neighbours were far too astute to leave us long in 
 our glory ; they very soon overtook us, improved their 
 breed quite as fast as we had done ours, and, in sooth, 
 now have taken the boast out of us as to our superiority. 
 We may still boast of our stud-grooms in hunting 
 stables ; but they beat us as grooms in cavalry ones. 
 But it would be really unreasonable to expect the son of 
 an Earl, who only purchases his commission in a cavalry 
 regiment for the style of the thing and wearing the 
 splendid jacket — it would, I say, be unreasonable to 
 expect him to interest himself about the dem'd troop- 
 stables. If the service is made disagreeable to him, or 
 bodes to become so, he can sell out : such things have 
 happened. Why should he not ? Why should he sub- 
 mit to ungentlemanly exertions, or, still greater horror 
 on horrors, ungentlemanly personal deprivation ? He in 
 no shape depends on his profession as a provision : it is 
 only poor devils whom nobody knows, who do ; it is very 
 well for them to make themselves an fait of all that may 
 be necessary in the war field ; it is enough if such persons 
 and the sergeants know all this ; and fortunate for the 
 service it is that they usually do. When such plebeian 
 knowledge and work is wanted, it is quite time for the 
 aristocrat to cut the army. Whether in doing so they 
 will be cut, depends on who, not what they are. 
 
 Hunting has also its part in furnishing a superior 
 breed of horses. Now let us see w^hat racing has done 
 for us in this particular. It is racing that keeps up the 
 
] 70 RED COATS AND SILK JACKETS. 
 
 kind of horse that custom and chanQ-e of taste have now 
 rendered it necessary we should have. It is racing that 
 keeps in use the number of thorough-bred sires we 
 possess ; and it is half, three parts, and nearer still, to 
 thorough-bred mares with such sires, as keep us sup- 
 plied with the description of horse now in use. We are 
 quite aware that, except for racing purposes, quite 
 thorough-bred horses are not necessary, nor would such 
 in a general way be desirable or useful for general pur- 
 poses ; but without the thorough- bred we could not 
 keep up the sort that are. It may be said, that 
 thorough-bred horses, or those as nearly so as we get 
 them, are not necessary for hunters. They are not 
 necessary for hunting, I admit ; but then hunting must 
 return to what it was j but while we do pursue our 
 present system, as regards hunting and other purposes 
 to which we apply horses, the thorough-bred is neces- 
 sary ; and without racing to stimulate us to keep up the 
 breed, there can be little doubt but it would degenerate. 
 In point of circulation of money, and the consump- 
 tion of commodity grown by the farmer, hunting is 
 really important in a national point of view. Some- 
 where about a hundred packs of fox-hounds, and num-- 
 berless packs of harriers of all sorts and grades, create an 
 enormous demand for hay, oats, oatmeal, and other 
 etceteras, and cause money to change hands in the most 
 beneficial way — that is, in a general way from the ricli 
 to the less affluent. It may be said by the anti-sporting 
 community, if the demand for hay, oats, beans, and 
 meal was less, the farmer would grow more food for 
 man. This would probably be the case : I am not 
 conversant enough with commercial tactics to give a 
 satisfactory opinion of what would be the result of such 
 
RED COATS AND SILK JACKETS. 171 
 
 change ; but 1 should infer that, so long as there was 
 any opening for export, the farmer would not permit us 
 at home to benefit much by his extra growth of human 
 food ; if so, no one would benefit. As a very rough 
 guess, we will suppose fifty individuals are constantly — 
 some frequently — seen with each pack of foxhounds : if, 
 on an average, each keeps two extra horses for hunting 
 purposes, this gives ten thousand horses as hunters : we 
 will average fifteen horses for the master, huntsman, and 
 whip's use — giving 1,500 more: thus we get 11,500, 
 exclusive of hunters used with harriers. 
 . Racing can in no way, in this point of utility, be 
 compared with hunting ; for I should say, in equally 
 rough guess, that taking horses in training, yearhngs 
 breaking, foals, dams, and sires, something like three 
 thousand horses used for, destined for, and kept on 
 racing speculation, are quite as many as we could cal- 
 culate upon. So their consumption of agricultural 
 produce becomes, in comparison, trifling ; but then 
 racing has a strong pull in another way. There are 
 something like a couple of hundred places as recognised, 
 or, as we may term others, bye-places, where racing 
 . takes place ; and during such meetings, the sums spent 
 in the aggregate baffles calculation. Where many places 
 give their (near) £2,000 added, many others various 
 minor sums, their estimation of the benefits the locality 
 derives from and during the meetings must be large 
 indeed. There the sums that change hands from betting 
 (the consequence of racing) must be most enormous. 
 If this went all in the right direction— that is, from him 
 who does not want it to him who does, or from the man 
 of pleasure and fortune to the trader, then indeed the silk 
 jacket would be in the ascendant, and bear the palm 
 
173 RFJ) COATS AND SILK JACKETS. 
 
 from the scarlet coat ; but it unfortunately usually goes 
 from one noble to another, or, we fear, from the noble 
 to the "leg." Still, so far as a circulating medium, 
 it does good ; for it enables the " leg" to spend money, 
 and he who receives it, derives as much benefit from 
 it as if it came from worthier hands. Racing has 
 again another claim to our approval — the number of 
 persons of different grades and ages it employs. We 
 will suppose in huntsmen, whips, feeders, and grooms, 
 each fox-hunting establishment on an average employs 
 ten men. The different training stables in riding, 
 and extra boys employed in them, are not very far from 
 two thousand, and those of a size and age that would 
 incapacitate them from gaining their own living in 
 other ways. These are all well-fed, lodged, and clothed, 
 and, for their trifling wants, well paid ; necessity and 
 habit produce in them orderly habits ; they are out 
 of the reach of bad precepts and example, and they 
 have before them, if their conduct is good, the pros- 
 pect of becoming head lads, jockeys, or, eventually, 
 trainers .- it is true all cannot become such — some from 
 want of a peculiar racing acumen, others from growing 
 out of size, and others from other causes ; but if their 
 conduct has been good, they seldom fail in getting 
 recommendations that procure them comfortable situa- 
 tions of some sort. 
 
 We will — for we must — admit that racing opens a 
 field for nefarious speculation (perhaps the honester 
 term might be robbery), and that steeple -chasing is 
 chiefly put to such purpose ; but we might as well say, 
 that no living game should be allowed to exist, because 
 there are poachers, as that racing as a sport should be 
 denied because there are " legs." There is nothing in 
 this world perfect ; therefore anything that on the whole 
 
RED COATS AND SILK JACKETS. 173 
 
 is a national benefit, well merits the strenuous support 
 of the nation that derives benefit from it. 
 
 Much more may be said in favour both of the scarlet 
 coat and silk jacket : my allotted space prevents my 
 entering into it. I doubt not our friend Cecil, vv^ho 
 sometimes writes enthusiastically, and always well on 
 hunting subjects, could bring forward many advantages 
 derived from hunting that I have not mentioned ; if 
 so, we could not well have them from authority more 
 to be confided in on such subject ; and should the 
 Druid bring forward points equally favourable to racing, 
 I shall be content to fall back into the shade, and 
 give place to one who can handle the subject more ar- 
 tistically than myself. 
 
 There was a time when the fox-hunter could not 
 mention racing and racing men but in terms of con- 
 tempt and reprobation : those old times of old prejudices 
 are gone by, and the fox-hunter and the racing man 
 are now often found in the same person. The noble 
 or gentleman with a stud of hunters, during the hunt- 
 ing season, is seen as an amateur donning the silk in 
 summer, and steers his own, or his friend's horse, often 
 to victory when opposed even by professionals : this 
 is cheering to the heart of the general sportsman when 
 he sees it ; and the true sportsman, though he may 
 prefer one sport to another, is ever ready to promote 
 all sport where it is in his power to do so, and with 
 equal warmth grasps the hand of fox or hare hunter, 
 courser, or shot, and if any little good-natured raillery 
 takes place as regards the particular predilection of 
 each, its result is, that each brings forward so many 
 circumstances in favour of his favourite sport, that each 
 becomes more favourably impressed with the pleasures 
 derivable from the pursuit of the other. 
 
174 RED COATS AND SILK JACKETS. 
 
 Hunting and racing may be considered as twin 
 sports ; and if, from improper admixture of persons, one 
 does present one unfavourable feature that the other 
 does not, let the patrons of both unite to rectify this 
 one baneful effect, while heart and hand they join in 
 support of the good cause. 
 
1 
 
 HINTS ON COACHMANSHIP. 
 
 " Sunt quos curriculo," 
 
 Some time since, an article or two of mine, that I am 
 told caused a laugh on the part of some of its readers, 
 appeared in a popular sporting journal. That article 
 was entitled " Hints on Horsemanship." 
 
 Now as the circulation of BelVs Life in London ex- 
 tends more or less to every part of the civilized world, 
 if a man can hope he has created a laugh at Cape Capri- 
 corn and Sierra Leone, Okotsk and Van Dieman's Land, 
 it is no small inducement to his making another effort in 
 the same caase by another article, in the same style, 
 though on another subject. 
 
 In the " Hints " alluded to, I mentioned different fail- 
 ings in the horse as to action and habits, the correction 
 or palliation of which depended chiefly on the rider. 
 Now there are two ways of giving advice and instruction 
 — if doing either is our intention — namely, the grave or 
 the ridiculous mode. For instance, if we thought it would 
 be judicious in a man standing six-feet-four in his shoes 
 to accustom himself to stoop on going under doorways, 
 we might advise him to do so by stating the probabihty 
 of his pericranium suffering if he did not : or we might 
 advise him to make it a point on such occasions to draw 
 
176 HINTS ON COACHMANSHIP. 
 
 himself up to his fullest height, for then if he knocked 
 down the top of the door-case, it would save him the 
 trouble of stooping in passing that particular door again. 
 But, better than this, we might tell him that if instead of 
 walking upright he ran with all his force equally upright, 
 he might also carry away some of the superincumbent 
 wall as well as the top of the door-case ; and, seeing the 
 havoc he made, all doors where he was likely to pass 
 would be heightened to prevent such an occurrence, and 
 he would all but to a certainty never have occasion to 
 stoop at any door-way in future, a circumstance that would 
 be the probable result of his having made a battering-ram 
 of his head. If the head did recover the shock, proba- 
 bly the practical lesson would have more effect than all 
 the wordy advice we could give. If he had common 
 sense enough to see the meaning of the advice jocose, 
 laughed at, but took the hint, we should have the plea- 
 sure of knowing we had created a moment's amusement 
 and given advice too : but if his head was too thick to 
 see this, let him put the advice in practice ; the probable 
 result would cause little loss to society. 
 
 Something in this way were the " Hints on Horse- 
 manship." In what way these " Hints on Coachman- 
 ship " will be taken, will depend on him who reads them. 
 We will suppose the good father of some young ex- 
 quisite had in Philpot, .Mincing, or Rood Lanes, or per- 
 haps the Minories, amassed a fortune that the young 
 gentleman is quite disposed to spend as fast as possible. 
 Some young member of the West-End aristocracy, who 
 honours the former with his acquaintance because he 
 turns him to account, as the old citizen did the matters 
 he traded in, puts it in Mr. Augustus Horatio's head to 
 drive four horses — an act he would no more have con- 
 templated during his father's life than the invitation of 
 
HINTS ON COACHMANSHIP. 177 
 
 Jem Robinson, Templeman, Nat, and (I now with great 
 pleasure add my old favourite) Charles Marlow, to a 
 lunch in the counting-house. 
 
 That Mr, Augustus Horatio, who had so often without 
 the governor's knowledge hired and driven a gig, could 
 want any hint on coachmanship of course never entered 
 his head; but, as I strongly suspect he does want such, 
 I will give him a lesson, throwing in his way some new 
 lights on the subject, thus placing him on the top round of 
 a ladder that I was ascending for many years with a good 
 deal of patience, practice, and expense, and never got to 
 the top of, either. Giving him credit for being more 
 precocious, I will make him at least theoretically a coach- 
 man, and show how he may dispense with many habits 
 of those who have driven years before he was born, 
 without gaining the eclat that he will achieve in as many 
 weeks. 
 
 We will suppose him going to lay hold of four horses 
 he has never handled, and, in fact, that he has never 
 handled four of any sort. Now nothing would make the 
 latter circumstance more apparent to the bystanders than 
 any exhibition of fear, nervousness, or hesitation on the 
 part of Mr. Augustus : even the common precaution used 
 by others more up to the thing might cause among any 
 of Mr. Augustus's sort a suspicion of the fact. This 
 must, of course, be avoided. 
 
 If an experienced coachman was unavoidably in such 
 a situation as being obliged to exhibit at a street-door 
 with four horses he had never driven or seen driven to- 
 gether, and with whose habits and mouths he was con- 
 sequently totally unacquainted — before getting on his 
 box he would probably scrutinize his team a little, and 
 endeavour to judge by the look and demeanour of each 
 whether among them any particular one seemed likely to 
 
 N 
 
178 HINTS ON COACHMANSHIP. 
 
 be in any way a troublesome customer ; for it is aston- 
 ishing (or rather would be astonishing to many if they 
 knew) how much an experienced eye will detect as 
 regards habits and temper in horses, even standing 
 before starting. He would then most probably go to 
 each horse's head. If they had been " put to " by persons 
 knowing them and knowing their business,he would judge 
 a good deal of each horse's habit by where his driving- 
 reins were put on to his bit : any little addenda, or any- 
 thing different in any part of the harness of a particular 
 horse, would tell him his peculiarity without the trouble 
 of enquiry. If he knew nothing of the horses, he would 
 probably try them as they were put together, or, if he 
 saw anything he considered very singular, would make 
 enquiry as to its object. 
 
 If he had no great faith in the men who had har- 
 nessed the team, he would feel each horse's mouth by 
 laying hold of his bit. If he found any one not bitted 
 so as to suit his mouth, he would make some alteration 
 till he produced the desired effect. He would probably 
 pat and speak to each horse, that they might know his 
 voice as much as possible on so short an acquaintance. 
 He then quietly gathers up his reins, watching the effect 
 this preparatory motion has on his team ; draws the 
 reins through the turrets to the proper length for 
 mounting ; passes them to his right hand, and with a 
 quick but noiseless step gets on his box, seats himself 
 firmly and comfortably, changing his reins to the proper 
 hand, just feels his horses' mouths, and with "Let 
 'em go !" or a motion of the hand to the man, he just 
 inchnes his body a little forward, and giving such signal 
 as he thinks judicious to his horses, or none at all, as the 
 case may be, he lets them off as smoothly as a duck takes to 
 the water. If any one horse shows impatience, and canters 
 
HINTS ON COACHMANSHIP. 179 
 
 or flings himself about, he gently stays him a little, and 
 
 without throwing him abroad by rudely checking him, 
 
 lets him canter on till the gentle pressure of the bit, and 
 
 a soothing " Wo-ho !" or two brings him to his pace. 
 
 If, after getting them quiet and reconciled, he finds they 
 
 are not bitted so as to go pleasantly, at the first quiet 
 
 place he sees he gradually pulls them up. If the men 
 
 behind know their business, before the carriage is quite 
 
 stationary they are on the ground and half-way to the 
 
 horses' heads, looking to the driver for information what 
 
 to do. " Check that off leader !" " Put that near leader 
 
 to the lower branch off side !" " Take up, or let out " 
 
 such a coupling rein. " Give (such a horse) a hole in 
 
 his traces." " Take up or let out that curb-chain a link !" 
 
 — is all understood, and only takes a minute's time. 
 
 "That will do," or "Take care of yourselves," or merely 
 
 a side inclination of the head, and the men quit the 
 
 horses, jump up behind, and standing up for a minute 
 
 to see if the alteration seems all right, or if they will be 
 
 wanted to get down again, the team and their driver soon 
 
 become perfectly at home with each other. 
 
 This is all very well, and something like what men do 
 who know what they are about ; but it is really very 
 common-place, old-fashioned, and by no means a mode 
 of proceeding that I would recommend to young men of 
 spirit, such as Mr. Augustus Horatio : he, or such as he, 
 if they drive, ride, or do anything else, most probably 
 look to creating a sensation ; at all events, they are fully 
 convinced they do so, which is quite sufficient. 
 
 Now, the old staid mode of going to work I have de- 
 scribed is by no means calculated to create a sensation, 
 or general admiration, for these reasons — it requires 
 something startling to create this, and there is nothing 
 startling in a man taking four, horses off without effort, 
 
 N 2 
 
180 HINTS ON COACHMANSHIP. 
 
 apparent difficulty, or danger ; something must therefore 
 be done to produce these, or the appearance of them, or 
 we shall not only lose the sensation, but worse than that, 
 the admiration -, for, as there can be but little merit in 
 doing anything in the doing of which no difficulty exists, 
 little or no merit being shown, we have no right to expect 
 admiration after this logical definition. I will tell Mr. 
 Augustus how to go to work in a much more dashing 
 style, which will probably " astonish the natives ;" for 
 who would be content to drive as Sir Henry Peyton 
 does, merely for his amusement ? He creates no sensa- 
 tion in the street : there he sits, with as much ease and 
 as much at home, with four horses in his hand before 
 dinner, as he is in his chair with a glass of claret in his 
 hand after. True, such names as Onslow, Lade, Sefton, 
 Baring, Agar, and every four-in-hand man, know Sir 
 Henry to be A 1 as a coachman ; but how is the multi- 
 tude to know this ? — they never see him in any difficulty 
 — how are they, then, to judge how he would get out of 
 one ? and, as not more than one man in fifty of that 
 multitude is the fiftieth part of a coachman, the multi- 
 tude is the object to please and astonish, not that one man. 
 But I will tell Mr. Augustus how at all events, to as- 
 tonish him, and to astonish and please the multitude at 
 the same time. " That's " (as Mr. Augustus says) " the 
 ticket !" 
 
 We will say the four strange horses are waiting for 
 him to take them in hand, In the name of all that's en- 
 terprising, let him not go sneaking about them, peeping 
 and scrutinizing, as if he were afraid of them. The last 
 coachman I alluded to took his team off without any 
 difficulty, it is true — what credit did he get by it ? Any 
 potboy standing by, felt assured he could have done the 
 same thing. He merely ranked in the estimation of the 
 
HINTS ON COACHMANSHIP. 181 
 
 crowd as Garrick did in that of the farmer, who, on his 
 opinion being asked, said, " Do you mean that little 
 chap? Oh, he can't play a bit; he only did just as I 
 should have done if I'd been in the same mess he was." 
 
 No ; go straight up to your wheelers, lay hold of your 
 reins (never mind the bits — if you are a coachman you 
 can drive with any bits ; if they don't suit your horses' 
 mouths, so much the better ; it will put some of them on 
 their mettle). Don't stand pulling and hauling your 
 reins through the turrets, as if taking hold of four 
 horses was an undertaking ; grapple your ribbons at 
 once (better not in the driving hand, or you might 
 tumble over them in getting up). Never mind what 
 length each rein is; for if on seating yourself you find 
 your near-horse reins a foot or two too long, and your 
 off-rein a foot too short, by which you get your horses on 
 the footway, so much the better — it will be laid to the 
 spirit of the nags ; and, with a knowing look, say to 
 your companion on the box, " I say, Bob, the tits are all 
 in a fret." The men will hold them till you have, as a 
 sailor would say, coiled up a fathom or two of your reins. 
 Should you get a little pale, with some not-to-be-men- 
 tioned sensations, seeing your off-hand way of going to 
 work, the paleness will be laid to anger at your team's 
 impatience, and they will set you down as such a stunning 
 fellow that you will hear some one say, " He'll give it 
 'em presently : this is the time o' day." This is taking 
 hold of the crowd that have gathered together, as you 
 did your horses, " by a coup de main!' 
 
 It is quite possible that among the crowd witnessing 
 Mr. Augustus's start there may be some coachman of 
 the old or ordinary school ; if so, it is equally possible that 
 the dashing operations of our hero may procure a smile, 
 not to say a sneer. What if it does ? The display of 
 
182 HINTS ON COACHMANSHIP. 
 
 style and intrepidity has secured the suffrages of every 
 gaper round ; so, should the sneer of the old slow fogy 
 be seen, some butcher -boy will say, " What are you 
 grinning at ? do you think you could drive them 'ere 
 rum 'uns ?" If this is not triumph, I know not what is. 
 Where is the statesman that can ensure the voices of 
 the multitude by a majority of a hundred to one ? But 
 Mr. Augustus does, and will do so, if he perseveres in the 
 lessons I will give him. 
 
 We have seen Mr. Augustus with his two off-side 
 horses on the footway, from which (as soon as he had 
 coiled up his near reins), with a leetle shoving from his 
 men, he gets them off. 
 
 " Well done, by Gad !" cries a young gentleman with 
 an apology for an imperial on his chin, a broad dark 
 braiding on his trousers, and under his arm a round, 
 longish roll, looking very like patterns of different co- 
 loured silks. Here is not only something, but a good 
 deal gained in point of credit as a whip ; for if Mr. Au- 
 gustus's horses had got themselves on the footway, he 
 has shown he can get them off: a fact that we have 
 no proof that Sir Henry can accomplish ; for as, I believe, 
 no one ever saAV his horses out of their proper place, how 
 can any one be certain he could, in such a case, get them 
 into it again ? Perhaps the worthy baronet will take my 
 hint, and by the Augustian mode prove his coachman- 
 ship ; if he does, I ensure him my most perfect astonish- 
 ment, and that of many others. 
 
 As Augustus has, no doubt, given some of the foot- 
 way passengers a start, it is time that we should give 
 him a start also ; which we will do, telling him how to 
 effect it with the increasing admiration of the natives. 
 To do this, wc must attend to the smallest matters that 
 may produce effect. 
 
HINTS ON COACHMANSHIP. 183 
 
 Many coachmen, on starting, have their whip with 
 the thong phed round the crop, and the last foot of it 
 in their hand. This I strongly reprobate. First, it 
 will create a doubt whether, we will say, Mr. Augustus 
 could hit a leader properly, and, in fact, it would look as 
 if he did not intend trying to do so. This long thong, I 
 can tell him, is a matter of considerable importance to 
 him, and is as imposing an emblem of a four-in-hand, as 
 are the colours of a regiment to it. Besides, how does 
 he know which or what horse he may want to hit or 
 correct ; and supposing it was a leader (I just suppose), 
 by the time Mr. Augustus had — by untwists, twists, 
 and again untwists — really got his thong at liberty, the 
 cause for its use would have been long gone by. He then 
 wants to hit {lie must use no term less important than 
 " double-thong") a wheeler. He has now to twist his 
 thong up again, in the doing of which, he may not pos- 
 sibly get a turn near the setting on, but some two or 
 three very loose ones round the handle and his own 
 arm; besides, so quick — or, in modern phrase, ^ofast — 
 a coachman as he, must not wait for this ceremony, but 
 must say to his hits, as Lady Macbeth did to her 
 guests — 
 
 " Stand not on the order of your going — 
 But go at once !" 
 
 No ! let the thong fly like the flag that 
 
 " Braved the battle and the breeze." 
 
 It is thus ready for any horse ; for some horse or horses 
 must be hit at starting, want it or not, for the sake of 
 effect. Besides, it will tell them what they have to 
 expect, if they misbehave on their journey. Mr. 
 Augustus being now seated, must, for form sake, make 
 the interrogatory, "Right?" Some one might wonder 
 
184 HINTS ON COACHMANSHIP. 
 
 who tlic "Riglit" was addressed to; no matter, if the 
 gapers wonder at Mr. Augustus altogether. The men, 
 as ordered, reply, " All right, sir!" Augustus gives a 
 kind of railroad whistle ; his box companion produces a 
 monstrous horn, in addition to the one with the men ; 
 and the horses start. How far Augustus goes on " all 
 right," we shall see as he gets along. 
 
 There are numbers of persons in this world who are 
 very particular in all they do, 1 hate particular people. 
 I am so myself, as regards all that is done where horses 
 are concerned ; but this says nothing against my general 
 dislike, for I am not particularly attached to myself, or 
 have cause to be so. Some men, in driving along a 
 straight road, like to see their wheels " track." I must 
 say, with four horses in my hand, I should not like, if I 
 stood up and looked back, to then see I had made a 
 corkscrew on the road half a mile long. I quite agree 
 that the polehook looks better pointed between the 
 leaders than between the quarters of either one of them. 
 If we wish to " spring them a bit," so as to " cheat a 
 hill," I grant that one horse having the stride of a Bay 
 Middleton, and his companion the up and down of a 
 cob for an elderly gentleman, is not desirable, inas- 
 much as the bars fly about in most " admired disorder," 
 showing a movement like a see-saw in extraordinary 
 quick motion ; and if the wheel-horses have the same 
 kind stride, are strong, and the coach or carriage light, 
 it gives it somewhat the swing of a bustle on certain 
 ladies we meet in Regent Street. All these particularities 
 are not only remarked, but objected to, by coachmen ; 
 but they are beneath the notice of the Augustian or 
 Horatian school. But we must get Mr. Augustus along 
 somehow. 
 
 If in driving I meet an equipage, a glance mostly tolls 
 
HINTS ON COACHMANSHIP. 185 
 
 me whether a workman is on the box, or merely a man 
 who drives. In the first case, I merely cast an eye on 
 his hands, and by them can see as well what he pro- 
 poses doing, as if he gave me his intentions in words. 
 With such a man, I have no fear in " feather-edging" it 
 as close as he likes ; for I well know, if I clear his 
 bars, I shall not have his roller-bolt brought in contact 
 with my own. But this will not do if meeting a mere 
 man on a box. How could his hands shew me what he 
 intends doing, when probably he scarcely knoAvs him- 
 self ? — and if he does, he as probably does not know how 
 to do it. I should as soon think of looking at such a 
 man's feet as his hands, as indications of his intentions. 
 Even looking at the pointing of his pole wont do ; for if 
 it points, as a sailor would say, north-east by east one 
 moment, it might be north-west by west the next. The 
 only safe proceeding, is to give such a steersman a wide 
 berth, and that accompanied by an unmistakable hint 
 from yourself, as to where you would wish him to keep 
 or go — that is if he can, a thing by no means to be con- 
 sidered as a certainty. I am always most particularly 
 courteous to such customers, and so probably would be 
 some other slow fellows like me. So it will show that 
 the advice I shall give Mr. Augustus Horatio, will 
 verily conduce both to his safety, and also to produce 
 effect ; for wishing to be thought a coachman by brethren 
 of the craft is one thing, and determining to be won- 
 dered at as a stunning young fellow is another. 
 
 Now, to see four horses coming along straight, smoothly, 
 and showing that the artist has them all in hand as safe 
 as a mouse-trap, is all very well, and I think very pretty. 
 Our workman has one of Friburg's best weeds in his 
 mouth ; and each horse's mouth is so nicely felt, that he 
 has a spare hand occasionally for the use of his bit of aroma. 
 
180 HINTS ON COACHMANSHIP. 
 
 This shows a man at his ease ; but as he is doing nothing 
 to astonish, he cannot say that, like a comet, he is " won- 
 dered at." Let Mr. Augustus come along in other guise ! 
 let him come along with his team like the horses of the 
 Sun, as if each contemplated a different intent, Augustus, 
 Phaeton-like, bringing his as yet triumphant car along 
 in maddening career, as if " a kingdom was too small a 
 bound" for it and him ! Shades of that departed small 
 fry who used to patronize the Black Dog in Old Peter's 
 time, cognomening themselves, par excellence, the 
 E.I.H.C., hide your diminished heads ! Show me one 
 of ye, or the lot eii masse, who would dispute the road 
 with the Augustan " Clear the way !" His, I maintain, 
 is the safe plan, as well as the astounding one ; for I 
 think it will be ceded to me that, whether you carefully 
 get out of the way of others, or they get out of the way 
 of you, the beneficial result is the same : and if you are 
 not certain of being able to eff'ect this yourself, drive as 
 I advise ; and I will be bound others wall get far enough 
 out of your road. If they should presume or be forced 
 to come into anything like proximity to you, turn on 
 him at once with a " Hoy, hoy ! what, are you tired of 
 your life, old Fumblefingers?" Your man — if he, like 
 his master, is of the fast school — will, as he passes, give 
 old Slow-and-go-easy a bray in his ear with his horn. 
 
 We had left Mr. Augustus just effecting a start, or 
 rather, having made one ; consequently, he had not as 
 yet got the steam up ; so his team went off merrily, 
 curvetting, and throwing themselves into various and 
 sundry positions, as suited the whim or temper of each. 
 Now, extended as may be the notions of any man as to 
 the proper quantity of roadway allowable to one vehicle, 
 most persons will agree that somewhere between tlic 
 footway is the proper place for it ; yet, with all such 
 
HINTS ON COACHMANSHIP. 187 
 
 liberal allowance of space, Mr. Augustus finds it no easy 
 task to keep bis nags witbin it ; but as eacb leader 
 seemed to have some premeditated course of bis own, 
 and as tbe course of eacb differed, tbe sundry pulls and 
 bauls of Mr. Augustus so constantly counteracted tbe 
 volition of eacb, tbat tbey, nolens volens, kept, tbougb 
 not straight, still in a serpentine course along tbe car- 
 riage-way ; but in driving, in racing, or in tbe race of 
 life, we cannot always keep in "straight running:" in 
 fact, in the latter case, it is not easy to get into it, much 
 less keep there. So it was with Augustus. All streets 
 have an end, and then there must be a turn — in other 
 words, corner. Now, better coachmen than I, may say 
 that corners present no difficulties. To them, perhaps, 
 they do not ; but I have found some that, in figurative 
 language, were rather three-cornered things to manage 
 neatly — that is, where the cross-street is a very narrow 
 one. In such cases (though I may be wrong), I have 
 kept my pole pointed to the left, even after my leaders 
 had diverged to the right, and perhaps passed my thong 
 over my off" wheeler, to keep him well up to bis traces. 
 This is perhaps slow, but I have found it safe ; yet it 
 really gave people an idea I was actually afraid of a post. 
 This would not do for our Augustus, No, no. Turn 
 your horses altogether ; lay the double thong into your 
 near-side wheeler. This will bring him round a shaver ; 
 so did Augustus. Over went an old apple and orange 
 woman. Away went her rowley-poleys ! " Och, mur- 
 ther ! my fruit!" "All right, mother!" cries Au- 
 gustus : " Chuck her a sovereign, Bill !" says he to his 
 man. " That's a stunning chap !" cries a baker's boy. 
 " Twoo-twoo-twoo !" goes Bill's born ; and away goes 
 the four i^nof) in hand. " The Corner " is reached ; 
 Kniditsbrido;e is reached. The old veritable cabbies 
 
188 HINTS ON COACHMANSHIP. 
 
 stare ; the faster Hansom's-cab wide-awakes twig the 
 new votary for notoriety in a moment, and touch their, 
 hats, hoping fervently chance may throw such a custo- 
 mer in their way. " I say, Sam,'* says a handsome 
 young fellow, whose dress and general appearance at 
 once show it was not over-prudence or ultra purity of 
 conduct that brought him to drive a Hansom, " if that's 
 a patent safety, it's on a new construction." The tits 
 had now somewhat settled to their work — that is, not 
 that they had got to go together, and work pleasantly 
 and equally ; but each, having his blood somewhat up, 
 began to pull at our charioteer in a way that he little 
 thought a pair, much less four, could pull. The turn- 
 pike at Kensington is reached. To stop, Augustus felt 
 was impossible ; so, making the best of the matter, he 
 called to his man, " Chuck down a crown : d — n the 
 expense!" An old acquaintance of mine, who has for 
 years officiated there, and to whom I have given many 
 an extra shilling, caught it back-handed. Augustus's 
 face was now fast assuming a bright scarlet tinge. His 
 arms felt as if a vice had been on them for twenty-four 
 hours. He had a vague idea of stopping to get his 
 team curbed up to holdable tightness ; but, like the 
 cork leg, he could not stop. A short way further on the 
 road, it had been newly and deeply gravelled. No sea- 
 worn passenger ever hailed the sight of land with 
 greater pleasure than did Augustus this promise of a 
 check to his wilful team. On coming to it (with an 
 inward touch of exhaustion), he relaxed his hold of them. 
 This, of course, threw them all abroad. They rushed 
 through the gravel for a few yards ; then, when one 
 pulled, another stopped, and vice versa. The near 
 wheeler, with more pluck or devilry in him than the 
 rest, makes a determined pull forward. Snap goes the 
 
HINTS ON COACHMANSHIP. 189 
 
 outside trace! The rest stop, each looking different 
 Avays. The half-loosened horse turns his quarters from 
 the carriage, and, hanging sideways, pulls the pole to the 
 near leader's flank. He sets kicking — kicks as if he 
 had been at it before, and knew how to kick. The off 
 Avheeler, fearing a taster of his heels on his nose, throws 
 himself away so suddenly, that he slips up, and gets 
 under the pole. From the one horse hanging away, the 
 wheel-reins get tightened so much in our charioteer's 
 hands, that, on the wheeler falling, our young coachman 
 gets pulled off his feet, and falls over the toe-board. 
 While struggling to get up, the prostrate wheeler gives 
 his master a tap on the head, that on a thinner skull 
 would have told a tale that would not have wanted 
 repeating ; but they say Providence fits the back to the 
 burthen, so being {pro tempore') a little more senseless 
 than usual was all its consequence in this case. For- 
 tunately, this occurred in a crowded neighbourhood ; 
 and in such there are always present some who know 
 what they are about ; so the team are got on their legs, 
 a pair of posters put to the drag, and the master and 
 his friends in it. Probably, before his next essay, he 
 will consider that, though such advice as I have given 
 may lead to producing effect, there are certain old-fash- 
 ioned slow ways more calculated to at least promise 
 safety. 
 
THE MONARCH OP THE WOODS. 
 
 The Sporting Magasi7ie was lying on the table of the 
 parlour of a small inn, or rather public-house, to which 
 the respectable portion of those residing in and near the 
 village resort. It is true, that in a usual wav this serial 
 is accustomed to more aristocratic company ; but Mag 
 is a very ubiquitous lady, and if she is not exclusive in 
 her acquaintance, it arises from her general hearty wel- 
 come wherever she goes. 
 
 "The Monarch of the wood — ay, that's the bull," 
 says Neighbour Turnfurrow, a comfortable farmer, whose 
 honest, good-humoured, weather-beaten face is, to use a 
 pictorial terra, in good keeping with the red handkerchief 
 that encircles his neck. 
 
 " Not a bit of it," cries Steelyard, the butcher ; " the 
 bull may be a monarch in your yard, but the ox for me ; 
 he's a monarch everywhere, and show me one as has so 
 many loving subjects." 
 
 " Well, that ain't a bad 'un. Steelyard !" joins in the 
 landlord, who fully appreciates the advantage he derives 
 from the (so styled) rich sirloin partaken of, on market- 
 day, at the farmers' dijiner. 
 
 " Tally-ho ! " musically shouts Dick Straighthorn, 
 huntsman to the crack pack that hunt the surrounding 
 country. " Tally-ho ! away ! the fox is monarch of the 
 woods for my money." 
 
THE MONAUCH OF THE WOODS. 191 
 
 "Why, Mr. Straighthorn," say8 Steelyard, "axing 
 your pardon, it's quite ridiculous calling that contempt- 
 ible, stinking, little varmint monarch anywhere, unless 
 he gets into a hen-roost." 
 
 " You're rather too fast over the country," returns 
 Straighthorn, who was always as hard to beat in a warm 
 argument as in a cold scent. " I don't often wish to 
 see a check ; but I think I can bring you to one. As 
 to a fox being contemptible, nothing's contemptible that 
 causes amusement and advantage to a country. Fox- 
 hunting does that ; and without foxes, we should have 
 no fox-hunting : so, you see, he ain't so contemptible, 
 after all. As to his stinking, Mr. Steelyard, that's all 
 matter of opinion. I've smelt your shop not quite so 
 sweet as the morning air, when you've kept meat too 
 long rather than sell it, as I think (meaning no offence) 
 you might do to the poor, at a moderate price." 
 
 Steelyard winced at this " hit off" of the huntsman's, 
 and the chuckle that went round the room ; but not 
 having " his earth" close by, he did not wish to raise 
 the cry of the pack, so said nothing. 
 
 " But to go on," says Straighthorn. " Now, when 
 my lady pulls out her perfumed pocket-handkerchief, 
 the scent is as disagreeable to me as probably the scent 
 of a fox is to her ; so you see, as I say, stinking is matter 
 of taste and opinion. Now, as to the fox being little^ 
 we don't value everything by being fat or big, as you do 
 your oxen ; and if I call a fox my monarch of the woods, 
 I ain't far out of my Hue of country, for we know, to 
 our advantage, it don't require a big body to make a 
 great Sovereign. So you must ' hark back,' Muster 
 Steelyard, and I must ' hark away,' for it's getting late." 
 So saying, Dick left the room. Steelyard was begin- 
 ning to get up his bristles, as a bit of a laugh was raised 
 
192 THE MONARCH OP THE WOODS. 
 
 against him by those remaining ; but a rattling " Tally- 
 ho !" given by Dick as he passed the window, so dis- 
 comfited the stalwart Knight of the Cleaver, that, in 
 the term Dick would use, he " bolted." 
 
 I do not allude to either of the animals mentioned, in 
 using the term monarch of the woods, however much habit 
 and partiality may make me lean to the opinion of Dick. 
 I quote on poetical authority, and allude to the stag — 
 " lord of the forest," " the lordly stag," " the royal hart," 
 " the antler'd monarch of the grove." Lordly and high- 
 sounding titles, i'faith ; but let us see how far such high 
 prestige is deserved. We may find that truth is not to 
 be cajoled by poetic flights ; so we will, in homely prose 
 and phrase, describe the figurative monarch as he is. 
 
 Ask the Asiatic whom he holds monarch among 
 quadrupeds, he would name the lordly elephant; the 
 Nubian, the stately lion ; and possibly, from his utility 
 to him, the Greenlander would quote the whale as lord 
 of all dumb creation. Each of these has certainly strong 
 claims to supremacy. When we consider the enormous 
 strength, the resolution, and more than instinct of the 
 elephant, he, perhaps, of all quadrupeds, may be held 
 supreme. The noble bearing of the lion, which, if it 
 docs not induce him to seek, causes him to shrink from 
 no encounter with living animal, is, indeed, a strong 
 claim to kingly prerogative. Even the cowardly, but 
 predacious tiger, is known to have, when it is called 
 forth, that desperatism in him, that renders him a fearful 
 antagonist even to the stupendous elephant : but his 
 sneaking and cat-like mode of attack, and cowardly 
 avoidance of danger, unless under extraordinary influ- 
 ence, have ever kept him from ranking higher than a 
 scourge to the country he inhabits. 
 
 By what attribute, then, has the stag challenged a 
 
THE MONARCH 01' THE WOODS. 193 
 
 title to which he lias so few pretensions? He is, by 
 those little acquainted with his nature, held as a bold, 
 courageous animal ; whereas he is, in truth, one of the 
 veriest curs among quadrupeds. It is true that he is, 
 at a particular season, when a kind of frenzy actuates 
 him, mischievous and dangerous to approach : this is 
 only like the temporary courage of the coward, when 
 under the influence of intoxication ; the season of frenzy 
 past, he resumes his usual pusillanimity. It is true, 
 when he finds his speed or endurance failing him, as a 
 last resource, he stands at bay, and will vigorously defend 
 himself, and even charge his pursuers ; so will often the 
 rankest coward. Could we call him bold or brave, who 
 would run if threatened by his fellow-man, and only 
 fight when despair urges him to do so, in preference to 
 abiding instant death ? It may be said the hunted stag 
 flies from a host of enemies. No doubt such is the 
 case ; but he would fly equally from a single enemy that 
 he could immolate on the spot. If this is doubted by 
 any, I take the liberty of introducing a corroborative 
 anecdote. 
 
 Riding on the heath, near the well-known meet of 
 Tower Hill, accompanied by a terrier, we came suddenly 
 on a herd of out-lying deer. The terrier ran up to them, 
 when one of these (so styled) lordly stags singled him- 
 self from the herd, and with the terrier yelping and 
 screeching at his heels, most ingloriously made the best 
 of his way towards Swinley. Wishing a gallop, I fol- . 
 lowed ; he took the fence that skirts the park ; the 
 terrier, who, by-the-by, had run with fox-hounds, got 
 in also, and fairly drove this monarch of the woods out 
 again on to the heath. I really enjoyed the fun, and 
 confess I in an under-tone cheered the dog on. We 
 skirted South Park, nor did the terrier leave him till he 
 
194 THE MONARCH OF THE WCODS. 
 
 jumped into BrarasLill domain, where I called my single- 
 handed pack off ; no doubt, could the dog have run into 
 his game, he would have been annihilated ; but the 
 difference between the brave or timid is whether fighting 
 or running away is held preferable. So much for the 
 stag's claim to courage. 
 
 Poets probably conceived that having no large wild 
 animals of a ferocious nature denizens of our woods, 
 plains, or heaths, the stag was lord of all such localities. 
 Had they seen my chase with Viper, he would have 
 shown their vaunted monarch to be a very contemptible 
 subject. 
 
 There is something very imposing in the look of a stag 
 when he rears his nobly-antlered front ; something in his 
 eye, if he will let us get near enough to him to look into 
 it, that bespeaks both defiance and resolution ; but here 
 we may appropriately quote " Ne crede frontis!^ Sup- 
 posing he moves ofi", there is a something in his leisurely 
 gait that seems to indicate that it is more to avoid in- 
 trusion on his royal person than any sense of fear that 
 actuates his movement ; he is, however, a veritable im- 
 postor ; a shout and the smack of a whip turn this 
 imposing front from us, and if he shows us its reverse, it 
 is not in him any act of contempt, but done preparatory 
 to getting it out of harm's way by ignominious flight. 
 His going off so leisurely is very probably instinct not 
 to court pursuit; but let him find what he fears as 
 danger quickly following, he will very shortly show the 
 mettle he is made of, by taking to his heels without 
 delay. 
 
 Association of ideas very commonly throws a halo of 
 interest and reputed beauty among many things that 
 possess little pretensions to either. The swan, another 
 of the poet's idols, shows very well in the water.- The 
 
THE MONARCH OF THE WOODS. 195 
 
 goose attracts no attention when, so situated, he comes 
 in proximity to his stateher neighbom*. But let the 
 proud swan come on laud, he becomes a mis-shapen, 
 ill-proportioned, ungainly object ; while the white gander, 
 who rivals him in hue, far exceeds him in other parti- 
 culars, and shows himself what he really is — a well- 
 proportioned, neatly-turned, handsome bu'd. 
 
 The name or presence of the stag carries the mind to 
 sylvan scenes so grateful to the eye or dear to the recol- 
 lection of all the admirers of nature. There may be 
 certainly little beauty in the barren moor or heath- 
 covered mountain, to those accustomed to woodland 
 scenery and smiling valleys ; but there is a charm to 
 him born in the wild, in the very wildness others might 
 complain of; while the forester as dearly loves the seclu- 
 sion of the vast forest, where, 
 
 " Far from the busy haunts of men," 
 
 he makes himself acquainted with the habits of each 
 denizen of its shade — happier, far happier than he whom 
 necessity compels to become intimate with the habits of 
 man. 
 
 Now, to investigate the beauty often attributed to the 
 stag, I must consider that no quadruped can have any 
 just claims to beauty that cannot boast of fair symmetry. 
 A gaudy or really beautiful covering makes many animals 
 beautiful objects, but in many such cases it is the cover- 
 ing, not the animal, that is beautiful ; now the stag 
 cannot pretend to even this advantage, though some 
 fallow-deer may. Cut off the fine antlers of the stag, 
 he becomes merely an ill-formed and (prejudice aside) 
 very plain animal. His head we will admit to be pretty 
 and blood-like ; here his beauty ends : for, come to his 
 neck, did any one ever yet admire that of the sheep or 
 
 o 2 
 
196 THE MONARCH OF THE WOODS. 
 
 camel ? if not, we cannot that of the stag. His shoulders 
 are low, usually straight, and thin through from shoulder- 
 blade to shoulder-blade. Who would buy a horse with 
 such for any purpose ? for they indicate neither strength 
 nor speed. He is small in the brisket, shallow in his girth, 
 has flat sides, and, to look at him, we should pronounce 
 him weak in the loins ; he is short in his croup, no 
 muscular development in his thighs, and, coming to his 
 hocks, such a shambling pair were never seen, except on 
 a cow. These in the horse we hold to be the great pro- 
 pellers, both in galloping and leaping. The stag sets all 
 criticism at defiance, as regards well-placed hocks being 
 indispensable for such purposes ; all we can say, not to 
 refute the opinions of good judges, is, that great as are 
 the powers of the stag in these particulars, they would 
 be greater if the hocks were better. I have certainly 
 seen a hunted stag take extraordinary leaps ; as to 
 height, the highest I ever saw one take was a seven-foot 
 wall. I have seen a horse, with eleven stone on him, 
 clear six at timber. Both India-rubber and Perfection, 
 with a rider, have cleared higher fences, merely at the 
 volition of man. What those horses — when, like the 
 stag, under the influence of fear — could have done, no 
 man can say. A stroke of the whip, or the application 
 of the spur, may, and does, cause a horse to face a fence 
 he would not voluntarily do, and the fear of falling or 
 hurt causes him to clear it ; but all this falls very short 
 of the desperate resolution that actuates the stag under 
 the influence of fear of a pack of hounds at his heels. 
 It may seem singular, but it is fact, that during several 
 consecutive seasons with stag-hounds, I never once saw 
 a stag take in width a leap bordering on what I have 
 seen horses take, with perhaps twelve stone on their 
 backs. It may be said that water usually produces the 
 
THE MONARCH OF THE WOODS. 197 
 
 greatest necessity of wide jumping, and that the stag 
 liking the element, and the horse fearing it, produces 
 the idea of the first preferring wading or swimming to 
 jumping ; the latter, unless much exhausted, clearing the 
 impediment rather than go through it. This is probably 
 in many cases the fact ; yet it seems singular that an 
 animal closely pursued, when time is of vital importance, 
 should venture to waste it in floundering into and out 
 of a brook of fourteen feet in width, when we should 
 fairly conclude he might clear a far greater width with 
 little eifort : be it as it may, I never saw a stag take a 
 very long leap, nor, judging from their style of leaping, 
 do I believe they can, for they jump everything short, A 
 horse, merely leisurely cantered up to a gate, will compass 
 many more feet in width in doing so than does the stag. 
 I must see some new feature in their jumping to what I 
 have seen, ere I feel sure a stag really could jump the 
 same width as could, and did, old Moonraker. 
 
 We now come to the "fleetness of the stag" — another 
 piece of poetic imagery. He is fleet, no doubt, but fleet 
 quoad what ? Fleet, no doubt, in comparison to the horses 
 ridden when poets eulogised the fleetness alluded to — 
 when hounds (of the kind they were) were led in leashes 
 by men on foot, and placed as relays to be slipped as 
 occasion required — when knights gallant rode in velvet 
 hats and plumes, bestrode high-peaked saddles covered 
 with velvet, with as highly-ornamented breastplates, for 
 ornament, not use \ for their steeds boasted carcases too 
 rotund to render slipping through the girths a possibility. 
 To counteract a far more probable circumstance, the 
 saddle getting forward, a crupper, with an ornamented 
 appendage very like a breachen, was also sported. Well 
 might their " panting steeds" be quoted by the poets as 
 emblems of " the flying chase ;" no doubt they did pant, 
 
198 THE MONARCH OF THE WOODS. 
 
 and the fleetness of the stag in contrast shone conspicu- 
 ously ; for let him escape the numbers assembled, so as 
 to gain the open country, it would have been thought as 
 much an act of madness to pursue him as to pursue the 
 wind. 
 
 We do not quite hold with such ideas in 1856 ; for if 
 we do not attempt to catch winds, we quite succeed in 
 catching stags, and if it were wished, could catch them 
 much sooner than we do. They can, when urged, go a 
 great pace, no doubt ; but it is only comparatively great, 
 for there is not a race-horse worth training that could 
 not, carrying a rider, beat any stag in an open plain, 
 though the latter would have nothing to lessen his powers 
 of speed. 
 
 If I have shown that the stag has nothing to boast of, 
 in point of courage, proved (as I trust I have) he has 
 few pretensions to beauty or harmony of symmetry, and 
 that his speed is only comparative, he has no great deal 
 left on which to found his claims to his title of Monarch 
 of the Woods. 
 
 Having, I believe, impartially scanned the pretensions 
 of the stag, we will now look a little to his origin. The 
 deer family are to be found in all the four quarters of 
 the globe, differing greatly in size and very considerably 
 in form. We have the sprightly ibex, the light gazelle, 
 the useful and docile reindeer, up to the lofty elk and 
 moose specimen of the Cervus kind, down to the 
 minutest species of the deer family. I have heard, 
 though I do not quote it as authority, that the stag or 
 red deer owes his origin to Germany ; I have, in fact, 
 frequently heard them designated German deer. It 
 matters little to investigate this particular. They have 
 for ages been inhabitants of Great Britain — we may, 
 perhaps, say of Scotland more particularly, that land of 
 
THE MONARCH OP THE WOODS. 199 
 
 heather and mountain so congenial to their nature. 
 Their numbers are now far decreased; as one cause, 
 thanks to the railroads, who carry all the vices of the 
 town to the once virtuous and peaceful inhabitants of 
 distant districts, and bring back in recompense turkeys at 
 Christmas time, that, though brought in accumulated 
 numbers, fetch, as I know to my cost, precisely the same 
 price they did when the old Norfolk coach was one of 
 the chief conveyances of this Christmas bird to London. 
 Do we get them one shilling cheaper now, though the 
 towns and villages between here and Norwich are devas- 
 tated by the change of system ? Bless all railway pro- 
 jectors and directors, who, no doubt, without any in- 
 terested views, petition for a rail to any place where they, 
 from its absence, see the inhabitants content and happy. 
 If I am not a good, who can say I am not a pious man, 
 when I pray for those who, time will show, will have few 
 others to pray for them ? 
 
