UC-NRLF 
 

 
 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 University of California. 
 
 Class 
 
 
 
 
 
 i 
 
HAWBUCK GEANGE. 
 
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 ^^■^^^mo/€ U' 
 
 '■/(/y/C- ^f':^ • ^ 6'iU^ 
 
u 
 
 Hawbuck Grange:" 
 
 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF 
 THOMAS SCOTT, ESQ. 
 
 BY THE 
 
 AUTHOR OF "HANDLEY CROSS," "SPONGE'S SPORTING 
 TOUR," ETC., ETC. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY PHIZ. 
 
 LONDON : 
 BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., 8, 9, 10, BOUVERIE ST. 
 

 ^I] 
 
 LONDON : 
 BEADBURY, A.GNEW, & CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. 
 

 PKEFACE. 
 
 All we have got to say in the way of a preface 
 to this work is, that our friend Tom Scott, seeing 
 his Adventures advertised as the sporting adven- 
 tures of "Thomas Scott, Esquire," wrote to us to 
 say that he calls himself Mister — Mr. Thomas 
 Scott, and that he has " Thomas Scott, Farmer, 
 Hawbuck Grange," in honest parliamentary-sized 
 letters, without flourish or eye-mystifying gewgaw, 
 on the back of his dog-cart, as any one who likes to 
 inspect it may see. 
 
 London, October, 1847. 
 
 214508 
 
CONTENTS, 
 
 PACK 
 
 Chap. I. — Cub-huxting 1 
 
 II,— The Goose axd Dumpling Huxt .... 15 
 
 III.— A Choker CO 
 
 IV.— A Cheeeer 72 
 
 V. — Lord Lionel Lazytongs 8G 
 
 VI. — The Goldteap Arms 120 
 
 VII.— The Goldtrap Arms ; or, Trotting him out . 133 
 
 VIII.— The Stout-as-Steel Hounds 1.50 
 
 IX.— Mr. Jenkins Jones 1(;5 
 
 X. — Homeward Bound 178 
 
 XL— The Doubtful Day 192 
 
 XII.— The Bad Meet 228 
 
 XI II.— The Blank Day 25-1 
 
 XIV.— The Blank Day (continued) . . . .272 
 
 XV.— The Season 1846-7 293 
 
 XVI.— The Morning Meet 303 
 
ENGRAVINGS ON STEEL. 
 
 Hawbuck Grange as seen from the South . Frontispiece. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Hold Haed ! 39 
 
 Lord Lionel discourses on hare hunting . . . , 96 
 
 Cake and the Cutlets 132 
 
 Who-hoop ! 166 
 
 Muff refuses the Brush 226 
 
 Captain Easher demonstrating 253 
 
 Ware Sheep ! Ware Sheep ! 323 
 
HAWBUCK GRANGE, 
 
 ETC. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CUB-HUNTING. 
 
 " Sport in fox-hunting cannot be said to begin before October, 
 "but in the two preceding months a pack is either made or marred." 
 — Beckford. 
 
 " It was the horn I hecard," said Scott, as the 
 old mare again cocked her ears to the wind. "It 
 was the horn I heard, as I came over iVddiug- 
 ton Hill, though the country looks so green and 
 gay that I never thought of such a thing as 
 hunting." 
 
 This exclamation was elicited as, on a fine bright 
 September day, a month in which, according to 
 the usual course of English summers, harvest 
 operations would be about commencing in many 
 parts, Mr. Thomas Scott the hero of this work, 
 whose "pedigree and performances" must work 
 themselves out as we proceed, was taking a cpiet 
 ride " across country " to hear how things were 
 going on at the kennel. 
 
2 CUB-HUNTING. 
 
 The kennel is a grand summer lounge. One 
 is sure to fall in with somebody to talk to ; either 
 the huntsman ingTatiating himself with his entry, 
 the whip sweeping the yards, or the feeder filling 
 his boiler or scalding his troughs. It is pri- 
 vileged easiness — not idleness, but easiness- — for 
 tlie huntsman can " make off" a pup quite as well 
 in the presence of a stranger as when alone, and 
 the whip is not likely to be put off his work by 
 answering "interrogatories," as our friend Big- 
 bag of tlie Chancery bar calls his questions, nor 
 the boiler turned from his purpose by listening 
 to our rigmarole. Therefore a man goes to the 
 kennel with the certainty of a smiling reception 
 and a gossip, instead of a gruff " Well, what do 
 you want ? " or the "I'm particularly busy 
 just now," of the man who, seeing one's ap- 
 proach from his window, mutters to himself, 
 "Here's that confounded Tom Scott coming to 
 bother me with his infernal nonsense. I wish he 
 
 was . Ah, Tom, my dear fellow, how are 
 
 you?" &c. 
 
 Tom was riding his favourite old roan mare, 
 that has carried him safely for ten good seasons, 
 and who knows just as well what she goes out 
 for as he does. She had gone stepping along, 
 with the snafHe bridle rein dangling carelessly on 
 her neck, when, on reaching the summit of the 
 aforementioned hill, she suddenly pricked her ears, 
 giving certain indications of gaiety quite incom- 
 
CUB-HUNTING. S 
 
 patible with the sober steadiness of pace she had 
 been pursuing. 
 
 Mr. Scott no more thought of hearing the liorn in 
 September than he did of picking gooseberries at 
 Christmas, or of having a snowball romp in August. 
 Indeed, how should he ? Take the summer or no 
 summer of 1845 as a " precedent," as Bigbag would 
 say, and what was he doing in September ? Shear- 
 ing a bit of barley — -beginning with the wheat, 
 perhaps and the " tartars " standing so ridiculously 
 green as to look for all the world like next year's 
 crop. The summers of 1845 and 1846 were not 
 in the least like the same thing, neither were the 
 winters. Some masters hardly got any cub-hunting 
 at all in 1845, so late and protracted was the har- 
 vest. But, when they did begin hunting, what a 
 season they had ! Almost a surfeit — to the short 
 stud ones, certainly a surfeit. We had not had 
 such an early season as the one of 1846, since 
 " Plenipo's " year, when we remember seeing a buck 
 ride up Doncaster High-street in scarlet and boots 
 on the Leger day. The summer was a roaster ; but 
 what a winter followed! That, however, we will 
 deal with as we go on. 
 
 Well, old Barbara was right. At a second blast, 
 her small pointed ears almost touched, and she 
 stood stock still. The spot she chose was worthy 
 the eye of a painter. It was the angle of a road, 
 commanding as well the deep-ribbed Gothic arches 
 of an old stone bridge, as the bend of the rapid 
 
4 CUB-HUNTING. 
 
 river above, whose rocky sides were fringed witli 
 stately trees of various sorts, in all the motley 
 beauty of autumnal leaf. The hounds were out. 
 Mr. Scott had not stood many seconds, ere the well- 
 known " Get away ! " of the whip, on the one side, 
 and the horn of the huntsman on the other, pro- 
 claimed that they had drawn the banks. 
 
 Presently he saw a scarlet — a purple, rather — 
 then another, and shortly after a small cavalcade, 
 among which he distinctly recognised the flaunting 
 of a couple of habits, emerged from the wooded 
 water-side and made for the grass field above. 
 
 The horn again twanged, and the whips cracked 
 loud and heavily on the clear crisp atmosphere, 
 sounding over the far country like guns. 
 
 "I'm in luck," said Mr. Scott, pretending to 
 tickle old Barbara's sides with his spurless shoot- 
 inf^ shoe-heel. The old mare, however, wanted 
 no persuasion. Having satisfied herself what was 
 going on, she forthwith gathered herself together, 
 and began showing her big black knees below her 
 nose, as she trotted away in the line. 
 
 She knew the way as well as Scott did — in at 
 the bridle-gate by Squire Kamrod's keeper's, across 
 the lawn, through the brook, and at the back of 
 Mr. Hacker's farm buildings, then a long trot along 
 the banks, and another bridle-gate at the top lets 
 her into the field where the hounds were. She had 
 often gone that line, but never so early in the 
 year — at least never for the purpose of hunting. 
 
CUB-HUNTING. 6 
 
 Wc have often doubted whether masters of 
 hounds like seeing people out cub-hunting or not, 
 and we have about settled the question in our 
 own mind as follows, viz. that huntsmen or masters 
 who go out early — at dny-break, for instance — 
 are glad to see people, l)ecause they are sure that 
 nonet but sportsmen will come ; whereas the mid- 
 day or afternoon performance favours all the idle, 
 yammering, bothersome, chance-medley customers 
 of the country. 
 
 Take to-day's field as a sample. There were the 
 Misses Ogleby, beautiful girls, and full of chatter ; 
 and in their train the great Mr. Tarquinius Muff, 
 dressed like a dancing-master, and his brother 
 Blatheremskite Muff, who come after the girls 
 instead of after the hounds. Then there was little 
 Dr. Podgers, the union doctor, on his black pony, 
 who fell in with the hounds at Gunton Gate, and 
 is deludinor himself into the idea that he is huntino- • 
 Drippinghead, the butcher's boy, with his greasy 
 blue coat, and apron tucked round his waist, wlio 
 is stealing his hour to the detriment of his unfor- 
 tunate nag, Avho will have to gallop all the way 
 home ; an unknown gentleman in gambadoes, with 
 an umbrella under his arm ; Tom Muzroll, the 
 horsebreaker, who is instructing a four-year-old at 
 the expense of the pack ; and two weed-riding, 
 be-trousered, be- whiskered young gentlemen from 
 the neighbouring town of Scrapetin, who just may 
 be anything or anybody. 
 
6 CUB-HUNTINCx. 
 
 But Scott approaches the field. Hark to old MufF ! 
 Tarquinius, that's to say. "Halloo, Mr. Scott!'' 
 exclaims he, with all the consequence of the great 
 Mr. O'Toole, the toast-master himself. " Halloo, 
 Mr. Scott, you are getting slack in your old age. 
 What ! only coming out now ! You've lost the most 
 beautiful thing that ever was seen — found half-a- 
 dozen most heautiiul foxes all huddled together, 
 and had the most charming hunt that can possibly 
 be imagined. Hadn't we, ]\Iiss Amelia ? " asks he, 
 appealing to the younger of the sisters. 
 
 " dear ! tliuch a delightful hunt ! " lisps the 
 beauty, repressing her jet black hair beneath her 
 smart black Malay cock-feathered hat. " My pony 
 took thuch a jump ! " added she, raising herself up 
 in the saddle, as if to show how it was done, 
 sousing down an uncommonly neat embonpoint 
 figure. 
 
 Muff is Scott's abomination. Had he ever thought 
 of meeting him, he w^ould have gone "t'other 
 way." MufF knows he despises him, and calls him 
 a "humbug," but cannot resist the opportunity of 
 showing off before the ladies by pretending to be 
 a great sportsman. They don't know that he 
 isn't, and he thinks by carrying matters with a 
 high hand to prevent Scott exposing him. 
 
 Just as Scott had undergone the Mufis, and made 
 his salutations to the " ladies," who received him 
 in the sort of way young ladies generally receive 
 incorrigible fox-hunting, not particularly young or 
 
CUB-HUNTING. 7 
 
 overgilt bachelors — ^just as Scott had undergone 
 and performed all this we say, Ai-rogant, who hatl 
 been making the banks echo with her name, at last 
 condescended to creep through the wood-fence, and 
 make for the pack in the hurried way peculiar to 
 disobedient hounds with an irate whipper-in at 
 their sterns. 
 
 " Get to him, Arrogant ! " screamed Joe, the 
 second whip, galloping and cracking his whip, as 
 though he would cut her in two. 
 
 Mr. Neville, who had been sitting patiently wait- 
 ing Arrogant' s appearance, to say a few words to the 
 juvenile delinquent, and parrying Blatheremskite 
 Muff's importunities to know when he would begin 
 " advertising," was just turning his horse to move 
 on when Mr. Scott's appearance attracted his 
 attention. 
 
 " Ah, Tom, my boy ! " exclaimed he, his hand- 
 some face brightening up with a smile, " / ivas just 
 thinking of you. T was just looking at that ugly 
 turnstile, and thinking of the confounded cropper 
 you got over it on the first day of the season. By 
 Jove that's twenty years since," added he, with a 
 shake of the head, and a significant glance of his 
 bright eye. 
 
 ''Three and ttventy, Sir," repHed Tom, for so we 
 will take the liberty of calling him too. 
 
 "By Jove, you're right," rejoined Mr. Neville. 
 *' Quite right, I do declare," with an emphasis, and a 
 dig of his hunting-whip end on his thigh. " It 
 
8 CUB-HUNTING. 
 
 was the fifteenth season of my hunting the country, 
 and now Fm in my thirty- eighth — time files.'' 
 
 " It passes lightly over you, Sir, though," observed 
 Tom. 
 
 "Middling," replied he, cheerfully. " Middhng 
 — can't complain. AVhat do you think of the young 
 hounds ? That's a nice lot," said he, pointing to 
 some yellow pied ones who came frisking forward 
 as he called them by name ; " Marksman ! Merlin ! 
 Messmate ! Midnight I Myrtle ! by old Marmion out 
 of Marcia," added he, his eyes sparkling as he looked 
 at them. *' Marmion was by Sir Bellingham Gra- 
 ham's Marmion, you know ; and Marcia was by 
 Lord Lonsdale's Monarch out of Modish ; " and so 
 he went on through his entry. 
 
 Mr. Neville is one of the last of the old school 
 of sportsmen ; of men who made fox-hunting their 
 study, instead of mixing it up with half-a-dozen 
 other pursuits. Everything connected with his es- 
 tablishment [is ordered with the regularity of the 
 army, and conducted with the precision of a regi- 
 ment. Cub-hunting : — Undress ; men in hats, last 
 year's coats, boots, breeches, and whips, riding, 
 exercising horses ; master in a sort of costume com- 
 bining the varieties of the shooter, the hare-hunter, 
 and the farmer — white hat, green cut-away, striped 
 cravat and waistcoat, drab breeches, with cloth caps 
 to his boots, and a pair of heavy-looking spurs ; 
 horse, a hack ; saddle and bridle, last year's ones, 
 whip ditto ; and there's the cub-hunting turn-out. 
 
CUB-HUNTING. 
 
 Year after year has seen liim in the same ; and 
 so rapidly have they passed, that the first time 
 appears but as last year. Nor has the liand of 
 time marked its lapse more strongly on his 
 person. His hair may be a shade greyer, whiter 
 rather ; but his figure retains its pristine lightness 
 and neatness, he sits well into his saddle, and 
 looks like what he is — a gentleman and a sports- 
 man. How unlike the Muffs Avith their ringlets, 
 and chains, and brooches, and gew-gaws — -their 
 registered paletots, satin cravats, white leather 
 trousers, and varnished, heel-spurred boots ! They 
 look more like Hyde Park than the hunting-field. 
 
 " This is our first day," observed the squire. 
 " Indeed, I didn't think of going ; but it was so 
 fine, and the Misses Ogleby persuaded me." 
 
 The fact was, the Muffs had bothered him so that 
 he went to the kennel to get rid of them ; and find- 
 ing they followed, he took out the hounds. " We 
 killed a cub in Clifton Dean," continued he ; " and 
 found a litter in the banks, and now we are going 
 to Cold-brook Gorse : we've plenty of foxes, and 
 there is a litter there wants disturbing." So saying 
 he gave the signal to old Ben, the huntsman, who 
 forthwith tickled his nag in the flank, and, preceded 
 by Tom, the whip, took a line of bridle gates for 
 Cold-brook Gorse. 
 
 The country was not quite clear of corn ; indeed, 
 they came upon a field of oats they were sliearing, 
 across a corner of which the route lay. 
 
10 CUB-HUNTING. 
 
 " Come OD, Sir — come on, Sir ! " cried the farmer, 
 from amidst his workpeople, seeing the squire was 
 turning away to avoid the damage of the hounds 
 through tlie standing corn. " You're quite wel- 
 come, Sir ! — you're quite welcome, Sir ! " repeated 
 he, as he .held open the gate into the field. This 
 put the horsemen into single file ; and as they 
 jogged on, Tom thus began to ruminate :- — 
 
 " Cub-hunting is only poor sport to any but the 
 immediately interested," said he. " It resembles 
 the tunino' of the instruments for a orrand let off of 
 a concert, all of which is very right, necessary, 
 and proper, but a sort of thing that the public 
 care very little to hear. To the master, however, 
 it is everything. It is the rehearsal of the per- 
 formance of the season, and upon which much of 
 his credit and comfort depends. Still it has more 
 the air of the foreign chasse about it than the 
 go-along clear-the-stage devil-take-the-hindmost- 
 sort of affjiir of an English fox-hunt. It is like 
 a play, Avith the principal character omitted — a 
 kill without a run, or the intention of a run." 
 
 Despite the sneer and smile of contempt it may 
 raise on the features of our friends, we will candidly 
 state that we agree with Mr. Scott and are not cub- 
 hunters. We have no taste for killing foxes " while 
 they suck," as the old huntsman said to the young 
 one, who was boasting of the number of noses he 
 reckoned on the kennel door. 
 
 Cub-hunting is like the noise and prattle of 
 
CUB-HUNTING. 11 
 
 children, all very delightful to the parents, but 
 very uninteresting to strangers. If you get up in 
 the middle of the night to start with the light, 
 though you avoid the Muffs, you have not the 
 excitement tliat attends the same performance in 
 the spring of the year, when you go to drag up to 
 a wild flying fox. In the latter case, you have 
 the hopes of a gallant run over a boundless extent 
 of country, while, with the cubs, it is all up and 
 down, backwards and forwards, heading and tally- 
 hoing back. Hunting is hunting, no doubt, and 
 the cry of hounds is very delightful — far better 
 than Jullien's or any other body's band — and the 
 cry of hounds is most beautiful in a w^ood, but a 
 great part of the joyful excitement is lost by the 
 knowledge that the folding dying notes outside, so 
 quickly following " Tally-ho ! a-w-a-y ! " will not 
 be heard. " Tally-ho I back ! Tally-ho ! back ! " is 
 only a poor cry. 
 
 In short, cub-hunting is neither one thing 
 nor another, to any one save the master and his 
 men. There is neither the joyous wide-awake 
 uncertainty and excitement peculiar to the real 
 thing, nor the quiet, staid, take-it-easy, game-at- 
 chess-sort of labyrinth unwinding of hare-hunting. 
 Cub-hunting is good for the ladies and men like 
 the Muffs, who come out for appetites and to kill 
 time. They can take up positions on hills and 
 view commanding spots, join the chiding of hounds 
 with the charms of the landscape, and trot away 
 
12 CUB-HUNTING. 
 
 when they have had enough of either ; but the man 
 who wants his gallop, and to see hounds work, had 
 better take a turn with the harriers. It is bad 
 enough laming a horse with harriers at the begin- 
 ning of the season, but infinitely worse stubbing 
 or staking one in cub-hunting. Moreover, the 
 ground is generally so desperately hard in autumn, 
 that it shakes and shatters the often not over 
 sound legs and feet of the old hunter. Many a 
 horse is perfectly sound in November, that makes a 
 very pottering shamble of it over the hard ground 
 in September or October. But we are only stating 
 what everybody knows. 
 
 The hounds soon arrived at Cold-brook Gorse ; 
 and a fine, large, close, healthy cover it was. Bush 
 swelled above bush, like undulations of the sea, or 
 like cauliflower heads ; and the rising ground of 
 the north side commanded a view of the whole. 
 A belt of now bright yellow horse-chestnuts, broken, 
 weather-beaten, and bent, formed a sort of shelter 
 on that side. There were eight or ten acres of it 
 altogether, and we hold that one cover of eiorht or 
 ten acres is worth eight or ten covers of two or 
 three acres. 
 
 The low end we should add was bounded by 
 Cold-brook, a very uninviting, sedgy, rotten-banked 
 looking burn, of great reputed coldness of water, as 
 frequently tested in the course of each season. 
 
 The hounds were soon in the cover. 
 
 The compact gorse began to shake, and in less 
 
CUB-HtJNTING. 13 
 
 than two minutes the place was alive with their 
 melody. 
 
 They had found no end of foxes ! The scared 
 blackbirds flew in all directions ; rabbits popped in 
 and out ; and every now and then a great golden- 
 throppled cock-pheasant or dusky-coloured hen rose 
 with boisterous clamour, as if furiously indignant 
 at such unwonted intrusion. 
 
 Up and down, and round about, the whips rode, 
 hooping, and hallooing, and cracking their whips ; 
 but it is weary work hallooing to hounds with a 
 
 good scent in a close gorse. 
 
 * * * * # 
 
 At last a cub slipped out at the low corner with 
 Marksman, Merlin, and Midnioht after him. 
 
 "Oh! pray turn those hounds, Mr. Muff!" hal- 
 looed ^Ir. Neville from the junction of the rides in 
 the centre of the gorse. 
 
 Tarquinius i\luff, when thus appealed to, was in 
 the middle of a long dissertation on shirt frills, on 
 which he particularly prides himself, being generally 
 set off in front like a pouter pigeon ; and thinking 
 the appeal to him for assistance complimentary to 
 his sporting skill, he immediately gathered his 
 horse together, and with a touch of his large brass 
 heel spurs, proceeded to show off before the 
 ladies by giving chase to the fugitives. 
 
 The horse seemed to like the fun, and went off 
 so resolutely that JNluff never saw the brook until 
 just in time to pull the horse in, which he did 
 
14 CUB-HUNTING. 
 
 most skilfully, blobbing right over head in the 
 middle of it ! 
 
 We are ashamed to say the ladies laughed, as 
 their dripping friend came spluttering ashore. 
 
 AVith that sorry exploit we will conclude Tom 
 Scott's first day of a bad season. 
 
CHAPTER ir. 
 
 THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 
 
 " Harriers, to be yood, like all other hounds, must be kept to their 
 own game ; if you run fox with them, you spoil them ; hounds 
 cannot be perfect unless used to one scent and one style of hunting. 
 Harriers run fox in so different a style from hare, that it is of great 
 disservice to them when they return to hare again ; it makes them 
 wild, and teaches them to skirt. The high scent which a fox leaves, 
 the straiglitness of his running, the eagerness of the pursuit, and the 
 noise that generally accom[tanies it, all contribute to spoil harriers." 
 — Beckpord. 
 
 Mr. Scott was debating whether to go to Holbrook 
 Fau', or take his dogs and gun and stroll up to 
 the ten-acre piece they were draining, when the 
 short harsh bark of Snap at the door, and the clink 
 of the German catch of the side gate, announced 
 somebody coming. 
 
 It was Joe Stumps, IVIr. Trumper of Jolly-rise's 
 man, whose trot and bustling air, with the por- 
 tentous display of a ponderous hunting- whip, be- 
 spoke no common errand. 
 
 Tom went to the porch to meet him — 
 
 " Meazster's compliments and hooundes be out," 
 said Joe, with which laconic speech he was turning 
 his horse's head to go away without deigning to 
 say where " hooundes " were, 
 
 " Where are theij, Joe ?" hallooed Scott. 
 
16 THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 
 
 " Stockencliurcli Hill, to he sur-e ! " replied Joe, as 
 if it Avas not possible for them to be anywhere else. 
 The man of few words then trotted away, leaving 
 Tom in contemplation of his enormous disk and the 
 hind quarters of his short-legged, well-actioned bay 
 dray-horse-looking nag, whose sides were covered 
 with the flowing laps of Joe's green frock coat. 
 