 I have said that particular ideas, incident to circum- 
 stances, often invest things with an interest that in reality 
 is not their right. I found this on a particular occasion. 
 At one time I was constantly in the habit of seeing 
 herds of the red deer in Windsor Park and forest. After 
 a time, they ceased to interest me more than would so 
 many sheep ; but passing over Bagshot Heath in an 
 unusually thick fog, I came suddenly on a herd, some 
 lying in the road, and some at the side. In their usual 
 apparently indolent way they rose and moved off, others 
 showing a front that might have alarmed one less ac- 
 quainted with those creatures than I was. But there 
 was an interest in the scene, a kind of romance for the 
 idea to work upon, that I felt, but cannot describe. All 
 that could remind us we were in a habitable world was 
 shut out : all was chaos around us : those beings of the 
 
200 THE MONARCH OF THE WOODS. 
 
 mist and I seemed shut out from all but ourselves and 
 the few yards we could see around us. I stopped my 
 horse, and contemplated with a wild, perhaps singular, 
 feeling of pleasure and satisfaction the circumscribed 
 scene around me. The herd at length moved off. The 
 effect of the gradual obscurity of their receding forms 
 was a subject for a painter. A somewhat romantic turn 
 of mind caused me to soliloquise — " Thus fade our 
 visions of happiness in life." 
 
 But to leave romance and turn to common-place ob- 
 servation. Somerville, who on most subjects is more 
 correct authority than poets usually are, rouses our pity 
 for the hunted deer, by the statement that he sheds tears 
 of distress. Whether our poet conceived this to be 
 fact, or used his observation to excite interest, I know 
 not ; but this I do know, such supposition has no foun- 
 dation in truth. We might as well say the dog sheds 
 tears from his tongue, because perspiration issues from 
 that organ. I suspect the mistake or representation of 
 Somerville arose from most of the deer kind having a 
 kind of slit under each eye, from which at times a liquid 
 flows that might be conceived to be tears. I have dis- 
 sected a deer's head, and found those cavities run up to 
 the jaw-bone. Whether, as the deer breathes through 
 the mouth, these extra vents add facility to respiration 
 or the smell, is, as far as I have heard, a matter of doubt. 
 From the proximity of these slits to the eyes, it would 
 naturally enough lead to the supposition that they were 
 in some way auxiliaries to those organs. Nor do I 
 assert that they may not be ; but I could not trace the 
 slightest communication between them. There are natu- 
 ralists who affirm these orifices are connected with the 
 olfactory organs, and are given in addition to the facul- 
 ties other quadrupeds enjoy. Of one thing there is no 
 
THE MONARCH OF THE WOODS. 201 
 
 doubt : the stag possesses a more exquisite susceptibility 
 of scent than most other quadrupeds. Of this the forester 
 and deer-stalker is perfectly aware ; for without the pre- 
 caution of getting down the wind (that is, to leeward of 
 the herd), we cannot get within any reasonable distance 
 of it. Be it as it may, it matters little for what these 
 addenda were given : they serve, however, to distinguish 
 and particularize the deer tribe. 
 
 Whenever I venture any opinion at variance with the 
 general one, I ever feel I lay myself open to a charge of 
 prejudice or error — perhaps both. Having, then, stated 
 that, independent of his antlers, I hold the stag a rather 
 plain animal, I must beg to revert to the subject, in 
 order to endeavour to prove I have some foundation for 
 this opinion. 
 
 Every person on seeing a herd of fallow deer pro- 
 nounces them beautiful, more or less, in accordance with 
 the appearance of the general herd ; for there is a very 
 striking difference between herds in some parks and 
 those bred in others. There are deer whose skin pre- 
 sents a light fawn colour, down to a dark bay and brown 
 ground, nearly covered with white spots ; such are very 
 ornamental. Others have the white spots less clearly 
 marked, and fewer in number ; others merely show an 
 agreeable light bay entire colour, with the dark brown 
 stripe down the spine. All these are deserving admi- 
 ration as regards colour ; but there are many only 
 showing a very dingy, sooty-coloured black, reheved by 
 dingy mouse-coloured markings. Such are hideous in 
 colour ; and if a herd of such were seen, I believe any 
 one who had seen no other would pronounce the fallow- 
 deer a most ugly animal. Yet he has very much the 
 same proportions, on a diminished scale, as the stag ; 
 which shows, I think, that it is not to symmetry the 
 
202 THE MONAUCH OF THE WOODS. 
 
 stag owes any of the admiration he excites. It is, I be- 
 lieve, an imposing carriage at first sight — leading us to 
 suppose him a noble, courageous animal, which he really 
 is not — that causes the admiration he creates; while 
 association of ideas — bringing him in connection with 
 such scenes as Sir Walter Scott has so graphically por- 
 trayed — invests him with an interest inseparable from 
 him under any situation. 
 
 I have heard much argument, pro and con, used rela- 
 ^ live to the comparative speed of animals. When such 
 has been the case, and the horse was one of those under 
 discussion, one thing as relates to him I have frequently 
 observed has been lost sight of — namely, that he carries 
 a rider. I have expressed my conviction that a very 
 moderate race-horse could, with little effort, out-pace any 
 stag. I am quite ready to admit the horse, from his 
 superior length of stride, ought to do this ; so I allow it 
 but just he should carry weight, to put the two animals 
 on equal terms. The stag can out-pace the hound in a 
 mere short trial of speed ; and, as in the case of a horse, 
 he ought to do so, and not claim on that account any 
 great merit on the score of speed either. 
 
 I should say, taking dogs and bitches, twenty-four 
 inches is a fair average to reckon on as the height of a 
 fox-hound ; the regular stag-hound, as he existed fifty 
 years since, measured more, but was more heavily made, 
 so he gained nothing as regards speed by his increased 
 height. 
 
 In " give and take " plates, in racing, seven pounds 
 to an inch is the penalty paid by the higher Galloway or 
 horse ; thus showing that, as in increased height, in- 
 creased stride and strength arc expected, the importance 
 attached to height is manifested. I have ever considered 
 such races by no means fair as a proper test of the merits 
 
THE MONARCH OT THE WOODS. 203 
 
 of horses. We suppose a horse of fifteen hands to pos- 
 sess greater powers of stride than the one of fourteen 
 hands and a half. Whether he has or has not the capa- 
 bility we will not dispute, for it could not be ascer- 
 tained; but, at all events, we often see that he presents 
 no indication of practising them, for the lesser horse is 
 sometimes found to evince the longer stride. And as 
 regards powers of carrying weight, unless greater height 
 is accompanied by corresponding increased bone, sinew, 
 and muscle, the height, as regards strength, is disad- 
 vantageous. 
 
 The usual height of the stag or red deer I should say 
 is about thirty-eight inches, fourteen more than the fox- 
 hound. So as regards the horse and stag, the higher 
 animal ought to beat the lower ; and we admit the stag 
 to beat the hound. But how would it be if, for the 
 fourteen inches' advantage, we accommodated Mr. Stag 
 with seven stone on his back? I think the result of 
 such a handicap, as height goes, is easily predicted. It 
 may be said the stag was not intended to carry a weight. 
 Granted. Yet the llama does, who is of deer tribe ; 
 and if the Laplander does not mount the rein-deer, he 
 drives him in harness ; and verily, no bad buggy-horse 
 is he. Thus we find the large deer kind have very con- 
 siderable strength, which ought to be taken into account 
 when we see them contend in speed with lower animals. 
 It is no disgrace to the stag that he is beat for speed by 
 the minute and delicate antelope of his own species, the 
 greyhound of a different one, or equalled by the hare 
 and fox of another genus ; but it shows that it is not 
 the stag we should portray or quote as an emblem of 
 speed. 
 
 I have heard it mooted that the paddocked stag kept 
 for hunting labours under the unequal odds of our 
 
204 THE MONARCH OF THE WOODS. 
 
 hounds and horses being in the finest possible wind, 
 while the stag is not. This is true ; but as a set-ofF, we 
 give him, as a large animal, no weight to carry more 
 than the hound, as comparatively a small one ; and 
 horses have, perhaps, on an average, in the field, at least, 
 twelve stone to carry. 
 
 If anything were wanted to show the great superiority 
 of our horses and hounds as regards both breeding and 
 condition, the following remarks would, I trust, prove 
 that such is the case. 
 
 Formerly it was only stags who inhabited the forest 
 that were hunted. These were often, no doubt, roused 
 with full stomachs, and filled with food not the most 
 conducive to wind or endurance ; yet, if permitted to go 
 on fair terms with his pursuers, the latter were dis- 
 tanced. Now our hunting deer eat the same food as 
 helps to win a Derby, and are kept from such as would 
 be prejudicial to wind as scrupulously as is the race- 
 horse, an advantage no other hunted animal is awarded. 
 
 Now Reynard enjo}'s no such advantages. True, he 
 sometimes regales on a rabbit or pullet, but I believe his 
 more frequent substitute for a dinner is a field-mouse, 
 worms, or anything he can get to support nature. When 
 such is not the case, and chance has thrown a plentiful 
 supper in his way, he is disturbed with a full stomach to 
 run for fife or death ; at other times, when a long nightly 
 journey has induced him to seek the first secluded part 
 of the cover to rest his tired form, he is driven, when 
 stiff" and tired, to do his best to escape hounds fresh 
 from the kennel — awful odds, indeed, against poor pug ! 
 Yet, under such fearful circumstances, how often does 
 this tridy game little animal beat, not only the speed and 
 instinct of hounds, but the watchful eyes of huntsman, 
 whips, and the field. Bravo, little one ! If extra^ 
 
THE MONARCH OF THE WOODS. 205 
 
 ordinary attributes and deeds have raised men to be 
 monarchs of a people, why should they not a fox to be 
 the sportsman's Monarch of the Woods ? Tay, yo ! is 
 all very well wheu we merely want a gallop, but Tally- 
 ho, away ! thrills to the heart. 
 
"THE RULING PASSION." 
 
 I NEED not finish the quotation, for he to whom it alludes 
 was only "gone to ground" when the pace became too 
 fast for him; and verily he did "go the pace" till fairly 
 pumped out ; the " go" is taken out of him, or rather 
 such appliances as enabled him to go are now taken 
 from him, or go again he would, not as he once did, for 
 age will tell on all things ; yet, though as an Octoge- 
 narian (for bordering on that he must be) he could now 
 make fight with good ones of only half his age, he would 
 show some of our low phaeton-driving, omnibus-riding, 
 casino-frequenting, and Jullien-patronizing youths of 
 1856 how " Fields were won," or, at all events, crossed 
 by youths of his days, and would even now lead them a 
 dance al fresco, to which they would be forced to confess 
 the polka is barely motion. The frame would yield now 
 to prolonged exertion ; but could a horse be found to 
 clear the Thames, he would even now put him at it. 
 Whether, knowing horses cannot jump quite as wide, 
 he would, as I once saw him do, force his horse into 
 this said river, trusting to Providence as to the getting 
 out, I know not ; but nothing would surprise me that 
 he might do : he ever was, in technical phrase, " a devil 
 untied," and a precious hard-bitten one too. 
 
 It was not a year or two back, but a few at the end 
 of those, when I first saw the subject of these lines ; it 
 
" THE RULING PASSION." 207 
 
 was when Tom Oldaker and old Brush were as much 
 assimilated in the minds of every sportsman of their day, 
 as have the Captain and Vyvian been, of a later date. 
 
 I will here mention a rise Old Tom got out of me 
 at that time ; in short, " did" the " young 'un," alias 
 Mr. Green, alias my noble self, "brown." I had often 
 asked him to let me have half an hour on old Brush, 
 partly from curiosity, partly to be enabled to say I had 
 ridden him. Now, in a general way, Tom would just as 
 soon have consented to let a man bestride his shoulders, 
 as the back of his horse ; still he had always promised that 
 some day I should have my wish. We had one day had 
 a pretty severe twist over the best part of the Gerard's 
 Cross country, had got near West Wycombe, the fox's 
 line pointing towards Wendover ; the country rode 
 heavy, and few were up — we came to a check. " Now," 
 says Tom, " as there's not many here to see, I'll make 
 my promise good, and you shall see our fox killed on 
 Brush. We changed ; they hit it off beyond some sheep, 
 and away they went, with a breast-high scent, the 
 country getting every yard more holding. Respect for 
 the old horse, and indeed his master, induced me to 
 nurse my nag most tenderly. I need not say hounds 
 can race over ground that brings on the sad complaint, 
 " The Slows," with the best of horses. They gained 
 upon me ; not so with Tom ; a pretty dressing I saw 
 he was giving my thorough-bred, and I soon smoked his 
 choosing this particular time to change horses. The old 
 horse could not be held answerable for this knowing 
 trick of his master ; so we laboured on, and came up 
 just after every atom of pug, consigned to the hounds, 
 had disappeared, my mare's tail shaking two hundred to 
 the minute. Tom politely thanked me for the care I 
 had taken of the old horse, and in return protested. 
 
208 " THE RULING PASSION." 
 
 in the words of old Dick Knight, he " was never so 
 carried." 
 
 At the time to which I refer, it was the practice of 
 the Old Berkeley to come from their own country — 
 which was a very extensive, and, indeed, take all in all, 
 a very good one — and to fix their head quarters at 
 Wokingham, in Berkshire, about as bad a fox-hunting 
 neighbourhood as can well be conceived ; there may be, 
 but I certainly never saw fox -hounds in a worse, not 
 even the worst parts of Essex. I really venerate any 
 and every man who promotes foxhounds being kept any- 
 where, where there are foxes to hunt, hounds can get to 
 kill, and horses can follow not merely somehow, but 
 anyhow ; but no man would go to such a country to 
 hunt, if he could get hunting elsewhere, nor would he 
 stay in such a place unless circumstances all but com- 
 pelled him to do so. However, for some politic reasons, ' 
 Oldaker during the season brought the hounds there for 
 a short time ; and I never saw him in good humour from 
 the time of his arrival to that of his departure. Who 
 could blame him ? 
 
 The " ruling passion" must have been strong, or some 
 cause very strong indeed, that induced the subject of 
 these pages to send four hunters to this town of bull- 
 baiting notoriety ; but come they did, and also came 
 their master. It is true, that so far as the fencing went, 
 it mattered little to him what it was ; for he once said 
 to me, " I can scarcely conceive a fence that is not to 
 be jumped, bored through, knocked down, or swam 
 over." " What say you," said I, " to a seven foot brick 
 and mortar wall?" "That would beat me, I suppose," 
 said he ; " but as the hounds could not jump it, I should 
 have no occasion to try it ; but I never found where a 
 hound could go, that I could not in some way or other 
 
"the kulimg passion." 209 
 
 get after him ;" and this, under any ordinary circum- 
 stances, I quite believe was the case. 
 
 Tlie hounds had a fixture at a sure find between Swal- 
 lowfield and Reading, a part of (then) Sir J. Cope's 
 country ; there were not a score of men out (showed the 
 good sense of those who were not) ; I was not one of the 
 wise, so was there. Knowing — I will not say the line 
 of country, but rather the Hue of covers — I waited wide 
 of the one the hounds were running in — good fun 
 enough for pug ; for after bothering hounds, huntsmen, 
 and whips as long as he thought it convenient, he haa 
 only to break, give his brush a flourish as if in defiance, 
 and in half-a-dozen small enclosures he was sure of 
 another friendly shelter. This was certainly hunting a 
 fox (equally probably foxes), but a sad apology for fox- 
 hunting. 
 
 Having been (I must call it) unfortunate enough to 
 have been for some years resident in so bad a fox-hunting 
 country, I knew it well — knew the habits of the foxes 
 there ; so as in hare-hunting I had learned to take a 
 "find" quite coolly, well knowing if he were found in 
 Purblind wood and broke, he w^ould just scuttle away 
 and cross a few fields to Nook-and-Corner copse, and so 
 forth. I was, on the occasion in question, " sitting like 
 Patience," not " on a monument," but on a gate in a 
 lane close by the cover, holding my horse by the bridle. 
 The first-whip was waiting at the end of the cover ; ovtr 
 the hedge out of it came the varmint, " fresh as a 
 bridegroom," and judging from the crash and cry in 
 cover, " perfumed like a milUner" in strength of scent, 
 if not in the odour of it ; quick as he was, the whip was 
 as quick as he, for away lie went twenty miles an hour 
 for the adjacent cover, and headed my gentleman, so as 
 to induce him to make up his mind to seek cover further 
 
 p 
 
210 "the ruling passion. 
 
 >> 
 
 a-iield. I was by this time mounted, and the hounds 
 were close to the fence leading into the lane, Oldakcr 
 with his arm before his eyes protecting them, as old 
 Brush brought him through a thick fence out of cover, a 
 few tail-hounds at his heels. " Yoi over, Joker, old 
 boy !" cried some one ; and a moment after, a gentle- 
 man on a grey, bringing half the hedge with him, half 
 jumped, half slid, into the lane. " Over it is again !" 
 cried the gentleman, waving his cap, and putting his 
 horse at the opposite fence, that few horses could jump, 
 and few would attempt ; but the good little grey did, 
 and getting his fore feet on the top, and his hind ones 
 half up the bank, he contrived to crawl up the remainder : 
 I expected to see him come backwards. "Yoik for- 
 ward !" hallooed Madcap, for so we will call him, still 
 waving his cap and setting the grey going. I had igno- 
 miniously put ray back to a gate, lifted it off its hinges, 
 and was quietly walking my horse till the hounds came 
 up ; through the same came old Oldaker, his tail-hounds 
 having passed him, and racing to join the body, I heard 
 something like d — g somebody's somethings ; I guessed 
 who was meant, but knew Tom too well to ask questions 
 when I saw he was out of humour. He had not seen the 
 whip turn pnggy, so made for the entrance to the cover 
 to the right ; I had seen it, so crossed the line to the left. 
 Round suddenly turned the pack, skirting the cover; 
 away they went, heads up for nearly two miles — an un- 
 wonted burst in that locality — and over they vaulted 
 into a large cover. The fox had, as it turned out, made 
 a short dodge the moment he entered ; so the pack over- 
 run the scent, and all was still except the cracking of the 
 underwood as they made their own cast in cover ; this 
 gave Tom time to come up, looking thunder, and swear- 
 
"the ruling passion." 211 
 
 ing great guns, and this will give me time to describe 
 Madcap and the grey. 
 
 The first was a man an honest six-foot three, about 
 twelve stone in weight ; his height made up by an un- 
 usual proportion of leg, and 'as I afterwards saw when 
 walking, he lifted those legs exactly as does a heron ; so 
 when he walked up to his horse one could imagine he 
 meant to walk over him. No difficulty here to reach 
 the stirrup ; for supposing him at any time to be an 
 unwelcome guest, if a man was sitting at a first-floor 
 window and saw Madcap coming, he would put down 
 the sash lest he should step into the room. His coat 
 was the reverse of being " more for ornament than 
 use," for it had evidently been well, or at least much 
 used, and a Meltonian would have said could never have 
 been ornamental ; I could mention some who would 
 have fainted, had they been obliged to show themselves 
 in it at Kirby Gate ; its skirts were claret- coloured, 
 shaded ofl", but relieved by occasional black spots, while 
 the lower edges showed the grey white. His white 
 cravat was well put on; the buttonholes of his Hght- 
 coloured buff" kerseymere waistcoat showed they were 
 not buttoned for the first time ; his clean, narrow-ribbed 
 cord breeches were made rather tight, showing a spare 
 thin thigh, and knees like an ostrich's ; his boots were 
 well made, and well cleaned ; but his foot — it was more 
 like a yard as to length : it seemed never to cease coming 
 out of the stirrup. He wore spurs with very short 
 necks, so one wondered how he could bring them to his 
 horse's flanks ; had they been long, I quite beheve he 
 could, had he wished, have spurred his horse on his 
 hocks while galloping. He wore a cap not its first season 
 by many, and no gloves; yet (I suppose from some 
 natural cause) his hands were white and gentlemanlike. 
 
 p 2 
 
212 "the ruling passion." 
 
 He was not handsome ; bis hair and large whiskers were 
 black, and when closely shaved he was still a black- 
 mugged one ; but this was relieved by a fine clear 
 health-showing skin, pearly teeth, and a most winning 
 smile. 
 
 The grey was a little one, not more than fifteen and 
 an inch, and evidently far under the weight he carried : 
 of him more anon. 
 
 By the time the huntsman came up, the hounds had 
 hit on their fox again, and as all things are fair with 
 such dodging, cowardly, short-running varmint, he was 
 very properly mobbed in all quarters, and w^ho-hoop 
 shortly told us his manoeuvres were over. 
 
 We found a second fox had gone off from the cover : 
 they hit on him, and their blood being up, and the 
 covers small, though he ran through several, they so 
 " dusted his jacket," that they drove him through them ; 
 so we got about thirty- five minutes with scarcely what 
 could be called a check. 
 
 Friend Madcap knew little of the country, but a vast 
 deal about hunting, hounds, and these hounds. Such a 
 fellow to get through a cover I never saw. If hounds 
 entered one anywhere near its centre, crash he went into 
 it ; and somehow, so sure as they broke, over came he 
 with them. Though, figuratively speaking, always with 
 the hounds, he was too good a sportsman not to avail 
 himself of sound ground, if they crossed such as would 
 distress his horse ; but he only carried this so far as still 
 to command them. He was unquestionably the only 
 man, this day, who in technical phrase " stuck close" to 
 them : this with a horse under his weis-ht, and in to him 
 a strange, and to every one an intricate country. He 
 was located where the hounds stayed while in the neigh- 
 bourhood ; T had to pass the same line as them on my 
 
"the ruling passion." 213 
 
 way home, and here began my acquaintance with this 
 extraordinary rider. I comphmented him on the truly 
 splendid way the little and indeed beautiful grey had 
 carried him, as also on the way he had kept so close to 
 hounds hi such a blind country. He most courteously 
 acknowledged my expressions of admiration of both, 
 and in return gave me the following account of himselt 
 and horses : — 
 
 " 1 am not," said he, " a man of fortune, though I 
 have always about half-a-dozen hunters by me. I am 
 in business in London, in the hop trade; but I so 
 manage that absence does not hurt my business, or 
 hunting my pocket. I do not disguise the fact — I 
 make my horses pay for themselves ; I am fond of hunt- 
 ing, have good health, and have the credit of strong 
 nerves ; the consequence is, every man who knows me 
 (and I am pretty generally known), if he has got a 
 violent, awkward, or vicious horse, brings him to me, 
 and I believe I have had more reprobates in my posses- 
 sion than perhaps any other man. I consequently get 
 good and fine horses very cheap. I generally succeed, 
 somehow or other, in making hunters of them ; I cannot 
 then afford to keep them for the pleasure of riding them, 
 and it is knowai I will sell anything. I never deceive 
 any one ; they see how a horse carries me ; if they 
 choose to buy him, and find he does not carry them as 
 they like, it is no fault of mine. I often have the same 
 horse two or three times over ; I will show you one, on 
 Friday, that I now own for the fourth time : he is the 
 best horse I ever rode, and I really believe the best 
 hunter living, to those who know him ; at least, he is so 
 to me." 
 
 " Surely," said I, " this horse you are on is all a man 
 could wish." 
 
214 "the ruling passion." 
 
 " I mean him to be nearly so, before I liave done 
 with him," said Madcap, " unless any one wishes to buy 
 him as he is. I bought him in the summer. He is 
 sound, six years old, a very superior goer, and, as you 
 have remarked, is very handsome. I bought him for 
 thirty pounds. He had been tried at most things, and 
 would not do any thing ; he was dangerously vicious to 
 approach in the stable, and violently restive out of it ; 
 would merely go the way he liked, sometimes would not 
 go at all, so of course he knew nothing of leaping ; he 
 was the most refractory horse I ever had to do with, 
 which is," said Madcap, smiling, " saying a good deal. 
 Carrying my weight as he does, shows him a thorough 
 game horse ; for it is really his gameness enables him to 
 do it, and that same game made him fight so hard as he 
 has done to have his own way : I have beat him, not by 
 ill-usage, but patience and determination. He will now 
 in the stable hail those he knows when they go near 
 him ; this I brought about by never letting him get a 
 mouthful to eat or drink for weeks, but from the hand ; 
 he has now learnt that persons entering his stall was for 
 his benefit. When I first had him, myself and my 
 men relieved each other, and have been ten and twelve 
 hours on his back before we could induce him to go to 
 the left, if he wanted to go to the right. Force would 
 not do ; for he would rear, and fall backwards, stand 
 and kick, or lie down ; the latter he . has often done 
 when not forced. We then made him get up, and 
 waited ; till at last, wearied out, he turned as dii'ected. 
 I have been hours before I could get him to jump a 
 fence two feet high : he now never attempts to refuse, 
 and I should not fear putting him into the hands of any 
 man who would keep his temper, and yet show determi- 
 
"the ruling passion." 215 
 
 nation ; for with another I think it quite likely he would 
 again become tricky." 
 
 I thanked him for his hints, and bade him good morn- 
 ing, more than half determined to purchase the grey. 
 
 The next hunting day Madcap was mounted on the 
 itinerant hunter he told me had so often changed owners ; 
 he quite showed that our friend had no particular " sort" 
 that he patronised ; this was the very reverse of the 
 grey : he stood quite sixteen two, perhaps more ; could 
 carry any weight that could be supposed to attempt 
 riding, showed direct "half-bred," with the, to me, 
 abomination of all but a rat tail, and looked as unlike a 
 flyer, either at fences or anything else, as need be. Well, 
 thinks I, you must be an impostor of the right sort, to 
 carry your present master as he goes. " I am sure you 
 are admiring my hunter," said Madcap, smiling. " I 
 have no doubt I shall, at humble distance," said I, " if 
 we get a rmi." He had on a severe twisted snaffle ; we 
 were both in a lane close to a cover ; a hound or two 
 spoke, then another. " That's good for a hundred," 
 cries Madcap. So it was ; out came pug, and crossed 
 the lane. " Tally-ho, away !" screamed our friend. Out 
 came old Songstress, lashing her sides with her stem, 
 hesitated a moment, then came away, the pack at her 
 heels, making the fence out of the cover crack again ; 
 into the lane they went. " Yoi over !" cries Madcap. 
 Over they went into the next field ; I had bored through 
 a thin part of the fence in good time. " Cum up !" 
 says Madcap, giving his horse a haul, and taking a stiff 
 and very high gate out of the lane ; I here joined our 
 friend, and away we went, cheek-by-jowl. " This won't 
 last long, I dare say," said I. Before us was what most 
 men, I for one, should have held to be an impenetrable 
 bullfinch : I saw a very wicked smile on Madcap's face 
 
216 "the ruling passion." 
 
 as wc approached it. " Come along," said he to his 
 horse; "it won't spoil your beauty," He went at it 
 twenty miles an hour ; a faggot stack could scarcely have 
 stood the charge ; the great brute did not trouble him- 
 self to rise high enough to reach the weaker part, but 
 went through, as I could imagine a rhinoceros would 
 have done, trusting to strength, and caring little for 
 hide. My task was thus rendered easy, and my thinner- 
 skinned one did not hesitate. We were now on a 
 common. Come, thinks I, now it's my turn ; I think I 
 can easily catch, and give you the clean " go by." There 
 are many things easier to meditate than accomplish. 
 Madcap was aware of the advantage of sound turf as 
 well as I ; he gave his horse a twist, and I saw his long 
 legs come up to his horse's flanks, like a fire-escape to a 
 second-floor; switch went the nag's tail, and away he 
 strided. By George ! thinks I, I have heard a wild 
 elephant can go an astounding pace : I no longer doubt 
 it. Catch him I did, just at the termination of the 
 common : here was the extent of my short-lived triumph. 
 The common ended in some park pahng, placed on a 
 high wide bank, together making at least eight feet in 
 height. Come, thinks I, you can't jump that, at any 
 rate. I fully expected our friend meant to dismount, 
 and try how far it might be possible to pull it down ; 
 but no such thing : he put elephant straight at it ; re- 
 fusing on the part of the horse seemed never to be con- 
 templated ; he jumped on the bank, which aff'orded only 
 room, and just room, for his four feet to stand on. I 
 saw the horse positively waver on such narrow footing : 
 it was but for a moment ; one of Madcap's " cum ups" 
 settled the matter ; the horse rose as high as he could, 
 and breasting the paling, which like most old park 
 paling was not very strong, with a crash it gave way, and 
 
"the ruling passion." 217 
 
 the horse came on his nose the other side. A haul, and 
 the " cum up," soon had him in going order, and away 
 they steamed just as if nothing had happened. " Come," 
 says I, " I can say without any fib, I have followed per- 
 haps the boldest and most determined horseman on 
 earth ;" but how I did it the reader perceives. A gate 
 on the other side let us out ; it was a regular white 
 sound park-gate ; luckily it was open, or I make no 
 doubt Madcap would have gone at, and probably cleared 
 it. Sotto voce, I should have tried the hinges. We 
 were now among the small enclosures through which ran 
 a brook : I knew it well, and its width in different parts ; 
 the hounds were going straight for where it was very 
 wide ; straight as they, went Madcap ; I took the liberty 
 of diverging a little. At it went the pack, some swim- 
 ming, others jumping as far as they could, and then 
 scrambling out. At it went Madcap, his horse well 
 collected, and one stroke of the double thong sent 
 elephant clean over. I saw our friend look back; I 
 guessed it was for me ; but the brook winding towards 
 where I went at a narrower part, I was over even 
 before him : he pointed at me with his whip, as much 
 as to say, " I see the dodge." We shortly killed our 
 fox. A chase seems long in telling, but we had not run 
 more than about four miles as the crow flies. Where 
 was Oldaker all this time? may be asked. Quite near 
 enough to be ready if wanted ; and well he rode, but 
 rather wide — quite excusable in him, for he was then an 
 old man. May all fox-hunters be able to ride as well at 
 his age. 
 
 I need not trouble the reader with a third run, where 
 we only badgered about a cover running fox, and lost 
 him. 
 
 I now asked our friend how it happened a horse, that 
 
218 "the ruling passion 
 
 >) 
 
 nothing seemed to come amiss to, was so often resold. 
 " I will tell you," says he ; " he would frighten any man 
 who did not know him well, for in putting him at a 
 fence he gives one the suspicion that he does not mean 
 to take it ; and further, he never rises an inch higher 
 than he can possibly avoid ; hurdles, or anything that 
 will yield, he invariably hits so hard, you expect he must 
 come down. Yet, as you saw to-day, he is cunning 
 enough to know stiff timber as well as his rider ; he will 
 hit that, but not so as to hurt himself or risk falling. 
 He can jump as wide as any horse : still, if you ride him 
 at a ditch four feet wide, he will only just clear it ; four 
 or fourteen, he does just the same. I know him, and 
 he knows me, and I don't think when together many 
 can beat us ; between you and me, he is not a gentle- 
 man's horse, though an extraordinary one ; but he has 
 been an income to me." 
 
 I was obliged to go to London next day, but promised 
 to meet our friend at the race-course at Ascot, to see 
 the deer turned out, and at the same time a bay mare 
 he intended to ride with the stag-hounds : and well worth 
 seeing she was ; she looked all but, if not quite, 
 thorough-bred, well up to thirteen stone ; sixteen hands 
 high, quite as good-looking, and not unlike Beeswing ; 
 she was fit to carry a monarch ; no doubt she had, or 
 had had, ?ome fault or faults, for she looked worth as 
 much as any hunter could be. Our friend was really 
 Melton this day in dress, I suppose in honour of the 
 hunt ; he sported a hat, and merely a crop in his hand, 
 without its thong. The stag was uncarted, the hounds 
 laid on ; Madcap waved his hand to me, and the mare 
 flew the rails in and out the race-course, going quite in 
 racing form : I trotted up to the Bracknell-road, saw the 
 hounds going straight for Tower-hill, and Madcap of 
 
"the ruling passion." 219 
 
 course as close to them as he could as a sportsman be ; 
 there, no doubt, he stayed, no matter where they went. 
 
 I shortly left that country. Going some years after 
 to spend a week with my father in Essex, who should I 
 see but Madcap, on a magnificent brown horse. After 
 some conversation, I jokingly said, pointing to his horse, 
 " A reprobate, I suppose." He smiled. " I'll show 
 you," said he, dismounting, and drawing his horse's 
 tongue a little forward, it appeared as if two notches had 
 been cut out each side. " This horse," says he, " has 
 been held as an incorrigible runaway ; his tongue has, 
 as you see, been half cut off with whipcord ; he has 
 been tortured in all ways, and driven half mad. I have 
 cured him by patience, keeping my temper, and letting 
 him find that if his mouth got punished it was his own 
 fault : he has got quite good-tempered, pulls strong, 
 being a willing goer, but unless when hounds are run- 
 ning, any woman might safely ride him." 
 
 Essex — that is, great part of it — is a very blind coun- 
 try, so far as the fences go : but here, as where I had 
 before seen him, he went just the same — namely, first. 
 
 I once met him afterwards in Leicestershire, where, 
 strange to say, he had never shown before ; and when I 
 say in such a hunt and country the buzz was, " Who is 
 he?" the "way he went" may be surmised. 
 
 I often called on him at his house of business in the 
 city, but then went abroad, and then to Ireland. Years 
 passed on : I called on my friend ; the warehouse had 
 been tiumed into a draper's shop, with fine plate-glass 
 windows, a very difierent genus /wmo showing as its 
 master. Ah, me ! during these years how n^any friends 
 
 " I've seen around me fall, 
 Like leaves in wintry weather." 
 
 Some time after this, I was one day handed a letter ; 
 
220 " THE RULING PASSION. ' 
 
 " I know the hand," said I ; " but let's see." I did 
 see ; it ran thus : — 
 
 " Dear Hieover, — Since we met at our last fixture, 
 like many a fox I have followed, I have been driven out 
 of my line of country ; I have tried all the old earths 
 where I used to find you, but found them closed ; I 
 have at last made a wide cast, and have hit you off. I 
 
 am located in a hunting lodge at , North Wales. 
 
 I have a pack I think you will call of a good sort : I 
 have not a large stud, and my country being hilly they 
 are little ones, but so was your favourite grey. Do come 
 and spend as many weeks with me as you can spare ; do 
 not bring any nags, for strange horses could not go here. 
 My wife is anxious to see so old a friend of mine ; you 
 know my horses always knew it was no use to refuse, they 
 knew they must go ; and I tell you, you must come." 
 
 " Humph ! married — rather late in the day for you 
 to find, friend Madcap," thought I. " Well, a neat 
 pack, a hunting lodge, and a stud, sound well. I'm 
 heartily glad to hear it, for your sake." 
 
 A few weeks after answering Madcap's letter, I started, 
 partly by rail, partly by coach ; the latter set me down 
 at one of the sweetest villages imagination could con- 
 ceive. I asked for my friend's lodge. " It is just over 
 there, sir," said my host, pointing towards the sky, as if 
 it was a balloon I was in search of. " Have you got a 
 chaise I can have ?" " We don't keep chaises here," 
 replied the man ; " and if we did, it's eight miles to Mr. 
 Madcap's round the road." " Must I walk, then ?" said 
 I. " Oh, no ! my ponies are at home ; you can ride 
 one, and the boy shall carry your bag, and show you the 
 way on the other." The ponies came round, about 
 
"the ruling passion." 221 
 
 eleven hands each, and off we went, the Httle animals 
 climbing the mountain side like cats. " I suppose," 
 thought I, " there is a vale on the other side, for there's 
 no hunting here." We came in sight of my friend's 
 cottage, perched hke a Swiss chalet near the crown of 
 the mountain. I saw Madcap ; for there was no mis- 
 taking him ; onwards he came to meet us, lifting his 
 legs, as if the next step would put one foot on my head. 
 " A Welsh and English welcome, and many of them," 
 said he, seizing my hand. " I've been too many for 
 you," said he ; " but all's fair in friendship, as well as 
 in love or war." We entered his beautiful cottage, ren- 
 dered perfect by the taste of a refined woman, for such 
 I found his wife, who welcomed me as a known friend ; 
 and now the secret came out. Some years before, a 
 large speculation had all but ruined my friend ; he was 
 now in years, but hale as ever ; a small income he had, 
 and another on his wife's part made up about £250 a 
 year; with this he had retired to his present abode. 
 His pack was about ten couple of the neatest little bc^aglcs 
 eyes could look on, whose music in this romantic country 
 sounded beautiful , echoed and re-echoed as it was : a 
 couple of very pretty ponies about twelve hands high, 
 and strong as little cart-horses, and one actual/j/ thirteen, 
 in honour of my friend's long legs, were his stud ; I need 
 scarcely say his hunting was on foot, and the little cry 
 seldom missed killing their hare. Here he showed me 
 what spearing a particular salmon -like fish was ; he, in a 
 pair of water-tight boots, waded into the stream, and in 
 truth he could have crossed the Thames at low water 
 in some places, without being up to his hips ; so long 
 legs are useful in some places. But his beagles were 
 his hobbies ; his stable hobbies were chiefly for the use 
 of his wife and household, though I once here saw him 
 
22*2 " THE RULING PASSION." 
 
 mounted, when I rode one of the tiny ones, and the lady 
 the other. He seemed contented ; yet the mention of 
 former days, Uke the memory of a dear friend, brought 
 forth a saddened feehng he strove to repress. I stayed 
 with him a week, and leaving him, rejoiced to see the 
 once daring meteor of many fields could find solace in 
 the little means left him of enjoying at least a type of 
 the " ruhng passion." 
 
DOING THE NATIVES. 
 
 "Turning the stud to account!" " Accommodating a 
 friend ! " or many other titles, would have served for 
 the following subject. I choose the one made use of, 
 from the following circumstance giving me the cue : — 
 I was supping a few evenings since with a party of five ; 
 myself, as I must suppose, a kind of make-weight, con- 
 stituting the sixth. It was professedly an oyster supper 
 — an entertainment usually made by the class of men of 
 whom the donor was one, a somewhat expensive affair. 
 True, there stood the veritable barrel, a true type of the 
 spirit of the " provoke ;" but the grouse, the " volaille 
 au" this, the "jus an" that, the " consomme au" the 
 other, and the little sweetened and devilled adjuncts, 
 were enough to " astonish the natives," even before they 
 were opened, as much as we may conclude the opera- 
 tion of walking into their pearly stronghold astonished 
 them in its execution. They say a proper and gentle- 
 manly apology will excuse most acts ; query, an apology 
 from a knife to an oyster. 
 
 One of the party suddenly stopped in a most devas- 
 tating havoc he had been making among the shell-fish, 
 and, looking at a betting-book, ruminated for a moment. 
 *' Pardon me ! '' he said to the host, put up his book, 
 and resumed his attack. 
 
224 DOING THE NATIVES. 
 
 "What," said the former, "you're thinking of vic- 
 timising the flats, are you ?" 
 
 " Is not our friend hard on the innocent ?" said the 
 oyster eater, addressing his right-hand neighbour. " Do 
 I look Hke victimising any one ?" 
 
 " Certainly not !" replied the one addressed ; " though 
 you certainly show great capability in doing the na- 
 tives !" 
 
 I promised to head some article it might suit Avith the 
 jeu d' esprit. I have done so. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon of an autumnal day, that 
 a light mail phaeton, drawn by a pair of very highly- 
 bred posters, in high condition^ rattled over the hard 
 chalky road of a small straggling town, or very large 
 village, in the lower part of Somersetshire. The road 
 not being one leading regularly from post town to post 
 town, a strange carriage was rather an unusual sight ; 
 and a strictly aristocratic-looking and fashionably-dressed 
 young man on its seat, and his valet, whom the good 
 folks of the village held as a gentleman also, in the 
 dickey, were objects to which they were as little accus- 
 tomed. Neither of the passengers was, however, a 
 perfect stranger ; they had been seen the preceding year, 
 and if report speaks true, Mr. Dupre, the valet, had 
 caused more than one rustic beauty to show a temporary 
 coldness to her honestcr, more sincere, but far less 
 civilised, affiance. Many a kiss of the hand, given with 
 the same grace as if intended for a fair denizen of Park 
 Lane, did the young aristocrat telegraph to some pretty 
 but sunburnt face as his vehicle whirled by, and many 
 such faces blushed rosy red, and were bashfully with- 
 drawn, from a feeling their owners hardly understood, 
 and certainly could not explain, even, to themselves. 
 " Oh ! it's the young Lord going again to the Hall," 
 
DOING THE NATIVES. 225 
 
 solved any inquiry ; for a Lord they would have him to 
 be, though choosing to be called plain Mr. Hopetown. 
 His motives for the concealment they felt confident he 
 adopted, were accounted for in various ways : one and 
 all, however, united in their admiration of him, nor did 
 they mean to convey other impressions, in announcing 
 with a smile, and intended knowing look, that he was 
 " A nointed one, they'd warrant." Round the turn in 
 the private road to the Hall flew the compact cortege, 
 and "he" was gone. "He!" With what rapidity 
 does thought flit through the human brain ! What a 
 gush of feeling will not a moment sometimes carry to 
 the heart! "He" could be nothing to the grown or 
 budding beauties of that sequestered spot ; but, how- 
 ever lowly may be her lot, there is a delicacy in the 
 mind of woman that teaches her to admire any object 
 showing a refinement to which she is unaccustomed. 
 Thus rapid as had been the flight of our young Giaour 
 through the village, though it might not produce so 
 futile an aspiration as, that " Heaven had made her 
 such a man," it sufficed to produce comparison that 
 brought on a feeling closely allied to mortification and 
 altered sentiments, and many a head was that night laid 
 on its pillow with the heart less contented with its lot. 
 
 The perusal of any anecdote or circumstance is 
 usually attended by an impressible desire to know how 
 far either may be fictitious, grounded on fact, or fact 
 itself. It is not, perhaps, in the generality of cases, of 
 much import to ascertain either particular ; for if what 
 is written, " points a moral or adorns a tale," its being 
 fiction or the reverse matters little. Should, however, 
 the reader think it worth his while in this case to put 
 the enquiry, I am at liberty to answer it. The names 
 are changed, the locality also ; but the occurrences were 
 
226 DOING THE NATIVES. 
 
 facts, with very trifling alterations, to prevent recogni- 
 tion of persons, except to a very few. 
 
 I have said enough of my hero's personal appearance : 
 but I must give a very brief history of him, that the 
 anecdote respecting him may meet some palliation from 
 extraneous circumstances. 
 
 His father had amassed a considerable fortune in 
 India, where he died, leaving the whole at the disposal 
 of his widow, and leaving also an only son, the hero of 
 the tale, then ten years old. Both returned to Eng- 
 land, where prudence on the part of the widow, in 
 pecuniary expenditure, increased the property she in- 
 tended for her son. Had her prudence been extended 
 to a proper guard over the youth's conduct, I should 
 not have had the anecdote in question to lay before my 
 readers. It is mentioned as a warning, not a mere 
 relation of incident ; for though his manners, pleasantry^ 
 accomplishments, and good humour threw a false colour 
 on whatever he did, it amounted to little more than a 
 certain feeling which, against our sense of propriety, 
 prevents our holding Macheath as what he really was — 
 a thief and villain. 
 
 A precocity of intellect and talent enabled our young 
 hero to acquire that education necessary and accom- 
 plishments desirable in a gentleman at a very early age. 
 When other boys were spinning a top, his higher im- 
 pulse induced him to practise the violin ; and while 
 others revelled at foot or trap ball, he. studied the guitar 
 and singing, with Spanish and Italian, so as to be 
 master of the sonnet of either country. At sixteen he 
 was a man in height, in manners, and education. 
 Well would it have been had his precocity ended here ; 
 but it did not. He asked for no boyish indulgence, but 
 seized on such as men partook of. While his mother 
 
DOING THE NATIVES. 227 
 
 held him as a mere boy, he had long had a fair entretenu 
 from the Opera, a very small but fashionable house in 
 Mayfair, a stud of hunters, and a string of debts enough 
 to frighten a man of mature years ; he was known to, and 
 in the books of, every Jew who was disposed to advance 
 him money. The end was, at twenty-one, he came 
 nominally into four thousand a-year, of which he could 
 not call one his own, and of ten thousand in ready 
 money, he had had about three, for which he had given 
 acknowledgments for the whole. Now was the friend 
 wanting to tell him to set these harpies at defiance, pay 
 them what he had had, and dare what malice they might 
 show ; but youths or men of our hero's turn, will listen 
 to no friends but such as help to plunder them. 
 
 He was only twenty-seven at the time I introduce him 
 to my readers, ruined beyond redemption ; but it is not 
 to be supposed his ten years' career had left him the mere 
 extravagant boy, open to all sorts of pillage. No ; he 
 was now the wary man, and turned the tables, not 
 merely on those he had suffered by, but on the world, 
 into which he had learned to think men were sent to 
 prey on each other. 
 
 A very different person was the inhabitant of the Hall. 
 He was twenty-five years young Hopetown's senior ; had 
 been a friend of his father's and served in a diplomatic 
 situation in India ; returned after a couple of years' stay 
 there : had married, and lost his young wife in the first 
 year of his marriage — a blow he never recovered. He 
 quitted the gay world, retired to the Hall, an old-fashioned 
 place, where, in the cultivation of his land, in field sports, 
 and his books, he spent about seven hundred out of one 
 thousand pounds a-year. Time had softened down his 
 feeUngs into fond remembrance, calm regret, and cheerful 
 resignation. Respect for the father had produced in Mr. 
 
 Q 2 
 
228 DOING THE NATIVES. 
 
 Herbert an attachment to the son. He deplored his 
 errors ; but was willing to believe the head, or rather 
 the force of circumstances more in fault than the heart ; 
 and to a great degree he was right. Our hero had 
 from time to time laid this good friend under somewhat 
 heavy contributions, in various ways. Still the latter's 
 kind heart and liberal feelings formed excuses where his 
 judgment could but condemn. 
 
 A third personage must be mentioned as one who 
 had greatly contributed to render Hopetown the man he 
 had become ; this was Mr. Sharp, his solicitor, agent, 
 and pretended friend, shield and buckler. He managed 
 all money negociations, in each of which he reaped a 
 harvest, large or small. At an enormous sacrifice to 
 his client's resources, he kept him at liberty, excepting 
 occasionally for a day or two ; then some fresh loan was 
 negociated, and the attorney on either side well paid 
 himself; and this system Mr. Sharp intended to keep 
 going so long as his client could by false appearances 
 keep his credit going also. Hopetown was too keen to 
 be deceived by the specious protestations of his agent. 
 He knew him to be a villain ; but he was useful in 
 ways in which a respectable man would not act, and in 
 acts in which such a one would not meddle. 
 
 The motives of Hopetown's present annual visit was 
 first to put his friend Herbert in confidence as regarded 
 various sums lent from time to time ; secondly, to pur- 
 chase, on promise, or make some exchange for anything 
 he might be disposed to part from, in the shape of horse, 
 carriage, dog, gun, watch, ring, snuff-box, or any thing 
 or things convertible into cash, in London ; thirdly, to 
 sell him a couple of horses ; and fourthly, under some 
 plan to borrow money, which he well knew Mr. Her- 
 bert had always at command. 
 
DOING THE NATIVES. 229 
 
 As the phaeton stopped at the Hall door, a well- 
 appointed groom and stable-lad were at its side in a 
 moment, touching their hats to one who was ever wel- 
 comed by servants wherever he went. Hopetown 
 acknowledged them in a way in which he "won all 
 hearts." The old gardener even welcomed the newly- 
 arrived guest. " Well, old respectable," says Hopetown, 
 "you're still in the land of the living, I see!" The 
 bell brought to the door another well-known acquaint- 
 ance in the person of Mary, the parlourmaid, for Her- 
 bert kept no footman. " Well, Mary," said Hopetown, 
 after getting down and shaking her by the hand ; 
 " pretty and good tempered as ever, eh ?" Whether it 
 was present feeling or remembrance of the past that 
 caused a deep suffusion over every visible part of the 
 skin of the pretty Mary, is not for me to inquire into ; 
 but blush she did, and drew back from the gaze of her 
 fellow-servants. 
 
 "Ten shillings, is it not?" said Hopetown to the 
 postboy. "There, take that," chucking him a sove- 
 reign, " and don't be two hours over the stage the next 
 time you drive me l" 
 
 " Not quite fifty minutes, sir !" said the boy, smiling, 
 and standing uncovered. 
 
 "Two hours, you rascal, by Gad !" says Hopetown, 
 entering the house. 
 
 " Master's gone up to the new cover. Sir," said the 
 still blushing Mary. 
 
 " Then bring in a cover for me of some sort, ma 
 delle /" said Hopetown ; "for I'm starving !" 
 
 What delayed Mary a minute or more in the room — 
 what caused her to run so affectedly and precipitately 
 from it — what caused her to stand at an open window 
 ere she met the eye of the other females of the esta- 
 
230 DOING THE NATIVES. 
 
 blishments, conjecture whispers ; but the true historian 
 does not trust to such dubitable evidence, so he leaves 
 it to the reader's imagination. 
 
 Mr. Herbert, having been apprised of his guest's 
 arrival, immediately returned from his after-dinner walk, 
 and found our hero busy at his repast. 
 
 " Well, my honourable !" said the latter ; " you see I 
 bring a Somersetshire appetite from London, and you 
 produce London delicacies in Somerset. Brought two 
 or three trifles I shall beg your acceptance of; two or 
 three for you to buy, and will take any thing off your 
 hands you don't like ; there are customers to be found 
 for everything we like to take to ' the village' !" 
 
 Wine was ordered, coffee and cigars succeeded, 
 racing news and anecdote from Hopetown accompanied 
 them, and Roman punch of his concocting finished the 
 first evening at the Hall. 
 
 " By the bye," said Hopetown, the next morning, at 
 breakfast, stopping the threatened tap on the end of his 
 egg, " you wrote to desire me to get you a horse fit to 
 carry you in this country. I did not forget your com- 
 mission ; but in the first place, a horse clever enough 
 for you in this intricate part of the country is not easily 
 met with ; for nothing short of a colossal cat could 
 ensure crossing it safely : in truth, I tried all the hunt- 
 ing dealers' stables. Since that I have been with my 
 good mother, who is to let me have a thousand at 
 Christmas ; so, old friend, you must just let me have a 
 couple of hundred to carry on the war ; for I have pro- 
 mised her not to raise money again at the ruinous 
 interest I have hitherto paid. But we will talk of this 
 another time," said Hopetown, who was too good a 
 tactician to press his leading object. 
 
 He had broken the ice, held out the prospect, or, as 
 
DOING THE NATIVES. 231 
 
 he represented it, the certainty, of his getting money, 
 in a couple of months, and had stated his wishes. 
 He thus left his friend to digest the matter at his 
 leisure. 
 
 " Not being able," said Hopetown, " to find you a 
 horse suited to this country, I have brought down two 
 of my own ; they are everything you could wish ; in 
 fact, the nicest animals I ever had. Lord Chesterton 
 wanted both ; but I told him I had promised one or 
 both to you. You shall ride them ; for my dog-cart 
 comes with them, as I intend crossing the country to 
 * * * *. So the horse that brings it will carry me, if 
 we have nothing very fast as a run. By the bye," con- 
 tinued he, " the nags ought to be here, or very near by 
 this time. I told my fellows to do the ninety miles in 
 two days, and eighteen this morning ; for the horses 
 being rather short of work, they will be all the better 
 for their journey." 
 
 We will now look a little at Hopetown's character and 
 deeds as a sportsman, his practice in speculative con- 
 siderations, and afford a hint as to the truth of what he 
 averred, as regards his animals, men, carriages, and the 
 purposes each were intended to be put to, that is, if 
 his intentions should " come off." 
 
 First, then, he hunted ; not that he cared about it as 
 a sport or amusement, but, being a particularly fine and 
 very bold rider, he turned these attributes to good 
 account ; and many who bought his horses at very high 
 prices, might as well have bought Paganini's violin 
 under the idea of being, like him, able to perform 
 wonders with it. He kept a strong stud, not that he 
 wanted them, but he knew others would : and by 
 having several, and those each possessing peculiar quali- 
 fications, he could hit all tastes and predilections. He 
 
232 DOING THE NATIVES. 
 
 was tenacious as a woman of any exposure of his person 
 to fatigue, deprivation, or danger ; but where anything 
 w^as to be gained, he set all at defiance, and was daring 
 to recklessness. His horses were all extraordinary in 
 some particular, and that one he knew well how to turn 
 to account. For instance, the two he had brought down 
 were not worth a rush in a good and fast country, but 
 could take a gate if set up in the stable ; were clever and 
 safe as cats at any blind or awkward fences, and, like 
 most animals he possessed, imposing in appearance, 
 both as regarded looks and condition. Hopetown had 
 always an eye to a bet ; so whatever he had could be 
 backed to do something extraordinary, and extraordinary 
 in a way least expected of it. Thus, if he got hold of a 
 trotter looking at all like hunting, a hunter he made 
 and called him — boasted of his perfections in this way — 
 said not a word about his trotting, until some conversa- 
 tion happened to take this turn ; then he pretended to 
 treat fourteen miles an hour as nothing, and avowed he 
 would not own a horse that would not do it, " Why," 
 he would say, " any hunter I have, would, I am sure, do 
 that." A bet usually ensued — done ! — and odds were 
 taken he did more. And then out came the secret — 
 four miles had been done by the hunter, so called, in 
 fourteen minutes. The horse he merely called his 
 buggy-horse was usually the fastest of his stud — in 
 fact, a racehorse of no mean pretensions. If he was 
 seen with a strong, heavy-looking, weight-carrying cob 
 he Was a singular animal that would take eighteen feet 
 of water or clear an ordinary turnpike gate. With such 
 tools to work with, he was always on the dodge, and a 
 hundred betted by him w^as a certain hundred lost ; his 
 men were too well instructed to talk — when they did, 
 they knew their cue. 
 
DOING THK NATIVES. 233 
 
 Hopetown shot — had practised till every description 
 of firearm was equally eff'ective in his hands. Many 
 would have been vain, and boasted of such extraordinary 
 proficiency: not he. He confessed himself a very in- 
 different shot. If he took any man's gun in hand but 
 his ovm, he took care to miss far oftener than he hit ; 
 with his own he killed to a certainty. This brought his 
 guns into vogue, and he accommodated his friends and 
 acquaintances with them ; yet he ever had some extra- 
 ordinary killer to replace the former one. His dogs 
 were all singularly clever in some points, and he knew 
 where and when to show these off". The terrier that 
 followed his horses was certain to be one that could kill 
 rats in as great number in a given time as the best dogs 
 of the London rat- pits. If he had a horse given to 
 " bolting off" in harness, he would take care to show 
 him in a situation where he would have no inducement 
 to do so ; and would also show him going without 
 winkers. Few seeing a horse thus driven would even 
 ask if he was quiet ; if he did, the Jesuitical observation 
 of " I think you may judge of that yourself," saved a 
 downright falsehood. In short, in " doing" no man 
 could promise himself to be a match for Hopetown ; yet 
 he did all in a way that only left his victims in a posi- 
 tion to blame their own want of foresight, without being 
 able to attach absolute deception to the other. If they 
 were discontented with anything they got from him, he 
 most handsomely stated his perfect willingness to have it 
 again, and give another, or something else in lieu of it ; 
 in such case, Mr. Done was sure to be doubly done 
 somehow. 
 
 " Your horses are come, sir," said Mary, bringing in 
 an "omelette aux fines herbes" as an adjunct to the 
 breakfast. 
 
234 DOING THE NATIVES. 
 
 " True to the touch," replied Hopetown ; "my men 
 know I like punctuality." 
 
 " Yes," said Herbert, laughing ; " in fact, you value 
 it so highly, my good fellow, that it is very rarely you 
 use it." 
 
 "A palpable hit!" observed Hopetown, giving the 
 one he had delayed on the top of his egg. " By-the- 
 bye," added he, "talking of hitting, indifferent shot as 
 you know I am, I have brought a couple of guns with 
 me that I never miss with. What do you say to a stroll 
 after breakfast, as we cannot hunt till to-morrow ?" 
 
 " Agreed," replied his friend ; " but will it be quite 
 fair on your horses not to give them one day's rest 
 after their journey ?" 
 
 " Many would require it," said his guest ; " but those 
 I have brought will only be the better for the exercise." 
 
 Here a little by-play on the part of Master Hopetown 
 must be laid before the reader. The assertion of his 
 nags having come ninety miles in two days, and eighteen 
 by ten o'clock on the following morning, was one of his 
 white fibs ; they had leisurely travelled little more than 
 twenty miles a day, and ten on the morning of their 
 arrival. 
 
 Breakfast over, Mr. Herbert proposed a look into the 
 stables ; but his guest, who had always a motive in all 
 he did, begged a little delay while he fetched his dress- 
 ing-case. Now, he had a threefold motive in thus 
 delaying the time : it gave his men opportunity to get 
 the horses quite right after their morning's walk ; he 
 was not without hopes of being able to get Herbert to 
 purchase the case he spoke of, which was complete, 
 gentlemanly, and useful, without being too ornamental ; 
 and, again, he wished to propitiate his host by the 
 present he had mentioned before. 
 
DOING THE NATIVES. 235 
 
 Here it must be observed that Hopetown was a per- 
 fect adept in all the secrets and manoeuvres carried on 
 in jewellery and all articles of taste ; could not be de- 
 ceived himself, but knew all the tricks practised to 
 deceive the uninitiated ; knew every setting and every 
 appropriate foil used to make emerald, ruby, or car- 
 buncle out of an ordinary piece of crystal. With such 
 he was ever supplied for the purposes of presents, ex- 
 changes, sale, or as a stake against money in any case 
 where he considered the result of a bet doubtful. 
 Rarely, indeed, was the counterfeit detected ; if it was, 
 he vowed he had been imposed on in the purchase, or 
 laughed it off as a sporting affair. Few would venture 
 to make it a serious one ; if so, it was well known that 
 attempting an impeachment of Hopetown's honour 
 would be answered by being called before his pistol's 
 muzzle, an alternative rather too dangerous to suit the 
 move of the generahty of those who knew him. 
 
 From the dressing-case alluded to — a plain Russian 
 leathern one, containing what was absolutely necessary, 
 and nothing more, for dressing — he took a very hand- 
 some, plainly-set ruby. 
 
 " I think, Herbert," said he, " I know your taste — 
 *rich, but not gaudy.' This ruby was my grand- 
 mother's ; I have had it reset. Accept it as a trifling 
 memento of all your kindness to my unworthy self." 
 
 The ring was accepted, and as Hopetown anticipated, 
 the perfect compactness of the travelling dressing-case 
 struck Mr. Herbert's attention. A little jocose barter- 
 ing took place between the friends, which eased his 
 host of a lot of sundries he had no occasion for, at a 
 rate that paid, or would pay, about a hundred per cent, 
 on the original cost of the dressing-case. Deduct about 
 two pounds, the value of the ring, and add the credit of 
 
236 DOING THE NATIVES. 
 
 making a present estimated at thirty, it will leave a very 
 pretty balance in Hopetown's favour as a beginning of a 
 day's dealing. 
 
 A stroll now was made to the stables; and there 
 stood Hopetown's three nags, neat and spicy, as if they 
 had not stirred from a stall that morning. 
 
 " Not looking much the worse for their journey," 
 said Hopetown to his friend, and patting the horse he 
 particularly wished to call his attention to. " This is 
 the horse I have brought for you ; you shall ride him 
 to-morrow. I will ride the other." And turning to 
 his servant : " You may give Splinterbar (meaning his 
 buggy horse) a canter with the hounds : it will be as 
 good exercise for him as any other." 
 
 " The best single-harness horse in England," said 
 Hopetown, addressing his friend. 
 
 " He ought to be a hunter," remarked Mr. Herbert. 
 
 " Not fast enough," replied his friend ; " harness is 
 his trade." 
 
 This arrangement being settled, shooting was voted 
 for the morning's pursuit. 
 
 Hopetown took out his brace of splendid-looking 
 pointers, and, on their calling on a neighbour, he joined 
 them, bringing a third dog. 
 
 One of Hopetown's dogs, like most of his possessions, 
 was extraordinary in his way. This dog, in ranging, 
 never kept his eye for two successive moments off his 
 master, and was constantly seen turning his head 
 towards him. 
 
 " I never saw a dog so careful as that in my life," 
 remarked the stranger. 
 
 " He is so," said Hopetown ; " and I think I can 
 show you in him a specimen of perfect breaking you 
 never saw before." 
 
DOING THE NATIVES. 237 
 
 The dog was ranging to the left, cast an eye on his 
 master : a wave of the hand sent him instantly to the 
 right, a counter-sign sent him back to the left. This 
 was done several times, the dog turning as short as does 
 Mr. Batty's horse in the circle on the given signal. 
 
 " Extraordinary !" exclaimed both gentlemen. 
 
 " I can show you a little more than this," said Hope- 
 town. 
 
 The dog was now in full career. Hopetown beck- 
 oned him ; in a few strides he stood before his master, 
 looking him in the face. 
 
 "Wonderful!" was the second ejaculation. 
 
 Hopetown now made a downward motion of his 
 hand ; the dog dropped on the instant, and lay watch- 
 ing his master's very look. 
 
 " Would price tempt you to let me have him ?" said 
 the neighbour. 
 
 " Yes," was the reply ; " but, of course, it must be a 
 very strong one." 
 
 A very strong one was named, and the dog changed 
 masters. 
 
 Now, the history of the dog was this : he was, on the 
 whole, not better than the others, or, to those who knew 
 him, worse — he was deaf as a post. His ears being 
 useless to him, he had become thus watchful with his 
 eyes, and obeyed signal where others attended to call ; 
 and this gave the impression of his being more highly 
 trained than any other, and his constant watchfulness 
 prevented (except under very peculiar circumstances) 
 his infirmity being detected. He was, in short, a fair 
 ten guinea dog, and no more ; the extra three tens 
 given were a specimen of most of his master's sales. 
 
 Many, or at all events some, of my readers most pro- 
 bably recollect that in the entertainment of " Giovanni 
 
238 DOING THE NATIVES. 
 
 in London," on the Don's introduction to the Queen's 
 Bench, a gentleman there asked of him the loan of a 
 sovereign. This vras instantly given. " I wished I had 
 asked him for two," said the scamp. Somewhat of a 
 similar feeling influenced Hopetown on the ready sale of 
 the deaf pointer. " Their galleys blaze, why not their 
 city too?" so said the Corsair-. " The pointer's sold, 
 why not the Manton too ?" so thought Hopetown. 
 
 I have stated he was an unerring shot ; the neighbour 
 was not. Hopetown never missed a bird the whole morn- 
 ing ; the other missed about five out of six. It was now 
 getting late. 
 
 " Try my gun," said Hopetown ; "I am but a 
 bad shot, but I seldom miss with that and another I 
 have." 
 
 They changed. Hopetown's lucky star was in the 
 ascendant. A covey rose close at hand : bang ! bang ! 
 went Hopetown's barrels, in the neighbour's hands, and 
 down came a brace. Hopetown fired off his borrowed 
 ones, and took care not to disturb a feather. 
 
 " Changing tools does not suit a bad workman," said 
 Hopetown, smiling, 
 
 Three more shots were fired by each gentleman, the 
 neighbour bagging a brace, Hopetown misshig all. 
 
 " I make no doubt but the fault is mine, and not 
 your gun's," said Hopetown ; " but I cannot hit a bird 
 with it." 
 
 "And T," said the neighbour, " never shot in my life 
 as I have with yours." 
 
 I need not trouble the reader with particulars ; but 
 the Manton went to the same home as its old companion 
 the pointer, and at about as moderate a price. 
 
 The next day saw Hopetown's three horses with the 
 hounds, mounted as he proposed; Mr. Herbert intro- 
 
DOING THE NATIVES. 239 
 
 ducing his guest to a couple of friends, and getting their 
 promise to dine with him the same day. 
 
 Hopetown and his man both rode their horses as it 
 might be termed, in racing phrase, " to order," — that is, 
 with a certain object in view. The first took care so 
 to ride as to let his friend keep the lead of him ; yet he 
 also took care to show off the jumping powers of the 
 horse he rode. The man was ordered to keep quite 
 among the second-place set. One of the friends invited 
 to dinner was a very young man, whom the penetrating 
 observation of Hopetown soon detected as piquing him- 
 self on the speed of his horse and going " first flight." 
 Our hero narrowly watched him, and in point of fencing 
 " set him ;" in other terms, " rode at him ;" and at last, 
 at one most formidable fence, fairly "pounded" him. 
 At another part of the run, in which the young one had 
 been making injudiciously free with his horse, Hope- 
 town, seeing him in temporary " difficulty," seized the 
 golden moment, and, on a far slower, but fresher nag, 
 gave his new acquaintance the " go-by." This was all 
 he wanted, as the result will prove. The fox was killed, 
 and the gentleman met at dinner. 
 
 When during the evening the day's sport w^as men- 
 tioned, Mr. Herbert was complimented on the way he 
 had been carried. This was " nuts" in the dessert for 
 Hopetown, and caused a memorandum to be set down 
 in his mind to name an extra ten guineas in the price. 
 
 " Yes," said our hero, " I think Meteor quite worthy 
 of his name ; and," said he, turning to the young guest, 
 " that is a clever horse of yours, though not a fast one." 
 
 " Excuse me," replied the somewhat nettled owner, 
 " I consider him the fastest in the hunt." 
 
 " Except, for one, the horse I rode," said Hopetown. 
 
 " Oh !" rejoined the owner, " my horse was a little 
 
240 DOING THE NATIVES. 
 
 blown at the moment ; but I should like to run you for 
 a hundred." 
 
 " I do not want to win your money to a dead cer- 
 tainty," said Hopetown ; " but to show I give a candid 
 opinion of your horse's speed, I will run you for two 
 hundred, if you like, even with my buggy -horse, that 
 you saw my servant ride." 
 
 " Done !" cried the young one, his blood mounting to 
 his face at the supposed indignity offered his flyers. 
 
 The next day but two was named, over a mile and 
 a-half of a neighbouring course. 
 
 *' You may book your two hundred gone, Hopetown," 
 
 said Mr. Herbert ; " P 's horse is very fast, I can 
 
 tell you." 
 
 " If he is," replied his guest, " I forfeit all claim to 
 judgment in such matters" (for he did not even let his 
 friend into the secret). 
 
 Weights were not alluded to ; but as owners were to 
 ride, Hopetown's quick eye told him he had a good 
 seven pounds in his favour, otherwise so important a 
 point would not have passed unheeded by him. 
 
 At the starting-post, more than one remarked " the 
 buggy-horse" did not look unlikely to " go ;" one or 
 two knowing ones put on the " pot" in his favour. 
 They started, the young one making play at his best. 
 While running, the majority of those present voted " the 
 buggy-horse" and Hopetown's judgment and presump- 
 tion all quite out-paced ; coming into straight running, 
 however, Hopetown was seen evidently drawing on his 
 antagonist, at half distance collared him, and in spite of 
 steel and whipcord won as he liked. 
 
 A knowing look passed from a few to Hopetown, as 
 he quietly walked his horse up to his cloths ; and one 
 who had pocketed a few " ponies" whispered to Hope- 
 
DOING THE NATIVES. 241 
 
 town, " Glenartny — mum !" The initiated will guess 
 by this how the case stood. 
 
 The truly astonished and discomfited owner of the 
 beaten nag now began to doubt whether, should he in 
 future call his horse " The Flyer," one of his slang 
 friends might answer "Walker!" He offered to buy 
 the biig^y-hars^. 
 
 " No," said Hopetown; "he is not, as you suppose, 
 fast ; nor is he a hunter ; so I shall keep him for my 
 gigger. But I will have a deal with you for the horse I 
 rode, and," added he, " beat you on, when hunting ; he 
 really is, as a hunter, first rate." 
 
 The deal was made — Hopetown getting a hundred 
 and a better horse than his ; the buggy-horse being 
 bottled for some other chance. 
 
 Having thus done more business in a short time than 
 he anticipated, a letter next morning afforded a pretext 
 of being obliged to return to The Village. We will 
 now take a mercantile look at the results of the trip. 
 
 He had got the credit of making a £30 present for 
 about £2. 
 
 Had exchanged a £16 dressing-case for sundries that 
 
 would be sold for £30., 
 
 Sold a pointer, cost £10, at £40. 
 
 Sold a second-hand Manton, bought at £20, for £50. 
 
 Sold Meteor, cost £90, at £200. 
 
 Won on the race, £200. 
 
 Got for a second horse, cost 100 gs., a better horse 
 
 and £100. 
 
 Borrowed of Mr. Herbert, £200. 
 
 This sent him back flush to town, and well enabled 
 him to keep up golden opinions among Mr. Herbert's 
 servants, by giving them five sovereigns. What he gave 
 Mary is a secret between her, him, and myself. 
 
 R 
 
242 DOING THE NATIVES. 
 
 What little business Mr. Dupre, his valet, did on his 
 own account, in a minor way, among the natives we will 
 not investigate ; and what Hopetown's groom made on 
 the race, matters not to the reader of this article. It 
 was, however, several times over what the writer gets by 
 producing it. 
 
 " Bye, bye ! old fellow," said Hopetown, kissing his 
 hand from the drag next morning. " By George ! you 
 got a bit the best of me in getting Meteor at £200 ; 
 Chesterton would have given me £300." 
 
 " Now, get on, you sir," said he to the post-boy ; 
 " and don't be a week going the eight miles, as you 
 were coming. Go along, ye cripples !" said he, stooping 
 forward, and giving each horse a tap with his cane. 
 " Bye, bye !" — the " Herbert" was lost in the sound of 
 the whirling wheels. 
 
DARE DEVILS. 
 
 It is many, very many years since the earlier part of 
 the following scenes took place, and not a few since the 
 latter came off. Of all those characterized, one only 
 remains. The old hall where Graceless played his 
 youthful pranks is now in stranger hands ; its former 
 owners long numbered with the dead. The worthy 
 Precept has only left behind an example of how a man 
 should live and die. The hall where O'Rourke told his 
 story is now 
 
 A " banquet-hall deserted." 
 
 But if we have not many reminiscences to gild the recol- 
 lections of former scenes, we will not conjure up sad 
 ones to depress the heart. The scenes represented ac- 
 tually took place : by whom enacted matters to, perhaps, 
 no one living, but the actor of them. 
 
 Hearing a troop of equestrian performers of some 
 celebrity were coming into the neighbourhood, I thought 
 I could work the incidents into the form of a little 
 interlude. I did so ; and the largest barn, I believe, in 
 the county was lent as a skeleton theatre. The manager 
 was not above (a most unusual case) taking such hints 
 as to his mise en scene as rendered the thing more 
 tolerable to sportsmen's patience than I ever saw a 
 similar attempt at sporting subject in London, all and 
 every one of which are intolerable. 
 
 R 2 
 
244 DAKE DEVILS. 
 
 Though the time of the race in its real form lasted 
 but one day, the run of the piece lasted the fortnight 
 the troop stayed, and was really played to overflowing 
 houses, the last night more than a bumper, for the house 
 could not admit the number of applicants ; but duty in 
 another place called the manager away. He has long 
 since performed his last part : a few time-w orn sheets of 
 paper have outlived the man : from those records spring 
 the present article. 
 
 Scene. — A room in Sir John Foxh all's house. Sir 
 John and Mr. Phecept at chess. Lady Foxhall 
 at work. 
 
 Sir John \_risinff\. Check-mate ! and very neatly 
 done, Mr. Precept. I wonder where Graceless is ! in 
 some mischief no doubt. 
 
 Mr. Precept. I left him, Sir John, busily employed 
 in manufacturing a pair of saddle-girths of unusual 
 length. On my asking him for what they were in- 
 tended, he merely replied, " To witch the world with 
 noble horsemanship !" But his intentions it would be 
 difficult to divine. 
 
 Sir John. I was in hopes your experience in tuition 
 would have worked some reformation in him ; but really 
 he gets wilder every day. 
 
 Lady F. Come, Sir John, don't be too hard on 
 Graceless. Recollect you were a boy once, and I think 
 I may infer were wild enough. 
 
 Sir John. Perhaps I had my harmless pranks as 
 well as others. 
 
 Lady F. Among others, the having at eighteen 
 three racehorses on the sly, with a pretty little esta- 
 blishment of hunters, and a danseuse purloined from the 
 Opera to grace a very tasteful cottage five miles from 
 Cambridge. 
 
DARE DEVILS. 245 
 
 Sir John. Scandal, love; sheer scandal. But, if 
 true, how soon I bowed to the influence of superior 
 attraction. 
 
 Lady F, Whim, love ; mere whim. And if true, 
 how long may we calculate on its duration ? 
 
 Sir John. Come, come ; don't be severe. No man, 
 Ihey say, is a hero in the eyes of his valet. 
 
 Lady F. — And no man is a saint in the eyes of his 
 wife, if she knows the world. 
 
 [Foices/rom without: " Let her go T " She'll break 
 your neck. Master Graceless." " Break my grand- 
 mother I Let her go ! Capital ! go it, you crip- 
 ple T] 
 
 [Graceless passes the window in a gallop on a cow 
 saddled and bridled. 
 
 Sir John. By heaven ! there is Graceless on one of 
 the heifers. 
 
 Lady F. Pray, Mr. Precept, run ! The boy will be 
 killed ! [Graceless apjjears at the loindoio. 
 
 Graceless. Capital goer, governor; mean to hunt 
 her next winter. Only wants to be a little clearer in 
 her pipes. " Action undeniable," as Mr. Catchem, the 
 dealer, says. 
 
 Lady F. Get off, ray dear boy, I entreat you. 
 ■ Graceless. — " Born your slave, I live but to obey 
 you," I'm off. [^Gallops off. 
 
 Mr. Precept. I hope, Lady Foxhall, you are now 
 convinced my pupil is not one to be easily controlled ; 
 and yet, on the score of attention to his studies, he is all 
 I could wish. Depend on it, Sir John, wild and in- 
 domitable as he is, he will turn out an accomplished 
 scholar and a finished gentleman. 
 
 [Graceless appears at the door. Precept, having 
 dropped his handkerchief, stoops to pick it up. 
 
246 DARE DEVILS. 
 
 Graceless. Capital back, by George ! 
 
 [Vaults over Precept's back. 
 
 Precept. I trust, sir, I may never again witness in 
 
 you an act of similar rudeness. [Stoops again, and 
 
 agam Graceless performs the same featP\ By heaven, 
 
 sir, such insolence a second time is not to be tolerated ! 
 
 [Jgain stoops. 
 
 Graceless. Then " here goes another." [Jumps?^ 
 
 " Och ! there's luck in odd numbers, says Rory O'More !" 
 
 [Precept sags notMng, but, looking enraged, pursues 
 
 Graceless, ffe jumps between Sir John and 
 
 Lady F., and stands at the back of the sofa. 
 
 Graceless. It's no use, Pedagogus ; you may as 
 
 well " book it." [Sir John jumps tip. Graceless 
 
 takes a run doion the stage and jumps out of window?\ 
 
 Can't wait to apologise. Going to take a ride. See 
 
 you when I come back. Adieu ! [Runs off. 
 
 Enter Servant with a note. 
 
 Sir John. Prom Lord Rattleera [reads']. " My 
 dear Sir John, — Myself and friends are proposing to 
 give a cup to be run for in a steeple-chase for galloways, 
 to be ridden by the young gentlemen of the neighbour- 
 hood. I have put you down as a subscriber. I trust 
 you will permit your son to enter, and doubt not, in 
 that case, his bearing off the prize. Yours truly, Rat- 
 tleem." 
 
 Lady F. I hope, Sir John, you will not permit 
 Graceless to do anything of the sort. 
 
 Sir John. Why, I hardly see how we can refuse. 
 Graceless is known to have the best galloway in the 
 country, has ridden him two seasons with the hounds, is 
 the best rider of any boy in the neighbourhood, has 
 often ridden niy horses since, and our family having 
 
DARE DEVILS. 247 
 
 kept hounds for half-a-centnry, it would really dis- 
 grace tlie blood of the Foxhalls to let a member of the 
 family refuse the challenge. We must accept it ; though 
 I suppose, Precept, you will join Lady Foxhall in con- 
 demning both this and all steeple-chases. 
 
 Precept. No, Sir John, I am not so prejudiced as 
 you may suppose. It is true, such pursuits are not in 
 my way ; but I would wish to look at all things fairly 
 and dispassionately. I admire a display of courage and 
 energy as much as any man, and as a characteristic 
 sport of the country. I can even admire a steeple- chase, 
 when fairly carried out ; but I have read enough to know 
 that it is not always so, but is often converted into a 
 means of direct robbery ; and when it is so, instead of a 
 manly sport, it becomes as contemptible as any other 
 mode of picking a pocket. 
 
 Sir John. Spoken like a man! Why, Precept, you 
 are, I find, a true sportsman at heart, after all. 
 
 \_Enter yotinff Grkcy^IjY.s^ on his Galloway. Lady F. 
 
 sliglitly screams. 
 Graceless. Beg pardon ; " hope I don't intrude." 
 Oh, governor ! such news ! Couldn't wait to get off 
 Alexander : rode straight through the hall. There's to 
 be a steeple-chase. Bet what you like I win the cup. 
 Don't look so glump, Pedagogus ; I'll drink your health 
 in it. 
 
 Sir John. How dare you, sir, ride into the drawing- 
 room and frighten your mother to death? 
 
 Graceless. " I dare do all that may become a 
 man." Mamma is not frightened a bit, and I shall 
 present the cup to her. 
 
 Lady F. Really, Graceless, a cup would be no recom- 
 pense for seeing you risk your hmbs, and perhaps life, in 
 this odious steeple-chase. 
 
248 DARE DEVILS. 
 
 Graceless. Don't call it odious. You won't say so 
 when you see the cup on the sideboard. 
 
 Lady Y. Indeed I should, just the same. 
 
 Graceless. I hope not ; for if you did, do you know 
 what losers would say ? 
 
 Lady Y. Not I, indeed. 
 
 Graceless. Well, then, I'll tell you. They'd say 
 you had got a cup too much. [Jll laugh. 
 
 Precept. Come, Lady Foxhall, you will, I'm sure, for- 
 give my pupil, if only for his repartee. 
 
 Graceless. Bravo ! Pedagogus. I'll make interest 
 with Lord Rattleem to appoint you to start us. I think 
 I see you ; light riding trousers, cut-away Newmarket 
 coat, waistcoat extra length, blue bird's-eye choker, racing 
 (cap and whip) brooch, lily castor, &c. " What odds 
 against Alexander?" " 3 to 1." "Take you in ponies." 
 "Take it again if you like." "Done." Better than 
 gold-digging : make money in half the time. Alexander 
 wins all the way. There's independence for life for you, 
 old chap. 
 
 Lady P. Bless the boy, how he goes on ! Do, dear 
 Graceless, give up all thoughts of it. Suppose you meet 
 some frightful fence to clear? 
 
 Graceless. Why, then it's clear we take it. Alex- 
 ander never baulks. I'd as soon ride him at a brook as 
 at that sofa. Capital thought ! By-the-bye, I never 
 tried him at one. Here goes. Sit still. I'll charge 
 the one you're on. {T^^^^y i'^^^- H^ goes over it. 
 
 Sir John. Do, Precept, catch and stop him. 
 
 [Precept tries, but Alexander bites at him. Both 
 jnirsue him. 
 
 Graceless. Alexander wins for a hundred ! 
 
 \Jumps through the window. 
 
 Sir John. This last feat is conclusive nothing but a 
 
DARE DEVILS. 249 
 
 school can hold that boy. Come, love, you must not 
 sit in this draught any longer. Come, Precept. [Bin^s. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Sir John. See that that window is repaired as soon 
 as possible. Master Graceless has just rode through it. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 Servant. Gad, but that's something like an Irish 
 ejectment — making a place too hot or too cold for people 
 to live in. It's quicker than the law, by odds. 
 
 Enter Sir John's Huntsman. 
 
 Tom Dareall. They told me Sir John wanted me. 
 
 Servant. Perhaps he does; but you see he has 
 found it inconvenient to wait here to see you. Young 
 master jumped Alexander through the window. 
 
 Tom D. Well, he's a nointed one, and no mistake. 
 
 Enter Grenouille. 
 
 Grenouille. Eh, mon Dieu ! Vat have ve dare ? 
 
 Servant. Why, not much, for Master Graceless has 
 carried most of it with him. He's jumped, horse and 
 all, through it. 
 
 Grenouille. Ah, I hear von grand crash. I come 
 to see vat de mattere. Parbleau ! you English all mad 
 vith your jomp ven you get on de horse. I hear there 
 is going to be von of your steeple-races next month. 
 You English all mad that vay. 
 
 Tom D. And a very good way too. Your people 
 would be better fellows than they are if they took a 
 lesson from us. 
 
 Grenouille. Take a you care, Monsieur Dareall, ve 
 do not come to take dc lesson more soon dan it may be 
 agreeable to you. 
 
250 DARE DEVILS. 
 
 TomD. Oh! is that the time o' day? Well, then, 
 I'll just tell you what it is, Mounseer Greenowl, we've no 
 objection to give you lessons in steeple-chasing in your 
 own country, and have done so, but don't you come to 
 take 'em here unless you're invited ; for if you do, you'll 
 find there's a brook between your country and ours, that 
 before you may be able to clear in your way back will 
 enable us to give you a lesson in chasing of another sort, 
 that will not quite agree with your constitution. Mind 
 ye, we're very glad to see you as friends ; but don't 
 presume too much on general envitation ; for in that 
 case you won't be disappointed in finding us " out," but 
 will find us " at home," which may not be quite agree- 
 able if we think you intrude. Light your cigar with a 
 bit of that, and send the rest home to your friends. 
 Good morning. \_Exlt. 
 
 Grenoi/ille. Parbleau ! bot de English be de peuple 
 var extraordinaire. [Exit. 
 
 [Servant takes off pieces of broken ^lass. Scene 
 
 changes. 
 
 Scene. — A Steeple- chase Course marked out loith flags. 
 The starters leading about in their clothes. Dareall 
 in his hunting costume on his horse as course clearer. 
 Mixed assemblage of people. 
 
 Tom D. Pray, gentlemen, give the ponies room to 
 walk about. 
 
 \^A private carriage draivs up -with Sir John and 
 
 Lady Foxhall, Precept, and Graceless in it. 
 
 The croiod take off hats and huzza A Countryman 
 
 walks up to the carriage. 
 
 Countryman. \_Dofliing his hat.'] My sarvice to yer. 
 
 Sir John ; duty to your ladyship. Success to yer, 
 
 Master Graceless ; no fear of the coop laving Foxhall 
 
DARE DEVILS. 251 
 
 Coort. We've all backed yer, Master Graceless. I be 
 but a poor man ; but dang it if I'd see you beat for five 
 poon note ! 
 
 [Buring this speech, Graceless has doffed his great 
 coat, and appears in jockey costume ; Lady Fox- 
 hall a7id Sir John homing to the respects paid 
 them. 
 Graceless. Here T am, Coulter — right as a trivet; 
 and Alexander's right. We'll do our best, never fear. 
 
 Countryman. The best can do no more, Master; 
 very few do that. 
 
 \Bell rings for saddling — horses are stripped, sad- 
 dled, and the riders mount, and take each their 
 canter. Bell rings for starting — horses and riders 
 are brought up — the Starter gets them together. 
 The fag drops — two going off before time, no start. 
 They come back — get again in order. The fag 
 drops, " They're off!" TFJiile running, " Blue for 
 asov.r^ " Bed for five pounds !" On nearing the 
 post, Graceless slightly leads. Hurrahs. " Bay 
 wins r " Blue toins .-'" " Alexander wins I Grace- 
 less ivins by a clear length. Returning to the 
 weighing stand, the crowd congratulate. Groom takes 
 Alexander by the bridle. 
 Groom. By your leave, gentlemen, if you please ! 
 [Graceless dismounts, takes in his saddle, comes out. 
 Graceless. All right. You may go home, Tim. 
 [Graceless gets to his carriage, and dresses. The 
 
 Steward brings the cup. 
 
 Steward. Permit me. Lady Foxhall, to hand you the 
 
 cup your son has so manfully and fairly won ; and with 
 
 it, the congratulations of all who have the advantage of 
 
 knowing or being known to your ladyship and family. 
 
 Lady F. Sir, the cup, though an elegant trophy of 
 
252 DARE DEVILS. 
 
 my son's success, is, I assure you, of far less value in our 
 estimation than is the kind demonstration of the ap- 
 proval we have this day experienced of our friends and 
 neighbours. \Carriage drives off. Scene closes. 
 
 SECOND AGE. 
 
 Graceless appears as a Man. 
 
 Scene. — Ad libitum. Enter Graceless on one side, 
 
 Truman on the other. 
 
 Truman. What, Foxhall ! This is an unexpected 
 pleasure ! I should have thought nothing could have 
 drawn you from England during the hunting season. 
 
 EoxHALL. Something has, as you see. The fact is, I 
 have heard so much of Irish hunters and Irish riding, 
 that I accepted the invitation of a cousin of mine — 
 O'Kelly — -and have been staying at his house. I return 
 home in a few days, and the O'Kellys go with me. But 
 what has brought you into Galway ? 
 
 Truman. To own the truth, a little love-affair — or 
 rather, a serious one ; for on it my happiness depends. 
 Singularly enough, its object is Miss O'Kelly, who I was 
 not till now aware is related to you. We met last season 
 in London. I offered her my hand there ; she did 
 not absolutely refuse me. I can bear suspense no 
 longer ; and am come to know my fate, having only 
 arrived last night. 
 
 FoxHALL. My cousin Kate, eh ? Well, she is an 
 excellent girl, and, I can tell you, the toast of the county ; 
 but this I can tell you also : serious as you term the 
 affair, a serious lover won't do for Kate. They talk of 
 
DARE DEVILS. 
 
 253 
 
 Graceless Foxhall being wild : why, he is a sober animal 
 when compared with the lively Kate ! [A lady heard 
 coming, singing.'] I hear her voice. 
 
 Enter Kate, ?V2 a riding-habit. 
 
 Kate. Mr. Truman ! about the last man I should 
 have expected to see in my wild country; but, being 
 come, an Irish welcome to you ! \_Gives her hand. 
 
 Truman. Is it not a little cruel to say I am so un- 
 expected ? 
 
 Kate. Not at all. I hope it is not a Chancery suit 
 brings you ; and I doubt the Galway Blazers having 
 attraction enough. 
 
 Truman. You are quite right — they have not; but 
 you know here {talcing her hand] is attraction to draw 
 me round the world. 
 
 Kate. Mercy ! such a journey would not suit me at 
 all! Why, I should not be back by next hunting- 
 season ! But come, being here, you shall see a little 
 hunting. My brother shall lend you a horse. 
 
 Foxhall. And I'll also mount you, with pleasure. 
 
 Truman. Many thanks ; but, with ray present feel- 
 ings, I must decline your offers. 
 
 Foxhall. [Aside:] Better not, I can tell you. Go 
 you must, and go loell, if you mean to have any chance 
 with Kate. 
 
 Kate. Decline, did you say ? What a slow creature 
 
 you must be ! 
 
 Truman. Slow, as a hunting man, I grant : I do not 
 not profess to be a horseman. 
 
 Kate. No matter — I'll lend you my mare Shelah. 
 She can top our walls as safe as a cat. I'll ride a young 
 one I've got. " Sit fast, and keep their heads straight — 
 
254 DARE DEVILS. 
 
 they'll all go." And so shall you : I shall then judge 
 how far you'll do for Galway. 
 
 FoxHziLL. Well said, Cousin Kate ! I really wonder 
 you're not in love with me : I always tell you I should 
 just suit you. 
 
 Kate. I know you do ; but — [Sin^s] — " love always 
 goes by contraries, my dear." But come — it's lunch 
 time. You must taste our Irish claret to-day, Mr. 
 Truman ; and we'll give you a taste of the Blazers to- 
 morrow. I suppose, Graceless, you dine at the club 
 dinner to-day ? 
 
 FoxHALL. I do. I am sorry, Truman, none but 
 members are admitted ; but I'm sure my cousin Kate 
 and her friends will do the hospitable by you — it's a 
 way they have in Galway. 
 
 Kate. Most willingly. Come ! \_Exeunt. 
 
 Scene.— ^ Dinner-Table. Gentlemen in hunting costume 
 
 at table. 
 
 President. Come, O'Rourke ! you generally have 
 something singular by way of anecdote to tell us. Have 
 you met anything extraordinary of late ? 
 
 All. Come — do, Jack ! let us have something ; and 
 remember, the great merit of an anecdote is being short, 
 circumstantial, and astonishing. 
 
 O'Rourke. Well, it ain't, perhaps, very astonishing, 
 yet I thought it a little quare, too, and it ain't very 
 long, so this is it : I was passing a little chibeen-house, 
 about a month ago, when I saw a man sitting at the 
 door, with a dudheen in his mouth, and a few friends 
 round him. Just as I got up to him, he began to 
 sing. "Faith!" says I to myself, "but it's an iligant 
 voice ye have, any way !" So I stopped while he gave 
 
UARE DEVILS. 255 
 
 them " The Low-backed Car" m prime style. Well, 
 the applause put him in high spirits ; so he called for 
 the floor, and out they brought it. He just topped off 
 a noggin of whiskey, and set dancing for the bare life. 
 If anything bate his singing, it was the way he danced 
 " The Fox-hunter's Jig." I thought he must be some 
 remarkable man, by the way he sung, and danced, and 
 drank : so I inquired, and who may you think they said 
 it was? 
 
 All. Can't guess ! 
 
 O'RouRKE. Why, the Lord Chancellor of England, 
 just out for a spree. 
 
 All. Bravo, Jack ! that will do ! 
 
 President. Come, O'Rourke, who will you call on 
 for a song ? 
 
 O'Rourke. Graceless Foxhall, for " The Foremost 
 FHght." 
 
 Foxhall. With pleasure. [Si?i^s ] 
 
 A Member. Have you anything new in the horse 
 way. Jack ? 
 
 O'Rourke. Faith I have ! and an extraordinary 
 animal he is ! 
 
 Member. Of course. But what is his singularity ? 
 
 O'Rourke. Just this : he can jump as wide as the 
 world, and is at the same time so trained and quiet, he 
 would jump over this table, just as it is now. Who's 
 got a horse would do that ? 
 
 Foxhall. I have, and will bet fifty he does it now. 
 
 O'Rourke. I'll take you. 
 
 Foxhall. You shall. We'll have him in directly. 
 [Rises and rings. Servant enters. He gives some 
 directions. 
 
 President. Gentlemen, having drunk " Her Majesty 
 
25G DARE DEVILS. 
 
 the Queen'" and " The Ladies," I beg to propose what 
 we love next best, " Fox-hunting." 
 
 \The toast is drunk ivith cheers. FoxhaWs horse is 
 led in. He mounts, and rides him round the table ; 
 then puts him at it, and clears it. 
 Different Persons. Bravo ! capital ! Well rode, 
 by George ! 
 
 O'RouRKE. The horse is well trained, that's clear ; 
 but as to the riding, he'd do it just the same with any- 
 body on him. 
 
 FoxHALL. I'll bet fifty he don't with you. 
 A Member. Come, Jack, you can't refuse 1 
 O'Rourke. Devil a bit ! 
 
 [Mounts — rides at the table — smashes it in the 
 
 middle. 
 
 FoxHALL. You're unfortunate to-night, Mr. O'Rourke. 
 
 O'Rourke. Nabocklish ! better luck next time ! It's 
 
 fortunate we had nearly concluded our evening ; for, like 
 
 many of the members of the last sitting elsewhere, we 
 
 have lost our seats. 
 
 President. Then, gentlemen, as we're not on the 
 Opposition, out of respect to our friends, we'll resign 
 our places. 
 Ael. Agreed ! 
 
 Scene. — A Cover. Kate O'Kelly «;? J Truman mounted. 
 Huntsmen and^mv^. Voices heard cheering hounds. 
 
 Kate. Come, Mr, Truman ! this cover's a sure find ; 
 and the Blazers don't give Mr. Pug long to make his 
 toilette, if they find him at home. 
 
 Huntsman. Have at him, Hannibal, old boy ! 
 
 \^' Tally-ho r heard at a distance. Huntsman <5/o?^* 
 his horn. " Whoo ! whoo ! Go^ hark together! 
 Hark together \ Hark V Yiv.^i ^\\\v smacks 
 his lohi^i. '' Hark forward \ Hark T' 
 
DARE DEVILS. ' 257 
 
 Kate. A find, for a thousand ! Come along ! 
 
 [Jumps over a fence. 
 
 Scene. — A Road in England. Turnpike — the ^ ate shut. 
 
 Enter Truman and Kate O'Kelly, on horseback. 
 
 Truman. Gate ! 
 
 Turnpikeman. Here I am, sir ! 
 
 Truman. What do you keep the gate shut for ? I 
 never saw it so before. 
 
 Turnpikeman. Perhaps not, sir ; and I never saw 
 you before ; I am a stranger here. Toll, please — three- 
 pence the two. 
 
 Kate. It's long before an Irishman would shut a gate> 
 or his door, against a woman. 
 
 Truman. Open the gate, you vagabond ! Do you 
 think I want to evade the toll ? 
 
 Turnpikeman. "Vagabond," is it? Then, till you 
 pay my toll, you'll stay where you are, unless you can 
 jump the gate. 
 
 Kate. Capital hint ! So I will ! 
 
 Truman. Dear Kate, don't be so rash as to attempt 
 it ! Remember your cousin's fall last week, in Ireland. 
 
 Kate. No matter ; it's nothing when you're used to 
 it ! [To Turnpikeman.] Will you open the gate? 
 
 Turnpikeman. I will, when I've got the toll. 
 
 Kate. Then here goes, for the honour of Ireland ! 
 
 [Clears it. 
 
 Truman. Here, you scoundrel, take your money ! 
 
 Turnpikeman. Here's a carriage coming. Til take 
 both tolls together. 
 
 [FoxHALL drives up in a p)haeton?\ 
 Foxhall. Hallo, Truman ! Why, I thought you and 
 Kate were riding together. 
 
 s 
 
25S DARE DEVILS. 
 
 Truman. We were : but this impudent fellow refused 
 to open the gate till we paid the toll ; so your cousin 
 put her horse at it, and has gone over, as she said, " for 
 the honour of Ireland." 
 
 FoxHALL. And has left you pounded, eh? Ah, 
 Truman, she'll tell you you'll never do for Galway ! [To 
 the man?\ Come, open the gate, you sir ! 
 
 TuRNPiKEMAN. Pay the toll first. 
 
 FoxHALL. Oh, is that it ? Then, coz, I'll follow your 
 example. Here goes, for the honour of England. 
 
 [Turns his phaeton, comes at it in a canter, and smashes 
 it. T'RMyi.k^ follows. Scene closes. 
 
 Scene. — A Ball Room. Servants p^^ttin^ chairs, 8fc. in 
 
 order. 
 
 1st Servant. Well, I believe it's all right now. I 
 suppose some of the company will be arriving directly. 
 
 2nd Servant. I suppose so. But this is th€ hunt 
 ball, and used always to take place a week before this : 
 how came it to be put off ? 
 
 1st Servant. Don't you know? Then I'll tell you. 
 It's done in compliment to Miss O' Kelly, who is to be 
 married to Mr. Truman ; so it was put off till all was 
 quite settled. 
 
 [A loud knock. Company arrives, and dancing com- 
 mences. 
 
 FoxHALL. [Addressing Lady Foxhall?\ My dear Ma- 
 dam, I have a little surprise for you. A few friends of 
 mine have unexpectedly arrived in the neighbourhood : 
 I have taken the liberty of inviting them. They are 
 first-rate dancers, I assure you, though their style may 
 be a little pecuHar. 
 
 Lady F. I am sure. Graceless, any friends of yours 
 will be cordially welcome. 
 
DARE DEVILS. 259 
 
 Servant enters ; speaks to Foxhall. 
 
 FoxHALL. I hear my friends are arrived. I will give 
 them a welcome, and then introduce them. 
 
 \He does so, introducing eight gentlemen and ladies, on 
 
 horseback, who dance a quadrille, and then exeunt. 
 
 A dance follows. 
 Sir John F. Ladies and gentlemen, supper awaits us. 
 
 Kate comes for loard. 
 
 Kate. Ladies and gentlemen, the plot of our play 
 seems, that I am shortly to become one of a pair that 
 are always denominated happy. Many young hearts 
 have fluttered, and others will flutter, on such occasions ; 
 so might mine, had I not a counterpoise here, where, so 
 long as the freaks of us foxhunters have power to amuse, 
 I shall, with your permission, though I may change the 
 name, still retain the character of Kate O' Kelly. 
 
 s 2 
 
THE RING. 
 
 I THINK it more than probable that, if anything I 
 might write should be of consequence enough to attract 
 general public attention, the title of this article would 
 draw down on my devoted head anathemas, if not loud, 
 at least deep, for daring, in this refined — " God save the 
 mark !" for I had almost said comparatively effeminate — 
 age, to introduce a subject, whereon to say anything of 
 a laudatory import would bring on the conclusion that 
 I am an uncouth savage, wishing to see this our smiling 
 land in a state of (to say the least) semi- barbarism. 
 
 Now whether I am uncouth or not, matters nothing 
 to any one ; and whether I am a savage or not, only to 
 those intimately connected with me : and if I write, 
 which I always attempt to do, that which is somewhat 
 near the truth, there are those who are liberal enough, 
 without professing or having any regard to the man, to 
 award to the writer the humble merit of straightforward 
 intention. It is, in fact, to this intention that, I am 
 quite aware, I owe the favour of the public and the 
 favourable consideration of the Press. I have written 
 the term " effeminate :" I will not expunge it, nor need 
 I apologise for having used it, for I mean it not offen- 
 sively. Still, it requires explanation. 
 
 There is an old Latin proverb, which I learned as a 
 boy, that, if my memory serves, runs, " Nemo repente 
 
THE RING. 261 
 
 fit tarpissiraus." That, I suppose, means, " became one 
 of the most base ;" for I do not believe the absolutely 
 most base, most virtuous, most courageous, or most 
 cowardly of all beings, was ever carried out in the 
 person of any one individual. All things and all men 
 are what they are comparatively with others ; so a man 
 may be even courageous and hardy, and yet effeminate 
 to a certain degree in the estimation of one more cou- 
 rageous and more hardy. 
 
 To show that what is effeminate or luxurious is only 
 comparatively so, I must call to my aid a little occur- 
 rence that 1 once saw and heard, between two of the 
 tribe of those who convey coals from Dunkerton to 
 Bath, by carts, horses, and asses. It was father and 
 daughter : they were returning from Bath, having sold 
 their cargoes. The young lady, prior to mounting her 
 donkey, placed an additional black coal-sack or two on 
 its back, to prevent an undue pressure of his back-bone 
 against a certain fair (for, being covered, it might be 
 fair) proportion of her person. " Dang it, Bess !" says 
 the father, " cant'st thee ride without making a lady of 
 thy" — " seat," he would have said, if he had been a 
 decent fellow. He used a more expletive term ; but it 
 shows everything is comparative, from the royal purple 
 cushion to the coal-sack. 
 
 I hope I have made the amende honorable sufficiently 
 strong, for using the term " effeminate," to be now on 
 good terms with my reader ; for if he is one of quite 
 modern date, I shall require all his forbearance for what 
 I may say in the present article. 
 
 There now live thousands of young men who softly 
 lisp to their companions their self-styled refinement of 
 ideas over those who were youths ere the present race 
 were thought of; and among the refinements they so 
 
2G2 THE RING. 
 
 pique themselves upon, no doubt bring forward their 
 non-patronage of the Ring as a leading proof. Let 
 thejB enjoy their opinions ; let them circulate among 
 themselves : but if they have as much sense as ideal 
 refinement, they will limit the circulation to the clique 
 from which they emanate. 
 
 I may be termed arrogant by such clique, for setting 
 at nought their opinions ; for, verily, in countless array 
 such clique shows itself now-a-days. But I can refute 
 the charge of any such arrogance, should it be made, in 
 one moment. I do not set up my opinion against that 
 of thousands, though those thousands are all of one 
 genus ; for if I regret to see (or fancy I see) opinions 
 and habits that well become women spreading among 
 our growing youth, and if I tliink any change from 
 manly pursuits towards more effeminate ones a circum- 
 stance to be deplored, I beg to call to the notice of any 
 dainty and delicate gentleman who differs from me a few 
 names that will somewhat astonish him, as patronising 
 pursuits I humbly advocate under such authority. 
 
 I venture the surmise that any young gentleman who 
 would hold it rather objectionable to be seen speaking 
 to Mr. Gulley, but would, on the other hand, consider it 
 quite en regie to even shake hands with " The Jullicn," 
 will allow that the following names bode that their pos- 
 sessors knew something of refined ideas and gentlemanly 
 habits, though differing in everything from such a young 
 gentleman as I have supposed : — 
 
 His late Majesty George the Fourth, both as Regent 
 and Monarch ; his royal brothers, the Dukes of York 
 and Clarence ; the Dukes of Queensbury and Hamil- 
 ton ; the Earls of Sefton and Albemarle ; Marcjuises of 
 Worcester and Twceddale ; Lords Lowther, Carry more, 
 Fife, Craven ; the prince of poetry, Lord Byron ; and a 
 
THE RING. 263 
 
 score of others, whose names I cannot at this moment 
 recall to memory, have all (and many of these on prin- 
 ciple, as encouraging a manly feeling and bearing among 
 men) patronised the Prize Ring. 
 