 Mr. Trumper took Stumps on account of his silent 
 qualities (a great recommendation fou harriers), a 
 silence nearly reduced to muteness, by Joe's leaving 
 out as many words in the few sentences he does 
 utter as he possibly can, according to the approved 
 fashion of his native wolds. In other respects he 
 is very like the hare-hunter — heavy, patient, 'cute, 
 and cunning, a good rider for a heavy man, careful 
 of his horse and chary of damage. He is perfectly 
 satisfied that there is not a more important per- 
 sonage under the sun than his master, and that he 
 himself is the next greatest man going. 
 
 Mr. Scott, availing himself of Mr. Trumper's 
 politeness, enables us to introduce the hunt to our 
 readers. 
 
 There is one advantage of harriers — you always 
 know where to find them, and can cut in for a game 
 at romps, just as a dowager does for a hand at whist. 
 
 Sleekpow the groom had anticipated Scott's 
 movements; for when he went to the stable, he 
 found the " Wilkinson and Kid " astride of the hay 
 crib, and the well-polished bridle hanging on the 
 hook between the stalls. 
 
THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 17 
 
 ** Just put the saddle on old Barbara," said Tom, 
 in the negligee sort of way that may mean any- 
 thing — anything, at least, except fox-hunting. 
 
 " Hare-hunting certainly ought not to be made a 
 business of. It should just be taken wlien's one's in 
 the humour." Nevertheless, we don't subscribe to 
 Beckford's doctrine — that a ride to the sixth mile- 
 stone and back would be as good as hare-hunting ; 
 for we think, taken quietly, that hare-hunting is 
 the next best sport to fox-hunting. But to make 
 hare-hunting enjoyable a man should live in a good 
 country for it — in a country where he can just 
 turn out within a mile or two of home, and 
 not have to trash away to a distant one. The 
 hounds, too, should be harriers, and not dwarf fox- 
 hounds, that burst a hare in ten minutes where 
 there is anything like a scent. A vicious desire 
 for speed, and of making one thing serve two 
 purposes, has gone far to annihilate the old, respec- 
 table, slow, and steady " well-hunted good dogs ! " 
 — harrier packs of former days. Instead of the 
 " squire," or a few substantial farmers, keeping their 
 ten or twelve couple of harriers, we have a sort of 
 bastard fox-hunt clubs that run amuck at every- 
 thing, except the game licence. 
 
 The two sports — hare-hunting and fox-hunting 
 — do not differ more in their nature than the 
 relative expenses of each differ. 
 
 Hare-hunting requires neither state, machinery, 
 nor preparation; nobody expects to see anything 
 
18 THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 
 
 but a lot of merry-looking little animals wriggling 
 and jumping about, attended, perhaps, by a man 
 on foot with the couples, or an elderly servant 
 on an elderly horse ; but an establishment, calling it- 
 self a fox-hunt, is a very different thing, and raises 
 very different expectations. 
 
 There must be a couple of men at the least, with 
 three or four horses that can both gallop and jump. 
 These two men, and these three or four horses, 
 trifling as they appear upon paper, make a consider- 
 able item at the end of the year ; and if the country 
 is at all hollow, which most countries are fast be- 
 coming, from the quantity of draining going on, 
 the expense of " stopping " alone, comes to as much 
 as the whole annual expense of the merry harriers. 
 Then the promoters have recourse to all sorts of 
 screwing and scraping, applying to members of 
 Parliament, and people who don't hunt, and go 
 running open-mouthed at every chance person that 
 comes out, to support the rickety concern, which is 
 generally a disgrace to fox-hunting, and a nuisance 
 to the country they haunt, not hunt. 
 
 Fox-hunting should be done handsomely! There 
 is something about the noble animal that forbids 
 our treating him slightingly. He should be hunted 
 like a gentleman. What chance have a lot of 
 trencher-fed, milk-fattened, street-scouring beggars 
 with a good high-couraged, clean-feeding, well- 
 conditioned flyer ? None whatever ! The further 
 they go the further they are left behind, till the 
 
THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 19 
 
 lagging sportsmen heave the satisfaction of seeing 
 them struggling in fits, or sinking exhausted in 
 the furrows. Then the talk and noise they make 
 on a kill shows how unusual a thing it is with 
 them. Nothing can be more pitiable than the 
 half-rigged turn out of an ill supported pretension 
 to a fox-hunt. The boosey-looking huntsman 
 (generally the saddler or publican) — the wretched 
 broken-kneed, over- worked leg- weary job horse — 
 the faded half jockey, half huntsman-looking caps 
 — the seedy, misfitting, Holy well-street-looking 
 coats — the unclean boots and filthy breeches — 
 with the lamentable apologies for saddles and 
 bridles. We never see a Tom-and-Jerry-looking 
 " scarlet " without thinking how much more respect- 
 able the wearer would look in black. We never 
 see a country-scouring, fence-flattening field without 
 thinking how much better they w^ould be with a 
 pack of harriers. But to the hunt. 
 
 Mr. Scott reached Stockenchurch Hill just in 
 time to see the delighted Mr. Trumper pick up 
 his hare before the baying pack on the moor-edge 
 side of the country. 
 
 Puss had made a wide circuit of the whole, and 
 was run into a small enclosure, whose crop of 
 oats still stood in stook upon the ground. 
 
 It was a fine view. Three parts of the hill are 
 encircled with fertile pastures and productive corn 
 fields, while the fourth stretches away, far as the 
 t>ye can reach, in undulating and occasionally 
 
 c 2 
 ( UNIVLHt-i 
 
20 THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 
 
 broken moorland ground. The fertile patches 
 irrieatinfr the whole were dotted over with little 
 black-faced sheep, while from the then brown- 
 ins: heather the wild and scared muir-fowl rose 
 in noisy clamour, winging their ways to quieter 
 regions in the distance. 
 
 The day was clear and bright, good both for 
 hearing and seeing, and occasional fitful gleams of 
 sunshine fell upon the distant landscape, lighting 
 up the green patches, or disclosing xocky hill-sides, 
 which, but for the sun, would have been lost in 
 the general dimness of the scene. 
 
 The field was small, none but members of the hunt 
 being out ; indeed, they don't encourage any other, 
 and Mr. Scott looked upon it as no small compliment 
 their asking him. It was composed of Giles Gosling, 
 of Goose Green Farm, who pays tax for three 
 couple of hounds, and, after Mr. Trumper, is the chief 
 supporter of the hunt ; Harry Beanstack, of Eicot ; 
 Michael and Thomas Hobble trot, of Lingfield Green ; 
 Simon Driblets, of Loxley Hill Farm ; his cousin, 
 Ben Bragg, of the Waterdown ; and the chaplain, 
 the Reverend Timothy Goodman, rector of S willing- 
 ford. 
 
 They were all in a similar state of elation 
 to the master ; indeed, Mr. Trumper might be 
 taken as a prototype of the whole, for, making 
 allowance for the difference of size, they were all 
 as like each other as peas. This similarity arose 
 a good deal from the sameness of their costume 
 
THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 21 
 
 and the singularity of its cut — extremely long, 
 loose, bed-gown sort of bottle-green frock-coats, 
 with laps reaching nearly down to their spurs, and 
 great pewter plate-looking buttons set extremely 
 wide apart behind. 
 
 There is nothing makes a person look so queer 
 as an extremely long frock or great-coat ; and our 
 friends making *' Guys " of themselves arising a 
 good deal from a spirit of covetousness — unworthy 
 of the generous pursuit they follow — we trust this 
 mention of their foible may have the effect of rec- 
 tifying it, and of saving the expenditure of much 
 good cloth, which they are always tearing or leaving 
 behind on the fences, or, more j)roperly speaking, 
 gaps. The fact is, the hunt always keep a web of 
 cloth in common, and one man having got his coat a 
 little longer than the others on a former occasion, it 
 set the rest agog, and they have gone on, web after 
 web, stealing a march upon each other, till every 
 man puts on as much sail as ever he can carry. 
 They all turn out in things like dressing-gowns, 
 with huge flapped pockets on the sides, each pocket 
 being capable of carrying a hare. Theu' waistcoats 
 and breeches bear the same affinity — the former 
 small striped toilanettes, the latter large, deep- 
 ribbed, fallow-field looking, patent cords ; and the 
 great mahogany tops were evidently the production 
 of the same hand, and made without regard to 
 *' right or left." Between them and the breeches 
 good warm grey or white lambs'-wool stockings 
 
22 THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 
 
 may he seen. On this day, each man clutched a 
 ponderous iron hamraer-headed whip, that looked 
 for all the world like flails, they, too, having been 
 bought in stock, and apportioned out to them like 
 swords to yeomanry. Their hats are broad-brimmed, 
 dog-haiiy looking things, rather inclining to oval at 
 the crown. 
 
 Living in a retired part of the country, away 
 from towns and even railways, the members of the 
 " Goose and Dumpling Hunt," as they call it, from 
 the members dining off goose and apple puddings 
 at each other s houses after the first day's hunting 
 in each week — the members of the Goose and 
 Dumpling Hunt we say — have fully satisfied them- 
 selves that they are the finest, primest, heartiest 
 cocks in the kingdom, and their hounds the 
 best that ever were seen. 
 
 Indeed, the hounds are as good as can be, and 
 have been in existence nearly forty years, during 
 the whole of which time the greatest care and 
 attention have been paid to their breeding. 
 
 Long and solemn have been the consultations 
 and arguments respecting the crosses, and deep 
 the consideration as to the propriety of introducing 
 fresh blood. 
 
 These have all been faithfully chronicled by the 
 chaplain and secretary, Mr. Goodman, as also the 
 days of meeting and parties composing each dinner. 
 
 The members of the hunt are all real sportsmen, 
 men who love hunting innately, but who take no 
 
THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 23 
 
 pleasure in leaping. Indeed, to tell the truth, 
 since Beanstack broke his collar-bone by landing 
 on a donkey instead of *' terra jirnm," on the far 
 side of an unsurveyed fence, the members have 
 declined " extra risk," as the insurance offices say, 
 and if there isn't a gap where they want to be over, 
 why they make one. 
 
 Some peo2:)le fancy hard riding an indispensable 
 quality for a sportsman ; but we believe, if we were 
 to canvass the sporting world, we should find that 
 the real lovers of hunting are anything but a hard- 
 riding set. Fond of seeing hounds work, they use 
 their horses as a sort of auxiliary to their legs, 
 and having got a good lift across a field, they are 
 all the abler to compete with a hedge, when they 
 come to one, which they feel they would have had to 
 take, even if on foot. 
 
 Our friends of the hunt we are describing are all 
 of this sort. Mr. Trumper, who stands six feet high, 
 and turns the scale on eighteen stone, never pretends 
 to ride over anything. He thinks if his great bay 
 horse Golumpus can carry him handsomely over the 
 heavy, he is entitled to all the ease he can give him 
 at his leaps ; and if in the early part of the season, 
 when the old gaps are not well re-established, or a 
 place has grown over during the summer, Mr. Trum- 
 per never attempts to break them through with his 
 horse, but dismounting, and taldng a bed-gown lap 
 over each arm, he pushes backwards through, and 
 
24 THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 
 
 clears the way for his horse. So the field take it in 
 turns to clear the course for each other. 
 
 We should add that their breeches are all seated 
 with leather, most probably with an eye to these 
 prickly performances. 
 
 The hounds are of a breed now seldom seen — 
 long, low, mealy reddish, whole-coloured hounds, 
 inclining to a brownish grey along the back. They 
 are fine-headed, fine-coated, and fine-sterned animals, 
 with light musical tongues, and power and pace 
 quite equal to, but not an over-match for, the best 
 and wildest of their moor-edge hares. They look 
 like harriers, and are very much of the colour of 
 the hare herself 
 
 Not being great hands at riding, the object of 
 the members of the hunt has been to keep down 
 the pace of the pack, rather than to increase it, 
 and they oftener draft at the head than the tail. 
 Indeed, one of the rules of the hunt is, that no 
 man is to ride over a leap that can by any possi- 
 bility be avoided. When anything in the shape 
 of a poser intervenes, such as Narrowd ell-brook 
 or a moor-edge boundary wall, what craning 
 and holding, and leading over is there. — "Now, 
 Mr. Trumper," says Harry Beanstack, " I'll hold 
 your nag till you get over ; " and Trumper, knowing 
 the impossibility of clearing the brook on foot, 
 just slides down the bank into the water, and 
 wobbles through ; then comes the old nag, who 
 takes it quite naturally, and begins eating as soon 
 
THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 25 
 
 as he lands. Beanstack follows in similar style, 
 and a roar of laughter bursts forth as Giles Gosling 
 disappears under water after a valiant attempt to 
 clear the brook on foot, which checks the ardour 
 of all the rest, who just stump through us j\Ir. 
 Trumper did, trusting to the strength and honesty 
 of their boots for not taking the wet in. 
 
 But we will suppose Mr. Scott joining the hunt. 
 
 " Halloo, Mr. Scott," exclaims Mr. Trumper, who 
 had just paid the last obsequies to poor Puss, who 
 was then nodding her head out of one end of Joe 
 Stumps's hare case ; " Halloo, Mr. Scott, you are 
 half an hour too late', you are half an hour too late! 
 missed the finest thing that ever was seen ! three 
 quarters of an hour with only a slight check at 
 Littleton cross roads, and ran into her in view.'' 
 (It had been a good twenty minutes.) " Didn't 
 Joe tell you where we were ? " inquired he. 
 
 " Oh yes," replied Scott ; " but I waited for my 
 letters, and then came leisurely along, trusting to 
 chance for falling in with you before you found, or 
 in the course of the run." 
 
 "You should never trust to chance with our 
 hounds,'' retoi-ted Trumper, somewhat nettled at 
 the unfortunate speech. "If a thing's worth 
 coming to at all, it's worth coming to in time," 
 with which somewhat irately-delivered remark, 
 he began to hoist himself on to a great sixteen 
 hands horse that looked for all the world like a 
 pony under him. 
 
26 THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 
 
 "It's not often," observed Le, as lie dangled 
 for his stirrup, "that we troul)le you fine fox- 
 hunting gentlemen ; for, to tell you the truth, most 
 of you make far too much noise, and press far 
 too close upon hounds for our taste ; but, as 
 I know you can hold your tongue, and as the 
 Squire hasn't begun advertising yet, I thought I'd 
 just let you know, you know." 
 
 " Much obliged," replied Scott, " much obliged ; 
 you may rely upon it, I won't do any mischief." 
 
 "Ay, but you may do mischief by riding as 
 well as by shouting," observed Trumper, who 
 had had his wheat desperately damaged on a former 
 occasion by some of the flyers. " Your wild fox- 
 hunters are all for cramming and ramminsf where- 
 ever hounds go, without ever considering that, by 
 standing still, p'raps you'll see a deal more of the 
 hunt. But you must just follow me," added he, 
 putting his great horse before Barbara, "and Fll 
 show you what to do." 
 
 "Let's be doing then," added he, slipping a 
 small bugle into his bedgown pocket mouth, which 
 disappeared like a rabbit down a boa constrictor's 
 throat. 
 
 The dismounted heavies then clambered on to 
 their horses, and the now refreshed pack began 
 baying and frolicking with delight, making the 
 bright sunshiny scene merry with their presence. 
 
 Good humour reigning o'er all the currant-jelly 
 mugs with the glorious find and kill, they pro- 
 
THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 27 
 
 ceeded to some fresh ground in tlie neidibourliood 
 that had not been touched upon in the previous 
 run. 
 
 There was no bother or fuss about gathering 
 or restraining the hounds ; they just followed on as 
 they liked ; and first one and then another claimed 
 the admiration of our sportsmen as they passed. 
 
 It was quite clear that our harrier masters were 
 not ashamed of their turn-out, and indeed both 
 hounds, horses, and men had a most substan- 
 tial, yeomanlike, unpretending appearance. The 
 hounds we have already described, and for the 
 horses, we may say that their general stamp was 
 extreme strength and activity on remarkably short 
 legs. They had all square docks, otherwise the 
 ponderous carcases of many of the riders would 
 have made them look more like ponies or cobs 
 than full-sized hunters, which they were. 
 
 Before Scott had finished his mental valuation 
 of the whole, he was interrupted by Mr. Trumper 
 hallooing out to his whip, who was a little behind, 
 " Which way now, Joe ? '"' 
 
 " Bray doikes," replied Joe ; and accordingly the 
 field separated, each man taking his own hedge- 
 row. 
 
 These they began flopping and beating with 
 their flail-like whips, while Trumper and Joe drew 
 the hounds across and across the fjillows and en- 
 closures. 
 
28 THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 
 
 Hares were not very plentiful, and half an hour 
 elapsed ere Simon Driblets telegraphed a find. 
 
 Unlike a fox, the hare puts no one in a fluster 
 or hurry about a start. She is generally so ac- 
 commodating as to wait till she is set a-going by 
 some one turning her out of her form. 
 
 So it Avas in this case. 
 
 Mr. Driblets having seen Trumper and Joe's backs 
 turned across the field again with the hounds in 
 their wake, just started her quietly, and let her 
 steal away at her leisure. 
 
 All was on the silent system. No views, no 
 hallooing, no heads staring up in the air. The 
 hounds were never taken ofi" their noses. 
 
 Mr. Trumper just drew them across the line, and, 
 as if by magic, they struck the scent ; after a wild 
 scream of delight, that thrilled through the field, 
 the hounds went away at score. 
 
 Puss, though far ahead, was still within hearing 
 distance, and having had a round with them before, 
 mended her pace, and pressed away for the open. 
 
 The field had now got gathered together from 
 their respective beats, and each man was hugging 
 his horse as though he were bent on destruction. 
 
 Mr. Trumper rode first, and they all fell into 
 places, like a troop of horse, the chaplain and Joe 
 bringing up the rear. 
 
 ^^ This tuay, young man!^' cried Trumper to 
 Scott, seeing he was going to take the line of the 
 hounds, instead of following a field road through 
 
THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 20 
 
 a line of gates that rather bent away from them. 
 " This way," said he, pointing with his whip, " she'll 
 turn at yon pasture end and skirt the turnips," 
 said he, ** and we shall catch them up at the cow- 
 shed in the field but one beyond." 
 
 Trumper was right. The hounds ran to the very 
 point he predicted, and came out into Newsell's-lane 
 by the cowshed — all busy and bustling like bees. 
 
 "You never saw better hounds than those!" 
 observed Mr. Trumper, sotto voce, pointing to them 
 in ecstasy. 
 
 "Ne," said Joe, who happened to be within 
 hearinsr. 
 
 o 
 
 Presently the pace mended, and the trot that 
 had been pertinaciously maintained was converted 
 into a canter, some of the fatties standing up in 
 their stirrups as if for the purpose of easing their 
 horses, though as yet they had done nothing. 
 
 Still they kept the lanes and field roads, which 
 appeared to turn u]) most accommodatingly what- 
 ever way puss pointed. 
 
 Sometimes, indeed, they seemed to turn their 
 backs on the hounds, and to be riding away from 
 them altogether ; but it was only momentary, and 
 they presently found themselves at some pet gap 
 or friendly rail, which, succumbing to the heavy- 
 hammered whips, set them on the line again. 
 
 So they went on, from lane to field, and from field 
 to lane, for some time, the pace being occasionally 
 good, but never o^rcat — the music beautiful. 
 
30 THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 
 
 Having run the length of Green-pasture Valley, 
 and crossed Stockenchurch Hill, near the village 
 or hamlet, a cur dog had got sufficiently near puss's 
 quarters to cause her serious uneasiness for her 
 safety, and had forced her off her line, to the 
 astonishment of the field, who, not knowing what 
 had happened, were calculating upon JMaddingly^ 
 Common as a certainty. Indeed, ^lichael Hobble- 
 trot had cut away for the common at once on 
 reachino- the villao-e, instead of turnino- short to 
 the left at the blacksmith's, as the others did, 
 Michael not being quite sure that the gap by the 
 pond had been opened out, and reckoning he would 
 save time by riding a little about instead of waiting 
 his turn in case the gap had to be re-established. 
 We believe we may add that Michael is rather 
 given to " nicking." 
 
 AVell, great was the astonishment of the field, 
 when, after a short check, where the hounds over- 
 ran the line. Twister, with something between a 
 note and a yell, struck the scent down a newly built 
 Avail pointing direct for the moors. 
 
 " Great heavens ! She can't have gone for the 
 hills ! " ejaculated Tom Hobbletrot, with a lively 
 recollection of a deep bog he had been in on the 
 moors. 
 
 Towler, Lovely, KufSer, Cottager, Guider, all the 
 unerring ones of the pack, however, confirmed the 
 surmise, and tliat, too, with an energy leaving no 
 room for doubt. 
 
THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 31 
 
 The scent had improved, and they went away at 
 score. They packed beautifully — close as turnips. 
 
 " We shall be in trouble," ejaculated Hobbletrot, 
 as he got half way down the side of the next 
 field, and saw that Coldbrook Burn was inevitable. 
 
 A brook is the only thing in the list of hunting 
 obstacles that admits of neither hope nor palliation. 
 It is a regular " take it, or leave it " affair, and 
 Coldbrook Burn is one of the deepest, nastiest, 
 and most twisting in the country — it seems to be 
 everywhere. 
 
 Moreover, the horrors of a brook are materially 
 increased by a previous acquaintance with it ; for 
 a bold leader will frequently entice a funking 
 field over a place when it comes unexpectedly 
 in chase, at which many would crane and measure, 
 and measure and crane, and ultimately turn 
 away, if encountered in crossing from cover to 
 cover. A brook is a thing at which no man 
 can do anything for another — unlike a wall, or a 
 rail, or a hedge, or a locked gate, the brook stands 
 boldly on its own merits, as big a leap to the last 
 comer as to the first, nay, sometimes bigger, for 
 rotten undermined banks are apt to give way under 
 the weiijht of horses. Brooks bein£^ formidable 
 customers at all times, we need hardly say that 
 they were considerably aggravated by the au- 
 tumnal rains ; indeed, places that in summer 
 well-nigh suspend payment altogether, begin 
 and roaring^ and behaviuGj in the most 
 
32 THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 
 
 riotous manner imaginable. Coldbrook Burn may 
 be mentioned as a particular instance of a refrac- 
 tory streamlet ; for its course being deep, and 
 its bank sedgy, it is well calculated for holding 
 an uncommon quantity, and when ^Ir. Trumper 
 reached it this day, he pronounced it a bumper. 
 Scott observed, however, that Trumper did'nt seem 
 a bit put out on coming to it. On the contrary, he 
 was more intent on his hounds, who had thrown up 
 on the bank, and were trying for the scent up and 
 down. 
 
 " Yooi over, good dog ! " hallooed he to Eisker 
 in delio-ht, as his dark head and back rose above 
 the stream. Gleamer, Guider, Eachael quickly 
 followed, and then went the body of the pack. 
 " Yooi over, all on you ! " halloed Trumper, hat in 
 hand, trying to get the young ones to follow. 
 
 The field sat in mute attention, watching the pro- 
 ceedings on the opposite side. 
 
 Risker first snatched the scent, and there was a 
 rare splashing and scrambling among those in the 
 brook to get at him. " Now you wild fox-hunters," 
 said Mr. Trumper, turning to Scott as he sat eyeing 
 the hounds, shaking themselves on the opposite side, 
 " would try to leap that burn. Now I'll show you 
 what us hare-hunters do," continued he, seeing the 
 hounds putting their heads for the moors ; saying 
 which he gathered his reins, touched his horse with 
 the spur, and bustled away to Bewdley wooden 
 bridge, about a mile ofi", followed by the whole of 
 
THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 33 
 
 the field as hard as ever they could lay legs to the 
 
 ground. 
 