 For those, therefore, of minor minds, minor position 
 in society, and minor in those attributes that best 
 " become a man," to attempt to decry what such noble 
 names have upheld, is absurd as it is presumptuous. 
 
 Had such men as I have particularised lived in feudal 
 times, when man was rude in mind and manners, it 
 might be fairly alleged that time and refinement had 
 not only changed, but improved,, the tone of society . 
 but a more refined court than that of George the 
 Fourth had never existed, nor a more finished gentleman 
 ever trod the earth than was that monarch ; and it was 
 in his days when the palmy ones of the Ring were in 
 their fullest career. 
 
 Descending from nobility, I could mention scores of 
 names of those of noble families who were men that 
 hackney-coachmen, or any of the habitues of such grade 
 knew too well to ofler impertinence to. They would 
 not anticipate a summons to meet the magistrate in 
 Bow or Marlborough Street, but a summons on the spot 
 to meet their mother earth, and such summonses re- 
 peated much quicker than any clerk could write it. 
 Such men as Captains Barton, Barclay, Berkeley, Mel- 
 lish, &c., would not subject themselves to the heated 
 and offensive atmosphere of a police office, would not 
 avail themselves of the politeness of a sitting magistrate, 
 or be exposed to the common impertinence of the subor- 
 dinates of the office. Happy it was for the latter they 
 did not. I have, as a very young one myself, seen such 
 men, had the gloves on twice with the second men- 
 tioned, but took especial care not to try it a third time- 
 
264 THE RING. 
 
 With the last I was as intimate as a boy of eighteen 
 coulcl be with a man perhaps twenty years his senior, 
 and have been knocked about by him, to make me (as 
 he termed it) " hokl up my head," till I scarcely knew 
 whether that head was or was not on my shoulders. I 
 have lived with such men as these : may I not, therefore, 
 hope to be pardoned if I cannot cotton to feelings, 
 habits, and ideas, the very antitheses to those of men 
 whom to know was to admire. 
 
 In part of a most liberal review of a work of mine, the 
 critic says, " The writer generally bears hardly upon the 
 present generation and their recreations, and compares 
 the athletic country gentleman of threescore years ago, 
 who entered with zest into the sports of the field, with 
 the railroad and omnibus young men of the present 
 day." 
 
 Can I feel — can I honestly write — otherwise ? I 
 point to no one individual, so no one has reason to take 
 offence. T write for no class, nor would T. I venture 
 my general and undisguised ideas, please or displease 
 whom they may ; and have written too long, I fear, to 
 correct old habits and errors : 
 
 " I have not quailed to danger's brow 
 When high and happy : need I now ?" 
 
 I feel I should quite lose caste among such men as T 
 have described, if I did ; and I hold the suffrages of 
 such 
 
 " Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear." 
 
 The critic I have alluded to says I bear hardly on 
 the " railroad and oumibus young men of the present 
 day." God knows, it is far from my wish to bear hard 
 on any one, whose circumstances, like my own, compel 
 them to avail themselves of a threepenny jumble-together 
 in an omnibus. I only mean, I pity those who, in this 
 
THE RING. 265 
 
 railroad and omnibus age, have lost the former pleasm^es 
 of the road, and have never been conversant with the 
 mode of travelling the road rendered necessary. Any 
 girl can travel a couple of hundred miles in a first class 
 carriage on the rail ; but it required something of the 
 hardihood of a man to face the same distance, in Jan- 
 uary, outside the mail. No doubt the first, for a long 
 distance, is the most preferable mode of transit ; but if, 
 by using it on all occasions, a man renders his frame so 
 soft that he could not endure the latter, it goes far 
 towards producing that comparative effeminacy I have 
 mentioned : and if riding to the Bank for threepence 
 induces a man to do so every day, when the having to 
 pay twoand-sixpence for a jarvey caused him to walk 
 it perhaps five days in six, we must not be surprised if 
 we hear a great hulking fellow of fourteen stone declare 
 himself like our facetious French friend in the farce, 
 "■ joliment fatigue''' though he had only walked a couple 
 of miles. Provided a man could ensure his never 
 having occasion to exert his bodily powers in any way^ 
 it would not matter if he did render himself incapable 
 of any exertion \ but what a precious nation it would be 
 where man had so become ! 
 
 I have mixed with men with noble names, who could 
 take hold of an awkward team, and, with a heavy load 
 behind, could bring them in over a heavy stage in the 
 accustomed time. These were men who, though enjoy- 
 ing every luxury and elegance at home, held an addi- 
 tional wisp of straw under their feet, and a borrowed 
 horsecloth over their knees, a sufficient protection against 
 an unusually inclement day. The presence of such men 
 " down the road" was a circumstance of congratulation 
 to landlords, waiters, ostlers, boots, coachmen, guards, 
 and horsekeepers. All hailed him, all wished him well, 
 
266 THE RING. 
 
 the coachman got his sovereign for my lord's drive, and 
 my lord got health and appetite from the same cause. 
 My lord now ensconces himself in a railway carriage ; 
 and few, if any, know whether he is a nobleman of Eng- 
 land or a sheriff of London. 
 
 I have heard it said that " the greatest of pleasures is a 
 cessation of pain." Upon some such principle I should 
 certainly praise the rail that had set me down at the end 
 of one hundred miles in four hours : not that there is any 
 pain in such travelling ; on the contrary, a great deal of 
 bodily indulgence — a thing, by-the-bye, that carries very 
 little recommendation with it to me. I positively bless 
 a railroad for its velocity, just as a man would bless 
 anything that had accelerated his emancipation from 
 prison, of which a railroad carriage is a symbol, as being 
 a place from which you can see little, sometimes no- 
 thing, of the outward world. The inside of a coach 
 was, if anything, worse ; but give me a place outside. 
 I can, or rather could, find something to interest me 
 every minute : many a man could not — for him the rail 
 is a blessing ! but for one hke me, who, in technical 
 phrase, generally " worked" most of the distance I went 
 by coaches, my interest was always kept up, and no- 
 thing pleased me better than to hear " You'll have four 
 rather rummish customers next stage, sir." This was 
 where some change had taken place since I had wag- 
 goned the same coach before. 
 
 Be it as it may, railroads have come in, and coaches 
 gone off. I can still, however, point out one very 
 nicely appointed one that leaves London — the West 
 Malhng. I hope it pays ; if so, long may it continue to 
 do so. 
 
 I will not say what any sight may be to other per- 
 sons ; but if there is one more disgusting to me than 
 
TIIK RING. 207 
 
 another, it is to see an iraperialed, raoustached, repre- 
 sentative of a man riding in elegant listlessness in a low 
 pony carriage in assumed languor, as if he was 
 
 " Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppressed with perfume, 
 Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gul in her bloom." 
 
 CouM one be surprised if a servant of that fine old 
 veteran whip, the late Sir Henry Peyton, was, in pass- 
 ing this bit of effeminacy, to lean over his seat, and in 
 slang whisper inquire, " Who suckles the young'uns 
 while yoiCre out ?" I think we may presume such gen- 
 tleman would pronounce the Ring as " horrid," " bar- 
 barous," &c. 
 
 The only general sort of carriage of a manly character 
 that we have left is the mail phaeton. How different to 
 the reclining, half-foreign looking piece of inanity, looks 
 that gentleman with the bay and brown in his driving 
 phaeton, matching to a hair's breadth in action, and 
 that of the best sort ! He is not far from sixty ; but, 
 though most gentlemanly, indeed courteous in speech 
 and address, is one of the hard-bitten sort ; could use 
 the gloves well, and his hands in or out of them. I 
 should like to see the llccliner drive his " Beautiful 
 ponies, with flowing manes and tails," against the pair 
 of steppers. Unless Moustache is better than he looks 
 to be, I will answer for it the other, though with the 
 penalty of twenty-five years against him, would give 
 him, in coaching phrase, a " waking up." Our speci- 
 men of a man and a gentleman wears no inch-wide piece 
 of satin round his neck, with two bows east and west, 
 like two of the sweeps of a miniature windmill, A 
 plain summer cambric coloured cravat, the shirt collar 
 just showing, is all he wears. No massive Albert gold 
 chain hangs in a festoon across his waistcoat, which, 
 rest assured, would not in the morning be a satin one ; 
 
2GS THE RING. 
 
 his hands, though showing in colour as those of a gen- 
 tleman, can endure the feel of a critically cleaned leather 
 glove when riding or driving, and let the kids wait their 
 evening turn. 
 
 It may be said George the Fourth drove ponies and a 
 low phaeton. He did ; so may any man without sub- 
 jecting himself to even suspicion of effeminacy, if infirm, 
 and twenty stone ; but when he was H.R.H. only, he 
 could handle four horses as well as most men, and 
 patronize others who did. 
 
 Pony carriages are a very pretty little cortege for a 
 lady anywhere, for a Prince in his own park taking an 
 airing with his family ; but if Pickford and Co.'s, or 
 Chaplin and Horne's men smashed all they met, driven 
 by young hale men, were I a magistrate I would stretch 
 the law a bit to let the man off who did so. 
 
 Can we point out no other manly yet elegant carriage 
 in our streets driven by its owner ? Yes : there is that 
 green curricle of the ever-remembered shape, yet fash- 
 ionable-looking too. It runs, as coachmen used to say, 
 " like oil." The dark browns drawing it are no weedy 
 worthless bits of cast-off thorough-breds, but looking 
 like two compact hunters for a thickly-enclosed country 
 — their greatest failing for such purpose being their high 
 and splendid road action. Who drives them ? One 
 who ever looks the nobleman, the soldier, and the gen- 
 tleman, in whatever situation he is seen. Does he never 
 drive a low pony phaeton ? In certain cases, probably 
 he does; but recollect that thirty-five years since he 
 drove our enemies at a pace they had been little accus- 
 tomed to. Such men may do as they like anywhere. 
 Since this was written, alas, he is no more ! 
 
 "Eitzroy Stanhope drives a phaeton with only one 
 horse." He docs \ and if you will give him three more 
 
THE RING. 
 
 2G9 
 
 he would drive them ; but he does not use a muddy, or 
 flowing manes and tails, though his access to his car- 
 riage is attended with some difficulty : nor does he play 
 sick lady in his mode of sitting in it. 
 
 But what has driving to do with the Ring ? inquires 
 some critic. Nothing at all, I admit, replies the writer ; 
 yet the Ring had something to do with driving, and a 
 great deal to do with the general habits, predilections, 
 opinions, and consequently bearing, of men in this way. 
 
 It matters not where or what may be the country, 
 wherever manly and athletic pursuits are encouraged, 
 more or less manly and athletic will be the denizens of 
 that country. Wherever such pursuits are not patro- 
 nized, it will have a direct opposite effect on the minds 
 and habits of its people. But — say those opposed to 
 manly pursuits — we do not want to be a nation of prize- 
 fighters, huntsmen, and coachmen. No doubt we do 
 not ; but we wish to remain a nation that can fight when 
 the prize is worth contending for. " Yet," retorts some 
 one disposed to pay attention, and afford patronage only 
 to what may improve us as artisans and artistes, and 
 would leave our manly attributes to take their chance, 
 or be totally lost from want of encouragement, " nations 
 who neither box, hunt, drive, row, or play cricket, are as 
 brave as we are." I will not merely not attempt to 
 dispute such hypothesis, but will admit it as an axiom 
 that it is so. Gallant, brave, and capital soldiers such 
 nations are — nay, perhaps, in the spirit of martinetism 
 (if I may use such expression) of military habit, some 
 may even surpass us. Yet there is a something in us 
 that, with any fair odds against us, has always brought 
 us through with the best of it. Gallantry is no doubt 
 a splendid attribute : many of our neighbours have it in 
 perfection : it is a star that shines resplendently in its 
 
270 THE RING. 
 
 peculiar hemisphere. Firm and resolute determination 
 has little show in it, but a certain feeling so well ex- 
 pressed by our Scottish bard — 
 
 " Come one, come all, this rock shall fly 
 From its firm base as soon as I," 
 
 is the true feeling of a soldier. Military pride and 
 gaining victory as a soldier have done much for foreign 
 troops : the dogged determination not to be beaten as a 
 man, has done more for English ones. The parade, a 
 field day, or a review is the delight of a French soldier. 
 An English one would never put on his red coat if he 
 could avoid it, unless when called on to make his enemy 
 respect it. If the perfection of art and swordmanship 
 could save a man, the French Cuirassiers would, to a 
 man, have been invincible ; but the swinging arm and 
 stout heart of Shaw, the boxer, found out the vulnerable 
 place in many of them. Of course, he knew his single 
 sword could do nothing towards turning the fortune of 
 the day ; nor possibly did he think about the glory of 
 his country. But he would, for his own pride's sake, 
 yield to no man : he feared no man, had succumbed to 
 no one, or would do so while life remained in him. He 
 began his fighting career with long odds against him 
 when a youth, at his native place in Nottinghamshire : 
 he came oflP victorious there. With longer odds against 
 him, he was victorious at Waterloo, while sword to sword 
 he mowed down in succession each opponent. Alas ! 
 that a bullet should ever have reached such a man. 
 
 I have, however, not yet stated in what way the Ring 
 and driving had any influence on each other. Simply 
 in this way. Whoever patronised the Ring, did so 
 from admiration of that which is manly and courageous. 
 Driving four-in-hand was a manly pursuit : many patrons 
 of the Ring did so. But they would have blushed to be 
 
THE RING. 271 
 
 seen driving a pair of ponies ; they would, in short, 
 have Hushed to have been seen doing anything inimanly. 
 They hunted, and when they did, no more shrunk from 
 an ox fence than from the fist or sword of man : they 
 prided themselves on exhibiting in all things manliness 
 of character. 
 
 There was a time when the ordinary Englishman 
 ridiculed and abused everything foreign, and more par- 
 ticularly French. Nothing could be more illiberal, ill- 
 bred, or more evincing a low mind and utter ignorance. 
 This was never, of course, manifested by the well in- 
 formed ; but it is possible the latter may soon fall 
 into extreme the other way, and fashion, which bears 
 " sovereign sway," may induce so fostering a notice of 
 foreigners as to produce a very prejudicial effect on our 
 ideas and manners ; for it requires close observance and 
 very acute discrimination to adopt only the meritorious 
 attributes and habits of other nations, and to reject that 
 which may be of an objectionable character ; and if 
 there is an objectionable characteristic of our continental 
 neighbours, it is a want of that manly bearing in their 
 general habits that has hitherto distinguished English- 
 men. 
 
 There are few men more refractory to those above 
 them than the English. They frequently manifest this 
 to a most objectionable degree, and, in sooth, in a most 
 objectionable manner ; but this, considerable as it is, 
 Avhen carried too far, requires to be checked with cau- 
 tion ; for if we do away with the independent feeling of 
 an Englishman, we destroy him. I forget in what work 
 I have read it ; but, alluding to the characteristics of a 
 Frenchman, it says, " And bid him go to h — 11, to h — 11 
 he goes." Now, bid an Englishman do the same thing, 
 his reply would be about this : " I'll see you in h — 11 
 
272 THE RING. 
 
 first." Not polite, but to the point, and English. We 
 will suppose a French nobleman so far forgot himself as 
 to strike a man of the lower order, I conceive there are 
 three ways in which it would be treated : perfect sub- 
 mission ; much blustering, so far as words went ; or it 
 might be a fatal stab. 
 
 I believe there is but one way such an act would be 
 treated by an Englishman. He would not bear it sub- 
 missively, he would not say much on the subject, but 
 would give, or try to give, *' My Lord" a sound thrash- 
 ing on the spot : about the last thing a Frenchman 
 would think of. 
 
 If, however, the English are prone to an independency 
 of feeling towards those above them, no nation is more, 
 or perhaps so much, led by the examples set by rank 
 and fashion; and if foreigners of noble birth are, in 
 compliance with example, the cherished guests of many 
 of our nobility, the contagion will here assuredly spread ; 
 and Mrs. So-and-So will invite Chevalier " Autel" and 
 his friends, though no one could tell from whence or 
 from whom any of them sprung. 
 
 Our neighbours are really showing far more sense than 
 ourselves, as regards introducing to their own country 
 from us all that they think likely to tend to eradicate 
 anything they conceived objectionable in their own 
 habits, and are learning anything they consider com- 
 mendable or beneficial among us. We are learning to 
 imitate Bohemian glass, French tapestry, and porcelain. 
 The Emperor is introducing to his subjects' notice far 
 different things. He is manly in his own habits and 
 pursuits, and, no doubt, considers somewhat more of 
 manliness of character would be beneficial to his coun- 
 trymen. He is introducing and patronising hunting, 
 racing, steeple-chasing, and encouraging all sorts of field 
 
THE RING. 273 
 
 sports : for this he is purchasing, or encouraging the 
 purchase of, our best horses and mares. Will this 
 encouragement of English field sports in another coun- 
 try, and our rising generation being taught to disregard 
 them, lead to France becoming figuratively England, and 
 England a foreign nation as regards the pursuits of its 
 inhabitants. Even that, with everything and everybody 
 foreign being encouraged, may come to pass. Who 
 knows but some one may yet see even the Ring, the 
 last thing that it could be supposed a Frenchman would 
 encourage, pitched at Marli ? Well, they are a fine, 
 gallant set of fellows, and do not want the requisite 
 courage. So, should this ever occur, though I shall 
 never see it, perhaps my spirit may hover there, to give 
 them the true old English toast : " A clear stage and 
 no favour." 
 
 T 
 
PIGEON SHOOTING. 
 
 The legitimate shot — for by sucli term I have desig- 
 nated the sportsman who makes pheasant, grouse, 
 partridge, snipe, and woodcocks his quarry — Avill perhaps 
 be as prone to anathematize pigeon shooting, as will be 
 the man who never in his life put a gun to his shoulder : 
 their reprehension of the pursuit would, however, arise 
 from different causes. The first would only object to it 
 on the plea that it does not come into the category of 
 the pursuits of the regular sportsman. In this he is 
 perfectly right ; for many a man is a first-rate pigeon 
 shooter whose peregrinations or love of sport never 
 carried him beyond the hearing of Bow bells, or at all 
 events of those of some suburban church. The other 
 would hold it objectionable on the score of cruelty, or, 
 as he might term it, wholesale slaughter. 
 
 The regular field shot condemns pigeon shooting solely 
 because he holds the pursuit as offering no incentive to 
 make amends for sacrificing the life of the bird destroyed, 
 and considers it a practice in itself beneath and unworthy 
 of the attention of a sportsman. The man of no sporting 
 propensities condemns it on the score of cruelty. Both 
 are influenced by prejudice. Sport, in the true spirit of 
 the term, is amusement. It is only habit that brings to 
 our mind's eye the sportsman when the terra " sport" is 
 used ; and looking at the two characters merely as men, 
 
PIGEON SHOOTING. 275 
 
 there is nothing more commendable in the partridge 
 shooter than the shot who confines his pursuit to pigeons. 
 The only fair reason we can give for holding one pursuit 
 in higher estimation than the other, is, that while field 
 shooting is the pursuit of gentlemen, and those they 
 employ, the other is in very common practice with many 
 low characters ; and, further, the first leads to no low 
 associations, while the other is very apt to do so — two 
 very good reasons, we must admit, for a man preferring 
 the one to the other. 
 
 We will now look to the accusation of pigeon shooting 
 beinor cruel. There can be no doubt but that to a certain 
 extent, deny it as we may, or try to evade the accusa- 
 tion as we will, there is a degree of cruelty in all field 
 sports. So there is in kiUing a lamb ; but we are not 
 told that to avoid this it is our duty to live on roots or 
 other vegetables. We are told, or might be told, we 
 kill the lamb for food ; yet we could live and be in health 
 on grain, fruit, and vegetables. The fact is, our palates 
 like the taste of lamb, and we sacrifice the growing 
 mutton to indulge our taste. So in honest truth we 
 pursue sport and game to indulge a taste of a different 
 kind. In both instances we indulge our inclinations by 
 perpetrating that which the very fastidious may consider 
 more or less cruel ; and I fear it is an incontrovertible 
 truth, that where man does not indulge his inclination at 
 the expense of some cruelty or suffering to his fellow- 
 man, it most commonly arises from his wanting the 
 opportunity of (without injury to himself) doing so. 
 There are, no doubt, bright examples to be found of men 
 who would not ; such men are, like miracles, to be 
 wondered at. But, after all, I doubt if they would not 
 kill the lamb, and eat him too : so such luminaries are 
 only a little more perfect than us, their humble satellites'. 
 
 T 2 
 
276 PIGEON SHOOTING. 
 
 Nor would the lamb hold them one atom less merciful 
 than the fox, hare, partridge, or pigeon holds us. 
 
 Whenever we hear any man decrying pigeon shooting 
 on the score of its cruelty, we may fairly set him down as 
 one who gives his opinion on a subject with which he is 
 unacquainted. I really consider it even less cruel than 
 any other bird shooting, for two reasons. There are no 
 dogs subjected to the frequent brutality of keepers, 
 necessary ; the breaking of whom, I consider, constitutes 
 the only reprehensible feature in shooting, for great 
 cruelty very frequently is inflicted ere the dog becomes 
 ])erfect in his business. Now for the birds. Every 
 fair shot singles out his bird from the covey, and, as far 
 as he can, avoids injuring any but the doomed one. 
 
 But stray shots will, and do very commonly, reach some 
 of t!ie others, not hitting hard enough to kill, but enough 
 to cause much suffering, and possibly subsequent death 
 to the wounded bird. Now in pigeon shooting the bird 
 often falls dead within a few paces of the trap, or, should 
 he not, some other gun brings him down ; and I think I 
 may venture to say that not two pigeons in a hundred 
 get ofi', to die, as it is supposed, a lingering death. 
 
 Thousands of sportsmen never saw trap pigeon shooting 
 in their lives; some from the want of opportunity or 
 leisure, others from want of inclination : so we may fairly 
 infer that hundreds of thousands of other persons know 
 no more about it than I do of launching a man-of-war 
 from the dock wherein she was made. For their instruc- 
 tion I will explain the usual routine of trap shooting ; 
 and a great trap it is frequently made for the unwary, for 
 very heavy betting often goes on, on such events. Old 
 hands are very shy of betting on any man's gun, when 
 and where his shooting is not well known ; for he may 
 mask his shooting as the scamp at billiards may his play, 
 
PIGEON SHOOTING. 
 
 2:7 
 
 and many a young hand has, unlike the pigeons, been 
 bit uncommonly hard, though his life is quite safe. 
 
 There is a particular breed of pigeons usually provided 
 for trap shooting, indeed always so when any match of 
 sweepstakes of any consequence is to come oif. These 
 are the blue-rocks, the wildest and most rapid of all 
 pigeons in their flight on going off. The moment the trap 
 falls, they are off with the rapidity of thought. It does 
 HOW and then liappenthat on the fall of the trap the bird 
 will, from confusion, stand for a moment still ; but when 
 he docs go, it is, figuratively, as quick as a flash of gun- 
 powder, and, unless brought down, he would be fifty 
 paces from the trap ere some other breeds of pigeons 
 would get fairly on wing. 
 
 Pigeon matches, like most sporting events, take place 
 in a variety of places, and between and among men in 
 various different positions in society. There are clubs 
 of pigeon shots, these, of course, also varying as to the 
 grades of persons composing them ; and matches fre- 
 quently are made between a certain number of the 
 members of such clubs to shoot against each other, the 
 side killing the greatest numberof birds out of the number 
 agreed on to be shot at, of course winning. But it fre- 
 quently, indeed generally, happens, that where each man 
 shoots at a given number of birds, some of the guns 
 kill the same number of birds : these parties, therefore, 
 shoot again at a given number. This is called, " shooting 
 off the ties." But even in doing this, supposing four 
 have shot who had tied in the match, three of these may 
 again have the same number ; so those three nuist have 
 a third trial, till one has proved his superiority. Where 
 matches are between clubs, the ground is usually kept 
 private for the use of the shooters and their friends. The 
 most celebrated place.> for pigeon- match shooting have 
 
278 PIGEON SHOOTING. 
 
 been for many years Chalk Farm and the Red House : 
 there, are, however, many of minor grade. Hornsey 
 Wood has risen much in pubUc estimation ; but never 
 having been there, I know nothing of the ground or 
 company. 
 
 That the legitimate sportsman may not cast a contu- 
 melious thought or look on the pigeon shooter, let me 
 remind him that, in my very limited knowledge of the 
 crack shots of this day, I can specify names well known 
 in the hunting-field from October to April ; and on the 
 moor, heath, hill, and stubble in August and September. 
 Those who have so often seen Mr. Osbaldeston at the 
 covert side, and seen him cheer his all-but-matchless 
 pack over the broad pastures of Leicestershire, might 
 also have seen him contending at the Red House for the 
 palm of victory with the first pigeon-shots of his day. 
 The shooting of Captain Ross has been, if anything, more 
 extraordinary than the way in which he could pilot 
 Clinker over any country. Lord Kennedy and Colonel 
 Anson were equally at home in all sporting pursuits, and 
 in pigeon shooting even no less celebrated. Mr. Shou- 
 bridge has met Captain Ross in trials of superiority in 
 match, and without being in any way competent to 
 award supremacy to the one or the other gentleman, I do 
 know on one occasion the gallant Captain was obliged to 
 succumb after a contest perhaps unrivalled in perform- 
 ance as regards their joint merits. Even I could mention 
 dozens of other names as sportsmen and pigeon shots ; 
 but those I have brought forward are in themselves a 
 host. 
 
 To enter a little closer into the mochis operandi in 
 pigeon matches, the birds are provided by persons who 
 well know the sort to select ; indeed it is usual to mention 
 in the terms of a match — " The birds to be supplied 
 
PIGEON SHOOTING. 279 
 
 by " (Barker is perhaps the most celebrated name in 
 
 late years as a supplier of pigeons). They are paid for 
 at a moderate price by the person shooting at them. 
 They then, if killed, are the property of the shooter ; but 
 as a practice, are never claimed. They are brought 
 carefully in wicker baskets, high enough to allow the 
 birds full space to stand upright. The pigeon traps 
 vary a little in construction ; but are all small wooden 
 boxes of about twelve inches from front to back, but 
 something less in width, and are so contrived that in 
 pulling a string attached to them the fabric falls some- 
 what like cards set up, and the bird becomes exposed 
 standing on the bottom of the trap, which is effected by 
 hinges that let the encloses fall by one impediment being 
 removed by a pull at the string. There is a straight 
 cross-line mark, beyond which none of the shooters, who 
 are to shoot on equal terms, are to put their toe. The 
 traps, unless by special agreement to the contrary, are 
 placed one-and -twenty yards from the cross line ; and 
 supposing six shooters are to contend, a box is placed for 
 each at a convenient distance from each other. The 
 shooters then take their stand in a row behind the cross 
 line. Sometimes by mutual agreement, at other times 
 by toss, it is decreed which of the competitors is to begin. 
 They then fire in succession. Each shot is at liberty to 
 hold his gun as he thinks proper ; but he mu^t not put 
 it actually to his shoulder till the bird takes wing. 
 
 Betting on pigeon shooting is carried on in so many 
 forms, it would be impossible to enumerate them ; but 
 they, with modifications, are usually thus : — Supposing 
 two clubs meet, one betting is on the general united 
 efforts of the opposing clubs. These are made at evens, 
 or on giving or taking some odds in favour of the one 
 club against the other, as any supposed or known supe- 
 
280 PIGEON SHOOTING. 
 
 riority may exist. Then comes the betting on different 
 members of the same chib, or of the opposing, one against 
 another individually, or two against another given two, 
 as the case may be. There is rarely any heavy betting 
 at such matches, excepting on known crack shots ; for it 
 is only on such that any fair calculation can be made as 
 to what their performance may be. Independent of the 
 betting on the shooters one against the other, bets are 
 made on the gun against the field, or, in other and more 
 explicit terms, on the man against the bird, or vice versa. 
 The first is termed backing the gun ; and the shooters 
 must be muffs indeed where the odds are not laid on the 
 gun. Such odds vary, of course, in accordance with the 
 known qualifications of the shooter. With fair shots the 
 odds are perhaps four to one on the gun ; but with such 
 as I have mentioned they would rise to six, seven, or 
 eight to one. I make no doubt but that Captain Ross 
 or Mr. Shoubridge would have backed their gun at eight 
 to one as long as you pleased to bet with them ; which, 
 even on such terms, I consider would not have been for 
 many days. 
 
 The laws of pigeon shooting are, that the bird must 
 fall within a hundred yards of the trap, or he counts 
 as missed. I have often seen, where the shooters were 
 second-rate ones, birds fall at long distances, sometimes 
 beyond the limited space allowed ; but I have not often 
 seen this occur with crack shots : they miss, or, figura- 
 tively speaking, kill dead. I have seen a bird missed ; 
 but, in a double shot, the second brought him down like 
 a stone. It would seem as if, when such mpn miss, it 
 arises from some circumstance that has prevented them 
 from at that time taking their accustomed aim ; so the 
 bird totally escapes. The less-skilled shot usually takes 
 an indifterent aim ; so lie only wounds. I consider, from 
 
PIGEON SHOOTING. 281 
 
 what I have seen, that it is quite possible that out of 
 twenty pigeons fewer would escape, without getting a 
 stray shot in them somewhere, than if shot at by the crack 
 shot. But I conceive it would amount to this ; the latter 
 would kill eighteen out of twenty dead, the other two 
 would escape perhaps unharmed ; with the inferior one, 
 two would escape untouched, a dozen would be more or 
 less wounded, and only six would be killed within bounds. 
 Of course with still worse shots more would escape 
 unharmed, and fewer killed. I may take a wrong view 
 of the thing, and perhaps do ; but it has struck me that 
 first-rate shots seldom take uncertain aim. 
 
 There are some features in pigeon-match shooting that 
 certainly place the practice of it in a reprehensible point 
 of view. Those who are enthusiastic in it are frequently 
 led into a taste for betting, that other pursuits of the gun 
 ofier no inducement to ; and an admiration of superiority 
 often leads the young pigeon shooter into associations 
 quite at variance with the society a gentleman is expected 
 to mix with ; for all pigeon matches do not take place at 
 Chalk Farm, Lord's Ground, the Red House, or Hornsey 
 Wood. There are scores of low localities where landlords 
 give prizes, from a piece of plate to a fat pig, to be shot 
 for. Here those who contend pay an entrance fee, that 
 goes far in reimbursing Boniface for his seeming libe- 
 rality ; and the money expended in drink by the partici- 
 pators in the sport, their friends, other admirers of the 
 sport, and many who go there merely because it is a 
 gathering of pleasure seekers, make the day a real harvest 
 to the house. A dinner follows the shooting : this is 
 not, of course, one of the same expense or pretensions in 
 all places, but the price charged is sure to be as high in 
 proportion to the entertainment at the Dog and Porridge 
 Pot as at the Castle at Richmond, Toy at Hampton 
 
282 PIGEON SHOOTING. 
 
 Court, or the Clarendon in London : this is mostly 
 followed by a little card playing. So what with the 
 expense of pigeons, presents to the trapman, loss of bets 
 in the shooters, expenses of dinners, drink, and no trifle 
 lost at whist, the young tyro will probably find next 
 morning he has a somewhat heavy head, and for its 
 counterpoise a very light purse. 
 
 If a man is fond of pigeon shooting, let him get into 
 a club where gentlemen only are assembled : he will find 
 it very little more expensive than low meetings for the 
 same purpose ; the dinner may be a few shillings higher, 
 wine is drunk in lieu of spirits — a sovereign will settle 
 this. He will find he will not have much change out of 
 that at the Pig and Whistle, by the time he has paid for 
 himself and probably a voluntary " go's" round to those 
 who wait the fitting time to make any sovereigns he may 
 have brought with him also " go's" all round to the gentry 
 with whom he plays and bets at cards, or probably at 
 some game more expeditious in "circulating the medium." 
 I make these remarks that the very young and inex- 
 perienced maybe ahttle aufaitoi what to guard against, 
 should their taste induce them to become pigeon-match 
 shooters. Let them get into the right channel, and such 
 taste is no more to be reprobated than is the inclination 
 towards any other sporting propensity. Carried on 
 among gentlemen, it is gentlemanly ; carried on in com- 
 pany with the low, it is low ; and I believe we may say 
 pretty much the same of most of the amusements of life. 
 
 And now one word to the field sportsman who calls 
 pigeon shooting slaughter. No one can object to the 
 term, for slaughter such sport is ; it is only the repro- 
 batory spirit in which the term is used that is objection- 
 able, prejudiced, and indeed, coming from a sportsman, 
 all but absurd. Wc will say a man slaughters a score or 
 
PIGEON SHOOTING. 
 
 SSB 
 
 even two score of birds. He has only to ask the field- 
 shooter, would you object to kill ten brace of partridges 
 in a morning's shooting ? or, should game be so abundant 
 that you had no fear of diminishing expected sport the 
 next year, if you could show forty head of game of 
 different sorts, would you object to your day's handiwork 
 being chronicled in a public journal ? for such things do 
 occasionally meet the eye. 
 
 Having now attempted to explain the mode, usual 
 routine, possible consequences, and the very different class 
 of society to which pigeon shooting might introduce us 
 — and having done so, I hope, fairly, and without preju- 
 dice — let us discuss a httle, so far as my hmited know- 
 ledge of general shooting may enable me to do, the com- 
 parative skill of the trap, or general field shooter. 
 
 As every man who sits and manages his horse to per- 
 fection in his peculiar line of horsemanship is entitled to 
 the character of a perfect horseman, so every man who 
 excels in any particular description of shooting may lay 
 claim to the title of a crack shot ; but it no more follows 
 that he is a first-rate general shot, than being an accom- 
 pUshed jockey or perfect hussar makes a man a good 
 general horseman. I must, however, consider that there 
 is a wide distinction between the proficiency of the shot 
 and that of the horseman. I do not mention this with 
 any invidious view, but as a distinctive feature in the two 
 attainments. We may, under very extensive construc- 
 tion, apply the term " knack " to shooting — with pigeon, 
 swallow, and snipe shooters it is pre-eminently so — but 
 we should never say a man had a knack of being a jockey 
 or a good hunting-rider across country. Yet we might 
 
 very appropriately say (some named jockey) has a 
 
 pecuhar " knack," in a set-to, of landing his horse first 
 in the last half-dozen strides of a race. So some men 
 
284 PIGEON SHOOTING. 
 
 have a peculiar knack of getting through a cover ; others, 
 of getting over difficult and dangerous ground ; others, 
 again, of getting through or over not large, but blind 
 and intricate fences. Such peculiar knack exists even in 
 horses, in some to an extraordinary degree, without their 
 being on the whole by any means first-rate hunters. 
 
 Swallow shooting is quite a knack, and one not difficult 
 of attainment. The only two advantages it presents to 
 the man wishing to become a good shot at game I con- 
 ceive to be these : it certainly teaches him to shoot 
 flying ; but, far beyond this, he may easily teach himself 
 that great attribute in a shot — coolness ; to which may 
 be added patience. Swallows, as we all know, frequent 
 habitate in different localities ; thes-e during the season 
 they will not quit : so the swallow-shot is sure to find 
 his game, and that not in single birds. Once on the 
 wing, the swallow flies in large or more circumscribed 
 circles ; so the young shot, should he find the bird in 
 passing in his first circle does not present himself in such 
 position as to afford a fair mark, has only to wait till he 
 comes round again, or another bird appears in the posi- 
 tion that renders the hitting him not -difficult. This 
 teaches the tyro not to think it necessary or prudent, as 
 he otherwise might do, to let fly the moment he catches 
 sight of his game, by doing which, unless proficient in 
 the ever-uncertain qualification of snap-shooting, he would 
 frequently, perhaps mostly, fire at a moment when it was 
 next to impossible to kill, or even hit. The swallow has 
 a peculiar habit, when turning, of presenting his whole 
 body and wings as a large surface, and that for a mo- 
 mentary space of time all but motionless. The shot 
 awaits this : so with his gun to his shoulder, and the 
 muzzle following the bird, if he avails himself of tlio 
 I)ropcr moment, he has an easy mark. If, however, lie 
 
PIGEON SHOOTING. 285 
 
 intends swallow shooting to be the introduction to general 
 field-shooting, when he has attained the "knack" of 
 catching the bird on the turn, he should practise a more 
 legitimate, though more difficult, way of bringing him 
 down ; this is by firing when he finds him for a brief 
 space of time (and brief it will be) flying straight across 
 his gun ; for to hit him crossing is next to impossible to 
 any common shot. Firing at the swallow coming or 
 going brings the shooter well into the practice of shooting 
 at game, and is another practical lesson on temper and 
 patience, for he may see the bird a hundred times ere he 
 finds him come or go straight for ten consecutive yards. 
 All this, how^ever, practises the eye of the young shooter 
 on moving objects ; teaches him to bring his gun quickly 
 and firmly to his shoulder, and its muzzle to bear on its 
 object — two of the most important desiderata in shooting. 
 Pigeon shooting soon convinces a man that, unless he 
 gains'the habit of perfectly covering his bird by his gun, 
 and that quickly, he has little chance as a pigeon shot, 
 for these birds wall carry off" such a quantity of shot that, 
 unless very hardly hit, they are not to be stopped ; and 
 practising in achieving this is, I consider, the great cause 
 of first-rate shots killing as dead as they do, and occasions 
 them to kill with as much certainty as they do when 
 practised at game of any sort. 
 
 As regards the difficulty of partridge shooting com- 
 pared with that of pigeon shooting, I should say the 
 advantage is greatly in favour of the trap-shooter, were 
 it not that the quickness of getting on wing and the 
 velocity of the pigeon's flight constituted a great diffi- 
 culty in hitting him, and hitting him hard. The trap- 
 shooter is aware to an inch or two from where his object 
 will rise ; he is equally aware when, in the generality of 
 cases, it will do so ; for, till he gives the word " Pull," 
 
286 PIGEON SHOOTING. 
 
 his game is at his command as to when it will commence 
 its flight. The eye of the shooter is steadily fixed on 
 the very spot from whence he is certain the bird will 
 rise ; it as intently is fixed on its rise. And we all know 
 that there is an unaccountable sympathy between the eye 
 and the motion of the arms, that, without looking at 
 them or the gun, the arms, as if by involuntary impulse 
 on our part, divert the gun point-blank to the object on 
 which the eye is immoveably rivetted. That v\^hich we 
 anticipate and expect, or, indeed, know will occur, does 
 not take us by surprise, consequently shortly ceases to 
 cause any trepidation should the pigeon hesitate a 
 moment or so ere he rises. Though this may cause a 
 little embarrassment to the young shot, still the eye that 
 has rested some time on the trap now as intently rests 
 on the pigeon exposed to view by the falhng of the trap ; 
 so the eye never quits him for an instant until he falls 
 or has escaped. » 
 
 None of these advantages attend the partridge, or 
 grouse, or cover shooter. It is true, we may have dogs 
 on whom perfect reliance may be placed ; still he, or they, 
 only show that game is near. So that the field-shot is 
 about in the position or predicament the pigeon shooter 
 w^ould be, if told that in a garden a hundred yards square 
 the bii'd he was to shoot at was somewhere within the 
 walls ; thus, if the pigeon rose to his right or left, or 
 before him, he would find it very different to having the 
 trap to point out the precise spot. Our dog makes a 
 steady point, directs his nose towards a particular point 
 to which we naturally direct our attention ; yet, from 
 some not-to-be-accounted for influence, the birds may 
 not at the moment be in that precise direction, though 
 the scent carries strongest from it ; so the shooter is 
 sometimes as much taken by surprise by the covey or a 
 
PIGEON SHOOTING. 287 
 
 single bird, as would be a man, looking intently forward 
 to the left expecting to meet a friend, when he gets a 
 sudden tap on the shoulder from behind or on his right. 
 I never saw a man who was not a little startled on such 
 occasions ; yet the field-shooter must not permit himself 
 any confusion should his game rise when he least expected 
 thera. This might occur from a variety of causes ; we 
 will suppose one. A covey had been for some time 
 basking on a particular spot, but had run a minute or 
 two before the dog approached ; they had probably run 
 down or across wind : it is quite possible the spot where 
 they had long lain might send a stronger scent than do 
 the running birds : so, though he might divert his looks 
 to the right, the birds might actually be to the left. 
 The sudden noise of partridges rising will itself require 
 some time to habituate the young shot not to be a 
 little confused and nervous when he hears it ; but if it 
 takes place when he least expects it, it requires a prac- 
 tical sportsman to remain quite collected, and like the 
 pigeon-shot, to take cool and certain aim. 
 
 Whatever may be the game or object a man shoots at, 
 perfect coolness is quite indispensable to making him a 
 good shot. He may be as quick as he pleases ; but 
 quickness is quite different to confusion or indiscreet 
 haste, a failing that often leads to direful consequences 
 in momentous actions of our lives, and, unless corrected, 
 will be found to mar the best-founded anticipations of 
 success in any of the pursuits of the sportsman. 
 
KNOWING WHAT WE WANT. 
 
 It may be said or supposed that every man knows this, 
 and to a certain degree he does so ; but the knowing 
 how to get it, or the really knowing it when he sees it, 
 is quite a different affair. For instance : a man wants a 
 dress coat ; he knows that — that is, he knows his want ; 
 but if he has lived till the age of twenty on a farm, or 
 in a country village, he will have about as correct an 
 idea of what is truly a dress coat, as he would have of 
 the ceremonial and etiquette of a levee. This can be no 
 matter of surprise, nor would it amount, to the slightest 
 indication of any want of acuteness of intellect, or even 
 in a general way of any want of taste to admire what is 
 in itself admirable ; it merely shows him unaccustomed 
 to a particular object, consequently unable to judge of 
 its merits or imperfections. 
 
 We might suppose a tailor, whose business is to make 
 coats, could set our country friend right ; but a man 
 being a tailor in no way insures his being capable of this. 
 A first-rate London workman could, of course, do this ; 
 but the " Snip" of the village, albeit his showboard 
 exhibits the mystic w^ords " From London," knows no 
 more of a dress coat than does his customer. If Snip 
 was on speaking terms with Sir John's valet, he might 
 get the loan of a pattern ; but if he did he, would make, 
 as poor Brummel would have called it, " a thing," and 
 
KNOWING WHAT WE WANT. 289 
 
 a different tiling to any he had ever before made ; but 
 he could no more convert his cloth into a Loudon dress 
 coat, than he could convert himself into a London super- 
 fine tailor. 
 
 It is pretty much the same as regards judgment and 
 taste in horses, carriages, and the appointments neces- 
 sary to either. Judgment, as relates to horses, is of 
 several kinds, or rather to be shown in several ways. 
 Some are particularly acute in this attribute in one way, 
 some in another : a thorough judge must be perfect in 
 all. There is the judgment of what is in himself a good 
 kind of horse : then comes that of judging of the good 
 kind for a particular purpose. This latter phase in 
 judgment embraces a perfect knowledge of looks, size, 
 speed, action, strength, and, as far as the eye or inquiry 
 can go, of constitution ; for, as in a coat, what would be 
 quite proper for full dress in an evening in Belgravia, 
 would be absurd at an ordinary dinner party, though, 
 allowing for degrees of comparison, a dress or evening 
 coat is proper for both places : it is the adapting the 
 coat to the occasion that makes the well-dressed man. 
 So the using the right sort of horse for the purpose 
 chiefly constitutes the well-mounted man ; and it is in 
 this particular that so many men fail. 
 
 To be an equally good judge of horses for all purposes 
 falls to the lot of no man : he who comes nearest to it is 
 the best general judge. To be this, even in a moderate 
 degree, is not shown by one man in fifty, though he 
 may more or less have kept horses all his life. There is 
 but one sort of man who can by any possibility arrive 
 at being a good general judge : he must have begun 
 early to accustom his eye to just and quick perceptions 
 of merits and defects : he must have an inherent love for 
 the animal to induce him to devote sufficient time to 
 
290 KNOWING WHAT WE WANT. 
 
 perfect his eye and taste, and must practically make 
 himself master of, or at least proficient in, all the sports 
 or usages to which the horse is applied. He should be, as 
 amateur, a jockey, steeple-chaser, hunting rider, trotting 
 rider, a perfectly gentlemanly park rider, and a good 
 coachman. I might be asked if, among his other practice, 
 he should not be a military rider. This would be quite 
 unnecessary. Anything that is handsome, and has 
 commanding action and strength enough to carry the 
 necessary weight, is good enough for a charger ; and, 
 supposing our judge to be a private individual, a perfect 
 knowledge of chargers or troop horses would be quite or 
 nearly useless to him. : such horses are usually selected 
 by persons making the purchase of them. 
 
 . I do not at all mean to say it is necessary, or even of 
 any consequence to the generality of persons, that they 
 should practise all I have stated, because it is in no way 
 necessary that such persons should be general good 
 judges of horses ; but if their pursuits induce the keep- 
 ing horses of all sorts, it then becomes quite necessary 
 they should be good judges of each — that is if they 
 ■wish to be served with comfort and advantage by the 
 animals they keep, independent of not paying twice as 
 much in the purchase as the animal is worth, which a 
 bad judge most indisputably would do. 
 
 It is quite true that we sometimes, nay frequently, see 
 a man of fourteen or more stone a perfect judge of- the 
 powers of racehorses in general, or the pretensions of a 
 particulnr one ; but the chances are, this man has grown 
 into fourteen stone weiglit, yet began his intercourse 
 with them when he could ride six : his knowledge and 
 judgment have grown with his growth, and racing or 
 training is his business : he has learned that luisiness as 
 he would have learned to be a coachmaker, as a means 
 
KNOWING WHAT WE WANT. 291 
 
 of support and emolument. In stating a man must be 
 fond of the animal, and the sports or purposes he is 
 employed in, to become a judge, I alkided to gentlemen, 
 who, unless their inclination leads them that way, will 
 not devote their time to the bcconiiiig proficient in any 
 use the horse is applied to. The ordinary man becomes 
 jockey, huntsman, or coachman, from circumstances: 
 the gentleman would become neither, unless his predi- 
 lections led him that way. It matters not whether 
 practice in this is tlie result of taste or necessity, if that 
 practice is carried on : the only difference is, the profes- 
 sional is obliged to use constant practice, the amateur is 
 not. Hence why the former usually excels ; and, if 
 proof were wanting to show that it is practice from 
 early youth, and continued afterwards, that causes this 
 superiority in the professional, we need only call to our 
 minds the fact that, in a general way, a very perfect 
 huntsman knows little more of a race-horse than does 
 the footman of the same family ; and the most accom- 
 plished jockey could form but a most imperfect idea 
 between the hunter fit to carry a heavy man in a thick 
 strong country, and the one calculated for eleven stone 
 in Leicestershire. 
 
 Among quite uneducated men we constantly see far 
 better judges of horses for particular purposes than we 
 meet among gentlemen ; and it must ever be so. The 
 jockey, trainer, huntsman, coachman, or even postboy, 
 all from practice become judges of the horses they use : 
 they are brought up among and constantly use such ; 
 but we find among gentlemen, whom practice brings 
 acquainted with all sorts of animals, far better general 
 judges of horses than are found among professionals. 
 Nor can this be any matter of surprise : the professional, 
 be his avocation what it may, devotes his time, thoughts, 
 
 u 2 
 
292 KNOWING WHAT WE WANT. 
 
 and attention solely to tlie objects that contribute to his 
 livelihood : the amateur devotes his to the different 
 objects that promote his pleasure, though possibly still 
 keeping his eye on the advantage an intimate knowledge 
 of each invariably brings with it. Such knowledge may 
 not extend to the being enabled to make any of them a 
 source of much profit, for he scarcely hopes to do so ; 
 but he makes himself master enough for what he takes 
 pleasure in, not to be much duped in the prosecution of 
 it. Perhaps he learns to know enough to derive advan- 
 tage in some way from his pursuits, either in popularity, 
 in show, or in profit. 
 
 I am quite aware it is held ungentlemanly in a man 
 selling his hunters or horses so as to derive profit, or, at 
 all events, an increased price on the purchase money for 
 them. I own a good deal of such feeling myself; 
 and had I ever been a man of large fortune, my pride 
 would have made me eschew anything of the sort : but 
 not having been such, I was fair in an honourable, and 
 I venture to hope gentlemanly way, to avail myself of 
 such advantages as nerve and practice afforded me, and 
 by these having made the raw material into a something 
 that met the wishes and views of those whose necks and 
 exertions were very properly at a higher premium than 
 my own. 
 
 But disliking horse-dealing (for horse-dealing it is, let 
 us mask it as we may) as much as I ever did, the pride 
 that led to the dislike was wrong. The brewer or the 
 banker gets into parliament : is recognized at a levee. 
 The one avails himself of his knowledge of malt and 
 hops (I beg pardon for supposing such to form the pro- 
 minent feature in brewing), the other in a perfect know- 
 ledge how to turn other persons' money to the best 
 advantage to the firm or sole chief. Why, then, in a 
 
KNOWING WHAT WE WANT. 293 
 
 commercial country, should the turning anything to 
 advantage meet reprehension ? 
 
 But, says the brewer or banker, horse-dealers are the 
 very scum of the earth. Say, not horse-dealers, but 
 some or many of the class, this is true. But, on the 
 other hand, call on Anderson of Piccadilly, a horse- 
 dealer and no more, and you will meet with an accueil, a 
 gentlemanly address, with a proper deference to superior 
 station that you would only find corresponded with in 
 the very high of those engaged in commerce of another 
 description. There is not, joer *^, anything more dero- 
 gatory in selling a horse at a profit than there is in 
 trafficking in any other merchandise ; the respectability 
 of the man of trade depends on the man who trades, 
 not on that he trades in. 
 