 ♦ ♦**** 
 
 " That's fiir better nor gettin a wel shirt ! ' 
 exclaimed Trumper, as his ponderous horse clat- 
 tered over the wooden fabric, making it shake 
 as:ain with his weight. 
 
 " But we've lost the hounds ! " observed Scott. 
 
 " Fiddle-te-dee ! " exclaimed he ; " I know where 
 they'll be to a nicety. Come up, horse I " cried he, 
 as his nag began shying at the stone steps, at the 
 taking-off end of the foot-bridge. 
 
 Having effected a landing, he forthwith gathered 
 his reins, and, tickling Golumpus freely with the 
 spur, set off at a good round pace, the old nag in- 
 dulging in a sort of make-believe kick in his canter. 
 
 They were now upon the moors, with nothing to 
 fear but bogs and holes, and ruts, things that did 
 not seem to be included in the list of casualties of 
 the Goose and ])umpling Hunt, for all the members 
 began charging abreast instead of following in the 
 goose fashion they had been pursuing before. 
 
 The hounds were long out of sight ; indeed, 
 they had run up a ravine, from which the detour by 
 Be wdley Bridge had interposed a hill; but the fatties 
 saw by the staring of the sheep the line they had 
 taken, and the field jogged on in high exultation 
 at the splendour of the run, and delighted at the 
 idea of astonishing the stranger. 
 
 Presently they got within sight of where slieep 
 
34 THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 
 
 were still runniiiof, or rather wlieelins^ about, and 
 then a shepherd's hat on the sky line of a far-off 
 hill announced where they were. 
 
 The riding was only awkward, the heather 
 hiding both stones and holes, and the turf on the 
 bare places, particularly on the hill-side, being 
 extremely slippery. Nevertheless they clattered 
 on, trusting entirely to their horses for safety. 
 
 Presently they heard the cry of hounds. 
 
 " Hold hard ! " exclaimed Mr. Trumper, " they 
 are coming towards us. Hark ! " exclaimed he 
 (pulling up short, and holding up his hand) — 
 "now, Mr. Scott, if you'll come here, I'll show you 
 the hare," said he. 
 
 Accordingly, Scott followed him through a 
 narrow defile to the left, and, looking over a hol- 
 low in the rocky hill upon the country below, he 
 saw poor puss dribbling along in a listening sort 
 of canter. 
 
 The field followed to partake of the treat. 
 
 " Oh, she's a fine un ! " exclaimed Mr. Trumper, 
 his eyes sparkling as he spoke ; " but she's pretty 
 well beat," added he; "she'll most likely begin to 
 play some of her tricks : these things have far 
 more cunning nor foxes," added he. "Now this 
 is the time," continued he, addressing himself 
 seriously to Scott, "that you wild fox-hunters would 
 take advantage of, for the purpose of cutting short 
 the diversion, by mobbing, and shouting, and taking 
 every advantage of him ; but we do the thing dif- 
 
THE GOOSE ANT) DUMPLING HUNT. 35 
 
 ferently. We let our hounds hunt ; and if they can't 
 kill a hare fairly, why they lose her." 
 
 The hounds had now descended from the hills 
 and turned the corner of the last angle that shut 
 them out from view. They were working a mid- 
 dling scent, which they caught and lost and lost 
 and caught alternately. 
 
 Puss heard them, and regulated her pace by 
 theirs. 
 
 Presently she began the tricks Mr. Tmmper an- 
 ticipated. Having got into a small fallow, she 
 dribbled up a furrow above which her back was 
 scarcely visible, and having run the length of it, 
 she deliberately returned the same way, and with 
 a mighty spring landed in a thick hedge-row. 
 
 " That'll puzzle them," said Mr. Trumper, " for 
 the scent is but cold at best, and the wet of yon 
 furrow won't improve what little there is." 
 
 *' But you'll let them hunt it of course ? " ob- 
 served Scott, thinking Mr. Trumper was paving the 
 way to a little assistance. 
 
 " Undoubtedly,'' replied Trumper, with a deep 
 sideway inclination of the head — "undoubtedly," 
 repeated Trumper, " We'd scorn to take an urifair 
 advantage of her. But look how they hunt ! " 
 added he, " Did you ever see hounds work better ; 
 no babblers, no skirters, no do-nothing gentlemen 
 here ; twelve couple, and all workers ; lue keep no 
 cats that don't catch mice, Mr. Scott. Oh, but 
 
 D 2 
 
36 THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 
 
 tliey're beauties ! " added he in ecstasy, as they 
 came hunting her as true as an arrow. 
 
 When they got upon the fallow it certainly was 
 not propitious. There wasn't a hound that could 
 speak to the scent, and Twister and Towler alone 
 guided them on the line. 
 
 " Those hounds are worth two hundred thousand 
 pounds a-piece to Prince Albert, or any of the royal 
 family who really know what hunting is," whispered 
 Mr. Trumper. " See what confidence they all 
 have in them. Hark ! Cottager threw his tongue. 
 That's the first time he's spoke since he came 
 into the field, but he's had the scent the whole 
 way. Oh ! hare-hunting is beautiful sport, the most 
 delightful amusement under the sun," added he. 
 "There's nothing to compare to it. Is there, 
 Beaney ? " continued he, looking over his shoulder 
 to our friend Beanstack, who with the rest of the 
 field were now clustered behind in ardent admira- 
 tion of their darlings. 
 
 "Nothing! nothing! nothing !'' ^y^lb vociferated 
 by all. 
 
 The hounds had now got to the end of the double, 
 and several of the young ones dashed beyond. 
 Not so Twister and Towler, who cast a small semi- 
 circle in advance, and then returned to the spot. 
 
 " That's hunting now!" exclaimed Mr. Trumper, 
 " your wild fox-dogs would have been half over the 
 next parish by this time, but those hounds won't 
 move an inch without a scent. See how they hunt 
 
THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 37 
 
 it back. That's something like, now. Far better 
 than getting a hold of them and pretending to 
 tell them what you keep them to tell you, ivhich vxty 
 the hare went." 
 
 " Ah, that's all very well," observed Scott, " with 
 the hare sitting in the hedge-row ; but a fox, you 
 know, keeps travelling on. There's no time for 
 dawdling with him." 
 
 "You don't know but that hare may be in 
 Jollyrise township by this time," snapped Mr. 
 Trumper ; ** it doesn't follow because she took the 
 hedge-row, that she's there still. But we are in no 
 hurry. Fair play's the universal motto of hare- 
 hunters. We even have it on our buttons," added 
 he, turning up a great pewter-plate-looking thing 
 with a hare and the words " Fair play " under- 
 neath. 
 
 " The srentleman doesn't seem to understand 
 
 o 
 
 much about the thing, I think," observed Michael 
 Hobble trot, who had got dribbled up from his 
 detour by Maddingly Common, after a most en- 
 joyable ride of the line. 
 
 "Fox-hunters seldom do," rejoined Simon Dril> 
 let. 
 
 " More at home at a steeple hunt, p'raps," 
 suggested Gosling. 
 
 The currant jelleyers were getting personal, and 
 there is no saying to what lengths they might hav(i 
 gone in the wild moorland region in which they 
 now had their unhappy victim, had not Twister 
 
38 THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 
 
 fortunately obtruded his nose so near puss's hind 
 quarters as to cause her to bound out of the 
 hedge, to the galvanisation of the pack, who, with 
 heads in the air, struck up a strain that set the 
 now freshened horses a-frisking. Away they went 
 in view. 
 
 " I onder she goes! Yonder she goes ! Yonder she 
 goes / " " Lauk, what a dog is that Twister ! " with 
 which exclamations the bed-gown wearers began 
 climbing on to their horses much in the style that 
 Punch represented the old French King climbing 
 on to " Artful Dodge." 
 
 Fairly and coolly down the hill-side now they 
 went " luho-a-ing " and ** gent-ly-ing " to their horses 
 as they unravelled the zig-zag mysteries of the 
 track. 
 
 The pack, meanwhile, were screaming and stream- 
 ing away in the distance. 
 
 When they had all landed at the bottom and 
 shaken themselves, and those who had " led down " 
 re-mounted, the hounds were fairly out of sight ; 
 but Mr. Trumper, nothing daunted, tickled Go- 
 lumpus into a canter, and putting his head the 
 reverse way of what Scott had seen the hounds 
 going, cut down a long slip of grass land lying 
 between the rocky hills and the enclosures, and 
 taking a sudden twist to the left by the corner of 
 a turf fence, shot away like a meteor to the north, 
 through a long line of white field gates, whose 
 pleasing perspective opened in the distance. 
 
THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 39 
 
 Where these would have ultimately led to we 
 know not, for when they had got through about 
 half a dozen of them, Mr. Trumper suddenly stoj)- 
 ped short as if shot — an evolution so quiekly fol- 
 lowed by the rest of the eavaliy, as to have the 
 effect of shooting several of the loose riders on to 
 the pommels of their saddles. 
 
 Trumper saw the hare ! Indeed they all saw her ; 
 but Trumper saw her first. 
 
 She was bearing right down upon them, in a 
 style that would most inevitably have led to a col- 
 lision, had they not pulled up. Full of what was 
 going on behind, she never thought of looking 
 ahead, and nearly ran into them. Poor thing ! She 
 came so close, that they distinctly saw the curl of 
 warm til on her soiled fur, and the bisj heaving of 
 her anxious breast. 
 
 A hare is a curious mixture of cleverness nnd 
 stupidity. We see them lobbing and staring along 
 as if they hadn't an idea in their heads, and then 
 all at once tliey perform tricks worthy of a wizard. 
 
 "She's a fine un," observed Mr. Trumper, sotto 
 voce, as he sat, whip erect, staring her out of coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 The noise he made had the effect of awakinfj 
 her to a sense of their presence, and caused her 
 to pop through a meuse in the hedge. 
 
 " She's about done," observed he, eyeing the 
 performance, for Trumper can calculate the amount 
 of " goment " left to a nicety ; Tom Hobbletrot 
 
40 THE CiOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 
 
 then pulled out a great turnip of a watch from his 
 fob, of which having made a good open exposure, 
 he shut it up, with the observation that " it was 
 about time." 
 
 " Domplins be ready, ars warned," said Stumps, 
 feeling the effects of hunger himself. 
 
 The hounds now came towling and picking along 
 with the weak scent of the sinking animal. 
 
 Just as Twister and Towler were again eliciting 
 the admiration of the field at the way in which 
 they unravelled the line, a loud shrill hoop ! hoop ! 
 hoop ! from the rising ground in the next field but 
 one, got up the hounds' heads, and caused them to 
 w^ork their ways through the high hedge to get at 
 the halloo. 
 
 Great was the horror and perturbation of the 
 field, as the hounds flew away, and greater still 
 their disgust at seeing a great fat man in white 
 leather trowsers, and bright heel spurs, with a 
 gold-banded blue cap, and a registered paletot, 
 capping them away at a canter. 
 
 "Hold hard. Sir," "hold hard. Sir," "God bless 
 you, hold hard, Sir ! " " God d — n you, hold hard. 
 Sir ! " were shouted and vociferated by the in- 
 dignant field, now rendered perfectly furious by 
 not being able to get at him, unless they either 
 charged a tolerably-sized fence that looked to them 
 like an impregnable barrier, or rode two hundred 
 yards "t'other way," to get through at the old 
 established gap. 
 
THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 41 
 
 In vain Trumper, having dived into tlie bottom 
 of his bed-gown, fished np the little bugle — in vain 
 he blew, in vain he screamed, in vain he impre- 
 cated. There wasn't an evil or an adverse ele- 
 ment that Trumper didn't wish the stranger visited 
 with. 
 
 The hounds topped the hill, and were out of 
 sight in no time. 
 
 Fury, unspeakable fury, was depicted on the 
 faces of the field ; nor was it diminished by seeing 
 the hunted hare pop out of the hedge, as they 
 moved away to ride for the gap. 
 
 Moreover, she accompanied them as far as their 
 joint lines lay, in the direction of the hills, almost 
 as it would seem for the purpose of deriding them. 
 As they pounded and clattered down the stoney, 
 rutty field-road, she kept working her way up a 
 furrow, about twenty yards to their left, in the 
 next field. Doleful were the looks our friends 
 cast on her as they passed on the alteration of 
 their lines. 
 
 "She could'nt have stood two minutes before 
 them," sighed Tom Hobbletrot, who was next in 
 rotation for a hare. 
 
 "Who could it be"?" gasped Parson Goodman, 
 who was riding a still pulling four-year old, and 
 had had something else to do than stare about. 
 
 "/ knoiv," responded Trumper; I'll sarve him 
 out," added he, bringing his ponderous hunting 
 whip crack down his boot. 
 
42 THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 
 
 " Most infamous thing that ever was done ! " 
 exclaimed Giles Goslino^. 
 
 " So like those wild fox-hunting fools," mut- 
 tered Trumper, leaning over his horse's shoulder 
 to open a gate. " Never happy but when they're 
 galloping," added he, throwing it open, and striking 
 into a gallop himself. 
 
 He presently reached the eminence over which 
 they had seen the hounds disappear, from whence 
 Trumper was horrified at seeing " white leathers " 
 absolutely casting the pack ! casting the hounds 
 that Trumper deemed it next to high treason for 
 any one to speak to but himself. 
 
 There was the stranger in the middle of a 
 twenty-acre turnip field, riding about, tasselled cap 
 in hand, describing a circle, which he kept en- 
 larging each time round, after a fashion of his 
 own. 
 
 Trumper turned deadly pale at the sight. If 
 there is one thing in the world that he hates more 
 than another, it is a pair of white breeches, and 
 his detestation seemed to increase by the length 
 of the present articles. 
 
 "Mister Mnfff Mister Muff /" gasped he, as if 
 in the last agony of a stomach-ache. " Mister 
 Muff ! " repeated he ; but Mr. Muff was deaf to the 
 cry. " Hes mad I he's mad ! he must be mad ! " 
 continued Trumper, eying Tarquinius's manoeuvres 
 among the turnips, who, regardless of Trumper's 
 
THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 43 
 
 imprecations, continued his career to the damage 
 of the turnips and the danger of the hounds. 
 
 Trumper then put. on all steam, and charged 
 down hill, followed by the train-band, bold. 
 
 Tarquinius, full of his own importance, not only 
 as a first-class swell, but a fox-hunter, held up his 
 hand as he saw them coming, exclaiming most im- 
 portantly, " Hold hard, gentlemen, hold hard ! 
 Pray hold hard ! " continued he, seeing the ex- 
 hortation was disregarded ; adding, " / know how 
 far they brought lier." 
 
 " You know how far they brought her ? " grinned 
 Trumper, in agony, as he leaned fumbling the 
 chain off the gate opening into the field where they 
 were. " You know how far they brought her ? I 
 wish I knew how far I might take you to hang 
 you." "I never did ride over turnips in my life/' 
 observed he to himself as he got the gate open, 
 " but I'll have a shy at them to-day." 
 
 So saying, he stuck spurs into Golumpus, and 
 went pounding and smashing through the middle 
 of them. 
 
 If it hadn't been for the hounds, we believe 
 Trumper would have charged Tarquinius full tilt. 
 Luckily, some of the beauties popping above the 
 turnips, which being guano sown were uncom- 
 monly forward, caused Trumper to get his horse 
 more in hand, and ultimately to pull up a little 
 short of assaulting distance. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Trumper, it's yoUj is it?" observed 
 
44 THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 
 
 Muff, in the most patronising way to our gasping 
 and perspiring sportsman. " I thought it must be 
 a hea^y-weight pack, as none of you were up with 
 them." 
 
 '* Up with them I " gasped Trumper, " I wish 
 you would ride about your business, and leave our 
 hounds to themselves." 
 
 "Why, my good fellow," replied Muff, turning 
 his horse to the now assembled field, " I was doing 
 you an absolute service. I viewed the hare, and 
 laid your beagles on to her." 
 
 " Beggles ! " vociferated Trumper, " Beggles," 
 repeated he, as if he was going to be sick ; " Where 
 the deuce do you use any heggles here V 
 
 "Them's harriers," observed Hobbletrot, with 
 the utmost contempt, muttering something about 
 **d — d frenchified " something that sounded rather 
 Hke " fool." 
 
 *' Well, but my good fellow, let me make my 
 cast perfect, at all events," continued Muff, who 
 had been studying Mr. Smith's patent "all-round- 
 my-hat" cast in the "Diary of a Huntsman " that 
 morning. 
 
 " You know I know something about hunting, 
 Tom Scott," continued he, appealing to our friend 
 with the familiar " Tom," instead of the distant 
 " Mr." he uses on ordinary occasions, when he is 
 coming it grand. 
 
 " Indeed I don't" replied Tom, nettled at his 
 
THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 45 
 
 meanness, and unable to resist the temptation of 
 having a shy at him too. 
 
 *' That's right, Mr. Scott ! Speak your mind like 
 a man!" exclaimed Trumper, slapping his whip 
 down his boot. 
 
 '* Not about fox-hunting, at all events," con- 
 tinued Scott, thinking to qualify his answer. 
 
 "And I'm sure he knows nothing about hare- 
 hunting," ejaculated Tom Hobbletrot, determined 
 not to let Muff off. 
 
 " But, my good men," minced Muff, with the 
 greatest effrontery, throwing back his registered 
 paletot, and showing a profusion of trinkets ap- 
 pended to his glittering watch chain, at the same 
 time sticking out a great leather-covered leg — 
 " my good men," repeated he, " at all events, you 
 must admit, that but for me you would have seen 
 no more of your hare ; your little dogs could hardly 
 own the scent when I capped them away close at 
 her scut." 
 
 " D — n you and your ca])ping," roared Tom 
 Hobbletrot, unable to restrain himself at hearino- 
 Muff take credit to himself for losing him his hare ; 
 " you've lost us our hare. Sir, instead of helping us 
 to catch her." 
 
 " That's because you interrupted me when I was 
 making my cast," retorted Muff. 
 
 " Cast ! " screamed Trumper, " you hallooed us 
 away to a fresh hare." 
 
 " Fresh hare 1 " sneered ^luff — " fresh hare," 
 
46 THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 
 
 repeated lie, shrugging up his shoulders, and throw- 
 ing out a primrose-coloured kid-gloved hand, " my 
 good fellow, do you suppose I'm such a fool as not 
 to know a fresh hare from a hunted one ? " 
 
 " Yes, ar do," roared Tom ; " I don't think you 
 know nothin about one except you see her in the 
 soup plate." 
 
 " Silly man ! silly man ! " simpered Mufif. " If 
 this is not the hunted hare, I'm " 
 
 " Well, Mr. Muif, it don't argufy a bit," in- 
 terrupted Trumper, whose choler had been sub- 
 siding as the others had been getting up ; "it 
 don't argufy a bit, Sir," repeated he ; *' the hunted 
 hare is hack. I saw her make for the hills as we 
 came to your halloo. I tell you how it is, Sir ! 
 I tell you how it is, Sir ! " his anger rising 
 again as he spoke, " You are a fox-hunter. Sir 
 — no objection at all to fox-hunters, Sir — none 
 whatever; Mr. Neville's an excellent man. Sir 
 — can't be a better — always most civil to me 
 when I go out with his hounds. Sir ; but I never 
 presume to halloo, Sir. If I see a fox. Sir, I hold 
 up my hat, Sir ; never think of hunting the hounds, 
 Sir. Glad to see Mr. Neville, or any of his gentle- 
 men out. Sir, with our hounds. Sir, but I hope 
 they'll do the same when they come. Sir — 1iop)e 
 they II do the same ivhen they come, Sir. Now, Sir, 
 you've lost us our hare, Sir," continued he, " so I'll 
 bid you good morning, Sir — I'll bid you good 
 
THE GOOSE AND DUMPLINfi HUNT. 47 
 
 morning, Sir, and we'll go home to dinner, Sir — 
 we'll go home to dinner, Sir." 
 
 " So saying, Mr. Trumper made Mr. Muff a l^ow, 
 and diving into his bed-gown pocket for the horn, 
 gave it a twang, and, having gathered his hounds, 
 retraced his way through the turnips. 
 
 -;'c * -X- -'':■ -J'f 
 
 He'll cut his stick now," observed Mr. Trumper, 
 looking over his shoulder as he got to the gate to 
 see where Muff was. 
 
 " We'll just try and see if we can recover the 
 hunted hare," added he, looking at his watch, and 
 seeing it was a little past one. 
 
 "That Mr. Muff," continued he, jogging on, half 
 to himself and half to any one that would listen 
 to him, " is the most disagreeable man I know ; 
 he's eternally teaching somebody something. He 
 thinks, because he rides in scarlet, that he's fit for 
 a huntsman, whereas, saving Mr. Scott's presence," 
 said he, looking at Scott, " I really believe there 
 are more fools in scarlet than in any other colour. 
 I'd rather have laid in bed all day — a thing I de- 
 test after sunrise," continued Trumper, " than 
 have asked him to join our hunt, for he's certain to 
 make a mess if he comes. He's just one of those 
 sort of daft bodies that can't hold their tongues, 
 and must always be doing. Gently, Cottager — good 
 dosr," added he : " I know where she is better than 
 that," continued he to Cottager, who was feathering 
 on the grassy side of the road. " If that stupid 
 
48 THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 
 
 man had hallooed them fox dogs away," continued 
 Trumper, "as he did ours, there'd have been an 
 end of the thing ; but there's one great advantage 
 of hare-hunting, that you need never give her up 
 — never as long as a hound can own the scent." 
 
 " And when they can't, you begin to prick her, 
 don't you ? " asked Scott. 
 
 " That's as may he," replied Mr. Trumper ; " We 
 never dig her out, at all events /" 
 
 " She doesn't give you a chance," replied Scott, 
 as Trumper hastened to conclude the dialogue by 
 getting out of hearing. 
 
 They soon reached the fallow where puss and 
 they had parted company, and certainly it seemed a 
 most unpromising speculation trying to recover 
 her. Even the redoubtable Twister and Towler 
 could make nothing of it, though she was plain 
 enough to prick where the water had left a sandy 
 wash on the furrow ends of the poor, undrained 
 land. 
 
 Trumper's keen eye saw these plainly enough, 
 though his paternal affection made him anxious to 
 transfer the credit of the feat to the noses of the now 
 mute pack. 
 
 ***** 
 
 At length even pricking failed. 
 
 Puss, with a tact often displayed by hunted 
 animals, had selected an enclosure so cold, so bleak, 
 so barren that nothing but a few water-weeds grew 
 
THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 49 
 
 upon it, and of those thorc were only barely suf- 
 ficient to hide her track. 
 
 Trumper pulled up as the hounds got upon it, 
 feeling quite incompetent to form the least opinion 
 as to whether she was on, or sideways, or back, or 
 down, or where. 
 
 Twister, however, thought she was on, and a 
 greenish spot of land on the rising ground, to- 
 wards the middle of the enclosure, yielding some- 
 thing that acted upon his frame like a scent, 
 Mr. Trumper moved forward, and Twister spoke 
 to her at the hedge-row. 
 
 They were now again upon a large fallow, and 
 Trumper felt the difficulty of picking the cold scent 
 with the danger of starting a fresh hare. However, 
 he Avent on, eyes well down, in hopes of seeing 
 something. 
 
 The day, liaviug changed for the worse, was 
 now getting raw, and the ceremony of hunting by 
 inches, though very interesting to masters, is any 
 thing but exhilarating to strangers : at last, having 
 come to about a dead lock — not a hound being 
 able to own the scent, or to carry it a bit further 
 — Scott ventured to suggest that it was all " u. p." 
 