 We might naturally conclude that the man whose 
 business is the dealing in horses must be a thoroughly 
 good judge of them. To a certain degree he unques- 
 tionably is so ; that is, each man becomes a judge of 
 the particular class of animal in which he deals ; for we 
 are not to expect to find first-rate hunters, carriage 
 horses, ladies' horses, and park horses in the same 
 stables with omnibus horses, posters, and five-and- 
 twenty guinea hacks to be used for all purposes. As 
 different as are the classes of horses dealt in, are usually 
 the classes of men who deal in them ; all good judges of 
 the kind of horse their eye is accustomed to criticise and 
 appreciate, but neither of them as general judges to be 
 called good ones. The one would estimate beauty, 
 action, or pleasantry to the rider, at a higher price than 
 each or all combined would fetch, in point of price, 
 among the customers of the inferior dealer ; the latter 
 would not discriminate to the extent he ought between 
 mediocrity and what approached perfection : he might 
 
294 KNOWING WHAT WE WANT. 
 
 he shown a horse of the class in w-hich he deals, 
 and might very accurately value him at (say) forty 
 pounds: he might be shown another; his judgment 
 would be quite good enough to see this was a very 
 superior animal to the other, so he sets him down at 
 perhaps eighty, but he would never dream of valuing 
 him at a hundred and fifty— he could not bring himself 
 to consider there w^as a hundred and ten difference 
 between the two. We will say such a man was owner 
 of a good-looking little nag. As a hack, strong, fast, 
 safe, free, yet quiet : five great recommendations in a 
 hack. His head is a little inclined to be coarse, a little 
 heavy on the bit, and his action, though good and safe, 
 not strikingly showy. He shows him to a London 
 dealer at a fair. Up comes another animal very much 
 of the same cut, except having the head of a race-horse, 
 Avhich he carries in its proper place with the reins on 
 his neck, and ten steps show his knee-up action to be 
 first-rate. The London dealer is asked thirty pounds 
 for the hack first shown. His answer is a civil one, and 
 one much used : " Thank you for the sight of him. He 
 is a very nice little horse ; but I should not buy him." 
 To the inferior dealer's surprise, he sees seventy pounds 
 or more at once readily given. He has got, we will 
 say, a wrinkle or two as to heads, mouths, and action ; 
 still it would not do for him to buy in at such propor- 
 tionate advanced price for such perfections. Why? 
 Simply because his customers are not judges enough of 
 snch attributes to give the price they are worth, or, at 
 least, will bring with those who are. Supposing his 
 customers, or some of them, did appreciate such things 
 at their marketable price, they would not pay that price ; 
 so the inferior dealer still purchases and sells the sort he 
 has been accustomed to ; and of such, no doubt, he is a 
 
KNOWING WHAT WE WANT. 295 
 
 good judge. Now, had the Loudon dealer chosen to 
 speak as he felt, he would have said, " Could I not have 
 got the hack I have bought under one hundred pounds, 
 I would not have left him ; but I would not have yours 
 in my stable," I have seen numbers of farmers on 
 good-looking, sound, useful horses ; I scarcely ever saw 
 one on a neat, tasty, gentlemanly, or really fine horse. 
 The young farmer really " knows what he wants," and 
 gets it, which he easily can do. He wants a fair-looking, 
 sound animal, that can slap along at a good rate ; and 
 though that pace would go nigh to dislocate the back 
 of one accustomed to a neat quick-stepping hack, the 
 young rustic is strong : so we may say nature " suits 
 the back to the horse" as well as to the " burthen." 
 Our hero also wants a saddle and bridle : as both look- 
 ing new is his chief estimation of what will be a bit of 
 show-off at fair or market, he employs a man to make 
 both, whose chief line of business may be guessed at by 
 the exhibition of a cart-collar or two on a peg outside 
 the window, and a tuft of scarlet and blue to ornament 
 the top of a winker-bridle within ; shape and make are 
 left to the taste of the maker, the only hint given being 
 that the saddle shall be a smart smallish size, and tlie 
 bit "a nobby one," by which is to be understood a 
 shape that Lord Wilton would faint at, if he could 
 faint at anything. Well, if young Jolter has got what 
 he wants, why the above-mentioned noble gets no 
 more : but the nature of the wants are somewhat dif- 
 ferent. 
 
 It is, no doubt, of the first importance to know what 
 we want. If we mean to arrive at the object of our 
 wishes, and get what we want, we must consider what 
 term will best express the desired object. Now, I have 
 plenty of acquaintance who could in a very few words 
 
296 KNOWING WHAT WE WANT. 
 
 most clearly define anything in the horse way that they 
 might want, from the race-horse to the shooting pony ; 
 but I have more, who, should they tell me they wanted 
 a " hack," courtesy only w^ould make me forbear saying 
 — " Excuse me, you want no such thing." The truth is, 
 such men merely want a good-looking quiet animal to 
 carry them safely along the road or street. Hundreds 
 of persons have complained to me of the difficulty of 
 finding a horse to suit them. I never in my own person 
 experienced this, except when wanting the money to get 
 one. I ever found that when I had cash in Drummond's 
 hands, there was always such horses as I wanted in the 
 hands of some one disposed to sell ; but then I flatter 
 myself I did know what I wanted, where to seek it, and 
 how to ask for it. We will suppose a man goes to a 
 dealer's stable : one of those who do not know what to 
 ask for, commonly begins — "Mr. A, or B, I want a 
 horse." Our dealer bows, expecting a somewhat more 
 definite description of what the gentleman wants. Find- 
 ing this is not given, he is quite astute enough to guess 
 from the gentleman's vague speech that he is one of the 
 following three sorts of customers : — One who comes 
 from curiosity, or, at all events, with only half an intent 
 of buying ; one who cannot describe what he wants, or 
 really does not know. The dealer can, in such case, 
 only mentally shrug up his shoulders, and invite the 
 gentleman to look at, in his late majesty's phrase, " the 
 whole squadron." Possibly the dealer does worm out of 
 our gentleman that he wants a horse to carry him on the 
 road ; or he may use the term — " hackney." Our 
 dealer now begins to fancy he knows a little what his 
 customer wants, and with this end is conducting him to 
 another stable to show him two or three clever cobs, 
 and as many showy little blood-Hke park hacks. Judge 
 
KNOAVING WHAT WE WANT. 297 
 
 the man's astonishment, when he is desired to order 
 from his box or stall a hunter that he values at a 
 hundred and fifty, standing near sixteen hands ; or a 
 cab horse : this is half-sold to Lord Somebody for such 
 purpose. What is to be done? it is quite useless to 
 disturb either horse, or harass the man, by the useless 
 proceeding of leading them out. If he ventures to 
 remark that they are not adapted to the purpose spe- 
 cified, his customer at once sets up his bristles at the 
 supposed indignity of any one dictating to him what 
 he should ride. The dealer means no such dictation, 
 for, of course, it is a matter of perfect indifiFerence to 
 him what any man may choose to ride ; but he knows 
 what the other does not — that the horses when out 
 would be as different to what he supposed them when 
 standing in the stables as if they were animals of a 
 distinct species. He guesses pretty well that the only 
 result of the trouble would be a remark from his cus- 
 tomer something to this eff'ect : " Dear me ! I did not 
 think him half so tall as I now find he is." We will 
 now suppose the customer to have become tractable 
 enough to suff'er himself to be taken to the hacks I have 
 alluded to, the chances are he will not look twice at 
 either of them ; for, notwithstanding the lesson he had 
 in the horse he would see out, not to trust to his own 
 judgment of horses in their stable, he cannot conceive 
 that a merry little hack, with good action, and making 
 the most of himself when out, looks of twice the size 
 and importance he did when engaged in the homely 
 occupation of nibbling at his hay, or indulging in a half- 
 doze in his stall. Such men will not be guided as to 
 seeing out such animals as are likely to suit them, nor 
 will they buy such if they are shown them. They have 
 really no right whatever to go to a dealer's stable, or any 
 
298 KNOWING WHAT WE WANT. 
 
 stable — let tliera go to a fair : there they will see scores 
 of animals led and ridden ; they would fix on what 
 struck their fancy ; and the end of it will be they will 
 find their selection looking as different when in their 
 own stable as tliey did when shown in a fair, as in 
 an adverse ratio did the hundred-and-fifty-guinea nag 
 in his box and out of it. If gentlemen who do not 
 know what they want object to a fair, let them go to a 
 London sale by auction — they will probably think they 
 there see what they want. Let them buy : if they do 
 not, in dealing phrase, get a " dig," and in American 
 parlance " an almighty" one, I am a bad prophet, and 
 things are wonderfully changed. A man, dealer or not, 
 who has a horse or horses to sell, and knows what he is 
 about, is quite willing that people who don't know what 
 they want should go to the fair, the repository, or 
 possibly he would add the d — , provided they do not 
 come to him. 
 
 Now let us see how men who do know what they 
 want usually act and express themselves. We will say 
 one of these drives his stanhope into a dealer's yard, 
 where it is knoAvn choice road-horses are to be found. 
 The customer looks as if he knows what he is about ; his 
 horse comes stepping into the yard as if he went on 
 India-rubber ; stops handily ; the tiger or groom jumps 
 out and faces him ; the horse perhaps playfully snaps or 
 pretends to snap at him, but standing in an attitude that 
 would seem to say to the dealer — " What do you think 
 of me ?" The owner, my life on it, does not bring out 
 the "Mr., I want a horse." If he is a stranger, the 
 dealer sees at a glance that whatever description of horse 
 may be wanted he must be clever of the sort. If he is 
 known, the above fact is well known also. " Weston 
 (or any other name), ] want a hack :" this alone from 
 
KNOWING WHAT WE WANT. 299 
 
 such a man would do ; but he perhaps adds, smiUng, 
 
 and pointing to the horse he has driven in, " something 
 
 hke this will do." Weston makes one of his pohtest 
 
 and most deferential bows. " I should think his match 
 
 would do for any one, sir ; the only difficulty is to get 
 
 such. If you will permit me, I will show you one I 
 
 consider particularly clever." The chances are, there is 
 
 a deal : each knows what is wanted. The customer does 
 
 not give the trouble of seeing out what his critical 
 
 and close-judging eye tells him is not the sort. The 
 
 dealer does not pay his customer the bad compliment 
 
 of attempting to impose any that are not, on his 
 
 notice. 
 
 It is something the same if a judge goes to a hunting 
 dealer. He does not merely state, " I want a hunter ;" 
 it would be tantamount to saying to a butcher, " I want 
 a bit of meat." If the customer and the dealer know 
 each other, the former has only to say — " Smart, have 
 you anything by you that I should like, to carry my- 
 self?" The reply would be at once — "Yes, I have, 
 sir ;" or, " I shall be happy to show you what there is /' 
 or, " t really have not at this moment anything in, I 
 should say is hkely to please you." What an infinity 
 of trouble all this saves. The dealer knows he could 
 not talk his customer into purchasing w^hat is not in 
 quahfications his sort ; nor would he wish, perhaps, to do 
 so. For, in many cases, retaining the custom of a man 
 who frequently buys, far outweighs the consideration of 
 selling him a horse he will afterwards find fault with ; 
 for let people say what they will, a respectable dealer 
 cannot, without having recourse to proceedings that he 
 would be quite above practising, impose upon a sensible 
 man and a good judge, nor would he attempt or wish 
 to do so. 
 
300 KNOWING WHAT WE WANT. 
 
 Yet there are circumstances under which a man may 
 go to the most respectable dealer in the world, pay a 
 long price, and yet not get anything bordering on what he 
 wishes to have. These are where he cannot make the man 
 understand what he does want, or, supposing him to be 
 able to do this, not permitting the dealer to put into his 
 hands what would suit him, or being determined to buy 
 what the other well knows would not. After he has 
 found this out, he will not, even to himself, admit that 
 he has acted like a fool : so he everywhere affirms the 
 dealer as a rogue. If his friends perceive the animal is 
 not at all suited to the purpose they see him used for, 
 
 the chances are he says, " Ay, this is one of 's 
 
 precious bargains." had nothing at all to do with 
 
 selling him the horse, further than having him shown 
 out when desired to do so, and then receiving his money ; 
 
 the truth is, the customer was an ass, and suflPers 
 
 in character from it. 
 
 Now I daily see persons w^ho I really believe do know 
 what they want, as respects horses ; for, judging by 
 the complacency and perfect air of satisfaction they 
 exhibit, when riding or driving their animal, it is but 
 natural to conclude they have got what they w^ant, 
 consequently now know what they wanted. They 
 may very fairly say — " You see, I am one of those 
 w^ho do know what they want : I wanted just such 
 a horse as this, and have, as you see, got him." 
 The answer any judge would long to make would 
 be — " You have, and a most precious beast you have 
 got." 
 
 I have two persons now in my eye, both of whom I 
 conclude have somehow or other got what they wanted. 
 Should they want another, I should recommend them to 
 show the one they have got as a pattern of their some- 
 
KNOWING WHAT WE WANT. 301 
 
 what singular wishes. They can take their cherished 
 animal to a dealer : they will not be reduced to the very 
 ambiguous assertion of " I want a horse." They have 
 only to show the specimen of their taste, and put the 
 definite question — " Pray, Mr. Tasty, have you a horse 
 like this for sale ?" " No, sir, really I have not — thank 
 God," inwardly adds Tasty. " I am not surprised at 
 that," replies the customer, somewhat triumphantly; 
 " I was a long time in finding this," patting him on the 
 neck as he says it. " I should think you was," gravely 
 replies Tasty, whose estimation of the animal by his 
 looks is in no way heightened on seeing his action as he 
 leaves the yard. 
 
 1 must, however, give a short sketch of the two per- 
 sons I have alluded to, and their horses, as they pass my 
 window twice a day. The one is a tall, gentlemanly- 
 looking man, with a seat that would be at once shown by 
 a person sitting on a high gate without a place he could 
 lodge or rest his feet upon, I conclude this is meant 
 to be military. The brown beast he rides is of ordinary 
 size, neither blood-like, cob-like, hunter or racer-like, or, 
 in fact, like anything but itself. His head is not alto- 
 gether so outrageously bad, but it is set on like that of a 
 hammer, and is one of those that convince you there can 
 be no energy in the body to which it belongs. The 
 legs are very well put on, if they belonged to a deal 
 table ; and they progress as do the arms of a pair of 
 compasses, when we make the latter, as it were, walk. 
 The brute appears to have fair loins, this arising from 
 his being so narrow across the hips that no hip-bone is 
 shown ; so all looks smooth and level. Independently 
 of which, he is in point of flesh in tip-top condition. 
 He sports a splendid crimson forehead-band, perhaps in 
 
802 KNOWING WHAT WE WANT. 
 
 imitation of royalty ; and a kind of militaiy cnrb-bit, 
 with which we cannot suppose he could be taken alive, 
 even were he in the Crimea. It is really delightful to 
 see such perfect satisfaction as horse and man exhibit in 
 their journey through life, or, at all events, towards 
 Fulham. 
 
 The other sports a moustache, one of the half-shoot- 
 ing, half- walking jackets, usually all winter a pair of the 
 Life Guardsman's japanned boots, hunting spurs, and at 
 all seasons an immense hunting crop, with a keeper as 
 long and as large as a saddle-flap. His nag shows a 
 good deal of breeding, weedy legs, and still more weedy 
 body. I always see him in what I suppose he considers 
 a hunting gallop, which may account for every bit of 
 muscle being hunted from the body of the nag. The 
 master occasionally pretends to stand in his stirrups, 
 showing, no doubt, as he conceives, how our Derby 
 jockeys perform the preliminary canter. He looks at 
 his horse's action first down the near, then off-side ; and 
 as the animal sprawls something like a tired dromedary, 
 no doubt the owner figures to himself the advantage of 
 stride. He has, T make no doubt, at present got what 
 he wants ; but, unless he alters his pace, I suspect the 
 shadow of it will only shortly reman. 
 
 Has neither of these persons any one to tell him 
 better ? Doubtless there are many who could do so ; 
 but it really would be sheer cruelty to put the first out 
 of humour with his nag ; and, as to the other, I should 
 not conceive any one could do so. There is no reason 
 to suppose the first is not a man of sense, and, save and 
 except in riding horses and saddlery, a man of taste. 
 The latter, should he wish to show his horse as a pattern 
 by which to get another, of course he can do so ; but 
 
KNOWING WHAT WE WANT. 303 
 
 sliould he ever want to get a sensible man as an acquaint- 
 ance, let us hope he will show something as unlike him- 
 self as two beings of the same race can possibly be : 
 for he is one of those who does not know what he 
 wants, nor will, unless some kind vision in his dreams 
 sliould whisper " Brains /" 
 
ON CHOICE OF COUNTRY. 
 
 " Suit the action to the words, the word to the action." 
 Suit the country to the man, the man to the country. 
 
 Our immortal bard took upon himself, through the me- 
 dium of the child of his brain, the noble but eccentric 
 Hamlet, to give excellent advice to players : why may 
 not the more humble writer of plain prose claim the 
 same privilege as regards sportsmen ? Not that in this 
 case the advice may be excellent ; yet I so far flatter 
 myself as to believe that, if acted upon, it will be found 
 judicious. 
 
 Who proposes to give such advice, and make such 
 remarks as this brief exordium leads us to anticipate ? 
 And is he qualified to give and make such ? The first 
 question is easily answerd. Good readers, it is one who 
 has the honour of being a somewhat old acquaintance — 
 Harry Hieover. Not such authority as regards his theme 
 as is Hamlet, I admit ; and can feel no offence should 
 the reader, in making his comparison, quote from the 
 same play — " Hyperion to a satyr." So be it ; but 
 Hyperion not being in 'propria persona present, and 
 satyrs now-a-days confining themselves to wilds and 
 woods that we of 155G "wot not of," we must take 
 what we can get, and, in accordance with the ready ma- 
 nager's direction, " snow brown," 
 
ON CHOICE or COUNTUY. 305 
 
 The second question is not to be so readily answered 
 as the first, inasmuch as qualification as regards parti- 
 cular persons must be estimated by others ; for few 
 men are impartial judges of their own, and certes, 
 authors are, to say the best of them, not to be implicitly 
 trusted to in such estimation. 
 
 I knew I had seen a good many packs of foxhounds, 
 and had, at different times, seen a good many fox-hunt- 
 ing countries ; but since beginning this article, I find, 
 on reckoning the latter up, I have more or less ridden 
 in sixteen of them, to which I may add two in Wales. 
 Some of these, of course, I know well ; but I do not 
 admit a man's right to say he knows a country because, 
 for the mere gratification of curiosity, he may have sent 
 horses to it for, perhaps, two or three weeks, to get a 
 peep at a pack, a field, and the country. Of the general 
 nature of the latter he may certainly judge, after having 
 been at the principal fixtures of the hunt ; of the general 
 appearance and riding of the field he may judge, sup- 
 posing him to have seen a few average runs ; of their 
 general bearing as gentlemen or others he may judge ; 
 yet let him pause ere he gives an opinion of the pack or 
 their huntsman. But more of this anon. 
 
 I have now shown on what grounds I presume to say 
 men should suit the countrv to themselves — that is, 
 select a country that suits them (if circumstances per- 
 mit) ; if not, troth they must suit themselves to the 
 country, or be content, Avhen they cross it, to be '' no- 
 w^here." There are certainly many men who would be 
 found in such enviable situation, hunt in what country 
 they might. To such I should say, leave the red coat 
 at home, and profess to come out only to see "the find." 
 If an agreeable man, all will be glad to see you ; and, 
 riding as you like, or can, no one wnll make a remark 
 
 X 
 
306 ON CHOICE OF COUNTRY. 
 
 on your liorsemnnship or your horse ; but, unless you 
 mean to ride, don't ride a grey. If in astrange country, 
 something I have ever seen expected from the gentleman 
 in scarlet on the grey. Such are like a general's hat 
 and plume, to which all eyes are turned, and we don't 
 expect to see either under a haystack. " There goes the 
 general !" or " There goes the grev !" sets everyone on 
 the qui vive, unless in cases where it would be " Oh, it's 
 only Gonohow on his grey ! What the devil is he poking 
 about there for ?" This won't do: no, if you are seen 
 well appointed at the find, and on a grey, sail away the 
 grey must, or never show his nose or your own at a 
 second meeting of that hunt. 
 
 I have known men who could and would veritably 
 ride in any country ; but then they were men who had 
 more or less ridden in all sorts of countries : and even 
 such men will shine more brilliantly in places that suit 
 • their style of riding than in those that do not. And, 
 asain, the horse must know what he is about as well as 
 his rider, or both will show to disadvantage. It is true, 
 nerve will drive a horse accustomed to dehberate jump- 
 ing through a bullfinch, or send him flying over a large 
 fence ; but nerve will not make a horse, accustomed to 
 fair leaps that he could see and measure, careful in 
 a blind country ; and being coffined in a ditch covered 
 with brambles, is a mighty inglorious way of finishing 
 the day, to a man accustomed to " from field to field" 
 work. 
 
 There are others who are reallv fine horsemen and 
 very forward riders in their own country, be that what 
 it may, that could or would not "gee" at all in others; 
 in some cases, from want of a particular kind of nerve 
 required in some countries ; in others, from want of 
 judgment as regards such country and fencing as they 
 
ON CHOICE OP COUNTRY. 307 
 
 were unaccustomed to. It is true there are men so 
 unfortunate as regards nerve, that it fails them on all 
 occasions where danger of any sort presents itself; 
 others whose iron .nerve nothing can shake ; and, again, 
 a medium sort, who can '"' screw their courage to the 
 sticking point" in apparent dangers to which they are 
 accustomed, yet shrink from those they "know not of." 
 In the hunting-field, men who will fearlessly ride down 
 the all but perpendicular hills on the Brighton Downs, 
 will hesitate at a gate, and a fair-sized brook is magni- 
 fied by their estimation into an impracticable sheet of 
 water. I have seen men rattle their horses across fifty 
 or a hundred yards of cart-ruts on the Hampshire plains, 
 at which a steeple-chase rider would shudder ; and then, 
 if an ordinary flight of rails presented themselves, 
 would pro tern, show as "pounded:" such is the force 
 of habit. Yet, as regards nerve, I cannot permit gentle- 
 men to quite shelter themselves under the plea of want 
 of habit as an excuse for want of at least attempt ; for if 
 'mounted on a horse they kno^ to be capable of doing 
 what they see others do, it is direct want of determina- 
 tion in the rider if he declines. It would be going a great 
 way too far to even insinuate that a man was a general 
 coward who rode timidly in the field ; but this I will 
 say, I never yet knew a very bold rider to whom it would 
 be quite safe for any man to offer an affront. I have 
 not the honour of knowing anything of Admiral Lyons ; 
 he may be a good horseman for all I know, or he may 
 rarely have been in a saddle ; but this, I think, we may 
 be quite sure, if the admiral was induced to take a day's 
 fox-hunting, he would push his living Agamemnon along 
 in the field as determinedly as he does his floating one in 
 the Euxine. I have read that poor Captain Nolan's reply 
 to Lord Cardigan was, " Such are the orders, and there 
 
 X 2 
 
308 ON CHOICE OF COUNTRY. 
 
 is the enemy," or word^ to that effect — quite enough 
 for such a soldier as the noble lord. At thera he went : 
 so, if in less dangerous and sylvan warfare, it was said 
 to the gallant admiral, " There go the hounds, and there 
 are the rails" or brook, at either he would go, and, pro- 
 bably forgetting where he was, he would roar out " Go 
 a-head !" as he would were a really formidable foe before 
 him. 
 
 Independent of direct courage, nerve, or determina- 
 tion, there is a peculiar attribute about some men that 
 at times leads to what stands in their stead — this is ex- 
 citable feelings, or call it enthusiasm. This I have 
 often seen induce some men to ride very fairly in a 
 chase, who in cool blood would not charge a common 
 hurdle. Such men might possibly, in the excitement of 
 the moment, be as forward as any in an assault on an 
 enemy ; but it would not make them one of the cool, 
 determined, and ever-biave 93rd. Nor arc such men 
 ever cool, determined horsemen across country : one 
 rattling fall so far sobers their enthusiasm, that they 
 begin to think of home ; and should the pack be a field 
 off by the time the quondam enthusiast has got up and 
 " shook his feathers," it is all over ; he then shakes his 
 head ; the " go" is taken out of him — save and except 
 the go home, where, by the time the hounds have found 
 tlieir second fox, he would be found in his easy chair, 
 his housekeeper or good wife vamping him up, after his 
 fall, with a basin of sago and some brandy in it, and 
 wishing, for the sake of his family, " he w^ould not ride 
 so desjjerateli/" The cooler hand would take the thing 
 (I don't mean the sago and brandy, but the fall) as a 
 matter, not of course, but as to be expected ; would, as 
 soon as down, get clear of his horse, then get on his legs, 
 and as coolly, but somewhat more quickly, mount his 
 
ON CHOICE or country. 309 
 
 nag as he did by the cover side. Away he sails, getting 
 a little additional steam up for the occasion ; and if he 
 is a man of good temper, sense, and judgment, treats 
 his horse in accordance with them. If the fall was from 
 laziness, depend on it Lazybones won't go indolently at 
 the next fence ; if the fall was unavoidable from any 
 circumstance, he speaks encouragingly to his horse, that 
 he may not be cowed or alarmed at the next obstacle to 
 be encountered. As relates to the first party, we will 
 only say so much for (not Buckingham, but) mere 
 enhusiasm. 
 
 I have heard some fox-hunters —who ride particularly 
 boldly when their legs are under the mahogany, after 
 hunting — state that they did not think it required more 
 nerve in the steeple-chase rider than the fox-hunter ; 
 thus, we will presume, modestly hinting, that themselves, 
 as riding fox-hunting, could, if they chose it, enact Oliver, 
 Powell, Beecher, Archer, k?. &c. We will give such 
 visionary steeple chasers as the after-dinner riders credit 
 for really having too much good sense to believe them- 
 selves equal to what they wish others to think them ; but 
 if there should be any who really do thus deceive them- 
 selves, if they had once taken an airing in a steeple- 
 chase on such a horse as " Trust-me-not," instead of 
 riding their own " Safe-and-sure" in a fox-chase, perad- 
 venture they would have found they had not exactly the 
 nerve or hands of Mason. We are quite aware that 
 professional steeple-chase riders risk their persons for 
 pay, consequently often dare what few, if any, men, or 
 even themselves, would do merely in the hunting-field ; 
 thus, those who are prone to decry what others do, may 
 say of steeple-chase jocks, " No credit to them — they 
 are paid for the risk they run !" I dare say they are 
 quite indifferent as to whether such decriers gave them 
 
310 ON CHOICE OF COUNTRY. 
 
 any credit or not for what they do, and they would be 
 very foolisli if they gave the others any if they rode for 
 them. Any act that requires courage in the performance, 
 whether paid for or not, is a courageous act, and as such 
 has its merit ; and if any one thinks otherwise, let us ask 
 him if he would risk his dear person for, say, twenty 
 pounds ? I think it would be found he would decline 
 the offer if made him. We have fox-hunters, as 
 noblemen, and others as gentlemen, who can and do ride 
 as boldly (and a few of such as well) in steeple-chases 
 as professionals ; but pardon me, brother fox-hunters, if 
 I say that think as you may when not brought to the 
 point, or, still further, the post, there is not one in fifty 
 of yon would brave a steeple-chase. A bruising rider 
 as a fox-hunter is usually a jovial and a safe companion, 
 though possibly not an intellectual one ; but a boasting 
 rider 1 must hold as " a disgrace unto our order." 
 
 We have another character who is independent of the 
 rider who can always go in his own country; the enthu- 
 siast, wlio will at times, and for a time, go in many 
 countries ; the determined one, who will always go any- 
 where ; and the timid one, who goes nowhere. We 
 have, in sporting phrase, the " fast man :" this does not 
 mean merely that he keeps fast horses, consequently 
 goes fast with hounds, but that he is fast in all he does, 
 does all that is fashionable and produces echit, and goes 
 " to the top of the tree" in all he does. He may also 
 1)0 called an enthusiast ; but his enthusiasm is not like 
 that of our sago-and-brandy friend — enthusiasm in 
 hunting, but in not permitting, where he can help it, 
 any man going beyond him in anything he undertakes, 
 whether in show, expense, or proficiency in the doing it. 
 He keeps a large stud because he sees Lords Wilton, 
 Forrester, Gardener, (fee., &c., do so ; he Avould probably 
 
ON CHOICE OF COUNTRY. 311 
 
 treble the number because he sees Sir Richard Sutton 
 with between sixty and seventy hunters, did he not 
 recollect Sir Richard is master of the hounds, so compe- 
 tition here is uncalled for. He may care .but little for 
 the opera, but it shows " fast" to have been at the holt 
 or pasture in the morning, and to be seen in the Hay- 
 market at night. It is " fast" that his c/iere aniie 
 should have one of the most stylish equipages in London, 
 and one of the most elegant bijous of a house in May- 
 fair ; it is fast in others, and among them, perhaps, his 
 most particular (query, in one sense of the word) friends, 
 should (of course, sub rosa) have their occasional share 
 of what he entirely pays for ; and formerly, when legally 
 permitted, it would have been fast in him to have put a 
 bullet into the " particular" for so doing. Matrimony, 
 under ordinarv circumstances, would be considered as a 
 very slow affair indeed ; but the lady he selects is of a 
 fast family, enjoys the prestige of being a beauty, and 
 the reality of being the most dashing woman in London ; 
 coolly loses or wins a few " ponies" on a race, and if 
 playfully offering to take ten to one, when she knows 
 the odds are only live, no fast man could refuse to book 
 a bet offered in the silvery tones of the Lady Angelina. 
 It is not to be supposed the daughters of a very fast 
 family have large fortunes : no matter, the fast man has, 
 and the lady has position, and eclat in that position, 
 which is an equivalent. Nor is the want of fortune 
 a matter of much consequence after all ; for when 
 two such fast ones come together, they are sure to 
 make " the pace so good," that any fortune would be 
 shortly " pumped out ;" and, as Jaques says, " so ends 
 this great eventful history." Our fast man may be a 
 titled one, yet not entitled to spend much money, inas- 
 much as he has very little to spend ; but great credit is 
 
312 ON CHOICE OF COUNTRY. 
 
 often given to a title in two senses of the term, and in 
 both sometimes more than it deserves, and title and 
 credit will for a time achieve wonders. A millionaire 
 has a daughter — no matter if in face and figure she is 
 such as would cause a horse accustomed to be the 
 bearer of beauty to lift his head from his oats in 
 astonishment at both ; old Numps determines his " dar- 
 ter" shall be my lady. Now, there is nothing at all 
 slow in one of the handsomest and most elegant men in 
 London turning " my darter" into his lady, provided 
 she has " the tin." Ye gods, what a wedding ! Hide 
 your diminished heads, ye daughters of our oldest noble 
 houses ; your parents never gave such. The breakfast 
 was a civic feast ; but instead of being in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Cornhill, was in the polite regions of 
 Belgravia ; the elegant bridbgroom is introduced as my 
 
 son, Lord , to the chiefs of half the wards 
 
 east of Temple Bar, and only escapes when the happy 
 pair set off in a new and elegant post-chariot for the 
 
 noble bridegroom's seat in shire. Is it to be 
 
 wondered at if now he makes " the pace awful ?" What 
 did he marry for? My darter, now my lady, has been 
 accustomed enough to show and expense ; but the kind 
 of expoise was so different from that she sees now, 
 that she is no judge of its extent. Old Numps hears of 
 it and is gratified, for he has gained his object. lie 
 ventures occasionally to call a lord by his christian name 
 — a privilege at one time undreamt of. He hears of 
 
 " my son, Lord • ," hunting six days a-week. 
 
 lie only concludes that as " the dogs are kept" they 
 may as well hunt six days as two : of any difference of 
 expense he knows no more than does my lord whether 
 Russian bonds or Russian tallow are dear or cheap, at 
 one [)rice or another. " But pace will tell." " It is the 
 
ON CHOICE OF COUNTRY. 313 
 
 pace that kills ;" and make it fast eHougli. whether the 
 fortune be the five thousand of Lady AngeHna, or the 
 hundred thousand of Miss Numps, matters little : the 
 length of the purse is different, it is true — so is the 
 length of walking-sticks, but each has an end ; and six 
 days a-week fox-hunting, with other expenses to corre- 
 spond, must find that purses have an end, and (the 
 contents gone) an empty one. Numps, when, somewhat 
 to his astonishment, is, by my lord's desire, applied to 
 by my lady, " shells out like a trump." But an end is 
 found to this as well as the former purse, and our fast 
 man shelters himself by saying, as did a friend of mine 
 whose father had given him seventy thousand pounds, 
 " I can scarcely blame myself, for I really thought my 
 father had been a rich man." Our fast man went as 
 long as he could, no one can deny that, and no man can 
 
 do more ; so now my son, Lord , perforce can 
 
 only live on the money he so anathematized old Numps 
 for insisting should be tied up for the use of my darter. 
 Such things have happened and do happen, not in 
 accordance with the phrase " the best regulated famiUes," 
 but in those regulated as many are. 
 
 I think it must be quite clear that where distinct 
 propensities and attributes exist, they could not all feel 
 at home and pleased in the same sort of country. It 
 is said, in that most excellent play, " John Bull," " Jus- 
 tice is justice, Mr. Thornberry ;" so it may be said fox- 
 hunting is fox-hunting : it certainly is hunting the fox, 
 be it done where or how it may ; but it varies about as 
 much as does shooting grouse on the wild heath, and 
 shooting pheasants in a preserve, though each and both 
 are shooting. Fox-hunting is a pastime, and no more, 
 elevate it in our ideas as we may ; and this, like every 
 other justifiable amusement, a man has a right to enjoy 
 
314 ON CHOICE OF COUNTRY. 
 
 in such way as is most agreeable to himself. We may 
 be permitted a good-natured laugh at an awkward or 
 weak attempt at what we may be aware we can do 
 better; and I m.ust admit that as regards hunting, 
 riding, driving, and other sporting acts, we may be led 
 to something Hke surprise that some men doing such 
 things as they do, should do them, or attempt to do 
 them, at all. Still, if a man could find amusement in 
 rowing himself about on a pond fifty yards diameter, 
 let him row away : Cole or Messinger would laugh at 
 him, but, at all events, he shows his sense in not getting 
 in their way; he makes a prudent "choice of" water 
 for his aquatic pretensions. So 1 would recommend 
 those who have also their peculiar pretensions in the hunt- 
 ing way, to be equally prudent in their "choice of country." 
 Some men hunt for air, exercise, and out-of-door 
 society -. to such I should recommend the Sussex hills ; 
 they will there get the first to their heart's content ; let 
 them by all means mount a particularly rough-trotting 
 cob or horse ; either will give them as much exercise in 
 three hours as the generality of sportsmen would tolerate, 
 by the same means, in three weeks ; a pack of slow 
 beagles will, to a certain extent, keep the company to- 
 gether, so as not to materially interrupt a long story. 
 And I give them another recommendation, which is, 
 under similar circumstances, to avoid cross-grained 
 devils like me and some others, who, like me, hate hills, 
 hate wind and cold, hate beagles, and, above all, hate being 
 talked to when hunting; for, possibly, under the influence 
 of hills, cold, wind, beagles, and dread of being hooked in 
 for a talk, they might find the " choice of " companionship 
 they had made was somewhat unfortunate. Such talkers, 
 and there are such, arc veritable bores ; not because 
 they arc not sportsmen — not because they can't ride, 
 
ON CHOICE OF COUNTRY. 315 
 
 but because they can and will talk. Let them make a 
 judicious "choice of friend ;" they will then- be at their 
 ease, and leave others so. 
 
 There are men who are really fond of hunting, capital 
 judges of it, and thorough sportsmen, but from some 
 constitutional cause cannot, even when excited by their 
 favourite pursuit, make their way, or, in more sporting 
 phrase, " live with hounds," if the country presents any 
 serious obstacles. They are quite as good — nay, perhaps 
 better — sportsmen, so far as intimate knowledge of 
 hunting and hounds goes, than is Lord Wilton himself; 
 but his lordship can ride, and they can't. In great part 
 of Surrey, for instance, such men could thoroughly 
 enjoy their favourite pursuit ; for if, as Pat says, figura- 
 tively speaking, they could "jump a potato trench," they 
 colud ride in such country, they would be welcome there, 
 and indeed everywhere, as being good sound sportsmen ; 
 and if they even there got into a difficulty, any man who 
 could ride, if also a good-natured fellow, would feel 
 pleasure in helping them out of it. But this would 
 have to be done all day in a difficult country, and this 
 could not.be expected; so let them go where it would 
 rarely be wanted, and in a country where a man is not 
 called upon for any bold riding, and men who can't ride 
 are as well off as those who can. It is not a bad maxim 
 to observe in all things — if in certain situations we are 
 aware we cannot show superiority, seek others where the 
 reverse will not be conspicuous. 
 
 On the other hand, I remember, when hunting with 
 the Duke of Richmond's hounds, a gentleman came into 
 that country from Leicestershire, who brought several 
 very fine horses with him. One day, after a very pretty 
 run and kill, on the general field expressing their satis- 
 faction, the Leicestershire gentleman in round terms 
 
316 ON CHOICE OF COUNTRY. 
 
 d — d the country, vowing if he was obliged to remain 
 in it, he would " sell his horses, and never ride any- 
 thing but a sixty-pound hack." Nothing could be more 
 ungentlemanly, insolent, or injudicious than such speech. 
 He was with the hounds of a nobleman highly esteemed, 
 ever zealous to show sport, in which he was ably seconded 
 by his huntsman ; and the country, if not first-rate, was 
 one that produced fair average runs. He offended half 
 the field, who probably did not give more than the sixty 
 mentioned as hack price for their hunters ; and though 
 the huntsman was too well trained to show insolence, 
 however provoked, to a gentleman, no attention or civility 
 could be expected after a speech so disparaging of the 
 hunt. This gentleman, after the season, had one of his 
 horses trained for the Hunters' Stakes, and, to the dehght 
 of every one, he was third ; beaten for second place by a 
 horse that had been bought for just half this gentleman's 
 estimated hack price. Then, as characteristic of the 
 would-be overbearing of the man, he grossly abused the 
 jockey who rode the horse, and swore he had been 
 " pulled" throughout the race. The jockey, who was a 
 highly-respectable farmer, and fine horseman, very quietly 
 told the Leicestershire hero, that if he dared repeat what 
 he had said, he would horsewhip him on the spot ; and 
 this he was quite capable of doing, as it was only by 
 wasting and a very light saddle he was enabled to ride 
 twelve stone. 
 
 There can be no doubt but that it would be truly 
 annoying to a man accustomed to fast countries and 
 flying fences, with a stud that could and had gone first 
 flight in such countries, to find himself in one where a 
 good kind of half " gee-who" sort of horse could really, 
 from the nature of the country, and the blindness, intri- 
 cacy, and frequency of the fences, follow hounds quite 
 
ON CHOICE OF COUNTRY. 317 
 
 as closely as could the cvack ; yet so it is, racing speed 
 is all but useless in small enclosures. A greyhound 
 would never catch a rabbit in a cover : the former has 
 speed, but cannot use it— the latter has singular quick- 
 ness, which he can use with advantage. 
 
 Wc will now revert to men and their style of riding. 
 When my father was in Essex, whenever I had a horse 
 that I wished to ease a bit, I always sent him there ; I 
 knew he would get every attention and (to him) a 
 holiday. 
 
 In Essex there lived a medical man, who subsequently 
 
 became physician, a favourite with every one, a keen 
 
 sportsman, and, in his pecuUar way, a good horseman. 
 
 The doctor kept a couple, sometimes three nags, who did 
 
 everything ; he also kept, for the use of one of his two 
 
 very pretty and accomplished daughters, a very clever 
 
 pony, and well would the little beauty put him along 
 
 with hounds. What larger horses did at once, the 
 
 miniature hunter and his fair mistress did at twice; but 
 
 neither ever refused a fence. I believe about thirty was 
 
 the doctor's maximum price for horses. The price I set 
 
 on one I had sent down was about twice that of the 
 
 whole medical stud ; but on seeing him (the doctor) 
 
 determined to grace the new diploma by a (to him) new 
 
 sort of horse, as intimate friends, my father would not 
 
 let the doctor have the horse without riding him with 
 
 hounds. He did so, and expressed his obligation; 
 
 " for," said he, " if I had bouglit him I could not have 
 
 ridden him in comfort ; I must have ridden like a jockey, 
 
 I could not sit down on him as I do on my own. His 
 
 trot 'is very good for a hunter, but you know I ride up 
 
 and down like a postboy." And so it was : the doctor 
 
 was used to short-going nags, the stride of my horse was 
 
 quite different ; and from the doctor's profession requiring 
 
3 IS ON CHOICE or COUNTRY. 
 
 constant road-riding, he did veritably bob np and down, 
 as he said, like a postilion. However, I suited him 
 afterwards wdth a dun mare that I had taken in exchange 
 from a sporting veterinary surgeon. She had been con- 
 stantly used as his hack, but the physician made a hunter 
 of her — at least, one of his sort of hunters. We will 
 suppose the doctor in a grass country, on a thorough* 
 bred nag. Why, he would have sat and looked about 
 as happy as used to do Batty's monkey, when tied on 
 to the saddle in a mock steeple-chase at the Hippo- 
 drome. Poor Jacko was not allowed his " choice of 
 country." 
 
 Whatever carries with it the air or reality of aristo- 
 cracy, fashion, and expense, always bears also about it a 
 kind of charm that, strange to say, seems to equally 
 engage the attention of high and low. We hear the 
 latter talk of the great, or even the Court, as if they 
 were conversant with the habits of both ; whereas, if 
 they ever do get in close contact with the great, it is 
 with Mr, Hales, the giant landlord of Drury Lane ; and 
 the court with wdiose manners and habits they are con- 
 versant, is some court in the same locality. So w^e hear 
 men whose one nag gives them an occasional day's hunt- 
 ing, talking as familiarly of Leicestershire as if they were 
 constantly seen with the Quorn. Hundreds call such 
 country the elysium of hunting, who would find it in 
 every way anything but elysium to them. It is, per- 
 haps, so to men of high fashion and large fortune ; but 
 from what I know of it, I can only say I had just sense 
 enough to see it was very well for men of small means 
 to go to for a short — a very short — time, but no longer 
 than that time. They may carry on the war without 
 causing sarcastic remark-^nay, may by some be wel- 
 comed ; but to stay there, unless an unavoidalile inha- 
 
ON CHOICK or COUNTRY. 319 
 
 bitant, would be the height, of folly. To go therefor a 
 season would be a puerile and vain attempt to become 
 " one of them," calling forth only ridicule while it lasted, 
 and probably much pecuniary inconvenience afterwards. 
 Tt would not give such a person as I describe the eclat 
 of being a Leicestershire man in the sense the term 
 implies, but that of a very weak one, who in such a 
 country attemj)ted that to which, on the score of expense, 
 he had no pretension. 
 
 I quite admit that by those of high birth and standing 
 more courtesy is usually shown than by inferior persons ; 
 and if all Leicestershire men were prototypes of the late 
 Lord Alvanlv, a man miojht take his three horses into 
 their country, and would meet, if his general bearing 
 warranted it, no more unpleasantry there than if his 
 stud consisted of thirteen. But he would not meet all 
 Alvanlys : Leicestershire men are, as a tout ensemble, a 
 clique, and among that there is a double-refined clique, 
 whose accueil to strangers, unless they consider them of 
 consequence, is anything but agreeable. Such men are 
 no little hypercritical in their observations, which goes 
 even to the cut of a man's coat, which, unless it carries 
 with it the air of having been turned out by an " artiste" 
 who charges unlimited price for unlimited credit, places 
 the wearer in their estimation in a very equivocal posi- 
 tion. The . nag may be happy enough to meet their 
 perfect approbation, the saddle may look hke a Wilson, 
 the bit like a Latchford, but the coat is still probably a 
 stumbling-block. If so, should the wearer go well, and 
 presume to keep " a place," and that a good one, in the 
 run, he may be flattered, if within ear-shot, to find he 
 is noticed by " Who the d — 1 is the fellow ?" or by 
 finding at the first check an eye-glass levelled at him, 
 saying as plainly as lorgnette can say — " Where the d — 1 
 
320 ON CHOICE or country. 
 
 do you come from ?" Depend on it there is rather more 
 than a fair sprinkling of these double- distilled in the far 
 and justly-famed metropolitan countries. I do not pre- 
 tend to dictate to others, but I should say that humble 
 rustics like myself would be wise in " choice of country" 
 as a home, to fix on a more rusticated one. 
 
 It might be asked by some one who had never tried 
 the crack countries, why it is necessary to have such 
 large studs there ? It is not absolutely necessary for a 
 mere sportsman to have such, but doing as the elite do 
 renders it so ; the pastures are large, the covers few, the 
 fences strong, scent lies well, and the hounds uncom- 
 monly fast, and, above all, as regards them, they meet 
 few impediments. This will show any hunting man that 
 first-rate horses as to qualifications are indispensable ; 
 and even such horses must be carefully ridden if a man 
 means the same nag to carry him the run. But mind, 
 such riding borders on the " slow." Why ? Because 
 if you have not always a second horse you are one of 
 the slows. It may be said that men cannot want to go 
 faster than the hounds ; consequently, if two men have 
 ridden fairly to them, one horse cannot go faster or 
 further than the other : this premise is doubtless gene- 
 rally correct ; but, good reader, you will find, and not 
 unfrequently, in Leicestershire there are men who not 
 only want to, but too often do, go faster than the hounds 
 at times. Now, by riding fairly to hounds I mean riding 
 so as to see all they do, not riding over all sorts of ground, 
 stroke for stroke with them ; if you do, you will find 
 the second nag quite necessary, and that early in the 
 day. " D — n the expense !" is an old saying among fools 
 with more money than wit ; " D — n the horse !" says the 
 man with more horses than — we will say, reader, per- 
 haps you or I. Always riding well to hounds shows 
 
ON CHOICE OF COUNTRY. 321 
 
 the horseman and the sportsman : always ridmg with 
 hounds merely shows — what ? The double-refined — • 
 " verb am sat." 
 
 I have said every man has a right to take his amuse- 
 ment in the way that best suits his taste : he has so, 
 nor must his ordinary sense be called in question by any 
 little peculiarities in his mode of doing so. I have, 
 however, endeavoured to show he may evince much good 
 sense in his " choice of country ;" and this, taken in 
 figurative language, may (I think it will be found) be 
 applicable to many pursuits in life. 
 
THE GOLDEN BALL. 
 
 I DO not mean the Golden Ball who for some time stood 
 not " tip'toe on the misty mountain's top," but on the 
 somewhat slippery summit of the hemisphere of fashion. 
 " Gay being ! born to flutter," goes the song, and flutter 
 he did for a time, like the many- coloured insect alluded 
 to, then shut up his gorgeous wings, and the Golden 
 Ball, except to intimate friends, was shortly only men- 
 tioned as a something that for a time had attracted the 
 attention of the gaping multitude. The Golden Ball to 
 which I allude, who boasted of proud elevation, not of 
 fashion, it is true, but as " parvis comj)onere magna soJi- 
 bam," its elevation arose from the humble circumstance 
 of being placed on a post. What brought it there, or 
 by whom placed, I have heard, but now forget ; many, 
 however, could answer this ; but whatever that answer 
 may be, there it stood, its locality a frequent meet or 
 "turn out" of the Queen's (then the King's) hounds; 
 whether the ball or its post still remains I know not, but 
 the association of ideas connected with it will remain 
 with the writer till all ideas cease with the heart's last 
 beat. 
 
 A pretty locality is, or was, that of the Golden Ball, 
 on the road from Wokingham to Bracknell ; to its left 
 Binfield Common, which, though not of large extent, 
 afforded the means of oiviuo- a horse at exercise a 
 
THK GOl.DKX BALL. '62S 
 
 breather, ending with a straight quarter of a mile up- 
 hill to the right of Bracknell Common, over whose turf 
 I have had many a short spin ; and in its immediate 
 vicinity two very small covers, into which the deer was 
 usually uncarted : it is thirty years since I saw this take 
 place ; then I had, figuratively speaking, the Golden 
 Ball in my hand, and much more in perspective ; this, 
 doubtless, gives everything " couleur de rose ;'' still was 
 the locality beyond doubt a pretty and somewhat pic- 
 turesque meet or turn-out. 
 
 But there was another circumstance totally uncon- 
 nected with hunting, that to an enthusiastic or commonly 
 reflecting mind gave unwonted interest to the place, and 
 cast a halo of veneration round the spot. Near it, in a 
 small patch of thin remaining forest, that the axe had 
 spared, stood a large tree ; and on its bark had been cut 
 — as tradition asserted, by the poet's own hand — in large 
 letters, ''Here Pope sung:" if so, sacred remain that 
 tree. If written by other hand, surely that hand apper- 
 tained to one of no ordmary imagery of mind ; but of 
 that fervid feeling, that while it affords its possessor 
 moments, hours, or days of ecstatic rapture, as certainly 
 subjects him to ages of bitterness of soul, of which the 
 dull or apathetic mind can form no conception. 
 
 " What has Pope to do with the turn-out ?" cries he 
 whose attributes of mind can find him no better way of 
 passing the hour of his return from hunting, and that 
 of his feed, than walking, and smacking his whip about 
 his stable-yard, and little knows whether we allude to 
 the author of the " Essay on Man," or the Pope who 
 makes his essay from the gates of the Imperial City : 
 certes, my friend Pope has or had as little to do with it 
 as you have had to do with Pope. 
 
 " What " — cries the half-bred miss who has just 
 
 Y 2 
 
324 THE GOLDEN BALL. 
 
 learned enough to be awaie of the heads of some of the 
 subjects on which the great poet wrote, but has never 
 mixed enough among the ellie to know what hunting- 
 men are — " what can tlie vulgar hunting-men know of 
 Pope ? Does he mean Pope who writes about his cut- 
 ting ofiF somebody's hair ?" The same, miss ; and he 
 afterwards shaved her father every day. A pony to a 
 pumpkin she beheves it. 
 
 Referring to the Golden Ball brings forth other and 
 many reminiscences more intimately connected with the 
 hunting-field. How many faces that 1 remember meet- 
 ing at this place, beaming with health and joyous anti- 
 cipation, are now still, and perhaps forgotten ! Some of 
 those then in middle-life I now see in the decrepitude of 
 age ; others that then, like myself, were envious of the 
 title of man, now show, by the insidious wrinkle, that they 
 have not escaped the vicissitudes of life ; others, from 
 the ardent and bold horseman, have dwindled into the 
 staid family man, without enough of nerve left to face a 
 common hurdle, or the inclination to do so. 
 