 " Gad, now do you know, I thought you'd be 
 saying that," replied Trumper, starting round. " I 
 never saw a fox-hunter yet that didn't think it was 
 time to shut up as soon as they were run out of 
 scent." 
 
 " We've been lualked out," replied Scott. 
 
50 THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 
 
 " Very true," retorted Mr. Trumper, " very true," 
 repeated he, " and that makes me think she won't 
 be far off ; Gad, Sir, she's under your horse's nose 
 at this moment ! " added he " Hold hard ! while I 
 draw the hounds off, or they'll spoil her." 
 
 Trumper then drew the liounds away, and look- 
 ins a little ahead Scott saw what at first looked like 
 
 o 
 
 a clod, but which, on closer observation, proved to 
 be poor puss. 
 
 " To be, or not to be," was the question, — a live 
 hare or a dead one. 
 
 " Save her ! " whispered Scott, " Save her ! she's a 
 good-un, and will give us a gallop another day. 
 Mercy's all that's wanting to make the day's sport 
 perfect." 
 
 " Nay then ! " rejoined Trumper, in astonishment, 
 as he still kept drawing the hounds off, "I thought 
 you fox-hunters were all for blood." 
 
 "So we are," said Scott, "so we are — but not 
 hares blood." 
 
 "Well, then, I'll humour you,' said Trumper, 
 " and let her live ; but you must allow she was well 
 hunted." 
 
 " Never saw any thing better in my life ! " ex- 
 claimed our friend. " It was a most wonderful 
 performance." 
 
 " Wide difference between fox-hunting and hare- 
 hunting, you see," observed Trumper, fishing the 
 bugle from the bottom of the bed-gown pocket, 
 and giving it a twang. 
 
THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 51 
 
 " Come away, good dogs ! conic away ! " liallooed 
 he, as if he was giving the game up for lost. 
 
 "You should never give a hare up," said he, 
 " when you come to those sort of solemn stops, 
 for, ten to one, she's not far off. A fox ivould be 
 fiir off, and the longer you persevere, tlie further 
 you're left behind ; but come," continued lie, 
 briskly, " we've had a good day's sport. You lost 
 tlie first run, to be sure, which was an uncommon 
 good one, as good a one as ever was seen ; but 
 this hasn't been a bad-un, and now, suppose you 
 finish the day by dining with us." 
 
 " With all my heart," replied Scott. 
 
 " Goose and dumplings," observed Trumper ; 
 ''goose and dumplings: suppose you can dine off 
 them ? " 
 
 " Nothino; better," said Scott, " nothinor better." 
 
 "Lots of onions!" added Trumper, "lots of 
 onions ! " 
 
 " That's your ticket," replied Scott, " that's 
 your ticket." 
 
 They soon got upon the Edge-hill Koad, and 
 the longer they travelled the smaller the pack became, 
 one hound cutting off at a stile, another at a gate, 
 a third at the cross-roads, all making for their 
 respective homes. 
 
 There are two things in this world that there is 
 seldom any mistake about — the smell of a fox and 
 the smell of roast goose. Even the most unso- 
 
 K 2 
 
52 THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 
 
 pbisticatcd in sporting matters, though they may 
 not think it prudent to exclaim " I smell a fox," 
 as the peculiar odour crosses their noses on the 
 pure air of a hunting morning, yet never assign 
 the eflfiuvia to any other thing ; while in the matter 
 of roast goose, the veriest ignoramus has no hesi- 
 tation about it. 
 
 It so happened that Mr. Scott winded the sa- 
 voury bird ere he viewed the buildings at the back 
 of Jollyrise Farm, which are shut out from view 
 at the back a^^proach by a row of gigantic hollies, 
 then in the full luxuriance of the deepest green 
 and the reddest berries. 
 
 " I smell goose ! " exclaimed Scott, at the turn 
 of the road. 
 
 " You may say that," replied Trumper, ''four on 
 'em, I expect." 
 
 "You go the whole hog in the goose way," 
 obsei-ved Scott. 
 
 "A goose to two's the allowance," replied 
 Trumper ; '' there'll hardly be that to-day ; but you 
 needn't make yourself uneasy on that score, there'll 
 be plenty for us all." 
 
 The out-buildings, forming an ample square at 
 the back of Jollyrise House, were like Mr. Trumper 
 himself — large, roomy, and substantial. The beasts 
 in the fold-yards revelled in the cleanest straw, and 
 if there was the slightest smell of any sort, it was 
 entirely overpowered by that of roast goose. 
 
 What surprised Mr. Scott most was some half 
 
THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 53 
 
 dozen gigs and dog-carts, all drawn up under a 
 shed on entering. 
 
 " What do you do with so many gigs, INIr. 
 Trumper ? " asked he. Before, however, he had time 
 to get an answer, the trampling of the horses' feet 
 drew out as many attendant clowns, who forth- 
 with assisted their masters to alight. They had 
 brought their " drinking carts," as they call them, 
 in exchange for their hunters. 
 
 After a bucket of gruel a-piece, the latter took 
 their departures home. Trumper, having boxed 
 Golumpus, proceeded to cast an eye round the 
 buildings to see that all was right. 
 
 ■5^ "^ "Sif "St # 
 
 " Come, Tom, come ! " exclaimed Mrs. Trumper 
 from the long staircase window commanding the 
 landino; and anole of the staircase, in wjjicli she 
 now appeared full length, in a black silk gown and 
 cherry-coloured ribbons to her caj), looking most 
 blooming and buxom. " Come, Tom, come ! " re- 
 peated she, as she saw her husband wandering 
 from filly to foal and from heifer to cow. 
 
 They all then made for the back kitchen, where 
 towels and basons, and boot-jacks and slippers 
 waited their pleasure, superintended by a nice fresh- 
 looking maid, in a blue cotton gown, with crisp 
 cork-screw ringlets dangling dow^n the sides of her 
 meriy healthy cheeks. 
 
 The party were presently divested of their tops, 
 and now^ appeared in most comfortable woollens 
 
54 THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 
 
 and slippers. After running the joint stock comb 
 tlirougli the lightish crops of straggling hair, they 
 waddled into the parlour, where they were greeted 
 by the " missis." 
 
 This was a low wainscoted room, situate on the 
 right of the front door on entering, with one 
 window looking to the south and the other to the 
 east, the latter commanding a view of the twisting 
 Auborn water, and the well-wooded Greyridge 
 Hills beyond. The walls were profusely decorated 
 with hare hunts in every stage and variation of the 
 sport, from the turn out from the kennels down to 
 " Who whoop ! " There were hares sitting, and 
 hares running, and hounds finding their own hares, 
 and people finding the hares for them, and hounds 
 hunting, and hounds viewing, and hounds at fault, 
 and hounds hitting her off again, and hounds 
 running into her, and hounds catching her, and 
 hounds baying her. 
 
 Then there were stuffed hares in cases on the 
 mantel-piece and about the broad skirting boards 
 of the walls, with inscriptions detailing the exploits 
 of each, and sometimes the names of the favoured 
 few who were out. Long before Scott had made 
 the circuit of the room, however, the well roasted 
 geese came hissing in hot from the spit, and each 
 man paired off with a partner for one. 
 
 The Rev. Timothy Goodman having said grace, 
 they all set to with the most rapacious and vigorous 
 determination. 
 
THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. oo 
 
 For people who are fond of goose (and wlio is 
 Dot ?) a greater treat could not be devised. There 
 was no taking the edge of the appetite off with 
 soup, or fish, or patties, or cutlets, or side dishes 
 of any sort ; but they sat down to dine off the one 
 thing they expected. This, too, was done in the 
 fairest, most equitable way imaginal )lc ; for instead 
 of a favoured few o-ettino: the l)reast and tit-bits, 
 leaving nothing l)ut gristly drumsticks for late 
 comers, each man had his own half goose, and 
 could take whatever part he liked first, without 
 eating in haste and fear that the next favoured cut 
 would Ije gone ere he could get at it agaiu. All, 
 too, dining off goose, and eating most profusely of 
 stuffing, none could reproach the other with " smel- 
 ling of onions." 
 
 Silence appeared to be the order of the day liotli 
 morning and evening, for with the exception of a 
 voice occasionally hallooing out ** Beer ! " scarce a 
 word passed, until the dishes presented a most beg- 
 garly account of bones. Beer they might call it, and 
 beer it might look like, Ijeing both light and l)right, 
 but it was uncommonly strong and heady to take. 
 
 Let the French talk of their vin ordinaire or pui-e 
 St. Julien claret, with considerable body, at 285. a 
 dozen : what is it when compared with the vin 
 ordinaire, the malt and hops wine of old Enghmd ? 
 — a quart of Trumper's ])eer would sew up the best 
 Frenchman that ever was seen. We are quite sure 
 we have tasted bottled ale that would be prized 
 
56 THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 
 
 before champagne if it was only as clear. How few 
 people appreciate still champagne ! It is the fiz, 
 the pop, and the cream that makes sparkling cham- 
 pagne such a favourite, and good bottled ale has 
 all those concomitants. 
 
 Trumper, having made a most exemplary 
 onslaught on his half goose, and washed it down 
 with many potations of malt liquor, at last threw 
 himself back in his semi- circular chair, and bellowed 
 out the word "Bkandy." Mrs. Trumper imme- 
 diately dived into her pocket, and beckoning to the 
 maid, gave her the key of a cupboard formed of one 
 corner of the room, from whence she produced a 
 most liberal sized blue glass spirit stand with the 
 names, "Hollands," "Rum," " Beandy," in gilt 
 letters round the bottle necks. 
 
 " Take a thimbleful of brandy, Mr. Scott, after 
 your goose," said Trumper, appealing to our friend ; 
 and forthwith the little maid Ijrought him a laro^e 
 wine glass on a papier mdche stand with a hare 
 painted on the bottom, and proceeded to help him. 
 " Stop ! " exclaimed Scott, when she had got it half 
 filled. 
 
 " Nay," roared Trumper in disgust, " What's the 
 top of the glass made for, d'ye think, — -Jill it uj), 
 ivoman " — and the woman did fill it up. 
 
 " I drink to you," said Trumper, tossing off a like 
 quantity with the most perfect ease. 
 
 " Mild as milk," observed he, smacking his lips 
 as he put down the glass. 
 
THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 57 
 
 The rioodcfatcs of conversation now began to be 
 loosened, and each man having drunk to his goose 
 partner, began asking his neighbour to take a drop 
 — so the drops Avent round. 
 
 The dumplings now came rolling in — ten dump- 
 lings on ten dishes and five boats full of sauce. 
 Apple dumi)lings are the order of the day, but 
 the apple crop having failed they had recourse 
 to currant dumplings, approaching very near to 
 plum. 
 
 Cheese followed these, and then they cleared the 
 old oak table and drew it towards the fire. The 
 party ranged round : biscuits and filberts consti- 
 tuted the dessert, and " glasses " formed the beve- 
 rage. Mrs. Trumper stood in for a tumbler of 
 something and water, and when she retired, the 
 little maid again appeared, and diving into the 
 cupboard, produced sundry clay pipes, a large to- 
 bacco box with a hare hunt on the lid, and several 
 little round boxes with sand in the bottom, which 
 she distributed among the party. 
 
 " You don't object to baccy, I suppose?" observed 
 Mr. Trumper, filling his pipe. 
 
 "Not a bit," replied Scott, taking a pipe and 
 doing the like. 
 
 A solemn reverie followed, each man smoking 
 and apparently either thinking or dreaming. 
 
 " I did wrong in leaving her," at last said Trumper, 
 breaking silence, at the same time knocking the 
 ashes out of his pipe. 
 
58 THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 
 
 Thereupon they all began to throw their tongues, 
 and they hunted that hare over again. 
 
 Then Timothy Goodman reminded them of a 
 similar run they had had twenty years before, when 
 they killed at Little Gaddesden, after having " all 
 but " given her up. Then Harry Beanstack recalled 
 another, and Ben Bragg a third. More hot water 
 was then called for, and brought. More cold also 
 — more sugar ; and then more brandy — more rum ; 
 and the hoUands being exhausted, its patrons had 
 recourse to gin. They then began to get noisy 
 — one talked of his horse, another of his hound, 
 a third of himself, a fourth of his farm, and Gos- 
 ling, who had lately married for the third time, 
 talked of his " l^ran new wife." Then they would 
 drink her health, and some one j)i'oposed " all the 
 honours," which being duly responded to, some of 
 them found that resuming their seats was rather a 
 difficult matter. Toasting, having begun, went on 
 briskly, and then singing commenced. The songs 
 were various, but all in honour of the hare. The 
 one that gave most satisfaction had for a chorus — 
 
 " There's nothing can compare 
 To hunting of the hare," 
 
 which they kept hammering away at, laying the 
 emphasis on to the nothing can, 
 
 " There's nothing can compare," 
 
 till they got it so high that no type could convey an 
 idea of the din, save the great capitals used by some 
 
THE GOOSE AND DUMPLING HUNT. 59 
 
 of the *' Hc-who-runs-may-read " advertising wine 
 or " Rcform-your-tailor s-bills " fraternity. 
 
 Suffice it to say, that our friend Scott felt the 
 fumes of the sj^irit for three wliole days after, and 
 the ghost of — 
 
 " There's nothixg can comi)are 
 To hunting of the liare " — 
 
 haunts him still. 
 
CHAPTER 111. 
 
 A CHOKER. 
 
 Mr. Scott's noble friend — for, like most rustics, he 
 has one noble acquaintance, whom he dignifies with 
 that title when he is coming it strong — Mr. 
 Scott's noble friend, Lord Lionel Lazytongs, son 
 of the Marquis of Fender and Fireirons, says that 
 when Lady Lazytongs' maid calls him on a hunting 
 morning, and he halloos out to know "what sort 
 of a day it is," the invariable answer he gets is 
 " A bad morning and very cold'' 
 
 The question seems superfluous ; for few men, let 
 alone a tender delicate maid, are capable of form- 
 ing an opinion whether the weather is favourable 
 for hunting or not. 
 
 We never ask any questions, but somehow there 
 are certain indications that give us an idea as to 
 what sort of a day it is before we get to the finish- 
 ing touch of the toilette. One's razors give the 
 first indication of a raw ungenial atmosphere ; and 
 an eye into the fields or towards the road shows 
 how the country people are clad. If the carters 
 have their duffle coats on, and the poor turnip 
 pullers their thick shawls wrapped across their 
 breasts, it is a sure sign of a raw unkindly atmosphere 
 
A CHOKER. 61 
 
 — an atmosphere warranting the warm-backed waist- 
 coat, if not the lambswool and fleecy-hosiery also. 
 
 The November of 1846, to which season the 
 following adventures of our friend ]\Ir. Scott are 
 confined, was the worst hunting November that 
 perhaps ever was knowu. It was more like a bad 
 March than the glorious, sloppy, burning scent 
 sort of weather peculiar to that month. November 
 is generally the freshest, greenest spot on memory's 
 hunting waste, but the one in question will be 
 remembered more as a nasty, harsh, windy, mutton- 
 broth, cold-in-the-head, shivering-shaking sort of 
 afiair, than for the sterling qualities associated — 
 in a sportsman's mind at least — with November's 
 existence. 
 
 The fact is, the year 1846 was a month in 
 advance of itself all the way through, and we 
 had November in October. 
 
 There was very good hunting in October in many 
 counties — that is to say, the huntsmen and whips 
 had very good hunting. 
 
 AVe will describe a November day of 184G, for 
 the l^enefit of posterity, should the plates save our 
 work from the trunk-maker or butter-man. 
 
 On Monday, the IGth, Mr. Neville's hounds met 
 at Horndean Toll-bar, midway between the towns 
 of Scrapetin and Skinflint, and having scarcely re- 
 covered from a half-suppressed, half-cured, agueish 
 sort of cold, which had prevented his taking the 
 field before, Mr. Scott was anything but pleased 
 
62 A CHOKER. 
 
 at the dull, imblooming look of the clipped horse's 
 coat, when he went into the stable, confirming the 
 suspicions he had indulged in while dressing, of 
 its being a nasty cold day. 
 
 When he got upon the road he found his worst 
 fears confirmed, for the mudscrapings were dry on 
 the north side, and the whole surface of the turn- 
 pike gave indications of its being a cold drying- 
 day. 
 
 The horse didn't like it, and champed the bit, 
 and set up his back, as though anxious to warm 
 himself with a gallop. 
 
 There are some days of so dubious undefined a 
 character, that one may ring the changes with the 
 people we meet between a "fine day" and a "bad 
 day" with the probable chance of success with 
 each, but it would have required an extremely 
 complaisant person to agree that this was a pleasant 
 day — a nice day, or a day deserving any of the 
 various forms of phraseology denoting approval of 
 the weather. It was an arid drying day, with just 
 sufiicient wind to send the cold cutting air through 
 one's carcase. Even fox-hunters — of all men the 
 most merciful and least hasty in condemning a day 
 — could only observe " that it might be better than 
 it looked." A day certainly may be so bad as to 
 be good for nothing but fox-hunting, but these are 
 generally of the sloppy order, not your withering, 
 dust-raising sort of days. Moreover such a day in 
 November is j^erfectly discreditable, for the least 
 
A CHOKER. G3 
 
 one can expect is to come home with one's feet 
 well wet up to the ankles, from the slushiness of 
 the ground. 
 
 A scarlet coat is generally considered a better 
 specific against cold than the stoutest double-milled 
 broad-cloth or extra strong Saxony ; but on this 
 day its channs were gone. Mr. Scott shivered as he 
 went along. The few men he overtook were 
 flopping their arms, or had their mouths tied up 
 in shawls or cravats, as though they were coming 
 from the dentist's. The greetings were of the 
 desponding order, as if each thought he would he 
 better at home. If Tom had been ordered by the 
 Horse Guards, the Admiralty, the Home Secretary, 
 or any one in authority, to turn out on such a da}', 
 how he would have grumbled ! What a pretty 
 kick up he 'd have made. Nevertheless, there he 
 was, trotting along, trying to delude himself into 
 the belief that it was pleasure. 
 
 It must be a marvellous day, or a wonderful 
 country, when the advertisement of a regularly 
 established pack of fox-hounds fails to bring some 
 one. When he got to the toll-bar, Tim Bilk, the 
 collector, had half filled his white apron pocket 
 with coppers, and it was gratifying to see some one 
 looking happy. The hounds did not, neither did 
 the horses, while the quick movement and the 
 thumping of hands against thighs, plainly told 
 how cold it was. A drop hung to old Ben, the 
 huntsman's, nose, which, as he chased away with 
 
CI A CHOKER. 
 
 his worsted mitten, wns quickly succeeded by 
 another. Still many people did not seem to think 
 it so cold as it was, simply, we believe, because it 
 was early in the month of November. Had it been 
 about Christmas, they would have exclaimed against 
 waitino;, and showered blessino's on the heads of all 
 late comers. Mr. Neville, we may observe, did 
 not even send a horse on ; and there we think he 
 showed he had not hunted so many years for no- 
 thino^. In the absence of the master a Reo-ent is 
 generally appointed, and some time was consumed 
 by old Ben in expectation of some one either 
 appointing himself or being appointed by the field. 
 As, however, a Regency imposes the propriety of 
 staying with the hounds till the end of the day, it 
 did not seem in request, and at last they put into 
 cover without one. 
 
 The only drawback to Horndean is its proximity 
 to the towns of Scrapetin and Skinflint. These at 
 times pour forth rather a troublesome population. 
 As a harbour for foxes, as a good place to get away 
 from, and as a cover commanding a run, if a fox 
 does but get clear, it is second to none in the 
 country. Had it been a moderate sort of meet Scott 
 would not have troubled it, but there is no such 
 thing as staying away from Horndean. The cover 
 is about a mile long, with all sorts of lying, timber, 
 plantation, underwood, gorse, broom, fern, every 
 accommodation, as the lodging-house keepers say. 
 The deepest and strongest part is at the end 
 
A CHOKER. 65 
 
 where they meet, the whole hill, or rather precipice 
 side being covered with gorse in every stage of 
 health and every variety of growth, open here, 
 close there, middling elsewhere, with occasional 
 slides of bluish slate or bare patches of ground, 
 giving the occupants on the opposite side a fine 
 panoramic view of Eeynard's peregrinations. The 
 bunnies, too, are plentiful, and many a capering 
 yard wand goes home on his " three and sixpence 
 a side," with the full conviction that one of these 
 dotting, popping, burrowing little iDCggars, is the 
 animal he has hired his horse to come out to see 
 hunted. 
 
 "Talhjho!" exclaimed Tom Scott. "I declare 
 there he is, bounding out of yon thick patch of 
 gorse, straggling up to the hill top ; and now he 
 comes bangino- down the side like a rocket. Tal- 
 lyho ! Tallyho ! Confounded old fool that I am ! 
 I declare I am just as keen about seeing him as 
 I was the first time out, and that's a quarter of a 
 century ago," added our friend to himself. 
 
 What commotion the hunt has created in 
 the lately untenanted valley ! The hills are clus- 
 tered with spectators, and the few leafless ashes by 
 the road side are crowded with boys. All ai-e 
 agog with excitement, all straining their eye-balls, 
 in the hopes of seeing him, and most of them 
 looking the wrong way. Even Bilk has left the 
 gate in charge of his niece, and stolen away to see 
 the find. 
 
06 A CHOKER. 
 
 "There's a better scent than I thought," said 
 Scott, eyeing the pack flying together. Now they 
 pour down the steep hill side, right on the line 
 bold Keynard has taken. What a crash ! what a 
 melody ! The old gorse bushes snap under their 
 weight, and the green masses shake and tremble 
 with their bustling. " They'll have him out before 
 long," said Tom, and then he began hugging him- 
 self for coming. " Never does to stay at home 
 because the morning doesn't look well," said 
 he, cocking up a leg and drawing his girths : 
 " shouldn't wonder if we have a run ; and then, 
 how vexed all the fellows will be that haven't 
 come ! " 
 
 And now " hats off" further up, shows that Rey- 
 nard is viewed, but the second whip being there 
 prevents any noisy ebullition of delight. The 
 hounds are working on the line and will soon be 
 at the spot. He's on, by Jove ! horses' heads turn 
 to the Avest, and rising shoulders bob above the 
 opposite wall to where Scott is — he cuts away 
 through the old established gaps on his side of the 
 dean, for there never was a fox cover yet without 
 its regular way all round, though few people care 
 to learn more than one side. 
 
 What a clatter the roadsters make on the opposite 
 side ! and how they hurry on regardless of the 
 hounds ! — yon gentleman in the linen trowsers on 
 the runaway chestnut is going at score. 
 
 In vain the huntsman shouts, in vain the whip 
 
A CHOKER. 67 
 
 imprecates — on, on, he goes, like Gilpin, and, in all 
 probability, with a similar result. 
 
 They say that every woman has one chance of 
 being married, and every fox one chance of breaking 
 cover, and we believe this fox had every intention 
 of going, if it hadn't been for this genius. There 
 is a narrow gully near the west end of the dean 
 that nine flying foxes out of ten emerge by, facing 
 as fine a tract of open country, chiefly pasture, as 
 eye can traverse, but the chestnut got there first, 
 and Reynard declined following. A fox, like a 
 sovereign, must be first or nowhere. It's all non- 
 sense depriving him of precedence — people who 
 go out hunting must make up their minds to let the 
 fox go first. 
 
 A cold east wind shivered a chill of disappoint- 
 ment, as the field, on turning their horses' heads 
 to the now baflled hounds, met it careering up 
 the valley. The Avarmth of excitement seemed to 
 die out all at once. The hounds even seemed dis- 
 appointed, and came lagging along, now on the 
 scent, now ofl", in a far different style to what they 
 had flown with the first outburst of joy, produced 
 by a close proximity to the brush. Who doesn't 
 know the result of such a mishap as this ? Who 
 doesn't know the blio-htino- influence such a cata- 
 
 o o 
 
 strophe has on the spirits of the field 1 how what 
 might have been the finest day that ever was seen, 
 becomes tainted with the title we have placed at the 
 head of our paper ? 
 
 r 2 
 
68 A CHOKER. 
 
 The sportsmen were presently all back in tlieir 
 places, just like people who had gone out of a French 
 theatre between acts. There was old Ben with a 
 fresh drop on his nose, yoicking his hounds, him- 
 self and his horse embedded in gorse — there was 
 the second whip again standing erect in his stirrups, 
 looking out for a view — and Tom, the first whip, 
 was back on our friend Scott's side of the dean, 
 ready to attend Reynard away should he be in- 
 clined for a trip to the south. 
 
 Up and down, and round about, the hounds 
 worked him, the scent getting weaker, and the 
 ground getting worse, the more it was foiled. Now 
 they'd give it up, and now they wouldn't ; now 
 Ben viewed him, and now Joe, but Tom and Mr. 
 Scott, who sat on the opposite side, saw that the 
 chance of getting him away again grew worse and 
 worse. 
 
 " Some may call this fox a coward," said Scott to 
 himself, as he sat eyeing the proceedings, and 
 ruminating on the mutabilities of the chase, "but 
 he certainly has no right to that title for both his 
 performances this day. According to the common 
 doctrine of courage, he who flies at once is a coward, 
 and viewed in that light, Reynard would be 
 censured for doing what we want him. He started 
 away at once, and if the linen leggings interposed, 
 that was no fault of his, nor should he be blamed 
 for keeping where they do not come. I'm not 
 sure," continued he, " but it requires more courage 
 
A CHOKEK. G9 
 
 to stand the efforts of those two-aiid-twenty couple 
 of shipping hounds in that small hill, than to fly 
 the country, and take the chance of sheltering 
 hedge-rows, friendly woods, and other contingencies. 
 Yet we call the fox a coward for not running away. 
 The doctrine of fox courage is not clearly defined. 
 The doctrine of cold is, though;" continued he, 
 sneezing and shrugging up his shoulders as the 
 keen wind took him across the back. 
 
 " Thank God ! there's old Ben putting his horn 
 to his mouth at last," exclaimed he, and the clear 
 shrill noise sounded through the country. The 
 willing hounds gladly left the unkindly gorse, and 
 came straggling up to Ben's horse s heels. 
 
 " If it wasn't that I have broken into the day, 
 and shouldn't be able to settle to anything after, 
 I'd go home," said Scott to himself; " for there's no 
 sure find within four miles of this, and the day is 
 getting colder, and the wind higher." Moreover 
 the day, without being absolutely stormy, was just 
 boisterous enough to prevent hounds hearing, and 
 consequently bad enough to prevent hunting. 
 
 The choice now lay between Hunter's Oak Spin- 
 ney and Kenley Gorse — the one being in Scott's 
 way home, the other out of it. Of course they 
 chose the one out of it, and after four miles, trot, 
 trot, bump, bump, at that most uncomfortable 
 postboy pace that hounds jog from cover to cover, 
 they arrived at the gorse just in time to see two 
 shooters emeroe from it. 
 
70 A CHOKER. 
 
 We need hardly say tliey drew it blank ; indeed, 
 after so much gorse work, we were only surprised 
 that Ben drew it at all ; but huntsmen must make 
 out a day somehow Avhen master is absent, and 
 that with as little unnecessary disturbance of coun- 
 try as possible. 
 
 Farmer Buckwheat then came up, and assured 
 Ben that he had seen a fox an hour before rolling 
 on his neighbour Rush's Mlow, — a piece of intel- 
 ligence that Ben eagerly availed himself of, and 
 drew the hounds across and across as though 
 he really expected to find him. 
 
 That performance being over, and eleven red- 
 coats remaining, nine of whom lived to the north, 
 Ben announced his intention of drawing Parkham 
 Bush Dean, a most impracticable cover, to the 
 south — impracticable at least in as far as getting 
 foxes away is concerned — an intimation that acted 
 like lightning upon the field, causing the red-coats 
 to stop short, those who had comforters in their 
 pockets to tie up their mouths, those who had 
 warm gloves to produce them from their horses' 
 girths, and all to make preparations for cutting 
 home,' — declaring that they had had enough, and 
 that it was the most beastly day they had ever 
 been out in. 
 
 Cold, dejected, cheerless, dispirited, and chilled, 
 our friend sought his solitary home, and having got 
 rid of an hour in the stable, at last found himself in 
 the old red morocco chair with cane sides, that has 
 
A CHOKER. 71 
 
 grown old, and tattered, and shabby in his service. 
 There, as he dozed over the fire, with the mchm- 
 choly light of a pair of mutton fats, he reviewed 
 the flight of life, and glanced at the prospect of the 
 future. 
 
 " Hunting," said he, " has been the balm and 
 charm of my youth — it has solaced the seclusion 
 of my summers, and delighted the retirement of 
 my winters; but, hang it, if this November is to l)e 
 taken as a sample of what's to come, it's precious 
 little use persevering in the line." 
 
 Thereupon he gave a tremendous sneeze. 
 
 " What a fool I was to go out on such a day ! " 
 continued he, burying his face in a capacious ban- 
 dana, ^'far more likely to increase a cold than to 
 cure one." A-ivhitz — a-whitz — a-wh itz — " regu- 
 larly in for it, and nobody to nurse one. Poor 
 Lydia Clifton ! If it hadn't been for this hunting 
 I'd have married you long since." A-whitz — 
 a-whitz — a-whitz. "James!" hallooed he to the 
 boy he now heard fistling in the passage, "take 
 a foot-bath full of hot water up-stairs directly — 
 boiling ! d'ye hear ? I really think I'll give up 
 hunting and many her still," added Tom, rising 
 from the morocco chair, " for it's no use keeping 
 horses for such work as this." So saying, he 
 stumped up stairs, to parboil his feet and think 
 over the pro's and con's of matrimony. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A CHEERER. 
 
 " A chosen few alone the siwrt enjoy ! " 
 
 The next day was so deuced overcast and bad that 
 our friend didn't venture further than the stable, 
 or we really believe he would have ridden over to 
 Snails well, and ended a nine years' courtship with 
 an offer. As it was he lay at earth, watching the 
 rows of drops stringing themselves together like 
 illumination lamps on the window frames, the raw 
 drizzling rain gliding down the panes, and the 
 heavy spongy clouds rolling themselves like bed 
 hangings round the opposite hills. A more unge- 
 nial day, perhaps, was never seen. Even in the 
 country it was scarcely light, and what those poor 
 benighted folks who live in towns must have suf- 
 fered " baffles the comprehension." The glass had 
 run itself down to nothing, and everybody said they 
 were in for " weather." The wind rose towards 
 night, and dashed the now swelling drops against 
 the casement with redoul)led fury. 
 
 Scott fully made up his mind, as he turned into 
 bed, to be done with hunting, and to settle quietly 
 down to matrimony. " It's no use persevering in 
 a sport when one hasn't weather to enjoy it in," 
 
A CHEERER. 73 
 
 argued he, considering what he should do with his 
 horses. " She's a nice little creature," continued 
 he, pulling the bedclothes up to his snuffling nose, 
 " and although she hasn't much money, yet she's 
 so careful that her management would be quite as 
 good as a fortune." So saying, he dozed away to 
 sleep, and dreamt of bells ringing, ribbons flaunting, 
 beer flowing, fiddles scraping, girls dancing, farmers 
 feasting, "three times thi-ee and one cheer more ! " 
 
 How diflerent everything looked the next morn- 
 ing. The dreary, foggy, water-charged clouds had 
 cleared away, and been succeeded by bright, smiling, 
 sunshiny weather. 
 
 The landscape was just like a newly cleaned 
 picture. AVhat yesterday was all blotch, mystery, 
 and confusion, to-day stood forth most luminously 
 distinct. Nay, beauties appeared, that a stranger 
 would have said had been added — Oakhope spire, 
 the herd's white cottage on the Compton Hills, 
 and the sky line breaking fringe of beech, crown- 
 ing the summit of Blackdown Moor. All nature 
 seemed to rejoice in the change. The cattle grazed 
 freely in the fields instead of sheltering behind 
 trees and hedge-rows, the labourers doffed their 
 jackets to their work, children played bareheaded 
 about the cottages, and the horses in the stable had 
 acquired a silky gloss on their late dull unkindly 
 coats. 
 
 The hounds met at Plollyburn Green, twelve 
 miles by the road, nine by the " crow." Our friend 
 
 OF -' 
 
 OF 
 
 'ALlFO^tV 
 
74 A CHEERER. 
 
 certainly had no intention of hunting when he went 
 to bed — none whatever ; indeed he had fully deter- 
 mined, if his cold was well enough, to ride over to 
 Snailswell ; but we must add that he did not anti- 
 cipate so fine a day. 
 
 " Saddle old Barbara," said he to Will Sleekpow, 
 Avho was preparing for exercise, " and you ride the 
 colt on as far as Eatchburn Mill, and then take the 
 fields for HoUyburn Green, till I overtake you ; " 
 with which directions Tom hurried back to dress 
 and breakfast. 
 
 Will seemed rather surprised, but, Kke a sensible 
 servant, he proceeded to do what he was told,- — a 
 very indispensable quality for a person calling him- 
 self a servant. 
 
 What a different sort of day it was to the last ! 
 Instead of a drying, pinching, hide-bound sort of 
 feeling, it had all the soft, fresh, bland luxuriance 
 of spring. Quite a day for taking the creases out 
 of one's face. The ground was well saturated with 
 wet, and the old mare went snorting, and bounding, 
 and trotting along as if in equal enjoyment with 
 her rider. 
 
 The observation is as old as the hills, that we 
 seldom appreciate anything till we lose it, and the 
 truism holds good with hunting as well as with 
 other things. The two previous days had been so 
 wretchedly bad, and the glass had given such little 
 indication of amendment, that few of the field had 
 looked upon hunting this day with any sort of con- 
 
A CHEERER. 75 
 
 fidencc. Indeed the boisterous niolit had well-nigh 
 quenched the hopes of even the most sanguine, and 
 few had thought of giving any hunting orders on 
 going to bed. Tartjuinius Muft' liad turned in, at 
 eleven, without a word on the subject ; Blatlierem- 
 skite had done the same at twelve, having taken an 
 hour's snooze in his arm-chair after his brother 
 w^as gone, and all the " easy ones '"' had gone off in 
 a similar way. 
 
 The consequence of all this was, that though they 
 didn't muster so strong as they would have done had 
 the previous weather been fine, yet those who did 
 come were mostl}- of the right sort, and all were in 
 the high glee of joyous excitement and expectation. 
 Perhaps a slight cause of exultation might arise at 
 the circumstance of there being so many absentees; 
 for though fox-hunters are all most desperately 
 loving and sociable when together, yet there are 
 very few who can't put up with the absence 
 of a cocktail — nay, there are some who even like 
 to have a crow over a comrade. There was what 
 might be called a good field ; numerous enough to 
 be pleasant, and not overcrowded. No fox-headers 
 by profession, no linen-trowsered young gentlemen, 
 with yard-wands for whip-sticks, no grooms on 
 rearers, no horse-breakers on kickers, no young 
 farmers on runaways : there might be fifteen scarlets 
 and a dozen blacks. For the real pleasure of 
 hunting we hold that to be quite enough. AVlien 
 you have just the cream of a hunt, people settle 
 
76 A CHEERER. 
 
 into places in a run quite naturally, without the 
 jostling, sorting, and winnowing incident to a 
 crowd. Old Mr. Neville came bustling along almost 
 first, as if his absence on the last day had set the 
 razor of his keenness on edge. Old Ben's features 
 as he trotted up the green, with the spicy, blooming, 
 bitch-pack at his chestnut horse's heels, had relaxed 
 all the keen rigidity of muscle that contracted them 
 on the Horndean day, and he was now swelled out to 
 his natural size, looking like an elderly cherub on 
 horseback. 
 
 Tom Scott overtook Sleekpow between Ratchburn 
 Mill and the meet, and got the young horse in a very 
 cool and collected state ; nor was his equanimity 
 disturbed by the sight of Scott's red coat, nor yet 
 by the cantering and splashing past of Tom Muffin- 
 mouth and his cousin. Bill Bullfinch, on their cover 
 hacks. When Scott mounted he felt wiry and 
 strong under him, light and pleasant in hand, and 
 altogether as if he would go. It is a great thing for 
 rider and horse to start pleasantly together. An- 
 other great advantage is, not having time to quarrel 
 between the start and the meet. This is one of the 
 o;reat advantages of a cover hack. When a man 
 rides his own horse " on," a difference of opinion is 
 very apt to arise on the road, particularly on that 
 most important of all points, whether he shall walk 
 or trot ; and as it is painfully true that a man may 
 see too much of his best friend, so it is equally so 
 that he may have too much of his best horse. 
 
A CHEERER. 77 
 
 Though quite a man for the morning, and always 
 at cover as soon as the groom, Scott likes sending 
 on, not only as a great saving of valuable temper, 
 but also as a certain means of sjettincj two horses 
 well exercised. 
 
 But to the sport, for the field are on fire, and 
 eager for the fray. 
 
 The eager hounds would scarcely wait for the 
 dismissing cheer and wave of old Ben's hand, as 
 they approached the accustomed corner of Heather- 
 side Plantation, and disdaining all make-believe 
 drawing, dashed on to the thick of the lying on 
 the projecting banks, from whence they had so 
 often unkennelled the " varmint." Old Colum- 
 bine's deep tongue, which no rate or whip crack 
 ever followed, infused joy into the field, and hats 
 were fastened down and pressed firmly on the 
 brow, and reins gathered up, ere three whimpers 
 had escaped her. Iloic ! Iloic ! cheered old Ben, 
 kicking and jagging the chestnut through the 
 brushwood of the cover ; but the pack needed no 
 monition — the old bitch's tongue was quite enough 
 to draw them to her like lightning. Master Rey- 
 nard was on the alert, and had left his sheltered 
 couch at the cheer foUovvinfj the second note, beine: 
 strongly of opinion that the noise he heard was 
 very like what had disturbed him about three 
 weeks before, when he had deemed it prudent 
 to visit the distant cover of Neverbreak Forest, 
 whence indeed he had only lately returned, finding, 
 
78 A CHEERER. 
 
 greatly to his discomfort, that his earth had been 
 usurped by a badger in his absence. 
 
 Tremendous was the outburst of melody as the 
 pack reached the now vacated kennel, and powerful 
 the scent that its late occupant left, as he brushed 
 through the faded fern and brownino; heather of 
 his dry warm quarters. If he had any doubts at 
 all as to what was going on, they were sj^eedily 
 dispelled by a loud, clear, full " Tally-ho ! go7ie 
 away" from the far end of the cover, proclaiming 
 that, having run its utmost limits, he had taken his 
 departure. 
 
 " Ifs the old hoy ! " exclaimed Tom Bowles, the 
 first whip, whose halloo had just been heard — he 
 broke at the very same place he did before, and 
 crossed the field at the same spot. 
 
 " Yonder he goes ! " added he, viewing the fox 
 travelling evenly away over the opposite hill. 
 
 The pack tied on the scent, and Avent away in a 
 style that would have funked the directors of an 
 insurance ofiice, if they had done a policy on 
 Keynard's life. There was mischief in the cry. 
 " Hold hard, gentlemen ! for one minute," exclaimed 
 Ben, pulling up short to get the hounds well away ; 
 and that minute being freely accorded, he started 
 ofi" at a canter, and all did the same. 
 
 There wasn't a fence worth speaking of for the 
 first five or six fields, so that the riders had time 
 to get their horses well in hand and settled in their 
 
 o 
 
 stride before business beoran. 
 
A CHEERER. 79 
 
 A fallow field brought Tom Scott's five-year-old 
 to his bit, and having once dropped upon it, he 
 went as steadily and collectedly as possible. 
 
 ** He's a hundred guineas' worth," exclaimed 
 Scott, as he shot over a flight of hurdles like an 
 arrow ; and that was putting sixty pounds on at 
 once, for the only time he had ridden him before 
 he was so crazy and " tail first " at his leaps, that 
 he would have taken forty for him — forty ! even 
 though he had bred him, and no one ever breeds 
 a horse that isn't occasionally worth a hundred. 
 Hundreds are easily talked of, but difficult to 
 realise out of a dealer's yard. But this is no time 
 for a dissertation on dealing ; for the hounds, after 
 racing past Dewlish and over the large open fields 
 of Risborough Lordship, are now making the 
 wooded banks of the Brentwater echo with their 
 melody. 
 
 " Hold hard, gentlemen ! " halloos Mr. Neville, 
 from behind, adding, as the obedient field pulled 
 to the summons, "I've seen more foxes headed 
 at that point than at almost any other in the 
 country." 
 
 " Tallyho ! Yonder he goes ! " added he, viewing 
 him from the rising ground on which he had sta- 
 tioned himself. 
 
 Another minute, and the hounds were out also, 
 the scent not being quite so good in cover as it 
 was in the open. 
 
 " Now he's away for Neverbreak Forest ! " 
 
80 A CHEERER. 
 
 screamed Mr. Neville, shortening his reins, "and 
 let those catch 'em who can ! " 
 
 So fair an invitation, so sportingly given, caused 
 every man to settle himself in his saddle, and to 
 Img his horse by the head as though he were bent 
 on destruction. 
 
 The bitch-pack are terribly fast, and take a deal 
 of catching at most times. This day seemed likely 
 to put something extra to their pace. 
 
 A cloud that had overcast the sky cleared away 
 at the moment the fox broke from the end of the 
 belt of wood at the water side, shedding a halo 
 o'er the scene, and disclosing to those who had 
 time to look ahead the dreaded Neverbreak Forest 
 in the extreme distance. It could not be less than 
 six miles in a straight line — a mere trifle to stag- 
 hunters, who know nothing under twenty, but a 
 space admitting of many pleasing variations in the 
 up and down life of matter-of-fact fox-hunters. 
 To heighten the interest of the scene, the line to 
 the forest seemed to lie up the broad green valley 
 of Grassmere, a valley as famous for fattening oxen 
 as it is favourable to scent. The pollard willows 
 through the centre indicated the " presence " of 
 water, as the chemists say, even if the sun had not 
 lit up the broad patches of it here and there, and 
 shown the white bridges at the foot crossings. The 
 mere mention of the forest acted as a stopper on 
 some of the field, so famous is it in the fox-hunting 
 history of the country for tremendous runs, heavy 
 
A CHEERER, 81 
 
 fencing, deep galloping, desperate swimming, con- 
 founded cramming — all the funking fireside attri- 
 butes of hunting — as if there were not big places 
 in all countries, if people only look out for them. 
 If the forest had been such a regular " kill bull," 
 Old Ben must have died of it long ago, for he's been 
 ridinoj towards it and from it once a month at the 
 least during the season, for the last thirty yeai^ ; 
 and when Scott saw him slide down a steep bank, 
 and turn the corner of a flight of rails, that ap- 
 peared to him impassable, he thought, as he followed 
 him, that he was very likely to ride a good many 
 more. 
 
 The bruisers and would-be bruisers, of course, 
 kept up the bottom with the hounds, and when 
 great Captain Rasher, ^vitli a mouthful of mous- 
 tache, came to the first sedgy watercut dividing 
 the meadows ; and saw the valley was not the 
 smooth-sailing race- course he expected, he would 
 have had no objection to turn back, if Tom JMuffin- 
 mouth hadn't come up full tilt, causing his second 
 charger hunter to blob right in, where he was 
 immediately joined by Mufiinmouth and his horse, 
 the whole stirring up the black bog earth like a 
 gigantic mash. 
 
 "It's very odd," said Old Ben, who was now 
 careering along the sound bank through the familiar 
 line of gaps, " that gentlemen always wilL ride into 
 those bogs. I dare say I've seen a hundred horses 
 
82 A CHEERER. 
 
 floundering in tliem, first and last, and yet we 
 never come this way without some one trying them. 
 Forrard ! forrard ! " continued he, cheering on his 
 hounds, notwithstanding they were beating him as 
 it was. " Forrarding " with huntsmen, and 
 " hissing " with grooms, are things they get so into 
 the way of, that many of them can't help them- 
 selves. 
 
 If extreme pace lasts, a run can't last. That is 
 a truism worth remembering by puUers-up and 
 people fancying themselves about to be beat by the 
 pace. Up the Grassmere Water Meadows the 
 pace certainly was extremely good — so good that 
 the hounds ran nearly mute ; but as they neared 
 the neck where the meadows run up into a ravine, 
 some few found time and wind to throw their 
 tongues ; and most welcome were the notes, borne 
 back on the soft light breeze. A momentary 
 check at the top let in the successful followers on 
 either side of the valley, while a mixed tail of 
 blacks and reds dotted the line of country over 
 which they had come. The lathered horses now 
 stood panting and blowing, and shaking their tails, 
 after their exertions, whilst the red-faced, per- 
 spiring sportsmen durst not dismount to ease them. 
 " Bless us, what a pace ! " " Did you see Muffin- 
 mouth in the bog ? " " Who was t'other chap ? " 
 " Where's my groom 1 " " You've lost a shoe." 
 " Have I, by Jove ? It's all dickey with me, 
 then ! " were the exclamations that burst forth, 
 
A CHEERER. 83 
 
 while Ben bustled away to tlie well-accustomed 
 point, to get the pack on with their game. 
 
 Up the steep dean-side then they scrambled, and 
 after squeezing through a stiff and very scratch- 
 my-face fence, they found themselves in a large 
 fallow, with the hounds lob, lob, lobbing across, 
 now mute, now dropping a note, but pointing for 
 the forest, now a conspicuous object in the rising 
 foreground. 
 
 Old Ben began kicking the chestnut into a canter 
 to get the hounds across the fallow as quickly as 
 possible, well knowing the importance of killing the 
 fox in the open. Not that he ever expresses a 
 doubt of catching him in cover, but he prefers the 
 publicity of the plain. He is all for fair play, 
 especially when there's a burning scent. 
 
 The rivalry of riding was now about over, all 
 being satisfied that if their horses got into the deep 
 rides of the forest, they would want all the "'go " 
 they could save for them, and trotting, and holding, 
 and easing, and furrow-seeking, and headland- 
 riding, became the order of the day. 
 
 Mr. Swillbut, the brewer's, great gaunt brown 
 horse Molasses, who had given indications of a 
 stiff neck down below, had been so fairly pumped 
 out by clambering up the rough brushwoody dean, 
 that he lay down on the fallow just outside the stiff 
 fence, and so awkwardly did he repose liimself, 
 that the few horses behind had to leap over him, 
 
 G 2 
 
Si A CHEERER. 
 
 or force a fresli breacli through the lofty, newly 
 swiched, almost impenetrable fence. 
 
 Still the desire to save their horses was out- 
 weighed by anxiety to kill the fox in the open, and 
 nobody regretted to hear the light musical notes of 
 the bitches again swelling to cry as they got upon 
 a large, rushy, old pasture, causing the field to get 
 their horses by the head, and urge them again 
 into a canter. 
 
 The thing had now got so select that there 
 would be honour and glory enough for them all, 
 consequently, those who " never open gates," and 
 never "pull down fences," now began to do both, 
 and those who always open and pull down, now 
 did so the more. 
 