 But to particularize a few of the then most ostensible 
 characters there, who that had once seen him can forget 
 Tighe Dominick Tighe P He was in truth a character ; 
 his velvet cap with half its covering torn or worn off its 
 front, its white underlining rendering the loss of velvet 
 still niore conspicuous, and that worn as the hunting 
 appendage to the head, without its renovation or amend- 
 ment ever being contemplated by its wearer ; the neck- 
 cloth, if black, worn light-coloured by frequent wear ; if 
 white, become dark from the same cause ; his scarlet 
 coat, and such a coat as it ever must have been as to 
 make, worn till the now peripatetic sportsman, Paddy, 
 would hold it too bad to be sported on a racing-day ; 
 his boots — name them not in Gath — causing by their 
 
THK GOLDEV BALL. 325 
 
 surface a surmise as to whether a brush in the hand of 
 the cowboy or a wet cloth in that of a country wench 
 had made th? attempt to produce a blackened appear- 
 ance, these rarely encumbered with more than one spur ; 
 his good-humoured countenance glorying in the addition 
 of a pair of spectacles of such strength and dimensions 
 as rendered the approach of the wearer, if the sun hap- 
 pened to be in his face, as conspicuous as that of a car- 
 riage with its lamps lit ; his seat, by the forward inclina- 
 tion of the body, I presume he thought a racing one ; 
 while his face, and consequently specs, moved from side 
 to side as if, like Tam-o'-Shanter, he was galloping away 
 from some foul fiend that he expected to see come up to 
 his side. 
 
 Poor Dominick ! thou wast indeed " a fellow of infinite 
 variety," extraordinary anecdote, highly-cultivated edu- 
 cation, and could be, if and when so disposed, an intel- 
 ligent companion and perfect gentleman ; how few and 
 far between were such moments we will not say : of thy 
 bearing at other times my pen shall not chronicle the 
 account, 
 
 Dominick was a fourteen-stone man, and when mounted 
 on Strideaway —who stood an honest seventeen hands, 
 under the standard — so stahvart a horse and rider were 
 not often met with hounds ; I say met, for seeing either 
 afterwards depended wholly on the line the deer took : if 
 over the enclosures, no over- ridden hound ever accused 
 Dominick as the cause of his disaster ; but in a burst 
 along one of the straight rides from Tower Hill, Swinley, 
 or Easthamsted Park, the big one did stride away in 
 earnest ; he could on the race- course beat most half- 
 breds of his day, and was a match for most thorough- 
 bred ones for a mile, but neither master nor servant was 
 a match for time. 
 
326 TIIK GOLDEN BALL. 
 
 Another, of a far different sort and character, wns 
 certain to be found at the Golden Ball, or any fixture in 
 the Berkshire or Buckinghamshire country : his light, 
 spare, gentlemanly figure, firm seat, fine hands, strong 
 nerve, and the very best-selected of studs in the finest 
 possible condition, enabled him not merely to " live," 
 but shine with hounds in any country ; he looked all 
 over a horsman, while his courteous manners towards 
 those with whom he chose to converse, which were not 
 many, showed at once the man of family and fashion ; 
 any of those who hunted with the royal hounds at that 
 period must recognise the one alluded to, for there was 
 not another Captain Vyse. If ever I broke the tenth 
 commandment, it has been when I have seen him on his 
 black horse. Better bred, faster, and I believe better 
 horses he had ; but so perfectly gentlemanly snaffle- 
 bridled a hunter I do not recollect ever to have seen ; 
 and nothing of what he could do was lost under the 
 steerage of his master, whose wiry form seemed as if 
 intended to ride and live for ever. May he approach as 
 near it as mortality will permit ! One fault the Captain 
 had — as a hunting rider a sad one it was, but still one 
 often run into by the right sort : whether necessary or 
 not, he could no more resist a tempting gate or fence 
 than he could fly ; the sight of a paddock was delightful 
 to him, and I verily believe if anything would have 
 tempted him to I'ide over a. pedestrian, his opening a gate 
 would have led to such a result ; at all events, I know he 
 once nearly capsized me, horse and all, when hounds 
 running hard I took one before him, having by chance a 
 length the lead ; his perfectly gentlemanly habits induced 
 him to excuse himself, but his roguish smile said as 
 plainly as smile could say it, " I'll serve you the 'same 
 
THE GOLDEN BALL. 327 
 
 again if I catch you usurping my prerogative ;" and that 
 was takins; the lead. 
 
 Many characters I could mention of that time, who 
 are as much in my mind's eye now as they were then 
 in propria person^s before me ; I will, however, only 
 allude to two. These, it somewhat singularly happened, 
 were both natives of the Emerald Isle, both most de- 
 termined riders, and both in succession lived in the 
 same house, close to Wingfield church. These were, 
 I am sure, taking it in a joking and good-humoured 
 sense of the words, terrible bugbears to the Captain ; 
 for though he could outpace both, he could not pound 
 them ; nor at fencing, no matter what, they would not 
 be denied ; high or wide, they would have it ; if chance 
 placed them in the van, they would shew him what 
 Irish nags could do in the jumping way ; if the Cap- 
 tain led, had he faced the Thames he could not shake 
 them off. The one (Mr. Shavve) had only one horse 
 that he hunted, a close-set round-foreheaded cock-tail 
 in the literal sense of the word, and cock-tail looking 
 animal he was, but among enclosures a sad teazer to 
 the Captain's two-hundred-guinea nags ; under such 
 circumstances he was their match at all games, and at 
 a large intricate fence, that few would think of facing, 
 from its requiring a one-two-and-away sort of a jumper, 
 Pat was too cunning for them ; he brought his Galway 
 practices with him, had always '■ a leg to spare," and 
 would place it on a dinner plate if offering good foot- 
 hold. 
 
 The other was a sixteen-stone man : his little-in-num- 
 ber-but-large-in-size stud consisted of three ; as in the 
 case with Shawe, it was useless for any sort of fence to 
 say No to Hewitt, on General Miranda. He would clear 
 anything on his coarse coaching-looking black mare ; he 
 
328 THE GOLDEN BALL. 
 
 would half jump, and half bore through, or over, any- 
 thing ; and on his raw five-year old chestnut he would 
 blunder or tumble over anything. " D — 1 a matter !" as 
 he would say, he somehow contrived his fall should 
 always be, if fall he did, after he was over ; a jovial, 
 hospitable, warm, light-hearted gentlemanly fellow he 
 was, the true characteristic of his countrymen — at least, 
 as I ever found them. I would not describe a man in 
 terms of greater reprobation, in accordance with my ideas, 
 than by saying of him in the terms of the song, " He'll 
 never do for Gal way." 
 
 As I am not on the subject of characters further than 
 the recollection of the Golden Ball has called some back 
 to memory, we will say a few words on the locality as a 
 hunting country. 
 
 A good deal of the pleasantry of a hunting locality 
 depends on taste, and in sooth on nerve, and further, on 
 the state of the pocket ; for where, in the moderate pro- 
 vincial county, two good horses will, barring peculiar 
 occurrences, carry a man three days a week, if he cannot 
 keep more, in the (figuratively speaking) raetroi)olitan 
 district of Leicestershire, six would be wanted, or, at all 
 events, used for the same purpose. 
 
 The goodness of a country as a hunting one depends 
 greatly on the nature of the game pursued, stag, fox, or 
 hare ; that which may be good for the one may in no 
 way suit the other. For stag-hunting, the country about 
 the Golden Ball is a fair one, and presents a good deal 
 of variety of aspect and surface ; as a fox-hunting 
 country it is not only bad, but execrable ; in fact, taking 
 Berkshire as a whole, and I have hunted in every hunting 
 part of it, it is altogether a bad fox-hunting county ; 
 the part of it Warde hunted I should say is the best, as 
 to size of enclosure and distribution of covers. When I 
 
THE GOI,DEN' BALL. 329 
 
 say the Golden Ball part of Berkshire is a fair stag- 
 hunting country, I only mean that, in a general way, it 
 is a fair one for those wanting a gallop, as it gives the 
 deer scope for his powers of speed, and the hounds little 
 hesitation in their pursuit of him, and if the deer is 
 turned out gives a good run, and is taken, or, indeed, if 
 he is notj the stag-hunter is satisfied ; but suppose we 
 turn out at the race-course or Tower Hill, and take the 
 deer near Woking, through a long and fast run, to call 
 it hunting is preposterous : if we turn out, say at the 
 Golden Ball, and he takes the enclosures by Bingfield, 
 sticks to them to Warfield, on to Wingfitld, and then 
 takes a turn to the left by Shotelsbrook and Waltham, 
 he will give horses something to do in the fencing way, 
 and a good one he must be to live with fox-hounds , and 
 such deer-hounds now are, in pursuit of such game 
 across such a country ; usually^ however, the hunting in 
 the Berkshire side is more or less heath riding; ugly 
 enough, no doubt, the face of such a country is ; still 
 there is a wildness about the riding over it, that gives a 
 sensation of independence of the world, and freedom of 
 action, that can only be felt, not described ; but as to 
 hunting, when we annex to it the idea of merely pursuing 
 an animal turned out to be caught again, if we detect 
 ourselves a dozen miles from home, galloping on a half- 
 tired horse, each stride increasing the length of our 
 return, and well knowing the stag being caught and 
 taken is certain, yet at the same time nothing to us 
 wnether he is or is not, the heaving sides of our horse 
 will, in such a case, sometimes suggest a doubt of the 
 sense of going further. I can only say, when I have had 
 a long ride home over so uninteresting a country, I have 
 thought myself anything but what was complimentary 
 for not pulling up several miles short of the take. In 
 
330 THE GOLDEN BAIL. 
 
 fox-hunting the thing is different : we find an animal 
 probably never in the possession of man ; our object is 
 the kill as a finale ; this is a result of considerable un- 
 certainty ; we are interested in the credit and perform- 
 ance of the pack, are anxious they should not be beat by 
 their fox, and feel, independently of other gratification, 
 a wish to see the result of the chase, as we are to hear 
 or see that of a race, for the result is uncertain in both 
 cases. We should have little interest in a race where 
 we knew one horse could beat another to a certainty 
 — it is thus I ever felt with staghounds. I could quit 
 the chase at any moment that suited my pleasure or 
 convenience, with as much indifference as I could a 
 theatre, where, having seen the play, I cared little for 
 the farce or pantomime. If the deer was a wild one, 
 and our means of catching him rendered the chase quite 
 imcertain, be it over heath or enclosure, we should be 
 anxious that he should not escape ; but a lengthened 
 chase which, though cold hunting may make slow, but 
 still sure, I hold to be tiresome beyond measure : under 
 such circumstances I should hold him the truest sportsman 
 who first turned his horse's head homewards. If we are 
 compelled to leave foxhounds running, or, though the 
 scent may be bad, still owning their fox, on meeting any 
 one who could tell us the result, our first enquiry, and 
 that made with anxiety, is, " Did you kill ^" If we 
 leave staghounds, and make any enquiry at all, it is only 
 from a motive of curiosity, and we phlegmatically ask, 
 " Well, where did you take him ?" probably congratu- 
 lating ourselves in not having gone on merely to see 
 certainty made certain. 
 
 The locality of the Golden Ball was, however, some- 
 times enlivened by another circumstance — the arrival of 
 the Old Berkeley from Gerard's Cross ; their head quar- 
 
THK GOLDEN BALL. 
 
 331 
 
 ters were Wokingham, where at the Inn temporary ac- 
 commodation was prepared for them ; the fixtures were 
 in the immediate neighbourhood, and in corroboration 
 of my calUng it execrable as a fox-hunting one, the ana- 
 then\as of Tom and his whips against it were quite 
 sufficient. Tom, at Gerard's Cross and Wokingham, 
 was a different man ; he never was in decent temper 
 while at the latter place, where he stayed as short a time 
 as he possibly could ; nor did I ever wonder at either 
 circumstance, for where a fox was to be found in some 
 cases, he could not in others — they would not get away ; 
 and in parts where they could, not a fox was to be 
 found ; I can only say I never saw anything like a run 
 in the vicinity, and Tom swore there never had been or 
 would be such a thing. There being no harriers in the 
 neighbourhood, the King's occasionally came over for a 
 day ; but the hares in the enclosures ran short as well as 
 the foxes, so they rarely got a day's fair sport ; what 
 foxes or hares might have done, had they been con- 
 stantly well rattled about, I know not. 
 
 The nearest established pack of foxhounds was Sir 
 John Cope's, of Bramshill ; but even here was no fox- 
 hunting country ; the covers were too large, and came 
 too often, to permit such runs as the worthy owner of 
 the pack would have wished to show his friends ; and 
 the strong, compact, and judiciously-selected kind of 
 hunter found in his stables spoke at once of the nature 
 of the country, or the greater part of it, that he hunted. 
 The habits of the deer and fox, when pursued by 
 hounds, are so different, that the causes that may make 
 a country extremely objectionable in the one case may 
 not do so in the other ; for instance, where covers are 
 of very frequent recurrence, it is very rare indeed to get 
 a clip[)ing run with a fox ; in such places they are 
 
332 THE GOLDKN BALL. 
 
 mostly dodging ones ; in breaking from one cover their 
 object is the next ; and close covers so perplex a pack, with 
 a fox, that they cannot drive him sufficiently to induce 
 him to fly for greater security ; independent of which, 
 he is a shy, lonely, and timid animal — concealment is his 
 security ; thus, so long as a cover is tenable, a fox, in 
 ordinary cases, will hang there, unless at particular 
 seasons, when, coming from afar, the love of home, or 
 the security he attaches to it, induces him to make for 
 his favourite point. 
 
 With the deer it is different ; though styled a denizen 
 of the forest — and which, when our country was covered 
 with them, no doubt he was — he is not a denizen of a 
 tangled cover: instinct would tell him or trial would 
 prove to him, that with his wide-spreading antlers he 
 could scarcely get through such ; and though seeking, 
 and found, in the most retired parts of a forest, it was 
 where he could move without impediment. It is true, 
 the ]iU7itlng-stag has his antlers cut off : this does not, 
 however, interfere with instinct, nor has he reflection 
 to make this circumstance influence his actions ; he 
 moreover finds his large body and height impeded, where 
 the light and low body of the fox finds, nearer the earth, 
 ample space to get along without impediment; aud 
 further, the cover that would effectually conceal him, 
 would not do so by the stag. Instinct, or something else, 
 tells each where its safety or its reverse is to be found, 
 and each acts accordingly. I have seen many a very 
 close race between a whip and a hunted fox, to keep the 
 latter out of a large strong gorse cover; half-a-dozen 
 Vv^hips would not drive a deer into one — it would impede, 
 wound, and not conceal him, and he knows it. The 
 usual safety of the fox is concealment ; of the stag, 
 flight. 
 
THE GOLDEN BALL. 333 
 
 There is another circumstance that renders the run- 
 ning of the hunted stag so different to tliat of the fox, 
 which is, the latter is generally found where he is at 
 home ; he knows the country, all its strongholds, and 
 the most concealed ways of reaching them ; with him, a 
 view is a scarce thing ; so scent in the hounds, knowing 
 the habits of his game, and quickness of decision on the 
 part of the huntsman, is all we have to trust to, in killing 
 our fox : he, on breaking cover, usually takes his line, 
 has a set purpose and place in view, and perseveres in 
 his determination ; casual occurrences sometimes induce 
 him to change it, but he then makes for another point ; 
 he knows what he is about, and where he is ; so he has 
 still an oV)ject in view, thougli he may change it — a road, 
 lane, common, heath, or any open space has no tempta- 
 tion for pug ; he shows as little in or on either as he 
 can, and then for as short a time as possible. Thus, as 
 the line of the fox is nearly always across enclosed coun- 
 try, if those enclosures are small, it generally also un- 
 luckily happens in such cases the fences are cramp, 
 blind, and intricate, requiring a careful dot-and-go-one 
 kind of leaping, that puts a horse out of all stride, and 
 takes as long to manage as, with good for flying fences, 
 would see our nag half across the next enclosure ; no- 
 thing worthy the name of fox-hunting can be had in 
 such a vile rabbit-going country. I know nothing 
 equally tormenting, except a fashionably furnished draw- 
 ing-room, where, what with tables for work, tables for 
 play, and tables for show, easy and uneasy chairs, fan- 
 teuils a roulettes, Siwdi fcmteuils that cannot be moved out 
 of the way, foot-stools and hassocks, sofas, couches, 
 chasses longues, and ottomans, to thread one's way adroitly, 
 requires lessons from the itinerant charlatan that dances 
 blindfold on a floor strewed with eggs. 
 
334 THE GOLDLN BALL. 
 
 The sort of country I have spoken of does not pre- 
 vent, though at times it may impede, a run with stag- 
 hoimds. When a staa; is uncarted he finds liimself in a 
 country strange to him in many cases, and in all but 
 little known ; for supposing him to have been there 
 before, he has been in his paddock ever since ; and 
 though we do sometimes find the same deer take the 
 same line he did before, he only knows the general 
 directions ; and though he may make for the same point, 
 his course may be a mile wide of his former one ; he 
 seeks no enclosures, skirts the covers, sweeps along a 
 green lane or road, and boldly faces not only a common, 
 but a down or heath, where he sees no termination to 
 its limits. So with the stag : if we do occasionally get 
 on or into the chess-board part, if we do not get mated 
 there we get another burst where we can go along. The 
 stag is not, like the fox, to be scared into the enclosures 
 by a cur-dog or sheep-boy if they stand in the way : 
 the hunted angry stag is just as likely to knock them 
 out of his way as to be driven from it by them. So, as 
 showing the difference of the expectation we may have 
 of getting a run with stag or foxhounds in the same 
 country, supposing we turned out a deer or found a fox 
 near the Golden Ball, while we were badsjerino- a dodo-- 
 ing fox about the small covers and enclosures between 
 that and Easthamsted Park, we should find ourselves 
 with a stag sailing away over Hertford Bridge flat. 
 Time was when the inn was no bad place for a take and 
 a lunch ; but w^here, if we wanted the same thing in the 
 same style now, we may go without, unless it was sup- 
 plied by the ghosts of the coachmen of the Regulator or 
 other coaches I have seen so merrily " springing 'em" 
 across the well-known flat. I know they would hail old 
 friends ; may those that are living have the means of so 
 
THE GOLDEN BALL.' 335 
 
 doing, though submitting to the humihation of S.W.R. 
 on their coat-collars. 
 
 That very superior sjjort is now to be seen with the 
 royal hounds than was the case when the whole cortege 
 partook more of royal appearance, there can be no doubt ; 
 and that the sharp, short, and decisive run is far to be 
 ])referred to the really long journeys that were formerly 
 taken between the turn-out and the take. But the style 
 of running into their game has nothing to do with 
 the style of the hunt as to its appointments ; as a royal 
 hunt, the discontinuing the yeoman prickers has taken 
 away much of the distinguishing feature between hounds 
 kept as an appendage to royalty and those of the private 
 gentleman. It may be said that the duty of the prickers 
 in a great measure became uncalled for, when hounds 
 got so fast as to cause the term " slot of the deer" to 
 be all but forgotten. That their assistance might or 
 rather may not be neccssari/ we will allow ; nor are 
 eight horses to the royal carriage. But if the yeoman 
 pricker with his hundred a year was or is not necessary, 
 neither is a master of the hounds, with Swiiiley Lodge 
 and tw^o thousand, so far as any benefit to the hunt 
 goes ; and I think it cannot be denied that the appear- 
 ance of half-a-dozen servants of the crown in royal hunt- 
 ing livery did confer more dignity on the turn-out than 
 masters of hounds who never appeared at all. If the 
 name of a master of the staghounds is equivalent to such 
 a salary, I cannot but think the reality of a yeoman 
 pricker was so to his except, and I say so with submis- 
 sion, that aid to a Minister is of more import than aid 
 to a hunt. If the constant attendance of such a master 
 of the buckhounds as the Marquis Cornwallis was ad- 
 vantageous to the hunt, doubtless there must have been 
 most potent reasons for appointing masters who never 
 
336 THE GOLDEN BALL. 
 
 saw a hound during the time they held the office ; but 
 these seeming anomahes only show how wonderftdly and 
 beautifully constructed is the machinery that keeps up 
 States and keeps in Ministers. 
 
 The idea may naturally enough occur, that if, in 1856, 
 we find it necessary to get high-bred foxhounds to be 
 enabled to take a stag in any reasonable time, and that 
 the hunting in 1800 was "road-waggon work," how 
 did our ancestors of two centuries before that time ever 
 take a stag ? The fact is, that, though we call England 
 the land of the chase, it is only within a comparatively 
 recent period that it has become so. That from time 
 immemorial the stag was sought, pursued, and killed is 
 true ; but when men rode horses in the chase little 
 better bred than cart-horses, it must show that keeping 
 up with hounds that could fairly run down a deer would 
 have been impossible ; the fact is, they badgered, hooted, 
 and shouted ; added to which, every man carried and 
 blew his horn ; till the unfortunate animal became be- 
 wildered, ran in every direction of the forest, till, blown 
 and tired, he was pulled down by a strong mongrel kind 
 of lurching gazehound : a burst across country was \n\- 
 known, which causes all old poems or songs of the chase 
 to sing of " Hieing to the forest" or " Away to the 
 7voocUa7ids'' The horse that carried the knight at the 
 tournament or chase was the same ; and so he well 
 might be, when half his time in the latter case was 
 spent standing still. Let us boast of being fast here 
 as much as we will : the Indian pursuing the buffalo on 
 the plains of America knew what fast work was, long 
 before we did, and was a quick and daring horseman on 
 the plain, fairly running down his game, when our an- 
 cestors sat on their chargers like vedettes of heavy cavalry 
 waiting the appearance of theirs in a wood. 
 
THE GOLDEN BALL. 
 
 337 
 
 The natives of many other countries had horses ap- 
 proaching very near the race-horse both in form and 
 speed, when we — " God save" our "mark!" — had no- 
 thing by us well-bred enough for a fast omnibus : one 
 of our late fast coaches would have sewed them up in 
 two journeys. 
 
 England, as an Englishman and a sportsman, I feel 
 pride in saying, is 7ioio verily the land of the chase and 
 the land of all sport, where horses are the means of 
 pursuing it ; but it was not always so. I have often 
 heard my father laugh at the hunting he saw eighty 
 years ago, in the royal forests of France. Go back a 
 couple of centuries before that, I doubt if the stag was 
 hunted here in a much more sporting manner, and 
 traps and gins were the modes by which the fox was 
 caught. The fox-hound is comparatively an animal of 
 very recent origin ; and if justice is to be done, or 
 honour paid where honour is due, when we see in 
 kennel a pack showing the form and high-breeding fox- 
 hounds now do, or see them racing their fox over a 
 country and kill him in the style they do, we should not 
 omit after dinner giving the name of Hugo Meynell in 
 a bumper, for he first brought the fast style of fox-hunt- 
 ing to perfection, though — listen, my present first 
 flights ! — he did sport a pigtail. 
 
THE MENAGERIE; 
 
 A TRUE ANECDOTE. 
 
 In one of our midland counties stands a town that, but 
 for its boasting a weekly market, could pretend to no 
 higher distinction than that of a large village. Incon- 
 gruous as it would appear in the eyes of the fashion- 
 able inh-i.bitants of Belgrave, or the older aristocracy of 
 Grosvenor Square, or the admixture of both in Park 
 Lane, such towns or villages as the one here alluded 
 to have their classification of distinct grades of society 
 within their precincts, in as full force as in the metro- 
 polis wherein the fashionable localities mentioned are 
 situated ; and innocent, straight-forward, and kind- 
 hearted as country persons have the credit of generally 
 being, not to throw them quite beyond the pale of 
 fashion and fashionable qualifications, I do from practical 
 cognizance and observation aver that envy, " hatred, 
 malice, and all uncharitableness" do exist among them 
 to quite as great an extent as among the most fashion- 
 able of our metropolitan coteries ; in fact, to rescue 
 them from any suspicion of primitive want of worldly 
 feelings, I think I may say that all those worldly 
 attributes are even in greater force among the pre- 
 tenders to high life than they are among the great 
 and high born; for among and in the consideration of 
 
THE MENAGERIE. 339 
 
 the latter, a private gentleman, a military or naval man, 
 or one of the learned professions, is a man high in 
 dignity of office. Among the truly great there is no 
 distinct line of exclusiveness : any of such possessing a 
 fair character in pubhc estimation, and the manners of 
 a gentleman, has the entree to good society. Next in 
 the catalogue of pretensions comes the trader ; here, 
 unless he be some eminent merchant, exclusiveness 
 begins, and indeed ends ; for whether he be the pro- 
 prietor of an esiahlishment (name not a shop) in Regent 
 or other fashionable street, or M'hether he be one who 
 with more sense, and probably with more respectability 
 and responsibility, avows himself the owner of a shop 
 in vulgar St. Martin's Lane, so little distinction is made 
 between the two by persons in high life, that they both 
 come under one head, namely, non-admissibles and non- 
 presen tables. 
 
 I am aware that such distinction is occasionally thrown 
 aside, where enormous wealth induces tlie self-interested 
 or adulatory to worship the golden image that fortuitous 
 circumstances, in the absence of Nebuchadnezzar, has 
 set up ; but such images are few, and for the sake of 
 the high blood of our aristocracy, we will conclude that 
 such cases of adulation are few also. Such persons 
 doubtless say, and perhaps think, that throwing aside 
 old-fashioned and, as they probably term them, illiberal 
 distinctions shows greatness of mind. I would only 
 suppose a case to such elevated minds -. strip their 
 golden calf of his golden appliances, where would be 
 their elevation of mind then ? 
 
 In a country town or village the theory works differ- 
 ently ; here is a host of distinctions that no one but the 
 inhabitants of such places can understand. It is true 
 the number of gentlemen's families residing in country 
 
 z 2 
 
340 
 
 THE MENAGERIE. 
 
 towns are generally but few ; these, with the clergyman, 
 the medical man, and the man of law, form a clique 
 among themselves : this every one can understand ; here 
 is a hne of demarcation clearly laid down. Then comes 
 a local distinction that would puzzle a Philadelphian 
 lawyer to understand the cause of — Mrs. Barleycorn, 
 the maltster's wife, does not visit Mrs. Print, the linen- 
 draper ; Mrs. Print does not hold some perhaps truly- 
 respectable and praiseworthy young woman who makes 
 up the muslin, by the sale of wliich Mrs. Print lives, as 
 ranking high enough to be on visiting terms with. Mr. 
 Cutaway, the tailor, holds Calfskin, the shoemaker, in 
 contempt, if peradventure the latter wears an apron in 
 his shop. Mr. Cutaway has great respect for Calfskin's 
 wife, a particularly well-conducted person, and the Misses 
 Calfskins, really very fine girls ; he is sure Mrs. Cutaway 
 would be happy to ask them to her parties ; " but" — 
 but why ? This perhaps no one can tell ; but perhaps 
 Mr. and Mrs. Cutaway can. This will show that it was 
 not probable the good town of Chatterville was likely 
 to be at all times exempt from certain heartburnings 
 among its inhabitants ; but when I add that no incon- 
 siderable number of those consisted of venerable spin- 
 sters, with no pursuit to occupy their time and atten- 
 tion save that of investigating all and everything done 
 by their neighbours, it is only surprising that certain 
 little enmities that usually broke out weekly were not 
 diurnal. These virgins, to make certain that nothing 
 should transpire in the town without their cognizance 
 of the fact, and that such facts should have their full 
 quota of comments and discussions thereon, with sundry 
 and various embeUishments, additions, or subtractions, 
 as the information and the impressions of the narrator 
 might call for, had established what they termed " little 
 
THE MENAGERIE. 341 
 
 pleasant reunions' at the domiciles of each other, and 
 of those of such friends as patronised these Sisters of 
 Charity (new style). These delightful reunions, to avoid 
 expense, and thereby ensure their frequency, were con- 
 fined rigidly to tea, scandal, penny whist, cake, and a 
 certain wine, or rather beverage, of a nondescript cha- 
 racter, but having to a certain degree the gusto and 
 aroma of Madeira. In vino Veritas is said with much 
 truth of most persons and places ; but somehow the 
 only veritable quality of the Madeira consisted in its 
 acidity, a quality that imparted itself to a considerable 
 portion of the conversation where it was imbibed. 
 
 Though nothing could be more stringent than the 
 reunion rules as to the admission of the monster man, 
 still they so far laid claim to charity as not to render 
 those rules absolutely exclusive of the male sex. The 
 parson, attorney, a rich brewer, and a poor retired 
 General, as he was termed, not only generally but uni- 
 versally, though a company in a veteran battalion was 
 his true grade, were the four favoured by a regular, 
 permitted e7itree to the fair sisterhood. The worthy 
 parson went, we suppose, because, as he wished to be 
 " in charity with all men," we may conclude he wished 
 to be on the same terms with all women, and further, 
 from thinking it right to occasionally mortify the flesh — 
 a consummation certain to follow the Madeira. The 
 attorney went, hoping he might at some time be required 
 to defend some action for libel or slander. The brewer 
 patronised the reunions because its fair members pa- 
 tronized the smallest of his small beer. The General 
 was too old a soldier not to quarter himself anywhere 
 where he got his ration gratis ; moreover, he liked whist, 
 and though the penny points were regulation at the 
 reunion, private bets were allowed, and here the General 
 
342 THE MENAGERIE. 
 
 had a rich harvest in the jolly brewer, who thought him- 
 self first-rate as a whist-player, and backed his own 
 judgment like a trump ; while every bet made between 
 the two was trumps to the man of war. The ladies 
 were about an average specimen of those of the fair sex 
 who live unblessing and unblessed, and whose ages 
 ranged from about forty to that age when even a hint 
 on the subject would have brought an expulsion of the 
 offender nem. co7i. The only person among the sister- 
 hood differing from the rest was Miss Johns, alias " Old 
 Jack," as she was facetiously styled by the young ladies 
 over whom she presided at Prospect House Establish- 
 ment for, as the printed terms of Prospect House set 
 forth, the education of the afore-mentioned or any other 
 young ladies. Now, why this place was called Prospect 
 anything, I never could make out, as its sides had no 
 windows at all ; its front looked against a blank wall, 
 highly gratifying and exhilirating to the fair prisoners 
 in their leisure moments, and highly proper at the same 
 time ; for as there was nothing to see, of course there 
 was nothing improper seen by the young ladies ; but, as 
 Miss Johns was wont to remark, the young mind requires 
 a little amusement, to which end a walled-in lugubrious- 
 looking garden, of some thirty yards square, was allotted 
 as a place where the pupils might indulge in healthful 
 exercise and any youthful flight of fancy suggestion 
 might ^prompt, provided such youthful flight did not 
 exceed the walking by twos on the one walk that went 
 round the sylvan seat. The centre was a bilious-looking 
 piece of grass, called by Miss Johns, par excellence, the 
 lawn ; here it was a profanation for a young foot to tread, 
 for two reasons — first, because Miss Johns had (as she 
 termed it) the young ladies' "fine- things" washed at 
 home, to ensure their being " got up nicely ;" and the 
 
THE MENAGERIE. 343 
 
 lawn was, therefore, appropriated to the bleaching of 
 these articles from a yellow ochre to a Naples yellow hue • 
 the other cause of prohibition of trespass was a really 
 fine mulberry-tree in the centre of this elysium. On 
 this, during the fruit season, the ladies were permitted to 
 feast their eyes ; but as to touching even a windfall of 
 the fruit, they would as soon have thought of picking 
 up a hand-grenade, with its fuse lighted. 
 
 There was nothing, therefore, in all this to account for 
 the name of " Prospect" — for that, it will be seen, was 
 rather confined ; while, on the other hand, the prospect 
 of the young ladies' advancement in education here was 
 so distant, that it was lost sight of by its very remote- 
 ness : so we can only conclude that its name was given 
 it by chance, in lieu of " Happy Hall," " Merry Vale," 
 " Cosy Cottage," or any other equally appropriate. 
 
 Miss Johns was " fat, fair," so far as the colour of 
 some other person's hair on her head could make her so, 
 and most certainly was, or had been, " forty." I must 
 do her the justice to say she could look the picture of 
 good-humour and liberality ; but those who knew her, 
 knew also that, as Norva'l says of his father, her " only 
 care was to increase her store" as related to herself, but 
 to diminish as far as possible the store for the use of the 
 young ladies. And here again let me pay a tribute of 
 justice. No young lady who had passed twelve months 
 at Prospect House was ever seen to leave it in a state of 
 unladylike obesity : no hen with her brood of chicks was 
 more fussy than was Miss Johns about her brood of 
 young ladies, more v/atchful, or more indefatigable in 
 all matters appertaining to them, provided such care and 
 watchfulness cost nothing in pecuniary expenditure. 
 Such was Old Jack. 
 
 We will now see why the quartette of the male sex 
 
344 THE MENAGERIE. 
 
 mentioned above, were the chosen of the Lady Patron- 
 esses of the Re-unions. The parson was installed from 
 his vocation, which it was considered cast a kind of 
 halo of holiness over and around the assembly. The 
 brewer because his imperturbable good-humour was 
 found (as sugar does in punch) to correct or neutralize 
 the acidity that in the humour of other members would 
 sometimes be detected as predominating too much ; and 
 further, he was Ihe most wealthy man in the town. 
 Our attorney had drawn up the regulations of the re- 
 unions free of expense, and gratuitously acted as secre- 
 tary and cashier for the sixpenny fines that were occa- 
 sionally levied on any departure from the regulations 
 laid down. The General could not be left out, as the 
 word " General" sounded aristocratic. He was, besides, 
 a bachelor ; and in the private ear of each fair Re- 
 unionist vowed she was the most fair — not that I am 
 authorized in saying any of the ladies absolutely contem- 
 plated perpetrating matrimony, but the General's soft 
 speeches and inuendos kept up a little undefinable titil- 
 lation, tantamount to the gratification some persons feel 
 in having the palm of the hand tickled. Where this 
 little titillation was chiefly felt by the fair spinsters, I 
 am of all men in the world the least capable of conjec- 
 turing. 
 
 In this state were the re-unions and the town of Chat- 
 terville, when an advertisement in the county paper set 
 forth that " a most comfortable family house, comprising 
 dining and drawing-rooms, breakfast room, library, and 
 such-and-such bed rooms, of such-and-such sizes; kitchens, 
 laundry, stabling, coach-house, and numerous out-build- 
 ings ; excellent garden, pleasure grounds, and so much 
 meadow land" was to let, " on the verge of the roman- 
 tically-situated and excellent market-town of Chatter- 
 ville." 
 
THE MENAGERIE. 345 
 
 A few days after this announcement, a fashionable 
 phaeton and pair, in which were seated a lady and gen- 
 tleman, with a servant in the dickey behind, were seen 
 passing at a foot's pace down the main street of the 
 town ; which, in fact, boasted none other, except a bye- 
 lane or two diverging from it — in one of which Prospect 
 House was situated. As the carriage came opposite to 
 each house, at one or more of its windows a head or 
 heads immediately appeared ; the face turning more and 
 more on the oblique as the vehicle got further on, till the 
 ear was brought in contact with the glass, as if to give 
 that organ its share of gratification as well as the rest. 
 In some cases, however, these heads, full faces, and pro- 
 files, altogether disappeared from the window, but were 
 immediately seen with their appropriate bodies at the 
 door-ways ; and then followed various signs, significant 
 and insignificant, to a friend left to right, vis-a-vis to 
 vis-a-vis. What these meant to indicate the actors were 
 not all adepts enough in dumb show to clearly evince ; 
 but that the strangers were the object, each party fully 
 comprehended. 
 
 What created this particular curiosity was, first, the 
 slow pace at which the carriage moved ; and secondly, 
 the gentleman looking earnestly from side to side, as if 
 in search of something. This continued till the carriage 
 came opposite the above-mentioned house, where " To 
 Let" apprised the strangers they had found the object 
 of their journey to Chatterville. The lady and gentle- 
 man got out, remained some half hour on the premises, 
 resumed their carriage, and at a fair ten miles an hour, 
 left Chatterville ; also leaving its inhabitants to make 
 such observations on the circumstance as they might 
 think proper. 
 
 We must now, in elucidation of a part of the catas- 
 
346 THE MENAGERIE. 
 
 trophe that followed, make a few remarks relative to Mr. 
 Parkes (our attorney) and the house to let. This small 
 property had, until the last two years, belonged to a 
 young, high-spirited, extravagant man of fortune, who 
 had occasion to raise a certain sum on it. Now Parkes, 
 to his professed vocation of attorney, suh rosa, added 
 that of a money-lender, and had advanced about one- 
 fourth of its value on mortgage. Now Parkes not 
 having, in criminal law phrase, the fear of God before his 
 eyes, or legal fear of the owner of the house either, the 
 first moment he could do so, availed himself of certain 
 documents, and, in default of instant payment of the 
 money advanced, came down on the devoted house, in 
 Macduff's words, "in one fell swoop," by which it Mill 
 be seen he became possessor of it, with all appurtenances 
 thereunto belono-ins;. 
 
 It must be told that Parkes and our jocund brewer 
 hated each other with as decided a hate as could be felt 
 towards anything living or dead It is true, they met 
 without outbreak — nay, dined with each other repeat- 
 edly, and on taking leave parted about on the same 
 terms as we see Peachum and Lockit take leave on the 
 stage. Parkes knew himself to be a contemptible scoun- 
 drel, and also knew the brewer held him as such. 
 
 Our Brewer had long wanted this house and pre- 
 mises : first, to prevent any unpleasant neighbour occu- 
 pying it ; and, secondly, with a view of adding to his 
 own. But the purchase remained in abeyance, from 
 Parkes having got it at the fourth of its value, but mo- 
 destly demanding one-fourth more than its real worth. 
 
 The day after the appearance of the visitors to the 
 house to let was one of the evenings of the reunions. 
 This took place at the house of the Brewer, who alone 
 took on himself the liberty of departing from reunion 
 
THE MENAGERIE. 347 
 
 regulations, as he did from any regulation that miUtated 
 against good-fellowship and hospitality. The lady-pa- 
 tronesses fie-fied against his breach of rules ; but vie- 
 vied with each other in consuming the " good" (not the 
 Gods) but the Brewer " provided." It might be sup- 
 posed that the visit, and the probable results of it, to 
 the house to let, would have been the first subject dis- 
 cussed at the meeting ; and so it would have been, had 
 it taken place at the domiciles of any of the fair spinsters ; 
 but its not being so here, showed that, strong as was the 
 love of gossip and scandal among the chque, the love of 
 good tea, toast, muffins, cake, and tea-cake was stronger. 
 These having been done ample justice, or (judging by 
 the fearful onslaught) injustice to, when the ball (that is, 
 the ball of conversation) was opened by Miss Candid, a 
 lady who depreciated the absurd practice some persons 
 have of concealing their age : for her part she gloried 
 in hers, in her pretty jocose mode avowing that in ten 
 years " she should be an honest half-hundred." A few 
 malevolent old persons in the town, however, declared 
 they remembered her, exactly this half-century alluded 
 to, then a girl of seven or eight years of age. 
 
 " Well, Miss Pliant," said the candid spinster, to one 
 who looked and sat as if the toasting-fork had leaped 
 down her throat in revenge for its extra labour in pre- 
 paring all toastable things for her especial, use — " Well, 
 I do not wonder that Mr.. Parks has excused himself 
 to-night, after what he has done. I am sure, ladies, 
 you will all agree with me, Ave must consider him in 
 future as unworthy of our delightful meetings. My 
 opinion is, that he has no more left the town on busi- 
 ness than I have ; but only makes this excuse, being 
 ashamed to show his face here : and so indeed he ought 
 to be." 
 
848 THE MENAGERIE. 
 
 " Now do, Miss Candid," said the good - natured 
 Brewer, " let us hear what Parkes has been doing, to 
 call forth so much displeasure." 
 
 "Doing!" half-screamed Miss Candid; "surely you 
 must have heard ? — you, who live next door to the 
 house he has to let ! Why, I learned all about it the 
 same day it occurred, which was yesterday. You heard 
 that a lady and gentleman had been to see the house, 
 I suppose." 
 
 " Why, yes," said the Brewer, " I did hear that 
 much ; but it was "no business of mine ; so I made no 
 inquiry about it." 
 
 " It is every person's business to inquire into any- 
 thing that is likely to effect themselves and their friends," 
 said Miss Candid, bridling-up at the observation and 
 inuendo of Mr. Hopman, the import of which she fully 
 comprehended. 
 
 " I am sure," replied our Brewer, " we are much 
 obliged by the disinterested trouble you have taken by 
 your inquiries ; but may I ask what is the news in store 
 for us, and how have you alone heard it ?" 
 
 " The way I got my information was this," said the 
 philanthropic spinster. " So soon as the lady and gentle- 
 man drove off, I sent my Susan to inquire all about them, 
 of the woman in care of the house ; and the news, as 
 you term it, is of more importance to us all than you may 
 suspect. T/ie house is let," said she, suiting the action to 
 the words and the words to the action, both as empha- 
 tically as if she had learned that all our navy had simul- 
 taneously gone to Davy's locker. 
 
 " Nothing very extraordinary in that," said our jovial 
 Rector. " Parkes advertised it to be let or sold." 
 
 " Now, really," joined in Miss Placid, the most good- 
 humoured of the fair Rc-uniouists, " your manners would 
 
THE MENAGERIE. 349 
 
 lead one to suppose you considered the house being let 
 as a matter to be regretted. I must say, for my part, 
 I think it would be pleasant to have such agreeable 
 neighbours as the lady and gentleman's appearance be- 
 speaks them as likely to be." 
 
 "I am sure," replied Miss Candid, spitefully, " the 
 lady and gentleman would feel highly flattered by your 
 opinion of them, if they heard it ; but," added she, ex- 
 ultingly, from feeling she had something in store to annoy 
 those who, knowing her, did not attach much credence 
 or importance to her usual gossip, " what woidd you say, 
 ladies and gentlemen, to having a whole cargo of live 
 beasts as the agreeable neighbours Miss Placid makes 
 so sure of?" 
 
 " Better those," joined in the Rector, laughing heartily, 
 " than worse neighbours : beasts are harmless, at any 
 rate." 
 
 " I am surprised," said Miss Candid, piqued beyond 
 measure, " to hear a man of your cloth compare neigh- 
 bours to beasts." 
 
 " Why, really, Miss Candid," replied the imperturba- 
 ble Rector, " when I consider the conduct of some neigh- 
 bours, I beg the beasts' pardon." 
 
 " Monstrous !" exclaimed the lady ; " but I must tell 
 you these are not even common beasts : they are," cried 
 she, at the top of her shrill voice, " they are lions, tigers, 
 hellephants, baboons, and — " 
 
 At the Avord " baboons," a loud scream from Miss 
 Johns called the attention of the company to that lady, 
 who threw herself back in her chair, evidently intending 
 to perpetrate a faint, but which was stopped in embr3 o 
 by a friendly but somewhat forcible shake on the shoul- 
 der by Mr. Hopman. " Come, my good lady," said he, 
 
350 THE MENAGERIE. 
 
 " rouse yourself. What on earth is the matter with 
 you? pray get a tumbler of cold water." 
 
 " No, no !" faintly cried Miss Johns, evidently not 
 wishing to make trial of the cold-water cure; " oh, my 
 school, my dear ladies — the bab — bab — baboons !" 
 hysterically' sobbed the sensitive mistress of Prospect 
 House. 
 
 " Come, come," said Hopman, the dread of the water 
 or some other cause having brought the lady to some- 
 thing like composure, '* now let us hear the end of Miss 
 Candid's extraordinary account." 
 
 " My extraordinary account, then," said Miss Candid, 
 " is this : I suppose you have all heard of one Womb- 
 well, who takes his wild beasts to the different fairs ?" 
 
 " And his horrible baboons !" half-sobbed Miss Johns 
 — " oh, my school, my school !" 
 
 " I wish you would school yourself into quietness," 
 somewhat gruffly said Hopman. " Well, Miss Candid," 
 said he, addressing that lady, " suppose it is Mr. Womb- 
 well ? He can, I believe, very well afford to be a good 
 neighbour. Really, it seems he looks very much like a 
 gentleman, and depend on it, has no idea of bringing 
 his beasts here." 
 
 " Or the baboons," quickly put in Miss Johns 
 " I beg to assure you, Miss Johns, and you, Mr. Hop- 
 man, that my information is, I am sorry to say, too 
 certain, more shame to Mr. Parkes. Here they will 
 come" (looking maliciously at Miss Johns), "baboons 
 and all." 
 
 A loud groan was all poor Miss Johns' reply to this 
 seeming fact. 
 
 " Now, pray do tell us. Miss Candid," said the Rector, 
 " what makes you so certain that it is Mr. Wombwell, or 
 
THE MENAGERIE. 351 
 
 that he intends favouring us by making this a home for 
 his assemblage of wild animals ?" 
 
 " My reasons for being certain of both, sir, is only that 
 the woman heard hini give Parkes his name ; and fur- 
 ther " (turning to the lady), " he said, ' Here will be 
 plenty of room for the menagerie.' Now, ladies and 
 gentlemen," said Miss Candid, getting up, and making 
 a derisive kind of curtsey, " I hope you are all satis- 
 fied." 
 
 " Humph !" ejaculated Hopman, " this does look odd, 
 I must say. We must try, Doctor, and stop this, if I 
 find, on seeing Parkes, it is true." 
 
 " Why," replied the Rector, " it would not be a plea- 
 sant addition to the neighbourhood, I grant ; but until 
 we find the animals a nuisance, I fear we can't prevent 
 Parkes letting his premises to whom he likes." 
 
 " i^^■^^^them a nuisance. Doctor !" sighed Miss Johns 
 — " why, the very names of those horrid baboons are a 
 nuisance. Are they not very large creatures, sir ?" 
 
 " Seldom above six feet high," mischievously replied 
 the Rector. 
 
 A lengthened groan, with a despairing look, was now 
 Miss Johns' only reply. 
 
 " Miss Pliant, your maid is come," said a seryant, 
 entering the room. 
 
 " Oh, I dare say," said the lady addressed, " my Mary 
 can tell us all about this affair ; for I told her to make 
 all the inquiries she could, as she was going to several 
 shops in the town. May I ask her in, Mr. Hop- 
 man ?" 
 
 " Oh, by all means," said the host, " if you wish it." 
 
 On Mary making her appearance, her mistress came 
 to the but of the business at once, by asking if it was 
 
352 THE MENAGERIE. 
 
 known to a certainty that it positively was Mr. Womb- 
 well who had taken Park^s's house ? 
 
 " Oh, lor, yes, ma'am," replied the soubrette, " every- 
 body knows it ; and Mr. Cutup, our butcher, says it 
 will make his fortune, as he shall sell all his coarse meat 
 for the beastes what's coming." 
 
 Another " humph !" and a stifled sigh from Miss 
 Johns, followed this confirmation of all their worst fears, 
 and the worst fears of all the company, who now simul- 
 taneously rose and departed, except the General and 
 three ladies, his partners, who were concluding their 
 game at whist, which occupation had prevented their 
 joining in the evening's discussion. 
 
 At the conclusion of the game, Mr. Hopman asked 
 the General if he had heard of the expected arrival of 
 the menagerie ? 
 
 '• Yes, I heard you all talking about it," replied the 
 General. 
 
 " Well," said Hopman, " and what do you think 
 of it?" 
 
 " Know no regulation against it," said the old soldier, 
 and marched, upright as a halbert, out of the room. 
 
 Now our worthy brewer was much more annoyed at 
 the expected wild residents than he chose to allow to 
 any one but himself, and next morning called on Parkes 
 about it. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Parkes," said Hopman, on entering the 
 office, " I find you have let your house." 
 
 " Yes, I have," said Parkes ; " let it for three years 
 certain." 
 
 " They tell me you have let it to Wombwell. Now, 
 is that correct ?" 
 
 " I have let it to Mr. Wombwell, certainly," said 
 Parkes ; " and a good tenant he is likely to be." 
 
THE MENAGERIE. 353 
 
 " But," added Hopman, '' I hear be is bringing his 
 menagerie with him." 
 
 Parkes gave rather an inquiring look at Hopman, on 
 this remark falhng from him, but merely replied by 
 saying, " Mr. Wombwell has a right to bring what he 
 pleases on premises he pays for." 
 
 " Yes," replied Hopman ; " but it is not neighbourly 
 in you to bring so great a nuisance among us, and par- 
 ticularly to me, living next door." 
 
 " I should be sorry," said Parkes, " to in any way 
 occasion annoyance to my neighbours ; and particularly 
 to yourself," most blandly added the attorney. 
 
 One of Hopman's " humphs" here rather interrupted 
 Parkes's speech ; but, on continuing it, he a little mali- 
 ciously remarked, " You know, my dear sir, I have often 
 offered to sell you the premises. If you had bought 
 them, you could have refused any unpleasant tenant." 
 
 Another light seemed here to open on Hopman, who 
 bluntly said, " Are the papers signed between you and 
 Wombwell ?" 
 
 " Not signed, certainly," said Parkes ; " but he has 
 agreed to take them." 
 
 " Then," said Hopman, " I buy them, at the price for 
 which you offered them to me." 
 
 " Why, you see, my dear sir," said the grasping and 
 wily attorney, " I did offer them to you, as a friend, at 
 less than I hold them to be worth ; but we stand on 
 different ground note. I have let them at a very hand- 
 some rent, for three years ; but, to avoid what you say 
 will be a nuisance to you, you shall only pay me three 
 hundred pounds more than the old price, and they shall 
 be yours." 
 
 Hopman here gave a most energetic *' Humph ! I 
 tell you what, Mr. Parkes — I own you have me in a 
 
 A A 
 
354 THE MENAGERIE. 
 
 noose, and you see it. Have the documents ready to- 
 morrow. And now I may, I suppose, consider the 
 premises mine, though, as with Womb well, the papers 
 are not signed." 
 
 " Oh, my dear sir, pray do me the justice to believe I 
 hold you in quite different estimation," smiling a ghastly 
 smile, said the attorney ; " the premises shall be yours 
 by noon to-morrow, on my honour." 
 
 " Then good evening, sir," said Hopman, stiffly, and 
 rising to go. 
 
 " Humph — honour !" said he, as he left the house. 
 To-morrow came, and Hopman was owner of the 
 premises. 
 
 Mr. Parkes, having been made fully aware that his 
 having intended letting the premises to the owner of a 
 menagerie had got him into bad odour with his towns- 
 folk, particularly with the Reunion ladies, and most 
 particularly with Miss Johns, took especial care to let it 
 be known that, finding his having let his house was 
 unpleasant to his valued friends, he had sold it to Mr. 
 Hopman, by which he got reinstated in their, favour. 
 
 An evening or two after Hopman had become the 
 avowed possessor of Parkes's late premises, was one of 
 the reunions, at which, as on former occasions, was our 
 attorney, when in walked Hopman, accompanied by a 
 stranger. A general rising up and looks of surprise 
 took place on this flagrant infringement of reunion rules. 
 Greater, however, were the dismay and astonishment of 
 the ladies, on Hopman 's begging to be allowed to intro- 
 duce Mr. Wombwell, to whom, he added, he had let the 
 house lately become his. 
 
 A look of disgust followed this confession, enlivened 
 by a scream from Miss Johns, from which one might 
 have conceived she had seen one of Wombwell's dreaded 
 
THE MENAGERIE. 355 
 
 baboons enter the room ; but the chmax of consterna- 
 tion came to its height when Hopman, walking up to 
 Parkes, said sternly — 
 
 " I have brought this gentleman in my hand, sir, to 
 prove you a sneaking scoundrel, unworthy of the notice 
 of these ladies, or any honourable society. You availed 
 yourself of an impression I was under, as well as your 
 neighbours, that we were about to have the annoyance 
 of a menagerie of wild beasts among us. By doing this, 
 you have robbed me of three hundred pounds in the 
 price of the purchase of your premises, well knowing this 
 gentleman was no more the Wombwell we took him for 
 than I am, nor has he more to do with a menagerie." 
 
 " Did I say he had ?" said the imperturbable attorney. 
 *' Take care what you say, sir : words are actionable." 
 
 " I shall open the door for you, sir,'*' said the athletic 
 brewer, " and recommend your walking out of it. Is 
 not his conduct such as to deserve this. General ?" 
 
 " Yes — contrary to regulation," said the old soldier ; 
 " turn him out !" 
 
 The wary attorney saved that trouble, by sneaking off. 
 
 " And now, ladies," said Mr. Wombwell, " allow me 
 to express my regret that a somewhat singular epithet 
 and remark of mine should have occasioned you alarm. 
 The fact is very simple. 1 married very young; and 
 having a family of no less than nine, I jokingly, to my 
 wife, call them * my menagerie.' I do remember stating 
 that the premises were well calculated for the menagerie. 
 The person who showed the house heard me say this. 
 I saw she looked surprised, but took no further notice 
 of the circumstance. She reported, it seems, my words ; 
 and from them, it seems, all but Mr. Parkes believed 
 me the veritable Wombwell ; but I trust, ladies, when 
 you permit me the pleasure of presenting my entire 
 
 A A 2 
 
356 THE MENAGERIE. 
 
 menagerie to you, you will not think them likely to cause 
 any serious alarm, or, I hope, dislike." 
 
 Neither Mr. Wombwell nor his family were disliked, 
 but for several years were the delight of the whole 
 neighbourhood. 
 
THE PRIZE-llING. 
 
 " Is it a dagger that I see before me ?" — Macbeth. 
 
 The advantage? that we anticipate from the progress of 
 civilization, or, in modern term, the " march of intellect," 
 are, or at least ought to be, multifarious. We have a 
 right to expect such progress to throw new lights on the 
 ordinary acts and opinions of mankind, and in so doing, 
 to place such objects in a more proper view before ns. 
 Supposing this to be the result, if we do not avail our- 
 selves of our newly-acquired distinctive apprehension of 
 what is right or wrong, it would go far to prove that 
 the mind of man is not elevated enough in its attributes 
 to act on proper principle, though the mode of doing so 
 be laid straight before us. 
 
 But, worse than this, if it should be found that, rapid 
 as are or have been our steps towards civilization and 
 refinement, yet vice and crime follow with still more 
 rapid strides on our heels, it would seem as if ultra-refine- 
 ment, the new companion of our journey through life, 
 only accompanied us to beckon on with quickened pace 
 the hideous form of vice, that hitherto only dogged our 
 steps in the far rear. 
 
 We will not, however, permit ourselves to think that 
 such is the case. Still candour and precaution must 
 induce us to admit that although refinement, like a man 
 
358 THE PRIZE-RING. 
 
 of highly-polished manners and cultivated mind, must 
 be a delightful companion, we should do well to watch 
 his general acts and the bias of his mind before we admit 
 him as our bosom friend, or abandon ourselves to his 
 guidance. 
 
 There is no mind, except it be one appertaining to the 
 very base, but that shrinks from undisguised depravity, 
 low and vulgar ribaldry, or still more from open ordinary 
 crime. It might, therefore, be inferred, that if the base 
 ' alone tolerated such atrocities, they could in no way be 
 countenanced by the enlightened. This is not, however, 
 a decided seqiiitur ; for base is only (in its literal sense) 
 the opposite to ^ood, but by no means always the anti- 
 thesis to refined. The antithesis, as relates to refine- 
 ment, I take to be rude, untaught ; or, to go still further, 
 boorishness in mind and manner. 
 
 Probably Sir Roger de Coverley would have been 
 held as all but uncouth by the side of George the 
 Fourth, though a refined gentleman among his compeers ; 
 but we have no reason to suppose he would have tolerated 
 a vice that would have met reprehension from that mo- 
 narch. In fact, the reverse of refinement, though it 
 appears in homely and by no means captivating garb, 
 may underneath quite encompass all the true and esti- 
 mable qualities in man. 
 
 That less uncouth habits, and education, do not so 
 much as we might expect or hope to eradicate the evil 
 propensities of mankind, the lamentable and in truth 
 disgusting accounts of crime constantly given in our 
 daily journals too truly prove. In fact, it would almost 
 seem that refinement in the ordinary pursuits of man- 
 kind, brings with it refinement (if such a term be appli- 
 cable) in crime ; for certainly rude as may have been 
 our ancestors, crimes have of late years crept in, that 
 
THE PRIZE-RING. 359 
 
 were unheard of a century ago. Some of tliem are of 
 that atrocious, unnatural, and disgusting nature, that 
 better, Fshould say, would it be to allow us to suppose 
 such things impossible to civilized man than to expose 
 them. That any ordinary crime, and the infliction of 
 its penalty on the perpetrator, should be made public as 
 a warning to others, no one disputes ; but we have had 
 lately brought before us accounts of the commission of 
 crimes of so particular a nature, that we can only wish 
 its wretched perpetrator could be privately strangled 
 as a monster unfit to live, and that even his punishment 
 should not be made a public one, by which we are reluc- 
 tantly obliged^to allow that such things are. I allude to 
 disgusting cases of incest. 
 
 But to speak of other crimes that in point of degra- 
 dation to the^ name of man fall far short of those to 
 which I have alluded, never, perhaps, were these latter 
 crimes so rife as at the present moment, and that mo- 
 ment one when we flatter ourselves we have nearly 
 arrived at the height of civilization. These crimes are 
 poisoning, stabbing, and deliberate murder. We must 
 reluctantly allow that murder has been thought by far 
 too lightly of, on the other side of the channel ; and the 
 advocates for distributing tracts, instead of food and 
 employment, held the want of mental food as the chief 
 source of such crimes. The solidity of such opinion has 
 not, however_, been made quite apparent by what we 
 see in England. We have for some years had tracts 
 enough and teaching enough, but it does not appear that 
 by all this we have even arrived at the very ordinary 
 point of having taught the eleves of the new lights to dis- 
 tinguish the very easy distinction between meum and tuum; 
 or if we have done thus much, we have failed in teach- 
 ing our pupils to practise what they have learnt. But 
 
360 THE PRIZE-RING. 
 
 worse by far than tins — we have not found that refine- 
 ment has taught those refined to stop at murder in 
 carrying out their cupidity, hatred, or revenge. We 
 heard that the untaught Irish boor murdered the man 
 who drove him from his home, or murdered the one put 
 into possession of it ; this, we were told, proceeded from 
 the want of sufficient enlightenment of mind to enable 
 him to see the injustice of his act: perhaps it was so. 
 And it requires no trifling tutelage to teach a man to 
 curb his desire of retaliation where his every feeling for 
 himself and those dear to him has been outraged ; but 
 surely it requires no powers of profound reasoning to 
 enable a man to satisfy himself of the heinousness of the 
 crime of committing deliberate murder to get at another's 
 money or a few silver spoons. Still education has failed 
 to do this ; for certainly where one murder is committed 
 in untutored Ireland for the sole purpose of pecuniary 
 gain, ten are committed in enlightened England with 
 merely such end in view. 
 
 These ideas have suggested themselves from some 
 observations made at a dinner party I was at, opposite 
 the Crystal Palace (then in Hyde Park) — my host, four 
 guests, and myself. The conversation, as is usual at 
 dinners where the host moves in no professional position 
 in society, was general. The new edifice, the elegance 
 of its structure, and the rapidity of its elevation, was 
 brought forward as an instance of the march of intellect, 
 and expansion of the mind of man ; and that military 
 and civil force being necessary, the very disposal of the 
 soldiery, and the perfect organization of so enormous 
 a body of police, was further elucidation of the sub- 
 ject. 
 
 " May I ask," said I, addressing the speaker, " which 
 corollary are we to take as proof of the perfection we 
 
THE PRIZE-RING. 361 
 
 Lave arrived at — the disposal of this immense force, or 
 the necessity of having them ?" 
 
 At this he turned towards me, thus giving me the 
 advantage of seeing as much of his really very hand- 
 some face as could be seen in the interstices between a 
 very fine Polish beard and a pair of veritable Austrian 
 moustaches. 
 
 " Both show perfection of idea," said he : " first, the 
 edifice ; and secondly, the keeping strict order by proper 
 arrangement. I hear that nothing like boxing or a blow 
 was given." 
 
 " Probably not," said I ; " but I did hear that a 
 policeman was stabbed by a butcher's knife." 
 
 " Cela ce pent" said he, with a perfect Parisian eleva- 
 tion of the shoulders, and sipping his wine, " that is 
 better than being beaten to death with a fist : there is 
 another step we have gained in civilization — the brutal- 
 izing exhibition of the prize-ring is nearly done away 
 with !" 
 
 I saw our host cast a furtive glance at me on this 
 being said, perhaps expecting a little wordy sparring 
 from me ; but gentlemen who are occasionally honoured 
 by the notice of royalty, are not to be sparred with by 
 authors of very minor pretensions ; so my reply and a 
 glass of claret went the same way. 
 
 The next day, with only my books around me, and 
 some daubs of my own on the walls, I felt I was among 
 friends ; so I sat down to consider as to how far the old 
 habits and predilections of Englishmen were, as my host 
 designated them, brutalizing. 
 
 If I take the term brutahzing in its proper sense, it 
 means the bringing a man in habits and mind on a level 
 with the brute creation. It is, however, an inappropri^ 
 ate term ; for when we designate a man a brute, we 
 
362 THE PRIZE-RING. 
 
 usually mean to personify or depict a being of a savage 
 and ruthless disposition. In this we very improperly 
 vilify the brute creation ; for take the generality of them, 
 they are anything but this ; and to alter the term, if men 
 partook more of the disposition of quadrupeds than they 
 do, it would be better for them and those about them. 
 My dog will suffer deprivation, and face danger of any 
 sort, to follow me or obey my wish : yet, in sooth, among 
 acquaintances — as extensive as perhaps any man can 
 boast of — I have never yet found one disposed to do 
 thus much. My horse welcomes my approach in the 
 only tones he knows how to utter. It may be said that 
 is because I have fed him — granted ; but in truth I have 
 fed those of my own species when they wanted it, on 
 whose welcome I should now place small rehance. 
 Having written so much as I have on sporting subjects, 
 I have been told I am a good judge of certain animals. 
 This may or may not be the case — I never boasted that 
 I was or am so ; but this I do say — I am a pretty good 
 judge of man ; and feeling that I am so, I say but httle 
 on the subject. 
 
 The pugihstic ring brutalizes mankind ; so says, or 
 said, my host. We have it not, however, on record that 
 it led to the use of the butcher's knife, or any knife 
 — a trifling co7itretems that he seemed to think a little 
 casualty scarcely worth notice. Possibly he thought that 
 being slaj^d thus, lamb fashion, by the butcher, was a 
 very easy way of making an exit from the world. It 
 may be held so in Madrid, Lisbon, and Venice ; but 
 those who have been brutalized by seeing a fair British 
 encounter between Englishmen, hold it in quite another 
 point of view, and consider that assassination borders 
 very closely on brutalizing those who coAvardly assail an 
 unprepared victim. The indigenous love of fair play, and 
 
THE PRIZE-RING. 363 
 
 meeting man to man, may be very John Bullish, I admit ; 
 but it was a feeling and habit that made Bull respected 
 by his friends, and not quite held as one to be trifled 
 with by his enemies, though he did not always assnnae 
 the grizzly appendage of the bear to his comitenance, that 
 carries with it no proof of additional bravery on the part 
 of the wearer. No ; whether in self-defence, in the prize- 
 ring, or in the field of battle, John trusted to a strong 
 arm and a stout heart — asked but for a clear field, and 
 then asked for no favour. These are the lessons he got 
 in the brutalizing prize-ring — these lessons taught him 
 (and many are the instances where he put them in prac- 
 tice) if he saw a wounded and prostrate enemy in his 
 power, instead of bayonetting him on the spot, to render, 
 if possible, his position less agonizing ere he passed on. 
 Such conduct and such feeling is truly British : refine as 
 we may, we cannot improve on it. 
 
 Some one of the new school may ask, would such 
 a ruffian as Tom Crib the fighter have thus acted? 
 Ay, on my life he would, and have been one of the 
 first men in the world to have done so ; and if he had 
 time and opportunity, would have carried such a 
 helpless wounded far on his back, placed him in his 
 tent, and ministered to his wants with all the kind and 
 good feeling of a woman. Such was Tom Crib the 
 prize-fighter ! 
 
 Let us look a little to the origin of pugilistic encounter : 
 we do not find it originated with the most barbarous 
 nations, but, on the contrary, with the most refined. 
 Barbarous, comparatively speaking, such nations were at 
 that time — at least, so they would be thought in the es- 
 timation of persons of the present day ; but they were 
 the most refined of their time, which shows that then, as 
 of later ages, the boxing-ring and pugilism was most 
 
364 THE PRIZE-RING. 
 
 patronised where the people were the most refined. In 
 fact, I beUeve I am correct m saying such encounter is 
 not, or ever has been, a feature in the pursuits of barbar- 
 ous tribes. These, Hke the brute creation, fight on the 
 impulse of the moment, or when actuated by jealousy, 
 hatred, fear, or desire of rapine. I do not, however, re- 
 collect to have read any account of their entering into 
 contest with each other, either for prizes or a desire to 
 put to proof their skill, strength, or stamina in manly 
 encounter with each other. We are told that among 
 such tribes no man is considered, or allowed to consider 
 himself, a warrior, till he can exhibit the scalp or scalps 
 of enemies as trophies of his prowess. So far there is a 
 desire for honorary consideration exhibited ; but I believe 
 the mode in which, or by which, he possessed himself of 
 such trophies is not investigated ; and if he could sur- 
 prise a sleeping foe, the possession of the scalp is alone 
 an admitted proof of his pretensions to be enrolled among 
 the warriors of his tribe ; nay, the cunning or stealthy 
 tread that could surprise an enemy, is held as one of the 
 attributes of a warrior the most to be lauded and ad- 
 mired. Fair play holds no place in the system of Indian 
 warfare, or now in Russian. 
 
 Now though the gladiators and athletse of old certainly 
 did contend for prizes, and some, I believe, were regu- 
 larly engaged and paid as public exhibitors — even these 
 contended in honourable struggle, and felt the mortifica- 
 tion of defeat, though contending with no hostile feeling 
 of dislike or revenge towards each other ; and at such 
 exhibitions there were others who contended from emu- 
 lation only, and whose reward was merely some honorary 
 badge or token, of no value in a pecuniary point of view. 
 It is true their conflicts were terrific; but they were 
 carried on under rules of honour and fairness, that neither 
 
THE PRIZE-RING. 365 
 
 combatant dare infringe. It is also true death was the 
 frequent result of such deadly encounter ; but it was death 
 dealt with fairness, and the same hand that gave the blow 
 would have scorned the insidious thrust of the cowardly 
 assassin. " A clear stage and no favour," wa3 the bold and 
 honourable principle and wish of the noble Romans ; 
 and " may the best man win," the further principle they 
 acted on. These honourable aspirations also came from 
 manly hearts in the prize-ring, where manly and honour- 
 able encounter was encouraged, and manly conduct met 
 its reward. The twaddle of would-be saints, now so 
 fashionably rife among us, may designate the old and 
 hardy contests indigenous to our soil as barbarous, if 
 they please : they may promulgate arguments against it, 
 and have done, till the laws have stopped, or at least 
 tried to stop them altogether. This may be done, till, 
 from the force of habit, man shall fear to meet his fellow - 
 man in fair encounter. EngUshmen, at least Englishmen 
 of that class, that as soldiers have shown the tough ma- 
 terials they are made of, have habits purely English; 
 they are accustomed to draw their swords only on their 
 enemies, nor are they disposed to use the bayonet for 
 other purposes ; neither, like the Dutch, will they fight 
 each other with their knives. Such are resources it has 
 ever been the glory of Englishmen to hold as unneces- 
 sary in ordinary encounter with each other. Habit has 
 taught them to use only the weapons nature gave them. 
 Well could they use them, and by their use they learned 
 to fear no fellow-man. Do away Avith the bulldog cou- 
 rage of an Englishman, you spoil him at once. Do away 
 with it, and see if the saints who talked it down can 
 , preach it up again. While feelings of chivalrous honour 
 exist in the breast of any man — no matter be he peer or 
 pugilist — those feelings will ever deter him from prac- 
 
366 THE PRIZK-llING. 
 
 tising that which is despicable. It is quite true that 
 acting on the principle of honour is not quite definite as 
 regards the opinions of individuals. I should say that 
 acting honourably may be described in a man's acting 
 with honour where honour alone was his incentive to do 
 so. As a case in point, a tradesman holds that man as 
 one of honour that pays his bill. Now, to speak per- 
 sonally, I do pay my bills when I can — not upon any 
 principle of particular honour, but simply because I do 
 not like to be worried, and am too proud, as well as too 
 poor, to solicit favour from butcher or baker. But as 
 allusive to friends or acquaintances, I certainly am never 
 impertinent enough to inquire whether either regularly 
 pay their tinkers and tailors. This is a matter between 
 tinker, tailor, and customer, with which I have nothing 
 to do. I hold honour to have not much to do in cither 
 such transactions ; in fact, there is no honour in the case 
 — the tradesman trusts because he knows the laws very 
 properly give him a hold on bis creditor : the debtor 
 takes credit knowing the usual consequences if he does 
 not pay. Now there is no honour in this, unless the 
 creditor could not avail himself of the law, and trusted to 
 the honour of his debtor. If so unmitigated a scoundrel 
 could be found (yet, by-the-bye, I dare say such could 
 readily be produced), as one who would take property 
 he had no intention or chance of paying for, all our penal 
 laws fall short of punishment adequate to such premedi- 
 tated villany. But as it is, it is only whether the honour- 
 able or dishonourable Mr. A. B., in getting the patty- 
 pans and paletots of Messrs. C. D., or Messrs. C. D., in 
 delivering the said A. B. over to Messrs. J. D. and R. R., 
 alias John Doe and Richard Roe, have the best of the 
 fight. It is, in short, a fight between them (fair or not), 
 and no favour. Now as I in no way pretend (though 
 
THE PRIZE- LING. 367 
 
 many do) to be a whit better or honester than my neigh- 
 bours, I have a mortal aversion to having my honour 
 trusted to ; it puts me, as Jonathan says, " in a fix." 
 Give me the choice of doing or leaving undone a given 
 thing, with the alternative of a trip to New South Wales, 
 I am your humble servant. It is then only whether I 
 choose to experimentahze a penal settlement abroad, or 
 remain in one at home, that has for some time been quite 
 penal enough to me. In doing this I should compound 
 no reliance on my honour, or, perhaps, much luxury 
 either. 
 
 There are few so truly debased as not to be influenced 
 by an appeal to their honour. The lowest criminal often 
 refuses pardon, if the conditions are the betrayal of his 
 comrades in crime. Perhaps this feehng is the solitary 
 bright spot in the dark waste of his depraved mind. 
 Still it is something ; it shows the mind not to be so 
 totally callous as not to be touched on some point. Do 
 away with this, he becomes a fiend at once. 
 
 What supports the elevated character of the gentle- 
 man ? Not education alone ; but the results of education 
 and the association with the educated : one of these re- 
 sults is a high sense of honour in transactions, where 
 honour is the only guarantee. Whence arises the term 
 " a debt of honour?" It is because it is a debt where 
 honour only was trusted to. This made many men pay 
 such, though they might not pay the debt of the trades- 
 man ; though candour must make us admit that the 
 latter is in many cases the honester one ; but against this, 
 the trading creditor is supported by the laws — the other, 
 in many cases, only by the laws of honour. Thus it will 
 be seen, that among the highest, down to the lowest, 
 honour is a watchword that in its diff'erent ways is the 
 strongest appeal we can make to man. What honour is, 
 
368 THE PRIZE-RI^^G. 
 
 may be, and often is, misinterpreted ; but every man is 
 alive to what he considers honour to be. 
 
 We vi^ill now turn to a class that is neither the highest 
 nor lowest, the most virtuous nor depraved. We will 
 say a man of a given grade in society enters the army as 
 a private soldier. The Frenchman is a brave soldier. 
 Why is he so ? He feels his honour called on by La 
 belle France ; his vanity also makes hiin hold her a part 
 and parcel of himself; besides this, he prides himself on 
 being one of a military nation, and feels that, as a soldier, 
 he is bound to support a character that he considers ele- 
 vates him ; he is actuated by honour, and well in the 
 field does it actuate him. 
 
 John Bull becomes a soldier. He likes his country 
 well enough too : not from any chivalrous love of country, 
 for he has little of the "chivalrous" about him; but as 
 he gets better beef-steaks, bacon, and porter, and ale, in 
 it than in any other, he holds it the best to live in. He 
 acts the part of a brave soldier, but from a different in- 
 centive to that of the Frenchman. John has no pride in 
 being a soldier, or pride in proving his nation a military 
 one ; he has no emulation to be thought to excel in mili- 
 tary tactics ; he is as averse to being driven back as the 
 Frenchman is, but from a different cause. The latter is 
 mortified lest it may tarnish his honour as a soldier — 
 John, lest it might induce a doubt of his prowess as a 
 man. The Frenchman cannot brook ceding to John, lest 
 it might show him the better soldier. John cannot bear 
 a repulse from Monsieur, lest it might shake an opinion 
 he considers to be that of all others as well as himself, 
 namely, that, to use his own term — " One Englishman 
 can 'lick' three Frenchmen whenever they meet them." 
 Doubtless, as man to man, and with their fists only to 
 trust to, he could do so, and probably, as Bobadil says. 
 
THE PEIZE-niNG. 369 
 
 " twenty more " — that is, one after the other. The 
 Enghsh soldier fights bravely because he is naturally a 
 brave hardy fellow, with indomitable bulldog courage, 
 that will ^'take no denial if he can help it ; and that 
 further, as a man, he fears no other, and hand-to-hand 
 and foot-to-foot will yield to no other, unless nature itself 
 gives way. Monsieur is alive to the honours of the soldier 
 — John Bull to that of the man. Thus honour governs 
 both ; but do away with that feeling, and neither would 
 long be worthy the name of men. 
 
 I have alluded to the numerous stabbings, poisonings, 
 murders, and other crimes grown, we must regret to allow, 
 so common among us. Within the time I began this paper, 
 and this moment, are three instances — one policeman 
 has been stabbed with a knife ; another has had his brains 
 literally smashed by clinkers (a kind of brickbat) ; lately, 
 one in my presence was seriously injured from a blow given 
 under the concealment of an angle in the wall. None 
 of these cowardly atrocities would have been committed 
 by any man or men who held the love of fair-play as a 
 necessary' attribute to one aspiring to the character of 
 " a man," I do not go so fr.r as to say that decrying 
 pugilism and the prize-ring has brought on this laxity of 
 fair, honourable, and manly feeling now so conspicuous ; 
 but I do say that calhng that barbarous and disgraceful 
 that among the lower orders fostered honourable and fair 
 conduct, will go, if it has not already gone, a long way 
 in producing the results we have seen. Men will have 
 some mode of avenging their wrongs, vindicating their 
 rights, indulging their emulation, and showing their 
 superiority. The prize-ring was the rallying point of 
 Englishmen to effect this ; if they are therefore brought 
 to think that a fair and manly encounter, man to man, 
 so far from being an honourable mode of doing this, is 
 
 B B 
 
370 THE PRIZE-UTNG. 
 
 a disgraceful one, the murderous knife will be resorted 
 to take life, when simply a thrashing formerly quite 
 satisfied a man for any grievance he felt he had endured 
 from another. 
 
 The twaddle of " the brutality of two men standing 
 up in cool blood and beating each other to pieces," which 
 is about the phrase of the usual cant, is nonsense : it is 
 certainly an encounter that is seldom carried on without 
 hard blows on both sides, but it must be recollected it 
 is not a mere " hammer and tongs " meeting, the result 
 depending on which man can bear the most beating ; but 
 a trial of skill also, as to which man can stop the most 
 intended compliments of this sort. It must be further 
 borne in mind, that pugilists are men accustomed to 
 hardihood : their frames become, as compared with those 
 of other men, as steel is to wood ; so the blow that would 
 half annihilate a mechanic, soft and sickly from sedentary 
 employ, falls innocuous on the man prepared to receive 
 it ; and that which only produces short temporary con- 
 finement and suffering to the pugihst in high training, 
 would be death to a man of usual habits and living in 
 an ordinary way. Some reader may say it is easy for me 
 to make light of the sufferings of a beaten man. If he 
 does so, I beg to assure him I do not speak, as it is 
 termed, " without my host ;" for I am free to confess, 
 that, in return for a certain degree of arrogance on my 
 part, and a rather undue appreciation of my own pre- 
 tensions, I have endured two or three as sound thrashings 
 as perhaps ever fell to the lot of any unprofessional in- 
 dividual. 
 
 I in no shape attempt to deny that the practices of 
 the prize-ring became quite abominable, and, like the 
 Augean Stables, required much purification ; so did 
 racing, from precisely the same cause, when the ever-to- 
 
THE PRIZE-RING. 371 
 
 be-lamented Lord George Bentinck,like another Hercules, 
 took the work in liand : well he did it, and the turf now 
 feels the benefit of his interference : it onlv wants some 
 one to go on with the meritorious work. The prize-ring 
 wants its Lord George — not to discountenance pugilists, 
 but to hang, if the laws permitted, those who brought 
 it to a means of robbery, instead of a manly exhibition. 
 
 The monument lately put up in memory of Tom Crib 
 shows how the English nation estimate a brave man. 
 The outcry lately made against pugilism was felt mate- 
 rially to affect the subscriptions to this work. Had 
 such a design been contemplated when George the 
 Fourth felt pride in showing foreign crowned heads the 
 materials of which Englishmen were made of, thousands 
 would have opened their purse-strings as followers of 
 Royal bounty ; nor would it have been held any dis- 
 paragement to Royalty to countenance a well-earned com- 
 phment to a faithful subject and a brave man. Thou- 
 sands have been and will again be lavished on testimonials 
 to men who have not quitted or will quit the world, 
 leaving as vivid recollections of their charities and kindly 
 feelings, as did the humble Tom Crib, the pugilist : these 
 proceeded from feelings soft as woman's, though, when 
 brought in honourable contact with man, his indomitable 
 courage proved that the Lion supporting the urn, is an 
 appropriate emblem of the true heart of him whose 
 ashes this urn is, in sculptured representation, supposed 
 to contain. 
 
 Let us hope, therefore, that some influential denizen 
 of our country will, with a heart truly British, have the 
 moral courage to set pretensions to and manifestations of 
 mistaken and maudlin sanctity at naught, and under 
 proper auspices and proper modifications and regulations, 
 revive a manly spirit among us — a spirit that produced a 
 
 13 B 2 
 
872 THE PRIZE-RING. 
 
 bearing in a Briton that other nations — nay, even our 
 enemies — had hberahty enough to appreciate and candour 
 enough to praise. Then again, will our countrymen hold 
 it the contemptible act of the coward to take the un- 
 armed or unsuspecting at disadvantage ; and then over 
 the social glass of English productions shall this toast be 
 circulated — " Palsied be the hand that holds the fatal 
 drug, or coward's knife, to injure a fellow-man." 
 
IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 
 
 " I THOUGHT we had settled that, last night, my dear," 
 said Mr. Meredith, using the muffineer at the same 
 time to the eighth part of a muffin on his plate. 
 
 "Settled! settled what?" replied his lady, with 
 unfeigned astonishment. 
 
 " Why, about this — pass me the sardines, will you, 
 love ? thank you — why about this party." 
 
 '' I certainly did hear you make some objections to it, 
 which I, of course, did not suppose you contemplated 
 my attending to," replied Mrs. Meredith. " I suppose, 
 sir, you allow that parties come within the province of 
 the lady, and not the gentleman ; and I assure you I am 
 not disposed to resign the privilege." 
 
 " Excellent tongue," said the imperturbable husband ; 
 " is it Fortnum and Mason's ?" 
 
 " Really !" replied the lady, with as much bitter 
 sarcasm as she could throw into her really beautiful 
 features, " I am not conversant with the names of all 
 the tradespeople who supply the house." 
 
 " I doubt not but Webster can enhghten you on the 
 subject." 
 
 " I do not think it quite impossible but the trades- 
 people may enlighten me themselves, unless I take — 
 another cup of tea, love — some decisive steps to alter 
 our present arrangements as to expenditure." 
 
374 IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 
 
 " I have not heard, Mr. Meredith, that your friends 
 consider those arrangements in bad taste." 
 
 " I am infinitely obliged to them," said Mr. Meredith, 
 bowing. 
 
 " Then while it is so, Mr. Meredith, what alteration is 
 necessary, may I ask ?" said his lady. 
 
 " Only some that I intend making, love," replied 
 Meredith. 
 
 " Not without my consent, if you please, sir," with 
 much asperity replied Mrs. Meredith. " What do you 
 want ?" she added, seeing Meredith point, without speak- 
 ins, to something on the breakfast table. " Any more 
 tongue ?" 
 
 " Not this morning, love, thank you," said ^leredith, 
 smiling almost imperceptibly. " I should be glad of a 
 little sugar, if you please." 
 
 Had any one seen the manner in which the lady 
 passed the sugar to her liege lord, they would scarcely 
 have required to be told that the honeymoon had passed 
 with Mr. and Mrs. Meredith ; in fact, they had been 
 married near twelve months. 
 
 I must now, however, beg their and my reader's 
 pardon, if I leave the pair to conclude their matutinal 
 meal without further observation ; for I find myself in 
 about the same predicament as one who, after having 
 got half-a-mile from the hall-door, recollects he has left 
 his handkerchief, or purse, or some necessary accom- 
 paniment of his day's peregrination behind him. In 
 such a case he may grumble if he pleases, but it will 
 avail him nothing ; the only sensible thing to do is to 
 complacently walk back, and that not merely to the hall- 
 door, but to the place where the missing article is to be 
 found ; and, figuratively speaking, so must I. 
 
 I have introduced my reader to my hero and heroine 
 
IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 375 
 
 at an hour when, in a general way, only the most in- 
 timate friends are admitted, and have been gauche 
 enough to have done so without even making him cog- 
 nizant of any particulars relative to either. This, how- 
 ever, must be done to prevent the story being matiere 
 embrouille altogether ; and, further, I must be guilty of 
 the very uncourteous proceeding of giving precedence to 
 the gentleman. 
 
 I have hitherto mentioned my hero as Mr. Meredith ; 
 but those who had the advantage of knowing him in- 
 timately would no more recognize him by such epithet 
 than they would Anacreon Moore, if we called him Lord 
 Ellcnborough. That our poet had more natural talent 
 and wit, I believe to be indisputable ; that he had as 
 much common sense, I think quite probable; and 
 saying that he was more universally beloved by his fel- 
 low-men, is but paying a poor compliment to one whose 
 feelings were as warm as the others were imperturbable. 
 
 Mr. Meredith and John Meredith, Esq., were epithets 
 by which my hero was known by his tradespeople and 
 inferiors ; by the first of whom he was respected, and by 
 the last beloved ; but among his chosen few he was Jack 
 Meredith; and, indeed, with them the surname was 
 uncalled for — Jack sufficed. 
 
 I think, if any one will turn to his memory's list of 
 acquaintance, he will find that where any is addressed 
 by his surname only, and that abbreviated by him, he is 
 one that ranks high in his estimation, as far as regards 
 the attributes of his heart ; it carries conviction that he 
 is a favourite — is one of the best samples of the class in 
 that society to which he belongs ; and this holds equally 
 good, be that class of the higher or lower order. I do 
 not mean that it follows, Tom, Frank, Fred, or Jack, is 
 to be held as an estimable character, or, perhaps, take 
 
376 IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 
 
 him, all in all, even a respectable man ; but such terms 
 show he is of the best of his class ; his respectability 
 must, therefore, be judged of by that of his associates. 
 
 Meredith, the hero of this tale, memoir, or reminiscence, 
 whatever term the reader may hold as most appropriate, 
 at the age of twenty-one came into possession of an 
 unencumbered property of three thousand a-year. From 
 youth Jack was a character ; there was scarcely a sickly, 
 destitute, or ill-used boy in the village, whose case had 
 not been ameliorated by Jack's advocacy and purse ; 
 and but few of the blusteruig and ill-disposed that he had 
 not soundly thrashed. He was sent to a first-class school 
 till he was sixteen ; here his perfectly good-humour im- 
 perturbable coolness, determined courage, and generosity 
 where the contents of his purse were called for, had ren- 
 dered him a paramount favourite. From this he returned 
 home to be put under a domestic tutor. The first 
 specimen that Jack gave his tutor that he had a character 
 to deal with was, by his expressed determination to cut 
 all classic authors. The astonishment of the worthy 
 pedagogue, himself a high churchman and profound 
 classic scholar, may be imagined. Had he heard it in- 
 dicated that divine service was no longer to take place 
 in our churches, he would have held such a proposition 
 as little less monstrous than Jack's declaration. Drawing 
 himself up in his seat to his greatest height, to throw all 
 the dignity he could into his appearance, he said, in 
 most measured phrases, " As I consider, Mr. Meredith, 
 you have only thought fit to hazard a joke on a subject 
 I hold to be of too much importance for such purpose, 
 We will go on with the last authors you read at Harrow." 
 
 " You have heard my determination," coolly replied 
 Jack. 
 
 "Do you mean this?" asked the astounded tutor. 
 
IMPEUTURBABLE JACK. 377 
 
 " Positively," said Jack. 
 
 " You will not read them ?" rejoined the master. 
 
 '' Not a line," announced the imperturbable pupil. 
 
 And on preparing to rise from his chair, whether the 
 Dominie had been accustomed to deal with boys, instead 
 of an athletic youth turned sixteen, or whether he had 
 met with more yielding dispositions than Jack's, I know 
 not ; but, on the latter attempting to rise, the indignant 
 pedagogue, placing a hand on Jack's breast, caused him 
 to fall back in his seat. If the man of learning had 
 made the most of his own height while in a sitting 
 posture, Jack, now rising slowly from his chair, showed 
 an honest five feet nine inches, and a countenance on 
 which cool determination and absence of all hastiness of 
 temper was legibly written. 
 
 " You have done," says Jack, without raising his 
 voice, " what no man Uving but my father should have 
 done without retribution on my part, except yourself, as 
 his friend. Respect for that father has stayed my hand 
 in your case; but beware of a repetition of a similar 
 affront ; put a finger again on my person, and you will 
 probably find your own in a state you might find un- 
 pleasant." Jack then left the room, and in his manly, 
 straightforward way recounted the whole business to his 
 father. 
 
 After this emeiiie between pupil and tutor, of course 
 his remaining in the family was out of the question ; so 
 Jack got rid of tutor and classics from that day. The 
 father was, of course, annoyed by the circumstance ; but 
 Jack set the matter at rest in the same unusual way he 
 did most things. He was an affectionate and dutiful 
 son, and, though he rebelled against his father's friend, 
 would not have given his father an hour's real uneasiness 
 for any earthly consideration. 
 
378 IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 
 
 A son dictating what his education should be, to a 
 father, raay seem somewhat extraordinary ; but Jack was 
 an extraordinary fellow, and his father knew it. He 
 was not, therefore, surprised when the same day, in 
 reply to some observations, Jack came to the point at 
 once, in the following rather laconic expression of his 
 motives as regarded his conduct to his tutor. 
 
 " I assure you, my dear father, what I have done did 
 not arise from any want of respect to you, or wish to be 
 idle on my part. If you wish me to return to Harrow, 
 it will be my duty to obey, and I must then, of course, 
 follow the studies thought fit and proper there ; but, as 
 I believe you neither intend me to be a pedagogue nor 
 a parson, I am satisfied I know as much of the classics 
 as are necessary for a gentleman, and learning more is 
 only wasting time that I can employ better on attention 
 to other accomplishments. Have confidence in me, and 
 you shall find I will not deceive you when I promise to 
 study as hard as you could wish." 
 
 Jack kept his word; and though he hunted, shot, 
 coursed, and was \X\q, primum mobile of everything going 
 on in the neighbourhood in the shape of frolic and fun, 
 he also made himself the refined and well-educated gen- 
 tleman ; he was not one to do things by halves. He 
 wished to see foreign manners and other countries. He 
 did so, and returned the finished gentleman. His pe- 
 culiar character as to most perfect coolness and determi- 
 nation, where he felt he was right, never left him ; but 
 in warmth of heart and enthusiasm of soul, Jack had all 
 a woman's feeling. 
 
 In proof of the former attributes of mind and tem- 
 perament, at a party given in Paris, Jack having received 
 a most rude affront from an Englishman there, was too 
 much a man of the world and good breeding, to cause a 
 
IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 379 
 
 demele in a large assemblage, by taking up the matter 
 at the moment. The circumstance had been noticed 
 but by the few among the parties when it occurred. I^ 
 happened that Jack's antagonist was requested to sing ; 
 he volunteered a duet, if some one could be found to 
 join him. Unfortunately, Jack was known as one ac- 
 quainted with the part ; so he was requested by the 
 hostess to join. Without a moment's hesitation he 
 agreed to do so ; and, to the astonishment of the 
 offender, and those who had witnessed the affront. Jack, 
 in an ordinary courteous way, joined in the duet. 
 " Was it possible," exclaimed some, " that a gentleman 
 and an Englishman, could pass over so gross an affront 
 without notice ?" But such appeared the fact, and 
 their estimation of Jack's courage sank below zero. 
 They little knew him ; neither time nor circumstances 
 could turn him from his fixed determination to Avipe off . 
 the insult; as well might a man expect to stay the 
 course of the wind or the sun as to anticipate Jack's 
 relaxing one iota in his course. At an hour long before 
 such a visit was anticipated, a friend of Jack's waited on 
 the offending party ; he had selected for the occasion a 
 son of the Emerald Isle, and one who would be much 
 more likely to shoot his friend than compromise that 
 friend's honour. Fortunately, perhaps, for both parties, 
 a military command had ordered the aggressor to a dis- 
 tant province, and he was obliged to leave Paris in half- 
 an-hour after our Hibernian friend had waited on him. 
 On being informed of his antagonist's destination. Jack 
 most coolly said, " That will just suit my book to a 
 letter ; T intend going there in three or four weeks." 
 In the three weeks there Jack went. He lost no time. 
 He had not been in town an hour before he had found 
 out the quarters, or rather late quarters of his intended 
 
380 
 
 IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 
 
 vis a vis; he had been ordered to the West Indies, 
 where he would, probably, remain some years. " Years 
 hence, or now," replied Jack ; " out he comes. I can 
 wait the gentleman's convenience ;" and so he would 
 have done, and met him with the same coolness twenty 
 years afterwards as then. 
 
 Persons not conversant with such matters might be 
 induced to hold this as unjustifiable, and consider it as 
 evincing an unforgiving tendency of heart in our hero ; 
 no such attribute, however, belonged to Jack's heart. If 
 even injured, a word of contrition on the part of the 
 offending party, and Jack would take the proffered hand 
 in all the warmth of unreserved friendship. It was with 
 no feeling of animosity to the man that Jack so sought 
 him ; but he had received what men of honour consider 
 an insult. That insult it was necessary should be 
 apologised for, or its penalty paid. Time might do 
 away with any angry feelings, as relative to the affair ; 
 but ages could not recall the act, and there remained 
 but the two courses mentioned to wipe off the affront ; 
 and this, as the world is constituted, a man ranking as a 
 gentleman must do. 
 
 Jack had not, however, so long to wait for this as he 
 had reason to anticipate, for his adversary's regiment was 
 ordered home. Jack was not long in waiting, or rather 
 causing his Hibernian friend to wait on the sub, who 
 had not finished his breakfast, the morning after arriving 
 at his quarters, before he fully understood that an 
 apology or a meeting was unavoidable. 
 
 " Well," says Jack, on his friend's return, " how stands 
 your mission, sir knight ?" 
 
 '' The young gentleman will accommodate you to- 
 morrow mornina; at six." 
 
IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 381 
 
 " Then so will you," replied Jack, " if you will be 
 with me at five." 
 
 " With all the pleasure in life will I," cries Connor. 
 The next morning "true to the touch," the com- 
 batants were on the ground. The young sub's second, 
 a staid old half-pay major, had, Avith that proper feeling 
 that should actuate every second, made himself master 
 of the whole affair ; and, finding his principal wholly in 
 the wrong, and that an apology had not been demanded 
 in any threatening or ungentlemanly way, had persuaded 
 his young friend to make one. 
 
 Advancing to Jack's second, " Mr. Connor," said he, 
 '' my young friend is sensible he has been much to blame. 
 He commissions me to express his regret, and offer an 
 apology, and solicit your principal's hand in reconcilia- 
 tion ; will you be pleased to make this known to him ?" 
 " With all the pleasure in life," cries Connor. 
 On his doing so. Jack advanced to the young sub. " I 
 have only one request to make, sir," said Jack, smiling, 
 " and I trust you will see the justness and necessity of 
 it. The little unpleasantry, that we shall not again 
 name, took place in the presence of several who know 
 both of us. 1 shall rely on your honour they are made 
 acquainted with the termination of the affair." 
 " By that honour they shall," replied the sub. 
 Jack's hand was extended the next moment, and they 
 were ever firm friends till the death of the young officer 
 terminated their friendship. 
 
 I do not mean to infer that the following circumstance 
 had anything to do with preventing the young man ever 
 again permitting his temper to get the better of him, 
 but it occurred. 
 
 Returning homewards, the young officer and Connor 
 were walkhig together. " 'Faith," says Connor, " it's 
 
382 IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 
 
 anything but pleasant being second to a man when we 
 are sure how the thing will end ; it's not pleasant to see 
 a man shot, and mighty inconvanient to be obliged to 
 lave one's country in consequence of it." 
 
 " You seem," said the other, " to make quite certain 
 as to what the result would have been." 
 
 " No doubt of it in life," replied Connor. 
 
 " Yet," says the sub., " we often hear of dead shots 
 missing their man." 
 
 "Do they?" replied Connor; "but d la ghost 
 
 of a chance of that with him ; he would hold his pistol 
 just as steady with a regiment before him, as he would 
 if he fired at a sack of potatoes." 
 
 The young officer burst out into such an inuiioderate 
 laugh at Connor's Irishism, that the others stopped to 
 share in the joke. 
 
 " Oh ! it's nothing in life worth telling," said Connor ; 
 " but I say, Jack, we have had many a bet together. 
 I'll bet you a dinner for us four you don't hit that young 
 ash at twelve paces." 
 
 " Done," says Jack. 
 
 The ground was measured. Jack slowly raised his 
 pistol, brought it to a level, and hit the stem of the tree 
 within an inch of the centre ; it was measured, and found 
 to be six inches and a quarter diameter. The young 
 sub., with much gravity, took off his hat to Jack ; but 
 all were too well bred to make further remark. The 
 affair, however, gave rise to a friendship between the two 
 young men that ceased only on the death of the young 
 officer, which occurred some years after the above event. 
 
 There is a saying that " a single man is never broke 
 till his neck's broken." The saying, of course, means 
 irrevocably placed hors de combat. This may be taken as a 
 kind of most ungallant insinuation that, when the bachelor 
 
IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 381 
 
 becomes a married man, the chance of being broke is 
 not so remote as before. 'Tis true that in marrying he 
 sets not, like Richard, his " Hfe upon a cast ;" but he 
 certainly does his comfort, and, being married, he must 
 " stand the hazard of the die ;" but in this a vast deal 
 depends on the animus of the Benedict ; for, supposing 
 the alliance to be unfortunate, some men would make 
 themselves truly wretched ; others become savage, and 
 make the lady wretched ; while a wiser or more strongly 
 minded man holds the mesalliance, not as an absolute 
 cause for misery and despair, but merely an absence of 
 anticipated bliss ; and this bliss being one that in all its 
 bearings he never experienced as a single man, finding 
 he cannot obtain it in a married one, like a sensible 
 fellow, he determines to make himself comfortable with- 
 out it. The weak-minded man allows the lady to tor- 
 ment him, or make him miserable. Now, in such a 
 dilemma, I think I should say, " My sweet one," patting 
 her on the cheek, but taking care she did not get a snap 
 at my fingers. " Sweet, indeed !" would possibly reply 
 the fair one, with a look as if she had intended what I 
 prudently guarded against. " Well then, dearest," I 
 should say, " I have made up my mind, and will now 
 afford you the benefit of knowing my determination. I 
 married you, hoping it would render us both happy. I 
 have tried to render you so, but you won't be happy. 
 You have never tried to render me so ; so I can't be — 
 that is, not through you ; therefore, just depend on this, 
 as you won't make me happy, confound me if you shall 
 make me miserable," 
 
 Our friend Jack's imperturbable coolness was destined 
 to be put to a stronger test than it had yet met with : 
 he fell in love. It might be thought, from his character, 
 that he would have set about this with something of his 
 
384 IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 
 
 usual coolness ; but no ; as a pretty face overturned all 
 the rules of an Eastern court, so it overturned all poor 
 Jack's imperturbability "at one fell swoop;" he was 
 not only in love with the person of the lady, but from 
 her being (in his term the unsophisticated) daughter of 
 a country gentleman of very limited income, he main- 
 tained that her husbanding his fortune would be more 
 than equivalent to having one of her own, if brought up 
 with expensive habits and ideas. The only difference 
 that could arise between them, he held to be, the delight- 
 ful and fond one of his urging the sweet girl to mix 
 more in society, and indulge herself in greater expenses 
 than she seemed inclined to do, fondly holding him a 
 world to her. Poor Jack's unsophistication might be a 
 very pretty plant while kept in a cottage, but it is asto- 
 nishing the effect transplanting had on it. 
 
 The morning dawned that in Jack's estimation was 
 to put him in possession of all of earthly felicity. As 
 we are not perpetrating or contemplating a novel, but a 
 characteristic sketch of part of the history of a very 
 singular fellow, I must not dilate on the bright visions 
 that flitted o'er his mind in dreams of bhssful import. 
 Young ladies will at once decide on what those dreams 
 ought to have been ; but as I never heard whether or no 
 he dreamt at all, I must leave the matter to the imagi- 
 nation of those conversant with such affairs of the heart. 
 
 According to estabhshed custom, the marriage cere- 
 mony over, the lady blessing and the gentleman blessed, 
 returned to the paternal home to breakfast. Far be it 
 from me to judge how palpitated the heart of the fair 
 one during the ceremony that imposed on her the duties 
 of a bride : though for so unsophisticated a young lady 
 she evinced a fortitude beyond expectation — that is the 
 expectation of those who fancy they will find more 
 
IBIPERTURfiABLE JACK. 385 
 
 shrinking timidity in the inhabitant of a cottage than 
 the denizen of parks and mansions ; nor did the some- 
 what furtive glances of the married and unmarried 
 present at the breakfast table, in any shape disturb the 
 perfect coolness and nonchalance with which the new- 
 made bride discussed the good things before her. This 
 poor Jack set down to a charming absence of all affec- 
 tation — a conviction that rendered her, before thought 
 charming, doubly becharmed in his eyes. 
 
 The really liberal and good taste shown in the arrange- 
 ment of the dejeune satisfied the enraptured bridegroom 
 that where intuitive refinement of taste existed, the being 
 accustomed to give entertainment where refinement is 
 quite as indispensable as display, was quite unnecessary ; 
 and further, that his lady-love at the head of his esta- 
 blishment would be as much at home as if he had chosen 
 her from among the daughters of the heads of the 
 aristocracy. Oh ! how delightful he thought it would be 
 to indulge the fair child of innocence and simplicity in 
 all her simple wishes, while she affectionately and timidly 
 chid him for any little additional expenditure entered 
 into by him with a view to her gratification ; while had 
 he married one in a higher position in life, such expen- 
 diture and attention would only have been held as matters 
 of course. 
 
 Had, however. Jack known that the memorable break- 
 fast was the first, and intended to be the last gift of his 
 lady's godmother, and the taste displayed in its arrange- 
 ment was that of one of Gunter's people, sent down on 
 the occasion, he would not have held practice in such 
 affairs as unnecessary as he did. 
 
 Nor is the apparent content we sometimes see in a 
 cottage, at all times the content of the heart, but the 
 stoicism of necessity ; for where pride and towering am- 
 
 c c 
 
386 IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 
 
 bition are attributes of that heart, it beats as high under 
 a stomacher of stuff as beneath one sparkling with gems, 
 and only waits the opportunity to gratify its predomi- 
 nant propensities. 
 
 The, of course, " happy pair" set off in about the 
 usual style of persons in their condition in life, namely, 
 a new travelling carriage, four greys, the boys in yellow 
 silk jackets (presented to them for the occasion), with 
 Jack's man, and a maid-servant, who attended the bride 
 from childhood, in the dickey. Their destination during 
 the honeymoon, Baden. 
 
 The first fortnight of this much-talked of honeymoon 
 passed off, the bride all smiles and sweetness, the bride- 
 groom all attention, devotion, and delight. 
 
 The first act of the lady towards taking up her 
 privilege of self-action was brought before Jack by a 
 most fashionably attired young woman, evidently a 
 foreigner, entering the breakfast-room, and placing by 
 the lady's side a most highly-perfumed pocket-hand- 
 kerchief, and then with a bend that only foreigners can 
 make, retiring at once. 
 
 " What delightful servants foreigners are !" said Mrs. 
 Meredith ; " how different, how superior to the English 1" 
 " Pray, may I ask who this person is ?" said Jack. 
 " I have never seen her before." 
 