 So what with one, and what with another, they 
 about dispensed with leaping altogether. It was, 
 " ril get off if you'll hold my horse ! that's a good 
 fellow ; I'll do it next time," or " you'd better get 
 off and lift it," as Tom Bowles was fumbling at a 
 chained gate. 
 
 This, however, is all under the rose, the stiffest 
 fencing and the hardest riding being always, by 
 courtesy, supposed to come last. 
 
 So they went on from field to field rejoicing. 
 ***** 
 
 After skirting Birkshaw coppice, and taking a 
 look at Cranfield farm buildings, Eeynard did not 
 find such accommodation as induced him to desert 
 his original point for the forest ; but a colley dog 
 
A CHEERER. S5 
 
 chasing him, pumped out the little balance of wind 
 lie had left ; to recruit which he shortly after lay- 
 up in a hedge-row, from whence, after the usual 
 flash forward and feathering flourish of the pack, 
 he was soon elevated in the arms of old Ben before 
 the admiring eyes of " glorious seven," each trying 
 who could WHO-HOOP loudest. 
 
 The following may be taken as a sample of the 
 usual varied accounts that attend a good run : — 
 
 Real distance, eight miles. Telling distance, fourteen. 
 
 Eeal time, forty-five minutes. Telling time, one hour. 
 
 Checks, one. Checks, none. 
 
 Heavies up, four. 
 Lights, three. 
 
 The result of our friend Tom's ride was, that he 
 repriced the young'un at 150/. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS. 
 
 Delighted with his day with Mr. Neville, pleased 
 with the performance of the five-year old, in love 
 with all the world, particularly with his sweet 
 charmer Lydia Clifton, our friend gave his horse to 
 Sleekpow, with an intimation that he should want 
 Rough Robin the next afternoon, being fully deter- 
 mined to ride over to Snailswell, and finish the 
 matter off-hand, whether he gave up hunting or 
 not. 
 
 " It's time I w^as married," said he, stamping 
 the conglomerated mud off" his soaked boots, and 
 casting an eye downwards on the stained and spat- 
 tered cords. 
 
 " It doesn't follow," continued he, as he opened 
 the back door, and hurried into the house, "that 
 I need give up hunting the first year at all events, 
 or perhaps not even the second, or yet the third ; " 
 and if anything was wanting to clench his determi- 
 nation about matrimony, it would have been the 
 fact of his stumbling over one of those abominable 
 tape women's baskets that had been left in the 
 passage, while the owner carried on the usual pro- 
 miscuous barter with the females — ribbons for 
 
LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS. 87 
 
 rabbits' skins, shawls for suet, tape for tea, and so 
 on. 
 
 It's very odd, but batchelors always use twice as 
 much tea as married people ; at least they pay for 
 twice as much. 
 
 A letter "with a large seal lay on the entrance 
 table — a seal so large that, had it been in black, 
 Tom would have thought all the crowned heads in 
 Europe had demised together. 
 
 " Who can this be from 1 " exclaimed he, eying 
 the spreading-many-quartered shield and crests, 
 surmounted by a coronet. He broke it and read 
 as follows : — 
 
 " Dawdle Court. 
 
 *'Dear Mr. Scott — The Tear Devil hounds 
 meet at Ecclesford Green, near here, on Tuesday 
 next, and we shall be glad if it will suit your con- 
 venience to come on Monday and stay till Wednes- 
 day, with 
 
 '' Yours very truly, 
 
 " Lionel Lazytongs. 
 
 " To Thomas Scott, Esq., Hawbuck Grange." 
 
 " AVhat the deuce can have come over him now ?" 
 exclaimed Tom, as he read it ; " his lordship has 
 been living at Dawdle Court these three seasons, 
 and never oot further than a card, or a call, or a 
 hope that I'd come to him at that most undefined 
 period ' some time,' and now he breaks out in a 
 downright invitation to stay." 
 
88 LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS. 
 
 No man is more keenly alive to the extreme 
 absurdity of people visiting out of their own station 
 of life, or censures it more severely in their neigh- 
 bours than Tom does ; after which our readers will 
 not be surprised to learn that he looked out his 
 best boots, &c., and wrote to say he would go. 
 ***** 
 
 ^k ¥^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 The premature closing of a winter's day, but 
 little aided by the slender horn-like circle of the 
 young and rising moon, saw him before the massive 
 pile of Dawdle Court, whose heavy outline, he, 
 however, forsook in favour of the stables, into whose 
 spacious yard he rode with an " at home " sort of 
 air. 
 
 It is not every man that can face the silk-stock- 
 ing smartness and lace-daubed splendour of a front- 
 door entrance ; but between the denizen of the stable 
 and the fox-hunter, there is a something in com- 
 mon that prevents the latter feeling distrait. 
 Though our walk in life has not been either lofty 
 or extensive, we are free to confess that we have 
 seen lackeys who looked quite as much like gentle- 
 men as their masters. " Small blame to their 
 masters for keeping them," as Paddy would say ; 
 but it is inconvenient for a stranger to scrape and 
 bow to the servant ; equally disagreeable to take 
 the lord for a lackey. We, therefore, like the 
 stable. We like to ride quietly in and ask the 
 groom or coachman, or the postilion, or the any- 
 
LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS. 89 
 
 body connected with horses that we see moving 
 about, if Sir John, or Sir George, or my lady are 
 at home, and then, if we get an answer in the ne- 
 gative, we just ask them to take charge of our 
 cards ; and if they say " yes," why we see our 
 horse put up ourself, and so save old Patepowder, 
 the porter, the wickedness of the oaths he might 
 let fall as he hobbled away with him from the 
 front door. Seeing the horse housed oneself, also, 
 gives one time to rectify any little derangement of 
 dress incurred on the road, stamp ofl' the mud 
 sparks, pull up one's collars, comb out one's 
 whiskers — all extremely proper and allowable, but 
 which a modest man would feel a delicacy in doing 
 at a front door, with all the eye Avindows of the 
 house full upon him, and no saying how many pair 
 of bright roguish eyes within, criticising his move- 
 ments. We do not know a more nervous situation 
 for a shy man than to place himself in the pillory 
 of public observation, before a large house full of 
 company in the country — luncheon time, say — 
 when all the ladies are together, giving a loose to 
 their tongues and their appetites. Unfortunate 
 young man ! Should you be accused of sweetheart- 
 ing anyone, how they would pull you to pieces, 
 especially if you were "booked." There wouldn't 
 be a feature but what they would condemn, or a 
 sin in the whole catalogue of crime but what they 
 would lay to your charge. 
 
 There is an advantage in riding direct to the 
 
90 LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS. 
 
 stables, when one goes to stay all night, even 
 though the shades of night would protect one from 
 idle curiosity. One sees what sort of accommodation 
 one's horse gets ; sees what sort of screws they keep 
 of their own ; and so while away an hour that 
 might be very heavy in the house. The best 
 ginger beer that ever was bottled won't fiz above 
 a certain time. 
 
 Well, Tom Scott rode into the yard, as we said, 
 with a " rest, soldier rest," sort of feeling, and 
 also with the pleasing conviction that in the course 
 of his ride he had earned an enormous appetite. 
 
 It was four o'clock, stable hour, and the horses, 
 after being stripped, strapped, and watered, were 
 now in the full enjoyment of their corn, standing 
 up to their bellies in clean wheat straw, as shown 
 by numerous lanthorns hanging from ceilings. 
 
 The trampling of his horse's feet drew a sliirt- 
 sleeved helper or two to the doors, and one more 
 venturesome and less afraid of fresh air than the 
 rest, keeping his head out sufficiently long to re- 
 ceive the shot of a question, Tom ventured to ask 
 " where his stable was ? " 
 
 " We don't take in osses ere, old boy : it ain't a 
 livery stable," replied the man, taking our friend 
 for a groom. 
 
 " Hush ! " exclaimed a voice behind, pulling the 
 speaker back, " it'll be Mr. Scott ; I've just sent 
 his servant on." 
 
 A very orthodox, round about, stud groom, then 
 
LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS. 9l 
 
 came forward with a lanthorn, and casting the 
 light over Tom, lest he might compromise his con- 
 sequence by misplaced politeness, observed, with 
 a touch of the hat, " Mr. Scott, I believe." 
 
 "Yes," replied Tom, adding, "would you have 
 the kindness to show me my stable." 
 
 " I sent a helper on with your servant, not half 
 an hour since," replied the groom, "and he's not 
 returned yet ; but I'll endeavour to get some one 
 to take this," continued he, rinoino; a small bell. 
 
 '' Don't you take in horses ? " asked Tom, as the 
 little tinkler ceased sounding. 
 
 "Why — no — yes — no — not exactly here," hesi- 
 tated the groom ; " at the Lazytong Arms, close 
 by, just outside the park. Excellent accom- 
 modation — kept by an old coachman of ours — 
 Esau Broadback — two year old oats — sweetest 
 hay that ever was smelt." 
 
 " But if the park is as wide that way as it is the 
 one I've come," replied Tom, " it will be a precious 
 distance, and how^ am I to manage for want of a 
 servant ? I have only a groom." 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Lampoil, the groom of the chamber, 
 will manage all that for you, sir," replied he, at the 
 same time turning to a group of helpers, whom his 
 ring had drawn together; he inquired of one, 
 whom he designated Mat, " What he was doing?" 
 and receiving the usual answer, "Nothing," he 
 ordered him to saddle Usurper, and " lead this ere 
 orse over to the Arms." 
 
02 LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS. 
 
 " But if it's close by, what's tlie use of taking out 
 a horse ?" asked Tom. 
 
 " He'll he none the worse of a little exercise," 
 replied the groom. 
 
 " Nor Mat, either, perhaps," observed Tom. 
 
 Not being quite satisfied about the locality of the 
 Arms, and the moon now giving a more available 
 light, Tom thought he might as well consume part 
 of the two hours and a half that still separated him 
 from dinner, by riding the old mare to her quar- 
 ters; accordingly he set off, accompanied by Mat 
 on Usurper, a thorough bred hack with a bang 
 tail down to the hocks. 
 
 It was not without a longing look that Tom 
 took leave of the Dawdle Court stables, feeling 
 satisfied that, however good the "Arms'" ones 
 might be, they could not beat the '• Court." 
 
 Taking in horses has almost become the sole 
 perquisite of the poor, at least those that the world 
 call " poor," though they often have more to spend 
 than those that the world call " rich." Men in 
 our friend Tom Scott's class of life, never think of 
 separating "man and horse." If they can't take 
 in both, they send word, clearly showing that " not " 
 taking in, is the exception. 
 
 There are some places of such convenient distance 
 that they stretch or contract like telescopes, ac- 
 cording to the wishes of the party. AVe have 
 known the same place both two miles and four in 
 the mouth of the same person. The Scotch talk 
 
LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS. 93 
 
 of their miles and a bittick ; but their miles and 
 a bittick are not a bit more undcfinable than an 
 Englishman's " close by." 
 
 Although enlivened by Mat's agreeable conver- 
 sation, who, not having heard the groom's orders 
 to take over Tom's mare, concluded by Tom going 
 that he was a fellow servant, was both inquisitive 
 and communicative, informing Tom, " what he 
 had," and anxious to know Tom's wages ; our friend 
 found the " close by," a long way. When one 
 expects to arrive at a journey's end every minute, 
 distance stretches out amazingly. Even on an 
 ordinary beaten road, travelling the last mile is 
 often the longest. The meanderings of the road 
 through the park seemed as if they would never 
 end, and views and vistas, that might be very beau- 
 tiful by day, were anything but interesting on a 
 winter night, illumined only by the fitful gleams 
 of a crescent moon. 
 
 At last Tom and his conductor reached the noble 
 lodge, and following the turnpike road upon which 
 they now got, the creaking of the glittering sign 
 containing the Fender and Fire-iron Arms, as it 
 swung to and fro in the little garden before the 
 house, at last proclaimed Tom's journey done. 
 
 Following Mat, he presently found himself in 
 the soft bedding of a farm yard, the little panes of 
 glass for windows in the encircling buildings, emit- 
 ting gleams of light indicative of occupants within. 
 
94 LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS. 
 
 " Have you bespoke a stable ? " asked Mat, 
 halting in the middle of the straw yard. 
 
 "No," replied Tom: "I thought his lordship 
 took in horses." 
 
 " I fear you'll come badly on, then," said Mat, 
 " for they've only six decent stalls, and they seem 
 to be all full." 
 
 " Holloa ! " exclaimed he, giving a loud, sluill, 
 shilling gallery sort of whistle, which had the 
 effect of awakening a man in an open-doored build- 
 ing to a sense of their presence, who, on coming 
 forward, proved to be Sleekpow. This worthy was 
 in the usual state of mental depressioD, of a groom 
 who hasn't got the best stable. " He was sure 
 he didn't know what they should do. The stable 
 wasn't fit to put a dog horse in, let alone such horses 
 as otirs ;" and after divers lamentations he led the 
 way into a sort of a cross, between a stable and a 
 cowhouse — not very good to be sure, but a place 
 that might have been a great deal worse. The 
 ceiling was very low, and formed of loose rafters 
 for the support of hay ; but that was a deal better 
 than no ceiling, or a roof with holes in it ; and 
 though the stalls were merely formed of swing 
 bars, that is of little consequence with horses that 
 know each other. The stable was warm and dry, 
 and there was plenty of clean straw ; and the hay 
 being last year's (1846), it was almost superfluous 
 smelling it, for it was sure to be good. 
 
 However, having humoured Sleekpow by joining 
 
LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS. 95 
 
 in his grumble, and admitting all liis objections to 
 be valid, Tom proceeded to worm it out if lie knew 
 whose horses were there. 
 
 "There's Captain Tipthorn and Mr. Blobditch, 
 Major Tinhead, and a gentleman, whose name he 
 forgot, Squire Muffinhead, or something of that 
 sort. 
 
 " The hounds met at Ecclesford Green, but where 
 that was he couldn't tell ; Esau Broadback, the 
 landlord of the Arms, who knew as much about 
 hounds as coachmen generally do, stating it to be 
 two miles, while Major Tinhead's groom declared it 
 was four." However, two or four was no great 
 matter ; so ordering Sleekpov/ to bring the mare 
 in time for the four, Tom retraced his steps through 
 the park, and was surprised to find himself back at 
 Dawdle Court in "no time." 
 
 •IP ^ w TJ^ ^ 
 
 " What time do we dine ? " asked he of one of 
 the bedizened flunkeys who rushed to his assistance 
 as he entered, and persisted in stripping him as if 
 he hadn't a hand of his own. 
 
 " Dinner's ordered at seven," replied he, with an 
 emphasis on the " ordered." 
 
 Having possessed himself of Tom's hat, gloves, 
 whip stick, and paletot, he handed him over to a 
 pump and pantaloon gentleman in a cataract of 
 Avhite linen, who guided our friend along a laby- 
 rinth of passages, lighted in the true pick-up-a- 
 pin style, to the library. 
 
96 LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS. 
 
 Here Tom found his noble host, booted and 
 breeched, in the midst of an admiiing circle whose 
 peculiar costume indicated sportsmen in mufti — cut 
 away coats, fancy neckcloths, striped vests, cord 
 pantaloons, and so on. They all seemed as if they 
 had come on horseback, and hadn't got the straddle 
 out of their legs yet. 
 
 His lordship, who, in addition to boots and 
 breeches, was attired in a smart new pea-green 
 cut-away, was exhibiting his long length before 
 the fire, in the true British style, — a lap over 
 each arm, — detailing for the third time the splen- 
 dour of a hare hunt he had been engaged in ; which 
 narrative he was kind enouo-h to break off — thoug^h 
 he had nearly hunted puss to destruction again — 
 as Tom entered, in order that he might edify him 
 with it from the beginning. 
 
 "Gad, Mr. Scott," said he, after mutual saluta- 
 tions were over, and he had moved a little to the 
 left to give Tom a smell of the fire, "Gad, ]Mr. 
 Scott," said he, " d ye know, I was so pleased with 
 your account of the Goose and Pudding Hunt that 
 I wrote up to Tattersall to buy me a pack of har- 
 riers, and I've been out with them to-day for tlie 
 first time, and I do assure you I never enjoyed 
 anything more. AVe met at Furzeydown," con- 
 tinued he, '■' about three miles and a-half from here, 
 and found a hare by Clipstone Clump, who went 
 as straight as an arrow to Gatley Coppice, from 
 whence, sinking the wind all the way, she ran to 
 
LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS. 97 
 
 Silverspring, skirting the plantations at Stover, 
 then on to Frogley Glen, where there was a slight 
 check — not more than five minutes, hardly so 
 much — owing to a flock of sheep ; however, we hit 
 her off again, when the hounds flew like pigeons 
 over those fine large pastures to Hack thorn, skirting 
 Rookley Bog, and she was finally killed in the 
 middle of Broadfield village, just by the blacksmith's 
 shop. I dare say you know it, Mr. Scott — close to 
 the public house — the sign of the Frugal Spinster." 
 
 Here Tom managed to intimate that he didn't 
 know the countiy. 
 
 '•'Ah, if you don't," continued his lordship, 
 without drawing breath, " my friend Captain Win- 
 deyhash here does," — as if Windeyhash's knowing 
 it was the same as Tom ; and on his lordship went 
 again, talking of hunting, and riding, and foiling, 
 and casting, and crashing, till the announcement 
 of Colonel Buckskin again brought him " to." 
 
 Havino; got himself settled amonof them, much 
 after the fashion of a lost hound casting up. Buck- 
 skin essayed to show his perfect ease by observing 
 on his lordship's boots and breeches. 
 
 " At it," his lordship went again, beginning with 
 the find at Clipstone Clump, and hunting the hare, 
 with variations, through all the places before men- 
 tioned, runninof out into a long dissertation on the 
 comparative merits of Pelhams and snaffles, each 
 of which he had been trying on the horses he had 
 ridden that day. This, too, in defiance of the 
 
98 LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS. 
 
 gcng, whose last boom had long died out, and been 
 succeeded by the light notes of a musical clock 
 chiming a quarter to seven. 
 
 Still his lordship rattled away, talking of scent, 
 and skirting, and nicking, and babbling, and leap- 
 ing, and creeping, and flying, and bruising, and 
 rasping, and racing, and ramming, as if there was 
 no such thing as dinner in the wind, at all events, 
 as if his sporting keenness had completely subdued 
 the keenness of his appetite. 
 
 At last Lampoil, the white-breasted gentleman 
 Tom had encountered on entering, appeared at the 
 door, followed by a flunkey with a tray full of 
 flaring wax lights ; wdiich appeared to draw his 
 lordship's attention to the fact of his not having 
 dined, for whisking one up with a flourish that 
 sent the accumulated wax all over his leather 
 breeches, he transferred the rest of the company 
 to Lampoil, and proceeded to show Tom to the 
 " blue room." 
 
 " Gad/' said his lordship, again sticking his 
 back to the fire, after going through the usual 
 evolution of showing the bell, the boot-jack, &c., 
 "those are capital hounds of mine, and I'm 
 very much obliged to Tattersall for buying me 
 them." 
 
 " Suppose w^e take a turn with them to-mor- 
 row," continued he, after a pause. 
 
 " We are going out with the Tear Devil hounds 
 aren't we ? " asked Tom, turnino- the airino: shirt 
 
LORD LIONEL LAZYTOXGS. 99 
 
 at the fire by way of giving his lordsliip a liiiit 
 that they ought to be dressing. 
 
 "Ah, true!" replied he, with an air of a man 
 awaking out of a reverie, " to-morrow the Devils 
 meet at Stallington Hill, nineteen miles from here, 
 but that's nothing with two good hacks." 
 
 " Eeclesford Green you told me in your letter, I 
 think," observed Tom. 
 
 " Ah, true ! " rejoined his lordship, " Stalling- 
 ton's on Saturday — you're right ; to-morrow is 
 Eeclesford Green, and a deuced bad place it is 
 too." 
 
 Just as he gave Tom this pleasing piece of in- 
 telligence the tower clock chimed seven, and ob- 
 serving that he " supposed they ought to be dress- 
 ing," his lordship lounged out of the room, having 
 now enlightened Tom as to the meaning of the 
 footman, in saying that dinner was **' ordered " at 
 that hour. 
 
 " What a c[ueer bitch it is," said Tom, as his 
 lordship's gaunt figure disappeared through the 
 door-way. 
 
 " He seems to be keen about hunting too," con- 
 tinued he, running his proceedings and conversa- 
 tion through his mind ; for we should inform the 
 reader, that though Ave called him " Tom's noble 
 friend " in a former chapter, yet Tom knew very 
 little of him, his acquaintance having commenced 
 by helping him out of a bog at the close of last 
 season, when his lordship had paid Mr. Neville's 
 
100 LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS. 
 
 hounds a flying visit of inspection with ca very 
 liberal stud of very fine horses — nearly as many as 
 would have done for hunting a country twice a 
 week. 
 
 Not having a confusion of coats to bother him 
 in a choice, Tom was not long at his toilette, thanks 
 to the footman, who had laid all things out for 
 him. 
 
 When he got into the spacious drawing-room, 
 redolent of fragrance and gilt, and decorated to the 
 highest pitch of French art, he found Lady Lazy- 
 tongs with her lazytongs cocked on the sofa, who 
 gave Tom the sort of distant bend that some ladies 
 give their husbands' friends. 
 
 Fortunately Sir George Stiffnecke, aneigh bourin g 
 knight of immense pretension, had arrived, and 
 was doing the polite in his usual ponderous style, 
 in which effort he was presently aided by Cap- 
 tain Windeyhash, a sort of general hanger-on of 
 the house. 
 
 The whole party having at length assembled, 
 and some having looked at their watches more than 
 once, his lordship at last strolled into the room 
 with the air of a man who had had a good lunch- 
 eon at three, for though the efiervescence of the 
 hare hunt was still in full froth when Tom arrived, 
 it had been over about two, and the hounds back 
 in kennel by three. 
 
 However remiss his lordship might be about 
 
LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS. 101 
 
 dinner, it was gratifying to see that he was still 
 tenacious of the character of the sportsman, for he 
 was now elaborately got up in the full dress uni- 
 form of the Dazzlegoose hunt. In the dress de- 
 partment even Lady Lazytongs seemed to take an 
 interest, for she beckoned his lordship towards her, 
 that she might have a nearer view of the richly 
 braided gold fox with a silver tag on the crimson 
 velvet collar of his beet-root coloured coat. 
 
 Having eyed him up and down, and turned him 
 round, as a child would a doll, she again sunk on 
 the sofa, with the observation that she supposed he 
 " might as well ring for dinner." 
 
 His lordship then strutted away in his rose- 
 coloured breeches and white silk-stockin2;s, lookino; 
 uncommonly like a mountebank. 
 
 Dinner was shortly after announced. 
 
 What pen could do justice to that meal ? AVho 
 can describe the noble apartment, the ponderous 
 plate, the splendid chandeliers, the glittering side- 
 board, the light and tasteful confectionery, the 
 crystal-like glass, the snow-like diaper, the beau- 
 tiful flowers — above all, the sparkling wines and 
 rich and varied dainties ? 
 
 Not Tom Scott, certainly. Nevertheless, he did 
 pretty fair justice to the victuals, as who would not 
 that had breakfasted at eight and tasted nothing 
 since ? 
 
 Indeed, to tell the truth, he ate so much, and 
 of such variety, potage a la comtessc, or soup 
 
102 LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS. 
 
 made of Countess, turhot a la Hollandaise, or 
 Dutch turbot, with sauce we don't know what, 
 " Iwrs-cV ceuvres " of all sorts that came in the way, 
 to say nothing of two cuts at a leg of mutton 
 basted with devil's tears, followed by a slice of 
 "dindonneau a la Nelson," or nautical turkey, a turn 
 at a " salade de grouse, a la SoyerJ' in addition to 
 Nesselrode pudding, creme a la vanille, Charlotte 
 Russe, and other trifles, that he was dreadfully 
 afllicted with the nightmare, and fancied that old 
 Louis Philippe and all his sons, with their wives, 
 were squatting on his stomach together. But we 
 anticipate. 
 
 When the ladies retired — for there were two or 
 three besides Lady Lazytongs — they had another 
 burst about hunting from his lordship, who threw 
 back his beet-root coloured coat as though he were 
 going to make a " clean breast of it." 
 
 He had all the talk to himself, and never did 
 Scott hear man run on so about horses and hounds, 
 and the system of kennel. 
 
 " Out upon Nimrod," said Tom, who in his swell 
 quarterly dinner at Melton — and that, too, after a 
 splendid run — tells us the subject of hunting was 
 never once mentioned. 
 
 " Here have I been training myself," continued 
 he, " for civilised society upon a similar basis, and 
 now I find my Lord Lionel Lazytongs, son of the 
 Marquis of Fender and Fireirons, blazing away 
 like an engine." 
 
LORD LIONEL LAZYTOXGS. 103 
 
 Tom then tried to get a word in sidewcays, but 
 the steam of his lordship's eloquence was still too 
 strong, and he resumed the position of listener. 
 
 Nor was Tom sorry ; for his lordship talked 
 well, and apparently to the purpose, and, having 
 seen hounds and countries that Tom only knew 
 by name, what he said had the advantage of 
 novelty, though it might want the charm of per- 
 sonal participation. AVliat runs he told them of! 
 AVhat leaps he described ! What brooks he cleared ! 
 
 As he went on, he built up places with knives, 
 forks, and spoons, and introduced finger glasses 
 and tumblers till he brought the very places before 
 their eyes. Then he criticised this master and that 
 — compared one great establishment with another, 
 and described their respective countries, till Tom 
 almost reo-retted not livino- nearer so OTeat a 
 
 o o o 
 
 luminary. 
 
 Like all great talkers, however, we are concerned 
 to add that he did not circulate the liquor. 
 
 Had Captain Windeyhash, who most needlessly 
 acted the part of showman, or trotter out, leading 
 his lordship on to his stories, and helping him out 
 with the lame ones, devoted himself to the circula- 
 tion of the bottle instead, it would have been quite 
 as agreeal^le to the guests. However, " time and 
 the hour against the longest day," and the same 
 able adversary conquers the longest evening too. 
 
 When they got back into the di'awing-room, the 
 covey of company was broke, and then for the lii'st 
 
104 LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS. 
 
 time Tom had an opportunity of saj'ing a few 
 words as to the morrow. 
 
 The first person he addressed was Major Tin- 
 head, whom he had seen out with Mr. Neville's 
 hounds once or twice. 
 
 "Hope you've brought your best horse," said 
 Tinhead, after a common-place or two, "for it's a 
 desperate country — stiffest in England, isn't it, 
 Blobbey 1 " continued he, catching that fat gentle- 
 man by the elbow, as he waddled along, coffee-cup 
 in hand, to a sofa. 
 
 " Oh, tre-men-dioiis country," replied Blobditch, 
 giving his head a solemn shake. " I always say 
 that the man who can ride across our country 
 needn't be afraid of any country in the world ! " 
 With which compliment to himself, he proceeded 
 on his journey. 
 
 Tom got a similar account from Captain Tip- 
 thorn ; indeed they all seemed bent on the usual 
 course of frightening the stranger. 
 
 Music and cards in the drawing-room, with 
 billiards and naps outside, filled up the evening, 
 till at last it was bedtime, even for my lord. 
 
 The ladies had retired shortly after Sir George 
 Stiffnecke took his departure, and wine and water 
 having filled up the interstices of the stomach, 
 Lampoil again made his appearance in front of an 
 illumination. 
 
 "Good nights" being exchanged, each man hur- 
 ried off with his candle. 
 
LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS. ]05 
 
 His lordship's politeness induced him to accom- 
 pany Tom again to his bed-room, where, having 
 stirred the fire, he established himself in his old posi- 
 tion, and again began " harping on his daughter." 
 
 He forgot they were going out with the Tear 
 Devil hounds, and talked of the Currant-jelly dogs 
 as if they were going to have a turn with them. 
 
 "Ah, true," replied his lordship, in answer to 
 Tom's observation, that it was the Ecclesford Green 
 day. "True, I forgot. Let me see, then," con- 
 tinued he, ruminating. 
 
 " You and I'll breakfast together at half-past 
 nine," said he, after a pause, "and then we shall 
 be quite independent of every one. I hate bother- 
 ing and waiting for a family breakfast on a hunting 
 morning," added he. 
 
 " So do I," Tom would have added, but his 
 voluble lordship did not give him time. 
 
 " At half-past nine, then, 2>'>^ecisely^' continued 
 his lordship: "in Dian's Bower, the room to the 
 left of the library as you enter." 
 
 " So be it," repHed Tom. 
 
 " I'll tell Lampoil to have breakfast ready to a 
 minute" said he. " How is your time by mine ? " 
 asked his lordship, producing a most diminutive 
 "Geneva" watch, about the size of a half-crown 
 piece, from his waistcoat pocket. " I'm now half- 
 past twelve," said he, turning its little pale face 
 towards Scott. 
 
106 LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS. 
 
 " And I am twenty-five minutes past," said Tom, 
 showing his grandfatlier's great gold turnip. 
 
 " Aio revoir, then," said his lordship, extending 
 a brace of fingers, repeating as he left the room, 
 "Then mikd, haJfj^cist nine, to a minute/" 
 
 t!f •?? ^ tf ^ 
 
 "Louis Philippe," as we said before, having es- 
 tablished himself and family on Tom's stomach 
 during the night, in consequence of the miscella- 
 neous dinner he had eaten, Tom did hot require 
 much callinsj in the mornino-. Indeed he heard 
 every hour strike after three, about which time the 
 heavy monarch and party soused themselves down. 
 He succeeded in dislodging them about four ; but 
 between that hour and five they returned with 
 redoubled force, and Tom dreamt that the old fat 
 Queen Mother of Spain actually sat herself down 
 on his mouth. 
 
 So he battled and struggled on till it was light. 
 
 It was eight before day was fairly established, 
 and, thinking it was no use interrupting the house- 
 maids, Tom just lay in bed until within three- 
 quarters of an hour of the breakfast time that his 
 lordship had appointed, wdiich he knew would enable 
 
 him to be down to the moment. 
 
 ***** 
 
 " Is his lordship up ? " asked our friend of the 
 jean-jacketted lackey who brought him up his hot 
 water. 
 
LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS. 1^7 
 
 " I don't know I'm sure, sir," replied lie ; " I've 
 not seen liis lordship's valet yet." 
 
 " He'll be sure to be up," thought Tom, bounding 
 out of bed at the recollection of the evening talk 
 and the overnight injunctions. 
 
 *' Some men are only punctual in hunting mat- 
 ters," continued Tom, lathering away at his chin. 
 
 So he proceeded in his dressing. 
 
 Boots certainly don't carry well in saddle-bags, 
 and Tom never understood the value of the 
 fisherman or bishop's sort until this morning. 
 You can take and stamp them into saddle-bags 
 just as you would a pair of dirty stockings, and 
 they'll unfold as smart and bright as ever; but 
 woe betide the tops that have not elbow room to 
 themselves. Tom's turned out only " so so," when 
 he came to inspect them by daylight, and he knew it 
 would be worse than useless askinoj a six-foot fisjure 
 footman if he could remedy the little irregularities 
 of putty powder they presented. Besides, he had 
 not calculated his time to allow of recommodes, as 
 the French say, so he just pulled them on as they 
 were. 
 
 Tom had some difiiculty in finding the Hall of 
 Dian ; but when he did, he found that it was 
 rightly named. 
 
 It was a comfortable-sized room, small in com- 
 parison with the magnificent entertaining ones he 
 had been in over night, but what would be con- 
 sidered a very good room in a moderate-sized house. 
 
lOS LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS. 
 
 It was square and lofty, with richly ornamented 
 panelled walls, and full-length portraits in each 
 compartment. 
 
 Those who have remarked the various represen- 
 tations of Her Majesty and Prince Albert, or indeed 
 those of any other illustrious individual, will ex- 
 cuse Tom's getting half way through the series 
 before he discovered that they w^ere all Lord Lionel 
 Lazytong's. 
 
 Above the richly-carved white marble mantel- 
 piece his lordship stood beside a grey horse in the 
 morning costume of the Dazzlegoose Hunt — bright, 
 apricot-coloured coat, white cravat, striped buff 
 vest with black binding, white cords, and longish 
 top boots. 
 
 Next it, on the left, he appeared in scarlet on 
 a gallant bay, careering over an open country 
 which, with the exception of a couple of swallows, 
 he seemed to have all to himself. 
 
 The third represented him about to do a little 
 fantastic toe. Dressed in the evening dress of the 
 Swell-boys' Hunt — lavender-coloured coat, with 
 rose-coloured linings, richly embroidered white 
 satin waistcoat, with white kerseymere shorts and 
 white silk stockings, he stood drawing on a pair of 
 pink kid gloves before an opening door, which 
 disclosed a cut-glass chandelier above sundry 
 satin petticoats, whirling al^out with white-legged 
 gentlemen. 
 
 In a larger piece between the windows he ap- 
 
LORD LIONEL LAZYTOXGS. ]09 
 
 peared on horseback again. He was in the act of 
 changing a white hack for a black hunter, in the 
 imaginary dress of Master of the Buckhounds, an 
 office he had bespoken for himself on the coming in 
 of the Tories. Scene — Ascot Heath — the Grand 
 Stand crowded with ladies, perfuming the air with 
 their pocket handkerchiefs. Artist — of course, 
 Frank Grant. 
 
 On the door-side of the room his lordship ap- 
 peared in three panels, one clearing such a gate as 
 never was seen, in the brimstone-coloured coat of 
 the Tear Devil Hunt, another riding like fury at 
 a thing like an arm of the sea, and a third can- 
 tering past the statute of Achilles on his return 
 from a day in the Vale of Aylesbury, with Baron 
 Eothschild's Staggers. This was by Count d'Orsay, 
 and was done to commemorate the feat of his lord- 
 ship having ridden "all the way there and back." 
 There were a couple of niches vacant on the side 
 opposite the window, one of which will most likely 
 soon be occupied by him in the pea-green cutaway, 
 and leathers of the hare hunter. 
 
 Altogether it was a regular sporting apartment, 
 and only Avanted breakfast, and a little knowledge 
 of hunting on the part of some of the artists. 
 Not but that there were symptoms of breakfast in 
 the shape of a snug round table near the fire, 
 garnished Avith a profusion of plate, but, as yet, 
 there were no eatables. 
 
J 10 LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS. 
 
 Tom took another hasty round of the pictures, 
 but still there was no indication of breakfast. 
 
 He then proceeded to stare out of the Avindow 
 to see if he could see anything in the hunting line, 
 and ao-ain returned to the fire and besfan to in- 
 spect the polished ivory handle of the bell-pull. 
 
 It was now a quarter to ten, and he began to 
 be seriously uneasy. 
 
 " Surely his lordship, so keen and precise over- 
 night, can't have changed his mind," thought he. 
 And then he began to wish his lordship had let 
 him breakfast with the rest. 
 
 " Perhaps there would be no great harm in ring- 
 ing the bell and asking if breakfast w^as going on 
 elsewhere," continued he, laying hold of the knob, 
 when just as he was going to turn it down, the 
 well *known " clonk, clonk, clonk," of spurs in the 
 passage arrested his hand, and drew Tom's eyes to 
 the door. 
 
 It ivas his long lordship, who now came forward 
 to greet him, but not in the dress Tom expected at 
 that advanced hour of the morning. 
 
 Instead of the coat and waistcoat of the fox- 
 hunter, he was enveloped in a long, flowing blue 
 and silver brocade rohe de chamhre, confined at 
 the waist with enormous blue and silver cords, 
 with tassels as big as bell-pulls. He had a heap 
 of letters in one hand, and the Times, Post, and 
 Morning Chronicle tucked under his other arm. 
 
LORD LIONEL LAZYTOXGS. Ill 
 
 " Gad," said he, with a knowing look, " I really 
 think the ministry won't stand. It's clear there's 
 a split in the cabinet. Old story — Grey and 
 Palmerston — Grey and Palmerston — don't like 
 each other — don't like each other. AVhat do you 
 think, Mr. Scott ? " 
 
 " Hang'd if I know," said Tom ; " don't care 
 either, so long as it don't come a frost." 
 
 " Ah, true," replied his lordship. " That re- 
 minds me we are o-oino- to hunt ; better have break- 
 fast, perhaps — better have breakfiist, perhaps ; " so 
 saying, he gave our old friend the bell a hearty 
 peal. 
 
 " Well, but," resumed he, taking a dressing- 
 gown lap over each arm, and placing himself in his 
 favourite position before the fire, "you're a Tory, 
 aint you ? " 
 
 " Dash'd if I know what I am," said Tom ; "it 
 makes precious little odds what men like myself 
 are. I was a Tory, or Conservative, or whatever 
 you call it, and joined the gohcmouches in abusing 
 the "Whigs, and hoovayiug Sir Rol)ert; but I've 
 thrown up politics, and devote myself to draining, 
 and d ning him instead." 
 
 " All, well," rejoined his lordship, with a smile 
 at the mixed occupation, " well, but you'd like to 
 see the Whigs out, of course," eyeing himself in 
 the Master of the Buckhounds picture. 
 
 " Not if it was to let Peel in again," replied Tom. 
 " I hate the sound of his name." 
 
112 LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS. 
 
 Just then in came Lampoil, followed by no end 
 of footmen, with tea and coffee, muffins and meat, 
 and eggs and ham, and potted game, to which Tom 
 had hardly got a fair start before the noisy clock 
 struck ten. 
 
 " Is that nine or ten ? " asked his lordship, as it 
 was still on the strike. 
 
 " Ten, my lord," replied Lampoil, who, with two 
 footmen, were doing all but eat their breakfasts 
 for them — handing everything that was within 
 reach, and so on. 
 
 " The hounds meet at eleven, I presume 1 " said 
 Tom, trembling for the answer. 
 
 "A quarter to," replied his lordship ; '*' we're in 
 plenty of time ; they're close hy" saying which he 
 again had recourse to The Post. 
 
 A dead silence followed broken only by the 
 
 noise of their jaws, as they worked away at the 
 
 viands. 
 
 ***** 
 
 " I'll be with you in five minutes," at last said 
 his lordship, drawing himself slowly from under 
 the table, and handing Tom the newspapers. " Send 
 for the hacks," said he to Lampoil, 
 
 " Hacks /" repeated Tom, as his lordship clonked 
 out of the room, " I thought it was close by." 
 
 "So it is," replied Lampoil, at least what his 
 lordship calls close by — four or five miles, perhaps ; 
 his lordship thinks nothing of eighteen or twenty 
 — desperate man on the road." 
 
LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS. 113 
 
 " It's to be hoped lie finds hacks for his friends," 
 observed Tom, not relishing the idea of galloping 
 the old mare to cover, and hunting her after. 
 ***** 
 
 It was full half-past ten ere his lordship re-ap- 
 peared, and then he had to get his sherry flask 
 filled and his pocket stuffed with sandwiches and 
 gingerbread nuts. 
 
 # * ^ «: * 
 
 Just as they were crossing the great hall on 
 their prolonged departure, her ladyship was de- 
 scending the spacious staircase followed by her 
 youngest child in the nurse's arms. 
 
 " Oh, Lionel ! " exclaimed she, without taking 
 the slightest notice of poor Tom, " what have you 
 got that fright of a neckcloth on for ? " 
 
 " Fright ! " repeated his lordship, " why Jowett 
 sent it down as the newest fashion ; he says George 
 Kinglets wears it with the Queen's, Beau Sarsnet 
 with the Duke, and I don't know who else besides." 
 
 " Never mind who wears it," snapped her ladyship, 
 " yellow, with black spots, don't become you, so 
 pray take it off." 
 
 " But I shall be keeping j\Ir. Scott waiting, my 
 dear," replied his lordship, intimating Tom's pre- 
 sence by laying hold of his arm. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Scott won't mind waiting a minute or 
 two, I'm sure," replied her ladyship, deigning him 
 a sort of bow at last. 
 
 
114 LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS. 
 
 " Well, if you wish to liave him call spotted like 
 a leopard," said her ladyship, with a significant 
 glance and shake of the head, as her spouse still 
 hesitated, " you'll go as you are." 
 
 His lordship then commenced a rapid ascent of 
 the staircase, taking three steps at a time. 
 
 We don't know^ whether ladies look upon neck- 
 cloths in the same light as they do their own ribbons 
 — thinos that can be chanoed in a minute — but 
 
 o o 
 
 we can assure them neckcloths are much more 
 serious affairs. It w\as fall five minutes ere the 
 clonk of his spurs announced his lordship's arrival 
 on the landing in a skyblue satin cravat, instead of 
 the proscribed yellow and black spot ; and though 
 Ave could have changed in half the time, yet for 
 his lordship we don't think it was long. 
 
 " Will this do, my dear ? " asked he, buttoning his 
 waistcoat, and adjusting his shirt collar, as he de- 
 scended the staircase, and her ladyship having 
 received the parting kiss for her assent, and the 
 child having lisped its " ta, ta," our sportsmen at 
 last found themselves among the body of the ser- 
 vants in the outer hall. 
 
 If they had been two Daniel Lamberts they were 
 going to hoist on to their horses by sheer strength^ 
 they could not have required more. Numerous as 
 they were, however, the opening door disclosed 
 more outside. 
 
 There was Tom's plummey, over-night friend, 
 the stud-groom, in his brown cut-away, toilanette 
 
LORD LIONEL LAZYTONOS. 115 
 
 waistcoat, drab kerseymeres and gaiters, ready to 
 take the cover hack from an attendant in fustians 
 the moment his lordship appeared, and there was a 
 swell groom in leathers and livery, whose gold- 
 laced hat alone would have furnished half an out- 
 fit for Sleekpow. 
 
 That worthy individual's face showed the dis- 
 pleasure he felt at having been kept three (juarters 
 of {in hour on the gravel, his vexation Ijeing 
 heightened, perhaps, by numerous little anecdotes 
 he would pick up relative to his lordship's pace 
 on the road, and the distance they had to go. 
 
 " It's Jive miles," groaned Sleekpow, handing Tom 
 the mare, with which dread intelligence the clock 
 tolled the quarter. 
 
 " AVe haven't mucli time to spare/' said liis 
 lordship, who, having now mounted a prancing- 
 grey bar)), was 
 
 '* Provoking llic wiper tliat lie seemed to cliide," 
 
 to the admiration of her ladyshij^, who was pointing- 
 out " Pa's " feats to the child, and also to the edifi- 
 cation of sundry housemaids and dolly mops looking 
 out of the windows above. 
 
 Having performed in a style that would have 
 done honour to Astley, or to the Chami)ion at a 
 coronation, he at length kissed his kid-gloved 
 hand, and sticking spurs into the barb, dashed 
 off in a gallop. 
 
 " D — n the fellow ! How does he ever suppose I 
 
116 LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS. 
 
 can keep pace with him ! " exclaimed Tom, gathering 
 the old mare, who, thoroughly disgusted with her 
 long wait, was now kicking, and imitating the feats 
 of the barb. 
 
 " You had better get forrard, sir," said the groom, 
 coming up full canter, hands well down, as though 
 he were setting to for a race. 
 
 " His lordship rides very fast," added he, shoot- 
 ing past. 
 
 " Well, this is the most confounded wild-goose 
 chase I ever rode ! " exclaimed Tom, as his lordship 
 charged a flight of rails, followed by the lad, who 
 could now hardly get forward in time to unlock 
 the private park door. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Having passed this and so cleared the park, they 
 were now upon the road, a place not at all suited 
 to Tom's old mare's legs, which, though sound in 
 the soft, are only what Sleekpow calls rather 
 " crambley " on the hard. 
 
 " Gently, old lass," continued Tom, patting her 
 neck, to try and get her to ease herself down to a 
 trot, " gently, old lass ; it's no use fretting ; you 
 are both hack and hunter to-day." 
 
 But the old mare's monkey was up, and she clat- 
 tered and battered along as if she had two or three 
 sets of legs at home. 
 
 Findin(y he would take as much out in frettinof 
 as he saved in restraining her, Tom at last let her 
 go, and Wideopen Common shortly intervening, he 
 
LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS. 117 
 
 kept his lordship in view, and sailed away at what 
 would have been called an " excellent pace," had 
 hounds been running. 
 
 After clearing the common, they again got upon 
 the road, and meeting two or three cover hacks, 
 Tom saw the hounds, at all events, had come. 
 
 In close shaving, either for railway time, or 
 dinner time, or fox-hunting time, or indeed almost 
 any time, it is bad policy stopping to ask questions, 
 for if one is not past time already, the stoppage 
 may make one so. The only plan is to " keep 
 moving," and hug oneself at each person one gets 
 past, without hearing, " Ah ! the train's gone ! " 
 or, that most appalling sound of all, " they re awaij 
 with him ! " 
 
 Tom got past three return grooms with a stare 
 from two, and a touch of the hat from the third, 
 and, following his noble friend with his eye towards 
 the rising ground, up which their course now lay, 
 we saw him dash among a dark crowd on the hill 
 top, dismount, and. in the twinkling of an eye dis- 
 appear on the other side. 
 
 " That's all very well," sighed Tom, "for a man 
 with a stable full of horses ; but I, who ride my 
 own to cover, can't afford to blow it on the road." 
 
 So saying, he eased the old mare down into a trot, 
 and just jogged up to the group on the hill with as 
 unconcerned a face as a man in scarlet can assume, 
 when the hounds have gone away with their fox. 
 
 " Your o'er late, sir ! " said a kindly-disposed 
 
1]8 LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS. 
 
 liorsebreaker, with a sliake of the head, as he backed 
 his three-year old out of Tom's- way ; "they fund 
 tlirectly they put in, and have been away with him 
 this ten minutes/' 
 
 " The deuce they have 1 " excLaimed Tom, pulUug 
 up in full panoramic view of the scene — Deep Dean, 
 where they found him, the end at which he broke, 
 the still open gate through which the field had past 
 the l)othering brook, the kindly bridge, and the 
 boundless expanse of noble country over which 
 they were now careering. 
 
 Nothing could be finer. 
 
 " 'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view," 
 wrote the poetic Campbell, speaking of general 
 scenery, and surely it holds good with fox-hunting 
 scenery too, for distance reduces the leaps, so as 
 to make all countries look pleasant and practic- 
 able. This one did so particularly, and the last 
 brimstone-coated whip seemed to glide over the 
 plain, as he took on the tail hounds, as though there 
 was nothing bigger than a water furrow. 
 
 Poor Tom was never so vexed in his life ! He 
 could have cried, if no one had been there. " All 
 that hanged neckcloth ! " exclaimed he. 
 
 ***** 
 
 " There was a gentleman just before me," ob- 
 served he, as soon as he recovered his articulation. 
 
 " Ah, that's my lord," replied the breaker, with a 
 sneer, " You mustn't follow him." 
 
 " Why not ? " inquired Tom, as his lordship's 
 
LORD LIONEL LAZYTONGS. 110 
 
 brimstone-coloured coat now appeared careering on 
 the line. 
 