 " Oh ! dear, no," replied the lady ; " she only came 
 yesterday, in time to dress me for dinner. She is a 
 Swiss, who has just left the Comtesse Kariffman. I 
 have engaged her as my personal maid, in lieu of old 
 Susan, whom I shall send back ; mamma can keep her, 
 or not, as she pleases ; though, as I make one less in the 
 family, I conclude she will not be wanted at home." 
 
 " Do you think, my love," said Jack, " that it seems 
 quite kind to dismiss one who has served you and your 
 
IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 387 
 
 family so many years, without making sure of a com- 
 fortable home for her somewhere ?'* 
 
 " Why, really," replied the lady, " while I was im- 
 mured in Heathfield Cottage, I bore perfect gauclierie ; 
 but, of course, as a married woman, I must dress more 
 than I did then, and Susan positively got more and 
 more stupid every day ; in fact, I could bear with it no 
 longer." 
 
 However Jack's penetration might have been hood- 
 winked by the first ardour of his affection for a really 
 beautiful girl, his sensitive feeling and proper apprecia- 
 tion of what was correct at once told him, in language 
 not to be silenced, that there was a heartlessness in 
 what his lady had said, that not only jarred on his 
 feelings, but subverted every nerve of sensibility. The 
 want of attachment to one who had carefully watched 
 her childish footsteps, evinced a want of feeling quite at 
 variance with his own disposition ; and the term " im- 
 mured," as applied to the home of her infancy .and her 
 parents, struck him as being as indelicate as .improper. 
 He felt the whole as a chill on his affection ; he began 
 to doubt where all before was confidence, nor could he 
 conceal from himself that the fair being he now looked 
 at was not the being that one short quarter of an hour 
 past he had looked on so affectionately and so confidently. 
 
 Meredith, though born to love, and love enthusi- 
 astically, was the last man in the world to let blind 
 infatuation hold mastery for any length of time over his 
 good sense and judgment ; he felt the event of the morn- 
 ing, trifling as to some men it might have appeared, had 
 for ever obliterated one unit from the sum of his appro- 
 bation of his lady's mind and heart. Any act arising 
 from thoughtlessness or ordinary imprudence, however 
 severe its consequences might be to himself, he would 
 
 c c 2 
 
388 IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 
 
 forgive and forget ; but a speech or act that betokened a 
 feehng in the heart of her he loved, struck at once at the 
 foundation on which he had placed his affection. 
 
 Probably Mrs. Meredith thought, like many of her 
 sex, that the attention, affection, and admiration of her 
 husband were as immutably her own as w\as the name 
 the marriage ceremony entitled her to bear. No un- 
 common error this ; but it is one by which the happiness 
 of more married persons has been wrecked than, perhaps, 
 by any other incidental to the female mind. To gain a 
 heart sufficiently to gain also a husband is no difficult 
 matter ; but to retain the feehngs and admiration of the 
 lover requires circumspection in every act, and even ex- 
 pression of sentiment — that is, if the admiration of the 
 husband is based on that which can be held as comph- 
 mentary to woman. 
 
 Things, however, went on with the married pair for 
 some months without any further material drawback on 
 their happiness ; in fact, so far as the lady was concerned, 
 hers was as yet complete. The usual invitations were 
 accepted, the usual returns given. Jack was quite aware 
 that the first half-j^ear had been a most expensive epoch ; 
 but he considered this as a usual circumstance to newdy- 
 married persons. It is true he had not found his unso- 
 phisticated lady quite as retiring as he thought she would 
 have been, nor had the affectitnate chiding he anticipated 
 for promoting her amusement been inflicted : the truth 
 was, there had been no occasion, on his part, for any steps 
 likely to call it forth ; for in point of promoting expendi- 
 ture he found his lady take the most prominent part ; 
 and so far from shrinking from society, he found that, if 
 her maiden life had been one of domestic retirement, a 
 domestic evening was anything but w^hat she held as 
 desirable. 
 
IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 389 
 
 'Jack was far too indulgent in disposition, and too liberal 
 in pecuniary matters, to permit the expenses brought 
 on by his young wife to interfere with the affection he 
 entertained towards her ; but the evidence forced on him, 
 that his indulgence, his tenderness, and liberality, failed 
 to render his society attractive to her, chilled every warm 
 feeling of his heart. He felt that a girl lifted from a 
 home of three hundred a-year to one of as many 
 thousands, might be so fascinated with the pleasures 
 around her, as to render their enjoyment too captivating 
 to be resisted. But he found in his wife no counter- 
 poise to this, no enjoyment of even the occasional 
 domestic society of her husband. This at last struck a 
 vital blow both to his happiness and affection. He said 
 nothing to his lady or to mortal of his chagrin, but he 
 noted it down as a most unwelcome monitor as to his 
 future conduct. With him his affections chilled; ''once 
 to be in doubt," was " to be resolved," and once resolved 
 he was one that well might say with Fitz- James, " This 
 rock shall fly from its firm base as soon as I." To say 
 that Jack's manner to his lady was precisely the same as 
 it had been, would be anything but fact ; it was con- 
 siderate, kind, and gentlemanly ; but that high-toned 
 feehng, that renders man so sensibly alive to all those 
 numberless attentions to the slightest wish of the woman 
 he fondly loves and esteems, was past. He felt dis- 
 appointed in his heart's best wish, and the mortifying 
 thought burst on him that he had married a beautiful 
 form without a heart. 
 
 Women possessing the delicacy of mind and feeling 
 usual to their sex, are not easily deceived in affairs of the 
 heart and its affections. The slightest diminution of 
 affection in a beloved object is felt by them " keener 
 than a serpent's tooth ;" but Mrs. Meredith was not, in 
 
390 IMPERTURBABLE JACK, 
 
 her present frame of mind, sensible to this refinement of 
 feeling. If any wish she had formed had been denied 
 or counteracted, her anger might be aroused by the con- 
 tradiction to that wish ; but she wanted that keen sense 
 of jealousy or appreciation of her husband's affection to 
 arouse her fears of the refusal proceeding from any 
 waning devotion on his part toward her. 
 
 In this frame of mind we find the couple at their 
 breakfast-table in the commencement of the tale. 
 
 On that day, for the first time since his marriage, 
 some business of importance rendered Jack's absence 
 necessary for four days ; on that of his return a dinner- 
 party was to take place, to which his lady proposed a 
 large party to be added for the evening. How far any 
 arrangement was entered into between Mr. and Mrs. 
 Meredith may be judged from what passed at the time, 
 by which it clearly appears that a difference of opinion, 
 at all events, existed between the husband and wife ; 
 but, to let the reader a little more into the family secrets. 
 Jack for the first time put a decided veto on his lady's 
 proposal. The consequence was a most perfect coolness 
 in the lady towards her liege lord. This, some few 
 months since, would have caused him feelings painful in 
 the extreme ; but now he had so schooled those feelings, 
 that he only noted his lady's conduct in the tablet of Dr. 
 and Cr., between man and wife, on the score of affection. 
 
 On the appointed day. Jack returned an hour before 
 the time he expected his guests would arrive. Some few 
 months since, impatience of the time he had been robbed 
 of, in seeing his beloved one, would have made him seek her 
 as his first desired object on his return ; but now, partly 
 curiosity, and partly the feelings of a husband who found 
 his wishes had not only been disregarded but indelicately 
 braved, caused him to seek an interview with his lady. 
 
IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 391 
 
 In reply to his message, Mademoiselle Justin informed 
 Monsieur that Madame was dressing, but would be 
 shortly in the drawing-room. 
 
 The state of things at Meredith Oaks (for so was 
 Jack's property known) was this. On driving up the 
 carriage sweep, the first thing that met his wondering 
 gaze was a temporary awning, reaching from the hall- 
 door to where a carriage must necessarily set down ; 
 and matting on the steps showed that satin shoes were 
 expected to enter the portals. A glimpse at the court- 
 yard showed a London confectioner's cart ; and two 
 confectioner's gentlemen bore ample testimony that the 
 contents of the cart were of no plebeian order. A van 
 with a canopy showed that some living beings of an 
 order not to brave the elements had arrived in it ; and, 
 as it was not a cortege calculated to bring any one on 
 visiting terms, Jack did not at once penetrate the mys- 
 tery of the proceeding. 
 
 " What is that cart and van ?" said Jack, as the 
 servant came to the door, on Jack's driving up to it. 
 
 " The cart is Mister Gunter's, sir," said the man ; 
 " they came by the railroad to Rugby ; and the van 
 has brought the band from Leamington." 
 
 " Oh — aye," said he, neither wishing to appear sur- 
 prised, or still less to permit his domestics to suppose 
 their lady had done anything contrary to his wishes. 
 The result, however, of what he saw was an immediate 
 wish to ascertain to what these preparations tended, or 
 at least to what extent ; for that an assemblage of per- 
 sons of no ordinary number was anticipated, was clearly 
 evident. 
 
 Mrs. Meredith had shown considerable tact in avoid- 
 ing an interview with her liege lord prior to the arrival 
 of the guests ; for she knew Jack to be far too well bred 
 
392 IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 
 
 to evince the slightest disapprobation of her conduct 
 before them, and she also knew his generous and hos- 
 pitable feelings would conduce to the same result. If 
 she did apprehend any manifestation of his displeasure 
 on the morrow, she felt the eclat of the neighbourhood 
 Would more than compensate for any little emeute that 
 might result from it. She little knew the value of the 
 heart she thus trifled with : far less did she know the in- 
 flexible and sturdy determination of its owner, in a right- 
 ful cause. 
 
 Jack, on finishing his toilet for the evening, strolled 
 into the reception-rooms, to see the preparations made by 
 his lady's orders. He entered an ante-room that on all 
 ordinary occasions was used as a drawing-room. Certain 
 minor embellishments to its usual appearance created 
 little surprise, from seeing an unusual assemblage was 
 expected. He walked to the door leading into the prin- 
 cipal drawing-room : he found it locked. On demanding 
 the key, he was told it was in the possession of his lady. 
 Jack made no remark ; but on the servants retiring, 
 an energetic thrust of his foot burst it open, when, to his 
 unfeigned astonishment, he found the really magnificent 
 room enlarged by a temporarily-constructed apartment, 
 fitted up as an eastern tent, to be entered from a large 
 window that opened on the lawn. Two extra chandehers 
 had been put up, in addition to the one in the drawing- 
 room, and one of gigantic dimensions destined to illumine 
 the tent in an equal blaze of light. The library had been 
 converted into a dinner-room for the day ; and in the 
 large dining-room he found tables being decorated and 
 covers laid for at least a hundred ; and, judging from the 
 first coup d'oeil of the uncompleted arrangements, they 
 were intended to display, in common phrase, "every de- 
 licacy of the season." 
 
IMPERTURBABLE JACR. 393 
 
 From that moment, Jack made up his mind as to his 
 future intentions ; and a carriage coming round the 
 sweep, he hastened to receive his guests. Mrs. Mere- 
 dith entering at the same moment, Jack showed nothing 
 in his conduct or manner that could tend to any conclusion 
 but that they had passed the morning as usual. The 
 dinner for twelve, Jack had ordered prior to leaving home : 
 it was, consequently, in character with the habits and 
 position in society of the donor ; and his conduct and 
 general demeanour were precisely what they would have 
 been had the intended party been given with his entire 
 approbation and consent. A peculiarity, however, in the 
 manner of his lady did not escape his penetrating eye. 
 There was a distracted air at times about her that plainly 
 showed some apprehension as to the consequences of the 
 bold step she had ventured on ; and at others an over- 
 officious attention to her guests, evidently entered into to 
 avoid addressing her husband more frequently than abso- 
 lutely necessary. All, however, passed off well. Jack 
 never appeared in better spirits, nor did the honours of 
 his table with more cordial and refined courtesy ; so much 
 so, that ere the ladies retired, Mrs. Meredith had recovered 
 her usual confidence and serenity. 
 
 Jack, for many reasons, pressed his friends to sit over 
 their wine longer than he usually did ; and it was not till 
 after he had heard the arrival of many equipages, that 
 he assented to the proposal of joining the ladies. He 
 found, as if done by magic, during dinner, vestibule and 
 staircase lined with exotics. Coloured lamps hung where 
 lamps had never hung before ; and, on entering the 
 ante-room door, that apartment, the drawing-room, and 
 Grecian tent elicited a blaze of light that, it was evident, 
 took his friends by surprise. The Grecian tent, with its 
 rich silk lining and draperies, looked really magnificent ; 
 
394 IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 
 
 and hurt and angry as Jack naturally felt, he could not 
 but allow to himself that his wife, whose colour was a 
 little heightened by excitement, was certainly the most 
 beautiful woman in the room. An involuntary sigh 
 escaped him, as the fear struck on his mind that so 
 beautiful a casket did not contain the treasure of such a 
 heart as he wished the chosen of his own to possess. He 
 shook off, however, the corroding thought, and during 
 the evening was the gayest of the gay, receiving the com- 
 pliments paid to Mrs. Meredith's taste in her arrange- 
 ments with well-acted signs of satisfaction and plea- 
 sure. 
 
 Mrs. Meredith now fancied her triumph complete ; and 
 her spirits rose as the idea strengthened that any dis- 
 pleasure on the part of her husband had given way in 
 contemplation of the eclat of the entertainment. She 
 little, however, knew the command that her husband had 
 over any outward display of his feelings : still less dreamed 
 she of the sweeping measures he could take when he 
 found such necessary. 
 
 On retiring for the night, Jack made no allusion to 
 the party. His lady, however, somewhat timidly re- 
 marked that she hoped he thought the little surprise she 
 had planned for him had gone off well. 
 
 " Nothing could be better arranged," said Jack. He 
 then dropped the subject, and also dropped, or pretended 
 to have dropped asleep. 
 
 The next two days were occupied in restoring things 
 to their usual state. Jack made no remarks, unless ad- 
 dressed, on the subject, and then made his replies without 
 any manifestation of displeasure or reproach. The only 
 alteration perceivable in his usual conduct was his being 
 the greatest part of the day employed in writing, and his 
 then starting for London, but without assigning any reason 
 
IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 395 
 
 for SO doing, either on going or on his return, which oc- 
 curred on the third day of his absence. 
 
 The next morning, at breakfast, Jack remarked to his 
 lady, " You have never seen Ap Swilly, or Wales itself, 1 
 believe ? I intend spending this spring there, instead of 
 in London." 
 
 " What !" replied the lady, *' bury yourself in such a 
 place during the height of the London season '." 
 
 " If you call it being buried, residing in really a very 
 beautiful locality during the finest part of the year, I cer- 
 tainly do mean our interment to take place," most im- 
 perturbably replied Jack. 
 
 " Interment, indeed !" exclaimed his lady. " You, of 
 course, do not expect that I shall consent to go there ?" 
 
 "From your tone, Mrs. Meredith, I shall certainly 
 school my hopes, so as not to form so wild an expectation ; 
 but there we go." 
 
 " I suppose, Mr. Meredith, if I consent to go there 
 for a few days, I can then go to town, and you can come 
 up when you please to quit your Welsh Elysium for your 
 town-house." 
 
 " Perhaps," said Jack, " you will not think your plan 
 so feasible, when I tell you I have now no town-house." 
 
 " Good heavens !" cried the lady, "you surely have not 
 let it." 
 
 " I have not," said Jack : " I have sold it." 
 
 " Sold it !" absolutely screeched the lady : " you can 
 never find another I shall like half as well ; and after the 
 trouble that was taken in new-furnishing it on our mar- 
 riage, and arranging that to so perfectly correspond with 
 the house, it will never look to the same advantage in 
 another." 
 
 " I was quite aware of that," coolly replied Jack ; " so 
 I sold it as it stood." 
 
396 IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 
 
 " Have we, then, no house to go to ? " gasped Mrs. 
 Meredith. 
 
 " Not in town, certainly," said Jack ; " nor do I intend 
 to have one again. Perhaps, under such circumstances, 
 you may not feel so disinchned to visit Ap Swilly ?" 
 
 "Oh, the horrid Httle hole !" cried Mrs. Meredith— "I 
 could not exist a week there." 
 
 " You did, however," replied Jack, with some little as- 
 perity in his manner, " contrive to breathe in Heathfield 
 Cottage, and, I trust, will do so at Ap Swilly : at all 
 events, you will make the attempt." 
 
 " Will, sir ?" 
 
 « Yes— will," said Jack. 
 
 " As, Mr. Meredith," said his lady, " without in any 
 shape consulting my wishes, you sold my town-house, I 
 shall take the liberty of consulting my own now, by re- 
 maining here." 
 
 " I think not," said Jack. 
 
 " And why, pray, may I ask ?" 
 
 " Simply," replied Jack, " because this house is let for 
 a term of seven years, just as it stands." 
 
 " Heavens, Mr. Meredith !" cried the lady, " what do 
 I hear ! Has anything happened ? Have you lost your 
 fortune or your wits ?" 
 
 " Neither," replied Jack ; " but had we gone on as we 
 have done the last year, I certainly should in time have 
 lost the one, and then, possibly, the other. To prevent 
 either catastrophe taking place, we go to Ap Swilly." 
 
 " And pray, may I ask," said Mrs. Meredith, " where 
 can you put the establishment in your Welsh mouse- 
 trap ?" 
 
 " Perhaps," said Jack, smiling, " you may also consider 
 it a lady -trap. But I will dispel your uneasiness regarding 
 the establishment, by informing you that I shall take no 
 
IMPEETUEBABLE JACK. 397 
 
 more with me than the mouse-trap can accommodate, 
 which will be three maid-servants, two men, and a lad." 
 
 A shriek and paroxysm of rage and tears combined 
 followed this information, when Jack, rising leisurely, 
 said, " I fear you may bring on hysterics by your present 
 excitement ;" and, ringing the bell, he desired Mrs. 
 Meredith's maid to be sent up, and then left the room. 
 
 All the arrangement of departure Jack took upon 
 himself; and, on again seeing his lady, informed her 
 that they should commence their journey on the fourth 
 day from the one on which he had communicated his in- 
 tentions. 
 
 " You mentioned," said Mrs. Meredith, " three female 
 servants as being the number you intended to retain. I 
 conclude, then, you have engaged some Welsh ones ; 
 and, of course, Bennett, Justine, and Leroux, are those 
 you intend taking with you." 
 
 " I must have stated my intentions enigmatically, I 
 conclude," said Jack ; " for I meant to be understood that 
 three would comprise the number we should want. 
 Justine is by far too fine a lady for a place where her 
 talents would be uncalled for ; and a French cook would 
 not be required to cook mere mutton, fish, and game. 
 Bennett I should advise you to take, as I know she will 
 not object to add the duties of lady's-maid to those of 
 housekeeper." 
 
 "Justine I cannot, will not part with," said Mrs. 
 Meredith. " I cannot dispense with her services." 
 
 " You will, at all events, make the attempt," coolly 
 replied Jack ; " and permit me to recommend your per- 
 sonally dismissing her, to avoid yourself the mortification 
 of my doing so. My reasons for insisting on this are 
 such, that nothing can alter my fixed determination." 
 
 Baffled and really alarmed by the cool but determined 
 
398 IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 
 
 manner of her husband, Mrs. Meredith found her only 
 resource was submission ; for she could bring no charge 
 of unkindness against him, had she called in the media- 
 tion of friends. 
 
 Jack was perfectly correct in his suspicions of the in- 
 trigues of the insidious foreigner, Justine. In her last 
 situation, she had served a woman of rank, who ruled a 
 weak-minded husband with despotic sway. She had, 
 by imperceptible degrees, instilled into the mind of Mrs. 
 Meredith the idea that she had only to exert her pre- 
 rogative of wife, to bend her husband to her wishes in 
 all matters where that prerogative could be supposed to 
 exist, which, in Mademoiselle Justine's calculation, em- 
 braced the management not only of a husband, but of all 
 his affairs and expenditure. She it was who put the 
 memorable party in her mistress's head; the Grecian 
 tent was her suggestion ; and, having been accustomed 
 to witness such display, her taste and talent were, to do 
 her justice, in such cases first-rate. The results, how- 
 ever, of her consultations with her present mistress, as it 
 is seen, were not exactly the same as they had been in 
 the family of the old Count ; and finding, to her cost, 
 that such was the case, " brute" and " monstre" were the 
 softest terms in which she mentioned her master, while 
 '* idiot," " fou," and " pauvre imbecile" were those she 
 covertly applied to her lady. Jack, however, took es- 
 pecial care that the wily and indignant soubrette was 
 safely on her journey the day before that of his quitting 
 the house. 
 
 On the appointed morning, the travelling-carriage, 
 with its imperials, trunks, and boxes, swung round to 
 the door. 
 
 Something almost amounting to a sigh escaped Mere- 
 dith, from the recollection of the first dav that carriages, 
 
IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 399 
 
 similarly packed, received its mistress and himself. The 
 dingy red jackets and half-slovenly dress of the postboys 
 did not look to advantage, when contrasted in mind 
 with the gay silken ones and critically neat attire of 
 those who drove him on the well- remembered occasion. 
 He was not one, however, to let "shadows" strike 
 terror to his soul. 
 
 Mrs. Meredith entered the carriage with a kind of 
 dogged serenity. " Well," soliloquised Jack, " that is 
 better, and far less troublesome than hysterics, at all 
 events." Bennett and Jack's man mounted the dickey ; 
 and the carriage drove through the lodge-gates of Mere- 
 dith Hall. Mrs. Meredith would not pay her husband 
 the compliment of appearing to give a parting look at 
 his paternal home — a home where, she could not conceal 
 from her own conscience, she might have been supremely 
 happy. She could not, however, avoid giving a furtive 
 glance at its castellated front, ere it was lost to her sight, 
 if not for ever, for at least an indefinite number of years. 
 The thought intruded that, probably, if ever she entered 
 its portals, it would be when the heyday of her youth 
 was gone. She fiung herself back in the carriage, and 
 silently shed a flood of tears. Stolen as had been her 
 glance, it had not escaped her husband's observation ; 
 and he hailed the unobtrusive burst of feeling as in- 
 dicative that, if the feelings, mind, and heart of his wife 
 had been perverted, that heart was still alive to sensibility. 
 
 There is a certain perversion in the human heart that 
 often, very generally, causes the offending party to be 
 the last to conciliate. This frequently arises from the 
 fact that, in most cases, the aggressor is the least amiable 
 of the two parties, and is further cursed by a sort of 
 stubborn pride that refuses to bend to the avowal of 
 error. Whether such was the feeling of Mrs. Meredith, 
 
400 IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 
 
 or whether she hoped that by a show of constant ill- 
 humour and discontent she might induce her husband to 
 give way in his resolves, is not my province as a mere 
 narrator of a tale to decide on. If the latter idea was 
 the incentive to her conduct, no woman ever more mis- 
 understood the disposition she had to deal wdth. Jack 
 had found that no mild representations of the ruinous 
 effects of his wife's determination on indulgence in lavish 
 expense had any effect in changing her conduct, and 
 that no affectionate regard to his very sensible wishes 
 acted as the slightest counterpoise to her own inclina- 
 tions. He saw, therefore, there was but one step to 
 take, which was to force her from her field of action. 
 To have merely circumscribed its limits, would only have 
 led to daily discussion and invective. He determined, 
 therefore, to strike to the root of the infatuation that had 
 sprung up in her mind since her marriage ; or, if he found 
 it was of earlier growth, and only waited for opportunity to 
 shoot forth, he made up his mind to crush the very germ 
 from which it sprung. An avowal of error on the part of his 
 lady would have done away w^itli any feelings of anger or 
 discontent he might entertain towards her at once ; and 
 a promise (if founded on conviction of its propriety) to 
 alter her conduct would have induced him to return her 
 to the world, and indulge her in every reasonable wish 
 his fortune could supply ; but, till some such manifesta- 
 tion was made, he would no more abate one iota of his 
 resolve at the end of twenty years, than he would at the 
 expiration of as many days. This proceeded from no 
 feeling of obstinacy on his part ; but, in all he did, he 
 acted on principles. What he knew to be right, nothing 
 could turn him from ; and what he felt was wrong, no 
 power could make him do ; and if those about him 
 would not thus act from the same laudable motive, he 
 
IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 401 
 
 was quite one to force them to do so from some other 
 cause. 
 
 At the end of the second day, they arrived at Ap 
 Swilly. One glance, as the carriage approached, showed 
 Mrs. Meredith it was not quite the " mousetrap" she 
 had so derisively designated it. Small and unpretending 
 it was, in comparison with Meredith Hall. Still, it 
 looked the abode of a gentleman of moderate income, 
 and very far beyond her native home. To any one not 
 determined to be displeased, it oflPered many attractions. 
 It stood on a summit, at the end of a most beautiful 
 valley, showing all the variety of wood and water. ' At 
 a distance of three miles was seen the ocean, on which a 
 succession of vessels floated, entering and leaving a 
 small but picturesque seaport town. On the carriage 
 drawing up, a most respectable middle-aged woman and 
 a cheerful looking young female appeared, to offer their 
 services, and a silent, respectful, but smiling welcome, to 
 their new mistress. Mrs. Meredith swept by them ; 
 and, desii'ing to be shown her sleeping apartment, at 
 once went upstairs. Her maid, Bennett, instantly fol- 
 lowed. 
 
 " I hope, ma'am, you do not find yourself indisposed," 
 said Bennett. 
 
 " Only, I beheve, every bone in my body dislocated 
 by the horrid roads," replied the lady, with bitterness, 
 throwing herself into a large old-fashioned arm-chair. 
 " Even this," cried the lady, pettishly shifting her 
 position, " is more an instrument of torture than one of 
 ease ; but is, I suppose, a specimen of Welsh luxury." 
 
 By his master's desire, his man now tapped at his 
 lady's door, and informed her woman that dinner would 
 be on the table in half-an-hour ; on which information he 
 was desired to inform his master that Mrs. Meredith was 
 
 D D 
 
402 IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 
 
 SO fatigued, she would wish a tray to be sent to her 
 room. 
 
 Neither Jack's quietude nor appetite was disturbed 
 by his lady's arrangement. He discussed some trout, 
 done to a turn, en papillottes, part of a leg of Welsh 
 mutton, and a portion of cranberry tart, with perfect 
 relish and nonchalance ; nor was the wine, of some 
 years' storage in the cellar of Ap Swilly, neglected, 
 though partaken of by its owner solus. 
 
 To Ap Swilly, though in itself a place of small extent, 
 were attached the privileges of lord of the manor. For 
 this reason, it had been purchased by Jack's grandsire, 
 and put in the substantial repair of those days. Jack 
 and his father had generally spent some few weeks in it 
 during the best of the shooting and fishing season ; so 
 he was perfectly well known to all the surrounding 
 families, but to none so intimately as to Mr. — or, as he 
 was always styled, Dr. Pearson, rector of the parish. 
 
 The worthy rector did not suffer the next day to pass 
 without calling on Jack, to welcome him to Wales, and 
 express the pleasure he and his family anticipated from 
 an introduction to Mrs. Meredith. 
 
 Jack had seen quite enough of his lady's present dis- 
 position to anticipate the probability of her declining in- 
 timacy with any of his Welsh friends ; and, having a 
 most deserved respect for the Doctor and his amiable 
 family, to avoid any contretemps or misconceptions 
 taking place, candidly put him au fait of the motives 
 that occasioned Mrs. Meredith's being brought to take 
 up a permanent residence in Wales. 
 
 " This must not be allowed to go on, my dear Mcre- 
 ditli," said the Doctor. " We must endeavour to wean 
 your lady from any determination on seclusion ; and we 
 jiiust, by degrees, convince her of the hallucination she 
 
IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 403 
 
 labours under, in fancying happiness is only to be found 
 in crowded and expensive assemblies. I trust you will 
 not think rae arrogant in saying that I conceive no 
 woman better calculated to effect this than Mrs. Pearson ; 
 and believe me, my dear friend, that in such a cause she 
 will not be easily deterred from becoming a frequent 
 visitor to Mrs. Meredith, if she has your sanction to make 
 the attempt." 
 
 To so kind a speech but one reply could be made by 
 any sensible and well-bred man ; and Mr. Meredith's as- 
 surance of his proper appreciation of the value of Mrs. 
 Pearson's acquaintance for his wife was perfectly sin- 
 cere. 
 
 Mrs. Pearson was nobly allied, most highly educated, 
 and, till the age of twenty-two, had moved in the highest 
 circle of society. She had, as it may be supposed, from 
 her position in life, her talents, and an engaging and a 
 beautiful person, had more than one offer of marriage. 
 Pier heart had, however, remained untouched ; and 
 though her fortune was small, indeed, for a girl thus 
 connected, she was not one to sacrifice her feelings for 
 pecuniary considerations. She married Dr., then Mr., 
 Pearson. 
 
 On her first introduction to Mr. Pearson, he was a 
 curate, " passing rich" with seventy pounds a-year. To 
 this, however, was added a small patrimony of two 
 hundred pounds. With this moderate stipend, much as 
 he admired Miss Cecil, it was not till after many months 
 of intimacy that " on that hint he spake." The result 
 was, that the family interest was put in force, and the 
 living of Ap S willy obtained for the curate ; so that, being 
 worth three hundred a-year, his own two, and Miss Cecil's 
 fortune adding three more, the young couple, happy in 
 each other, found eight hundred per annum quite equal 
 
 D D 2 
 
404 IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 
 
 to their domestic views and wishes. Dr. Pearson was 
 quite right, therefore, in his conviction that no person 
 could be better calculated to reform the young bride's 
 habits and ideas than his wife ; and their only daughter, 
 being about Mrs. Meredith's age, was still more likely by 
 example, and equally so by precept, to eflPect the same 
 transformation. 
 
 The next morning Mrs. Pearson called, and with per- 
 fectly good tact, merely left her card, without any 
 attempt to see Mrs. Meredith. During the next three 
 or four days, all the families to whom Jack was known 
 called ; and though " not at home" was the ordered 
 reply to all. Jack made no observation ; but he told 
 Mrs. Meredith that he both wished and expected the 
 visits returned. 
 
 " I thought," said Mrs. Meredith, with much as- 
 perity, " it was to avoid company we came here." 
 
 " Certainly," said Jack, " it was to avoid company to 
 the extent we kept it, but by no means to shun all 
 society." 
 
 " I suppose, however," said the lady, " I may be per- 
 mitted to visit or not, as I feel disposed." 
 
 " Whether you may choose to visit my friends or not," 
 said Jack, " is a matter of perfect indifference to me ; 
 but I should recommend you to pay them the common 
 courtesy of returning their calls, if it be only done by 
 dropping your card at their door, unless you prefer my 
 accounting for your not doing so in a way that will be 
 by no means flattering to you." . 
 
 "And pray," asked the lady, "am 1 to make this 
 detestable i'ound in a Welsh car ?" 
 
 "Such an observation," said Jack, " is as ridiculous 
 as it is uncalled-for; I believe you are aware your pony- 
 piiaeton, your riding-horse, and a servant to attend you. 
 
IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 405 
 
 are tere ; and, for the close carriage, on the present or 
 any occasion on which you want it, posthorses may at 
 all times be had in two hours." 
 
 Mrs. Meredith had begun to understand her hus- 
 band's habits too well to refuse his reasonable pro- 
 position. To have had it told that she was brought 
 down, like a froward child, in consequence of her former 
 conduct, was an idea too mortifying to be borne ; and 
 she was quite aware that Jack would not hesitate at 
 doing this, rather than have it supposed that he meant 
 disrespect towards persons and families he esteemed. 
 
 The visits were accordingly made, at least as far as 
 leaving cards went ; and even for this, the kindness of 
 his manners to his lady on her return showed her the 
 advantage of acting with proper consideration for her 
 own and her husband's credit. Mrs. Meredith was not 
 proof against this; and the evening passed off more 
 cheerfully than any since their arrival in Wales. The 
 truth was, though, perhaps, unthought of, she was in 
 better humour with herself. She had made a pro- 
 gressive step in the right way ; and that silent monitor, 
 her conscience, whispered what she would not have at 
 the time allowed even to herself. 
 
 The morninsr after this, Mrs. Pearson called on Mrs. 
 Meredith, and, not waiting for any observation of the 
 servant's, walked in, and learning that his mistress was 
 in the house, did not wait to ascertain whether she was 
 " at home" or not, but at once walked into the drawing- 
 room, where Mrs. Meredith was sitting. 
 
 The latter lady, somewhat taken by surprise, did not 
 attempt to conceal the emotion, but inclined somewhat 
 
 stiffly. 
 
 Mrs. Pearson had seen too much of the world and 
 societv to be taken, in sea-phrase, " abaft." She knew 
 
406 IMPERTURBABLE JACK, 
 
 her motives were in a right cause ; and, walking up ta 
 Mrs. Meredith, and extending her hand, she said, "I 
 am aware I intrude, and perceive you think so ; but, my 
 dear Mrs. Meredith, we have known your good husband 
 from a boy. We regard him with the warmest feeUngs 
 of esteem, and are quite prepared to love and esteem all 
 those dear to him ; therefore, bon gre mal gre, you must 
 permit me to consider myself an old friend of yours, and 
 one who will endeavour to make your sejour amongst 
 us rude Welsh as agreeable as the hmited means of 
 ourselves and acquaintance will admit." 
 
 Human nature could not but be softened by such an 
 address. Mrs. Meredith took the proffered hand, saying, 
 " I must, I find, Mrs. Pearson, make you an exception 
 to my resolve on seclusion." 
 
 " And why, my dear young friend," replied her visi- 
 tor, " should one so young, so formed for society, and, 
 permit me to add, so attractive, form any so stern 
 resolve ? Doubtless you have found the world, as I 
 found it, a heterogeneous mixture of vanity, pride, and 
 apathetic feeling. You have become blase sous I'effet, 
 and have wisely resolved to make fashion your slave, in- 
 stead of, as many do, being the slave of fashion ; but I 
 trust we shall show you there are some hearts in human- 
 kind alive to better feelings ; and I also trust your self- 
 banishment from the fiishionable world for a temporary 
 period will hereafter be recalled with many pleasurable 
 reminiscences. I must now take my leave, but, in doing 
 so, allow me to presume on the kind exemption you 
 have made in ray favour. I have a daughter about your 
 own age — a good girl, and one I am vain enough to 
 think you would like. May I include her in your list 
 of the admissibles ?" 
 
 " Most willingly," replied Mrs. Meredith, with one of 
 
IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 407 
 
 those smiles that won her husband's heart m the un- 
 pretending circle of Heathfield Cottage. 
 
 Mrs. Pearson lost no time in furthering her amiable 
 determination of bringing about, if possible, a perfect 
 reconciliation and right understanding between her own 
 and her husband's friend, and his young bride. She in- 
 troduced her daughter ; and, to Jack's unfeigned as- 
 tonishment and gratification, he found that, on Miss 
 Pearson's calling a few weeks afterwards, she had been 
 invited to stay dinner. 
 
 Mrs. Pearson had shown herself a most distinguished 
 diplomatist in all she did, on Jack's behalf, relative to 
 Mrs. Meredith. Her leaving it to be supposed by that 
 lady that her coming to Wales was held by Mrs. Pearson 
 and her family as voluntary was a master-stroke of 
 pohcy. It put all parties at their ease, and did away 
 with any jealousy that might have arisen in the young 
 bride's mind of a preconcerted plan between her husband 
 and his well-meaning and estimable friends. 
 
 Jack was too good a politician to make any remark 
 on his wife's growing partiality towards ^Irs. and Miss 
 Pearson. He was quite aware that his wife's primary 
 reasons for refusing to visit his Welsh friends were, 
 first, from a desire to annoy him, and, secondly, from 
 the idea that, by keeping them aloof, she should render 
 the place as intolerably dull to him as she considered it 
 must be to her. He was far too astute not to penetrate 
 her reasons, and too good a tactician not to be able to 
 render them futile, and turn the tables on herself. To 
 this end, he gave two or three men's dinners in suc- 
 cession, at which he neither expected nor invited his 
 lady to appear. Two days after the last, was the one 
 on which Miss Pearson had dined with them. 
 
 A considerable change had by degrees taken j)lace in 
 
4C8 IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 
 
 Mrs. Meredith's manners, temper, and conduct since her 
 introduction to the rector's family. The pony-carriage, 
 that for some weeks had stood unused and unnoticed, 
 was now in ahnost daily requisition ; and Jack was most 
 agreeably surprised by his lady's remarking, one morning, 
 at breakfast, that she feared she should become too 
 nervous, from want of habit, to mount her horse again. 
 This was said with a certain air of timidity, and without 
 venturing a look at her husband. It was not lost on 
 him, and he good-naturedly replied, 
 
 " I dare say, Matilda, your horse will make allowance 
 for your want of practice, and will go unusually quietly." 
 
 " You think, then, I may trust myself, with William 
 as my guide ?" inquired the lady. 
 
 "Most certainly, unless you will allow me the honour," 
 replied Jack, smiling, and bowing low, " of being your 
 faithful attendant-knight." 
 
 Mrs. Meredith merely extended her hand, and, on 
 Jack's pressing it, hurried out of the room. 
 
 A tear that had started to his wife's eye, on pre- 
 senting her hand, produced the pressure that her hus- 
 band gave, as a silent but certain assurance of com- 
 mencing forgiveness. His newly-returning tenderness, 
 on Mrs. Meredith's reaching the privacy of her own 
 room, caused a flood of repentant tears. These, followed 
 by a self-constituted review of her past conduct, awoke 
 her to a sense of the danger she had run of losing the 
 affections of one both constituted for, and wisliing to 
 unite the tenderness of the husband and the guardian 
 hand of the fond friend with the attention and devotion 
 of the lover. 
 
 On meeting her husband again, it was with the same 
 smile that had first made his heart all her own. It was 
 not, pcrliiips, as briglit as that ; but there was a subdued 
 
IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 
 
 409 
 
 sweetness in it that was more tender. Neither spoke, 
 yet each seemed fully to understand what were the emo- 
 tions of either heart. She looked in her husband's 
 face, and, advancing to him, said, in a faltering tone, 
 
 " Am I forgiven ?" 
 
 Jack caught her in his arms, and pressed her to his 
 heart. That pressure precluded the necessity of words ; 
 and, in each succeeding year, the anniversary of the day 
 of their reconciliation was hailed by both as even more 
 dear than the one that first joined their hands. 
 
 As a faithful historian, I must gratify ray reader's 
 curiosity or interest — if I have awakened either — as 
 regards ^Ir. and Mrs. Meredith's after-movements. 
 They did not quit Ap Swilly till a two-years' residence 
 there fully made up the sum expended in the first year of 
 their marriage. Mrs. Meredith had made herself so 
 agreeable amid the friendly and unpretending society of 
 the neighbouring families, that, on their quitting Ap 
 Swilly, the assurance that its owners would spend three 
 months in each year there was hailed with sincere 
 pleasure by all. 
 
 Mr. Meredith's position in life rendered it both 
 
 desirable and proper that he should make his paternal 
 
 property, Meredith Hall, their usual residence. This, it 
 
 need scarcely be told, though, as Jack truly said, it had 
 
 been let for a term of years, was only so let at the 
 
 option of the owner, redeemable at a trifling sacrifice. 
 
 The town-house was not repurchased; and, at Mrs. 
 
 Meredith's request, no other was sought for. A furnished 
 
 one was hired for the two months they annually spent 
 
 in London ; and, when the time drew near to revisit Ap 
 
 Swilly, Mrs. Meredith was the most impatient of the two 
 
 to see friends that had rendered themselves so dear to her. 
 
 At he head of these stood the worthy rector's family. 
 
410 IMPERTURBABLE JACK. 
 
 " To-morrow," said Mrs. Meredith playfully, *^ we 
 shall see those dear friends, and tlie spot that restored 
 me to ray husband's heart, and rendered me the happy, 
 happy wife I now am." 
 
 In narrating this portion of Mr. and Mrs. Meredith's 
 life, I have merely used the plain and simple language 
 required for such a purpose. Glowing and descriptive 
 expression I leave to the novelist, quite satisfied if the 
 words I have used may " pohit a moral," though not 
 " adorn a tale." 
 
 THE END. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Pagb 
 
 The Field AND THE Turf . . ... .. .. 1 
 
 Hunting men and tradesmen compared. . . . 3 
 
 Having an eye to cheapness in horse-keep . . . . 4 
 
 My aunt .... • . • • • • ^ 
 
 Collections of articles of virt^ and a stud . . . . 6 
 
 Racing men and hunting men. . . . . . 9 
 
 Betting, motives for .. .. .. .. ^0 
 
 The player on the turf, and the player on the stage 1 1 
 
 SroETiNG AND ITS Patrons. . .. .. .. 15 
 
 Patrons . . . . . . . • - • 1 ^ 
 
 Popularity, mistaken ideas of . . . . . . 1^ 
 
 A prompt, yet just opinion . . . . . . 21 
 
 Low habits and low technicalities . . . . . . 24 
 
 Nimrod as an author . . . . . . 26 
 
 The foxhunter of a sort, and that a bad one. . . . 28 
 
 "What We are now Doing . . . . . . 31 
 
 Dr. Johnson's taste in music . . . . . . ilf. 
 
 Genius genuine, Saiu Chifney's . . . . 33 
 
 Pedigrees of hounds, and pedigrees of men . . 34 
 
 Steeple-chasing, what we are doing in . . . . 39 
 
 Eastern and English horses, trial between them . . 43 
 
 The Time O'Day . . . . . . • . 44 
 
 Fashion . . . . . . • • . . 48 
 
412 INDEX. 
 
 Page 
 
 Hunting- coats and Leicestershire . . . . 49 
 
 Howth and his horses, the Author's hint to him . . 52 
 
 Nobles and gentlemen as huntsmen . . . , 53 
 
 Steeple-chases, gentlemen riding them . . . . 56 
 
 Hounds .. .. .. ,. .. 58 
 
 Colour, original, of blood hounds ., ,. .. 61 
 
 Her Majesty's hounds, improvement in . . . . 62 
 
 Foxhounds, originally mongrels . . . . . . 64 
 
 Foxhounds, their characteristics . . . . 66 
 
 The harrier and beagle . , . . . . . . 69 
 
 Hare hunters, different styles of . . . . ib. 
 
 Southern hound, anecdote of . . . . . . 72 
 
 HUNTEKS AND HUNTING Men] 
 
 Coaches and railroads 
 
 Worcester, Marquis of 
 
 George the Third, a truly English monarch . . 
 
 Subscription pack, qualities of . . 
 
 Ministers and hoimds compared 
 
 Dick Knight's leap . . 
 
 Hunting men, " slow" and " fast". . 
 
 Essex hunters and Leicestershire flyers. . 
 
 74 
 
 ib. 
 75 
 78 
 80 
 81 
 83 
 86 
 88 
 
 Nobs and- Snobs . . . . . . . . . . 91 
 
 Snob, the origin of the term . . . . . . 92 
 
 A friend and a bottle, their effects . . . . . . 96 
 
 Railroads, their effects as relates^to " fields " . . 100 
 
 Nobs in general , . . . . . . . 102 
 
 Nobs in sporting . . . . . . . . 103 
 
 Nobs, tvvo_of different grades . . . . . 104 
 
 The Season . . . . . . . . . . 106 
 
 April, the month of . . . . . . . . 1 09 
 
 Oxford pony match, the Author's opinion on . . 113 
 
 London and the country, observations on , . . . 114 
 
 Dinner-table, a, in '56 . . . . . . 118 
 
 Parliament, an honest confession as to the motives to 
 
 get in . . . . . . . . . . 1 20 
 
 Dinner party, a queer one . . . . . . 1 22 
 
INDEX. 
 
 413 
 
 Page 
 
 Going THE Whole Hoo .. .. •• .. i 
 
 Levelling, English and American ideas on the subject 126 
 
 Exhibition, the Grand 
 
 131 
 
 List keepers 
 
 134 
 Honour . . 
 
 Tips, observations on .. •• •• . . i.o 
 
 Amatetjrs AND Professionals .. 
 
 A gentleman jock .. •• •• .. i'±«-' 
 
 Welter cup, a ,. .. •• •• ^'*^ 
 
 Amateur and professional huntsmen . . • • 1^9 
 
 Huntsmen, qualifications necessary for . . . . 1^0 
 
 First whip, necessary qualifications for . ,,, •• ^^^ 
 
 Huntsmen, amateur .. .. •• ^^'^ 
 
 Red Coats AND Silk Jackets .. .. •• 1^8 
 
 Authors and critics . . . . . • • • *^* 
 
 Anecdote of a whipper-in . . . • • • 1^0 
 
 Anecdote of an Irishman .. .. <-•• 161 
 
 Shy riders . . . . . . • • • • ^"^ 
 
 Foxhimters and jockies, different habits of . . 166 
 
 Trainers . . . • • • • • . . to. 
 
 Racing, its benefits to others . . .. •• 171 
 
 Hints ON Coachmanship .. .. •• ..175 
 
 Mr. Augustus Horatio's origin and debut . . 176 
 
 Driving whip, an awkward appendage to some hands . . 1 83 
 
 How to astonish the yokels . . . . . . 185 
 
 Mr. Augustus Horatio finds driving four horses no joke 188 
 
 The Monarch OF THE Woods .. .. .- 190 
 
 Sporting Magazine, its ubiquity . . . . . . ib. 
 
 Anecdote of Steelyard the butcher and Dick the huntsman ib. 
 
 Anecdote of a terrier, stag, and the Author . . 193 
 
 Stag, the, his powers of leaping . . . . . . 196 
 
 Stag, the, his powers of speed . . . . 197 
 
 Deer kept for hunting . . . . • • • • 203 
 
414 INDEX. 
 
 ~ Paoe 
 
 The Ruling Passion . . . . . . . . 206 
 
 Anecdote of Tom Oldaker and the Author . , . . 207 
 
 Anecdote of Madcap and the Author . . . . 211 
 
 Madcap, further particulars of . . . . . . 218 
 
 A Welsh welcome . . . . . . . . 221 
 
 Doing the Natites . . . . . . . . 223 
 
 A visit to the country . . . . . . 224 
 
 A character . . . . . . . . 226 
 
 Hopetown's arrival at his friend's .. .. 2 29 
 
 Herbert, Mr., welcomes Hopetown . , . . , 230 
 
 Hopetown's characteristics as a sportsman . . 231 
 
 Hopetown's horses arrive . . . . . . 233 
 
 A morning's shooting . . ... . . 236 
 
 How to sell a pointer . . . . . . . . 237 
 
 How to sell a Manton . . . . . . 238 
 
 A day's hunting, making the most of it . . . . ib. 
 
 A race . . . . . . . . . 240 
 
 Hopetown makes a Dr. and Cr. account for himself . . 241 
 
 Dare Devils . . .. .. .. .. 243 
 
 A family party . . 
 
 " He. came, he went, like the simoom' 
 
 An unexpected visitor 
 
 A steeple chase 
 
 Second age 
 
 A sporting dinner . . 
 
 Cover side 
 
 A road in England . . 
 
 Kate's farewell. . 
 
 244 
 245 
 
 247 
 250 
 252 
 255 
 256 
 257 
 259 
 
 The Ring . . . . . . • . • • 260 
 
 Patrons . . . . . . • • • • 262 
 
 Pony carriages . . . . . • • • 268 
 
 The green curricle . . • • 
 
 ib. 
 
 274 
 
 Pigeon Shooting 
 
 Matches . . . . . • • • • • 277 
 
 Modus operandi of pigeon shooting . . . . 279 
 
INDEX. 
 
 415 
 
 Page 
 
 Knowing What We Want . . • . • • 288 
 
 Wanting a horse . . . . . . • • 296 
 
 One of the right sort . . . . . . • • 298 
 
 Persons who have got what they wanted 
 
 300 
 
 On Choice OF Country .. .. •• •• 304 
 
 Don't ride a grey . . . . . . • • 306 
 
 Horsemen, real and pretended ^ . . . . . . 309 
 
 Fast men . . . . .. • . • • 310 
 
 A Leicestershire man in Sussex . . . . . • 315 
 
 The Essex doctor .. .. .. •• 317 
 
 The Golden Ball. . .. .. -. •■ 322 
 
 Pope's tree . . . . . . • • 323 
 
 Dominick Tighe . . . . . . . . 324 
 
 Vyse, Captain . . . . • . • • 326 
 
 Shaw, Mr. . . . . . . • . • • 327 
 
 Hewitt, Mr. . . . . . • • • *^- 
 
 Hounds, the Queen's . . . . . . • • 335 
 
 The Menagerie .. .. .. •• 338 
 
 Miss Johns . . . . . . • - • • 342 
 
 An arrival. . . . . . • • • • 345 
 
 The reunion . . • . . . • • • • 346 
 
 Buying a house . . . . . • ■ • 353 
 
 Mr. Wombwell introduced . . . . • • 354 
 
 The Prize King .. •• •• •• 357 
 
 A dinner . . . . . . • ■ • • 360 
 
 Feelings as regard honour . . . . . . 355 
 
 Feelings of the soldier . . . . . . • • 368 
 
 Imperturbable Jack .. .. .. •• 373 
 
 A breakfast discussion . . . . . . . . ib. 
 
 Jack's origin . . . . • • • • 376 
 
 A queer pupil . . . . . . • . . . ?6. 
 
 A cool customer . . . . . . • . 378 
 
 A good escape. . . . . . . ^ • - 382 
 
416 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 
 
 
 Page 
 
 Jack falls in love 
 
 
 • • • 
 
 383 
 
 A surprise 
 
 • • 
 
 . . 
 
 ..391 
 
 The dinner and party 
 
 
 • f ■ 
 
 393 
 
 Astonishing a lady 
 
 • • 
 
 ■ • 
 
 ... 395 
 
 A foreign confidante 
 
 
 • • • 
 
 398 
 
 The departure , . 
 
 • • 
 
 • • 
 
 ..399 
 
 The arrival 
 
 
 • • • 
 
 401 
 
 Mrs. Pearson's self intr 
 
 eduction . . 
 
 . . 405 
 
 Diplomacy. . 
 
 
 • • ■ 
 
 407 
 
 The reconciliation 
 
 • • 
 
 • • 
 
 .408 
 
 ERRATUM. 
 In page 107, for drive read dare. 
 
 J. BILLING, IfllTNTER AND STEREOTYPEB, GtTILDPORD, SUBBBT. 
 
Webster Fimily Library of Veterinary Medicine 
 Cummings School of Veterinary Medicine at 
 Tufts University 
 200 Westboro Road 
 North Grafton, MA 01536 
 

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