 " Hoot ! lie just rides after anything," replied the 
 man. " All he cares for's a gallop." 
 
 " But he rides hard," observed Tom, looking at 
 his Lordship crashing at a big fence with an open 
 gate close at hand. 
 
 " Oh ! he'll ride hard enough," replied the man, 
 with a knowing leer, for there are few better in- 
 formed persons in these matters than horse-breakers. 
 " He'll ride hard enough," repeated he, "especially 
 if there are any ladies looking on ; for his great 
 pleasure is in dressing up and showing off ; and he 
 certainly does make as good a turn-out as any noble- 
 man in the land. He had two as fine horses here 
 this morning as ever was seen, the one he's riding, 
 and the one his pad groom's on with ; and last 
 Wednesday he had two horses with these hounds, 
 and two with the Dazzlegoose, and managed to be 
 with both packs without seeing a run with either. 
 He's a rum'uns, my lord." 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE GOLDTRAP ARMS. 
 
 "You were out of luck," observed Esau Broad- 
 back, Tom's host, or rather his horse's host, as Tom 
 arrived ou foot on the morning after the Ecclesford 
 Green day, with the intention of getting his horse 
 to go home. 
 
 " Yes," grunted Tom, with the tone of a man 
 who doesn't want to be questioned. 
 
 " You might get a day to-morrow," observed 
 Broadback, with the sagacity of an innkeeper to- 
 wards his own interest. " The Stout-as-steel hounds 
 are within reach." 
 
 " Where are they ? " inquired Tom. 
 
 At the Bridge of Bevis Mount, about ten miles 
 from here," replied Broadback. 
 
 " Ten miles ! " hiccuped a drunken voice, '* it's 
 more like twenty !" 
 
 This was Tom's friend the horse-breaker, who 
 had been drinking ever since they parted, and had 
 got through a half-crown Tom gave him, and se- 
 veral of his own to boot. 
 
 " It won't be above fifteen, any how," resumed 
 Broadback, amending his geography. 
 
 Fifteen's as good as fifty, in Tom's estimation at 
 least, in as far as sending on in the morning is 
 
THE GOLDTRAP ARMS. 121 
 
 concerned, tintl if a man lias to move his liorse 
 from one country inn to another, lie may as well be 
 sociable, and go too. 
 
 It so happened that our friend Tom had a great 
 desire to see the Stout-as-stcel hounds, having 
 heard no little of them in his early days. They 
 were originally a miner's pack, hunting the beau- 
 tiful but hilly region so favourably known to all 
 tourists and scenery hunters as the Kiss-sky moun- 
 tains. The pack has been in existence above a 
 century, not exactly as an advertising one, with a 
 huntsman and whips, but a good useful cry of 
 dogs, never under five, and sometimes as high as 
 ten couple. After towling about the valleys, and 
 the bases, and the middles, and the summits of the 
 mountains, with the usual pony and pedestrian 
 fields of " peep-o'-day packs," they got a piece of 
 vale country, which they gradually extended, and 
 in the course of time came out in type, looking 
 (upon paper) as big as the best. At length they 
 got weaned from the view-hallos and cow-horns of 
 the miners, and under the mastership of Tom's late 
 cousin, Simon Squander, who in the handsomest 
 manner ruined himself by keeping them, they 
 acquired considerable renown. 
 
 After his death (which took place some ten years 
 ago, and was caused, as many of our readers will 
 recollect, by his drinking a glass of oxalic acid in 
 mistake for gin, being at the time rather overcomo 
 with brandy), the hounds floundered on for some 
 
1-22 thp: goldtrap arms. 
 
 time in the hands of a committee, and at length 
 passed into those of Captain Cashbox : a gentleman, 
 who, we l)elieve, was caught at the " Corner," and 
 most likely adopted on the strength of his name, 
 though, if he was, it has turned out a failure, the 
 captain's talent consisting in walking into other 
 people's cash-boxes, and saving his own. 
 
 This little episode will explain why it was that 
 Tom was anxious to see the Stout-as-steel hounds ; 
 an anxiety that caused him to ponder in the stable, 
 and consider whether, now that he had got so far, 
 he had not better go a little further, and gratify his 
 inclination. 
 
 The meet, the bridge at Bevis Mount, sounded 
 quite familiar to his ear, or rather, perhaps, looked 
 quite familiar to his eyes — ^just as familiar as the 
 " Devil's Dyke " or " Telscombe Tye " of the old 
 Brighton or Brookside harriers, look to the eye of 
 a Sussex squire. Indeed, the column of " Hunting 
 Appointments " is not the least interesting one in 
 the paj)ers, and through its medium one establishes 
 a sort of hunting acquaintance witli all the packs 
 in the kingdom, assiraino; to each meet such a 
 country as we think the name indicates, and not 
 unfrequently indulging in an imaginary run from 
 it. If the mesmerisers would only invent a pro- 
 cess for taking off one's thoughts when half asleep, 
 we could produce some astonishing runs, far better 
 than anything we can write. 
 
 But to our friend Tom. 
 
THE GOLDTRAP ARMS. 123 
 
 Having taken a "look at the map in the traveller's 
 room of the Lazytong Arms, and run his eye from 
 the great greasy thumb-mark denoting the " here 
 we are" of Dawdle Court into the intricacies of 
 the hills, Scott saw that Bevis Mount Avas quite 
 beyond distance for a morning's start ; but ob- 
 serving the town of Sludgington on the line, which 
 he remembered to have heard his late cousin ex- 
 tol, our independent friend determined to dispense 
 with the services of Sleekpow, and go " bags and 
 all," feelino- that it would never do to return to 
 Hawbuck Grange without being able to tell Mr. 
 Neville and " their chaps " what sort of dogs 
 either the Tear Devil or the Stout-as-steel ones 
 were. 
 
 ***** 
 
 That point being settled, he was very soon on the 
 back of the old mare, and after divers twistinos 
 and turnings, and cros^ngs, and missings, and 
 askings, the curtailed proportions of a winter's day 
 found him gazing at the chubby tower of Sludging- 
 ton Church. 
 
 Having cleared the toll-bar, he })resently entered 
 the town. 
 
 It consisted of one long, narrow street, formed 
 of all sorts of houses, and cottages, and shops, and 
 premises ranged in a most higgledy-piggledy state 
 of confusion — a good house here, a bad one there, 
 a dirty cottage next, a public-house after it ; then 
 a coy freestone -faced mansion, retiring within its 
 
124 THE GOLDTKAP ARMS. 
 
 own iron railings, followed by a smitliy adjoining a 
 cowshed. The street was one continued bed of 
 hard, loose, whinstone, whose roughness and sharp- 
 ness was only relieved by a plentiful covering of 
 cold, bleak-looking mud. 
 
 In passing along, Tom could not help thinking 
 if the old mare was to fall, what a state her knees 
 and his clothes would be in. Fortunately no such 
 catastrophe befel Mr. Scott, and a ragged urchin 
 with a ladder having lighted a glow-worm sort of 
 oil lamp, a little in advance of where he rode, he 
 deciphered the words " Goldtrap Arms " below one 
 of those resplendent shields that indicate the great 
 man of the country. 
 
 In truth the sign was a perfect extinguisher on 
 the house, making it look like a boy in a man's 
 hat. However, there it was, and being about the 
 centre of the town, there was no doubt about its 
 being the head inn, even if Tom's friend with the 
 ladder had not proclaimed it. 
 
 He did more, he rang the bell for the ostler. 
 
 There is no saying, if our friend was advertising, 
 in " Grandmama," the Sunday Times, or any of 
 the matrimonial mediums of communication, what 
 compliments he might pay to his person, but in 
 this bit of confidence with our numerous readers 
 we don't care admitting that it isn't everybody that 
 takes Tom for a gentleman. 
 
 So on this occasion Sam Beer, the ostler, answered 
 the summons in a way that plainly showed he 
 
THE GOLDTRAP ARMS. 125 
 
 thought our traveller and he were al^out equals — 
 at least would l)e, if the latter had his Sunday 
 clothes on, instead of a pair of rotten-looking fus- 
 tian trousers, a tattered waistcoat, and a very dirty 
 shirt. Top-boots having about devolved entirely 
 upon fox-hunters and servants, a man perhaps 
 may be excused not knowing "which is which," 
 without the red coat ; at all events, Tom consoled 
 himself with that supposition. 
 
 " Stop all night ! " said Sam, laying hold of the 
 reins, as Tom rode under the wretched low arch- 
 way (filled with unwashed gigs, empty barrels and 
 hens) leading into the close contracted passage of 
 a stable -yard. 
 
 "Yes," replied Tom, adding, "You've room, I 
 suppose?" 
 
 ^' Plenty oi loom. \" replied the man; and truly 
 when Tom lighted on a veteran dung heap at one 
 stable door, and saw- the broken panes and gaping 
 deals of the other, he didn't wonder at it ; and he 
 almost wished he'd brought Sleekpow, when he 
 saw the place, as well to relieve him from the 
 trouble of superintendence as to teach Sleekpow 
 not to grumble unnecessarily in future. 
 
 Having loosened the saddle-bags and chucked 
 them over on the far side, in the way that guards 
 and other disinterested parties deal with luggage. 
 Beer gave Tom the mare to hold, while he slunk 
 into the kitchen in search of a candle. 
 
 After two unsuccessful attempts to bring it past 
 
12G THE OOLDTRAP ARMS. 
 
 the draiiglit of the gateway in his hands, he had 
 recourse to an old hat, and at hxst succeeded in 
 phuiting it triumphantly against the wall in a 
 holder formed of its own grease. 
 
 He then led in the old mare, and commenced 
 the usual chilhng, temper-trying, fistling and fum- 
 Lling of the slovenly slatternly stableman. 
 
 We have often thought, when at places of this 
 sort, of Nimrod's account of the metamorphose a 
 pair of boot-trees turning out of his buggy effected 
 in the manners of the landlord and servants of 
 an inn he drove up to in Scotland — Kelso, we 
 think, — during his " Northern tour," and the 
 tip of a scarlet coat-lap peeping out of the corner 
 of the saddle-bags, which we omitted to mention 
 were taken into the kitchen when Beer went for 
 the candle, operated similarly in Tom Scott's fa- 
 vour. 
 
 Cornelius Cake, the landlord, having been a gen- 
 tleman's servant — a ha ro net's we should say — 
 butler to Sir Digby Goldtrap, whose arms his house 
 bears, thought himself a judge of gentlemen ; and, 
 beino- struck with the cloth, came into the stable to 
 
 o 
 
 see who had brought it. 
 
 Tom saw as plainly as if Cake said it, that he 
 was bothered with his appearance, not knowing 
 whether he was master or man. 
 
 He glanced first at Tom's boots, then at his 
 bottle-green cut-away, with bright buttons, and 
 having carried his observations up to his hat, 
 
THE GOLDTKAP ARMS. 127 
 
 -without liaving- come to a satisfactory conclusion, 
 he turned his attention to the old mare. 
 
 " Nice nag you've got there," said Cake, in a 
 careless sort of way — " could hunt a little, I should 
 think, that nag." 
 
 "A good deed," re})lied Tom, adding, " that's just 
 what I keep her for." 
 
 " Indeed ! " rei)hed Cake, with a touch of his 
 hat, and a low bow. 
 
 " I want to see the Stout-as-steel hounds to- 
 morrow — how far is the Bridge of Bevis Mount 
 from here ? " 
 
 "Bridge of Bevis Alount — Bridge of Bevis 
 Mount," muttered Cake quickly, as if he knew the 
 place so well that he quite forgot it. " How far 
 is the bridge of Bevis Mount from here, Beer '? " 
 asked he of the ostler. 
 
 "Bevis M-o-u-n-t, Bevis ^I-o-u-n-t," drawled 
 the dawdler ; " Bevis ]\l-o-u-n-t 1 " repeated he — 
 " W-h-o-y, it'ill be up niong hills, 1-o-i-k-e, away 
 by Gussingen," wagging a hand in the air as if 
 pointing to it. 
 
 " Ah, I know," replied Tom, walking away in 
 search of the saddler. 
 
 Having found that functionary, and learned all 
 about it, he was presently stamping the cold, slaty 
 mud off his boots in the doorway, beneath the 
 blazing sign of the Goldtraj) Arms. 
 
 " This way. Sir, if you i)lease." exclaimed Cor- 
 nelius Cake, rushing out of the little back parlour 
 
128 THE GOLDTRAP ARMS. 
 
 commanding a view of the entrance, throwing open 
 the black door of the little parlour on the right, in 
 whose pittance of a grate smoked and spluttered 
 some white-ashed, slaty-looking coals. 
 
 Though the best room, it was small and low, 
 papered with a tasteless, repulsive-looking, dark- 
 green paper, carried half way down the wall, the 
 part below the skirting-board being whitewashed. 
 We sometimes see papers so hideously ugly as to 
 look as if they had been made for a premium. 
 
 On the wall opposite the windows, and above 
 the wooden mantel-piece, which latter was decorated 
 with paper fans, spars, card-racks, china poodles, 
 and other dust-catching articles, were portraits of 
 Tom's host and hostess — Cornelius and Mrs. Cake, 
 
 They were evidently by the same hand, most 
 likely acquired in the usual way of inn portraiture, 
 -^some travelling artist painting out his bill. On 
 no other supposition can we account for the wonder- 
 ful tendency publicans have to " run to portrait.'' 
 
 How hard, and cold, and solemn, and vulgarly 
 like himself, Cornelius looked down upon Tom from 
 his gilt frame. 
 
 When he brought in candles, he had brushed up 
 his hair to the jncture point, and arrayed himself 
 in the snuif-coloured coat with the velvet collar 
 and black waistcoat of the portrait. He only 
 wanted the amplified neckcloth, with the butterfly 
 brooch, and red cord watchguard, to be perfect. 
 
 " I should like to have some dinner," said Tom, 
 
THE GOLDTRAP ARMS. 129 
 
 after Cake had deposited the candles, and let down 
 the scant dral) window-curtams, trimmed with red 
 gimp. 
 
 "What would you like, sir?" inquired Cake, 
 with the air of a Lord Mayor's cook. 
 
 "What have you in the house?" replied Tom, 
 anticipating the usual variety — mutton chop, beef 
 steak — beef steak, mutton-chop. 
 
 " There's soup, sir ; mutton broth, at least. Fish 
 — fish, sir, I'm afraid 's not very fresh — not what 
 I could recommend. You could have a fowl or a 
 duck, and a nice little French dish to follow." 
 
 " French dish ! " exclaimed Tom, as the Dawdle 
 Court banquet, and Louis Philippe night-mare 
 flashed across his mind. " French dish ! what, yoii, 
 haven't a French cook, have you ? " 
 
 "My lady 's a Frenchwoman," replied Cake, speak- 
 ing of her in the true Debrett style ; " my lady 's 
 a Frenchwoman ; " as if that was enough to con- 
 stitute a cook. The fact was, Cornelius had been 
 butler, and ^ladame Cake lady's maid to Sir 
 Digby and Lady Goldtrap, and — but our readers 
 will anticipate the rest. 
 
 " Well ; I'll have the broth, and a fowl, and a 
 French dish to follow," said Tom. 
 
 " Any sweets ? " inquired Cake ; "Sir Digby 
 always took sweets." 
 
 " Yes ; you may let me have a nice little French 
 dish of sweets, too," replied Tom. So saying, Cake 
 departed to execute the order. 
 
130 THE GOLDTRAP AEMS. 
 
 Tom had revisited the stable, fed the mare, seen 
 his bedroom, opened the window, drawn the 
 stuffy blue check curtains, stared up the street, 
 examined the portrait of JMadame Cake, and thought 
 how the light, tasteful spirit of French elegance 
 must have shuddered at the harsh matter-of-fact- 
 looking cap and brown silk gown in which she was 
 daubed, ere the bump of the tray against the weak 
 door announced that it was about time to take 
 his seat : — the oaths at a dinner of this sort are 
 frequently taken after. 
 
 Having deposited the little basin of mutton broth 
 before Tom, Cake, with a napkin-covered thumb, 
 lifted the little delf lid off with the flourish of a 
 man uncovering a glittering tureen of many 
 hundred ounces weight. 
 
 " What wine will you please to take, sir ? " asked 
 he, giving the hock glass a push against the other 
 two to draw Tom's attention to their presence. 
 
 It's a fearful thing when a man's consequence 
 entails a variety of wine-glasses upon him at an 
 inn. 
 
 Had Tom brought Sleekpow, he would have 
 attributed the misfortune to him, concluding he 
 had been telling where they had come from. As it 
 was, he was obliged to put it down to the superior 
 refinement of his host over himself. Indeed, we 
 know men who keep servants to teach them what 
 they ought to do. 
 
 Tom wouldn't give twopence a gallon for hock, 
 
THE GOLDTKAP ARMS. 13! 
 
 SO lie humbly replied that he'd take a pint of 
 sherry. 
 
 "Some of Sir Digby, I s'pose, sir," replied 
 Cake. 
 
 " Of course," said Tom ; and a^yay he went for 
 the liquid. 
 
 The mutton broth, or pot barley and water, was 
 execrable ; and Tom had dropped the spoon in the 
 plate in des})air ere Cake came back rubbing a 
 tiny decanter with a napkin. 
 
 "You'll find this very fine wine, sir," said he, 
 holding it up to the candle, and smacking his lips 
 as though it were most luscious. 
 
 He then helped Tom to three quarters of a 
 glass. 
 
 "Sir Digby always calls this my golden par- 
 ticular," added he, setting it down. 
 
 A bad dinner and a loquacious waiter are evils 
 that no man can stand jointly ; so Tom intimated, 
 by a lateral motion of the spoon in the plate, that 
 he was ready for the "follow," as they say at the 
 Clubs. This w\as old Cock-a-doodle-doo ! 
 
 If possible, it was worse than the broth, being 
 black, and hard, and dry, and tough, — a very old 
 chanticleer indeed. 
 
 Cake saw it wouldn't do, and proposed making 
 a grill of it. " Sir Digby was very fond of grills," 
 said he, as if that was enough. 
 
 Tom didn't care much about it, having an eye 
 to the nice little French dish that was to follow : 
 
132 THE GOLDTRAP ARMS. 
 
 SO he said, "Perhaps you may as well bring in 
 the next dish ? " 
 
 " Certainly, sir," replied Cake, whisking away 
 both fowl and plate. 
 
 The precipitancy of the remove made a gap in 
 the series, and left Tom a little time to speculate 
 on the next " follow." 
 
 He wondered what it would be, — "Blanquette de 
 veau aicx champignons" ^'Cote deBoeuf d la Bonne 
 FenwieJ' or perhaps game dressed in some peculiar 
 way — " Escalopes de Chevi^euil," or " Faisan d la 
 Peregueuxy 
 
 " One wouldn't expect French cookery in a house 
 of this sort," observed he, looking at the most 
 perfect public-house appearance of the little parlour 
 and its appurtenances ; but there's no saying what 
 one may meet with in this world. 
 
 Just then somebody threw open the door, and 
 in rushed Cake with a round vegetable dish, en- 
 circled in a napkin, clasped in both hands. 
 
 This he set down with a noise betokenino^ the 
 most perfect confidence in its contents. 
 
 " Hot plate ! hot plate ! " exclaimed he, as if a 
 moment's delay might be fatal to the feast. 
 
 He lifted the lid, and, lo ! four great fat, greasy 
 mutton chops, slightly sprinkled over with bread, 
 appeared. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE GOLDTEAP ARMS ; OR, TROTTING HIM OUT. 
 
 Used as our friend Tom Scott is to the solitude 
 of liis own chair, still there was such an utter un- 
 homishness in the solitude of the Goldtrap Amis, 
 that he could not compose himself to his accus- 
 tomed nap after dinner. He was so vexed with 
 the nice little French dish, and a]so with a great 
 Yorkshire pudding of an omelette that followed, 
 that he would not listen to his host's advice about 
 a bottle of curious old port, that "Sir Digby 
 greatly commended." He therefore had some hot 
 water and sugar, and took his revenge on the bad 
 sherry by making it into negus before Cake's face ; 
 — the most practical reproof that can be given 
 an innkeeper. 
 
 The musical cuckoo clock struck seven as the 
 hot water came in, hinting by its provoking mo- 
 notony what a long weary evening it would be. 
 
 Who would keep a cuckoo clock that didn't wish 
 to be driven mad ? 
 
 This was the slowest, prosiest, most unlike a 
 cuckoo, cuckoo clock that ever was heard. It did 
 not seem to travel above four miles an lioiir. First 
 
134 THE GOLDTEAr ARMS ; OK, 
 
 it began with a shivering sort of jingle among the 
 works as if they were all loose together, and were 
 in a devil of a hurry to be off ; then came a jingling 
 tune, followed by a clap caused by the opening 
 of the wooden shutters, through which the stupid 
 bird emerged on to its board, shouldering its 
 wings, and beginning " Cuckoo ! " " Cuckoo ! " 
 " Cuckoo ! " " Cuckoo ! " at intervals of a couple 
 of seconds ; so that what witli the tune, the noise, 
 the notes, and the striking, the clock was scarcely 
 ever quiet, — a perfect nuisance. 
 
 Finding he couldn't sleep, Tom began to exercise 
 himself about the little room. Below the portrait 
 of Mr. Cake hung some book-shelves, containing 
 the usual miscellaneous selection, or rather col- 
 lection, of an inn lil^rary — three old copies of 
 "Boyle's Court Guide," "Drysdale's Sermons," 
 many numbers of the " World of Fashion," a 
 monthly magazine of the courts of London and 
 Paris, " Le Cuisinier Eoyal, ou, I'Art de Faire la 
 Cuisine/' " History of New York," " The Courser's 
 Companion," two volumes of the " Gentleman's 
 Magazine," a well-thumbed " Baronetage," and an 
 old "Post Office Directory." 
 
 " What dissatisfied mortals men are, to be sure," 
 mused Tom. " Last night, and the night before, 
 I was grumbling and growling (to myself) at the 
 bother of company, and the long-winded stories and 
 hunting eloquence of my noble host, whereas to-night 
 I am fit to cut my throat for want of somebody 
 
TROTTING HIM OUT. 135 
 
 to speak to. AVliat creatures of impulse we are, 
 too," continued he, adjusting himself in an uneasy 
 easy chair before the fire, and cocking a foot on 
 each hob. " Only last Saturday I fully determined 
 to go over to Snailswell, and make the long-delayed 
 offer to Liddey, instead of which I am first tempted 
 to Dawdle Court, and now, of my own voluntary 
 free will, have come on this wild-goose chase to 
 Sludgington, to be bored with the monotony of 
 a cuckoo clock, and wearied with the hum, pipe- 
 tapping, and distant jollification of the kitchen 
 guests. Oh, this hunting ! this hunting ! what a 
 deal it has to answer for. It is odd " (continued 
 he) " what a vast of idleness one can stand at home, 
 and yet how oppressive it is away. At home, I 
 just chuck myself into the easy chair after dinner, 
 and fall into a reverie, a hunting, a draining, or a 
 castle-building speculation, as naturally and easily 
 as possible ; whereas here I can neither compose 
 myself to sleep, nor to dream, nor to do anything. 
 If I thought yon repulsive, clotted-looking ink- 
 stand had anything but a black bog of ink in it, 
 and a stumped pen, split up to the feather, I'd 
 take a letter-back and concoct an ofier to Lydia " 
 (continued he) ; " but who ever found both a pen 
 and ink in an inn inkstand that would write 1 " 
 Strange to say, curiosity tempted him to get up and 
 examine this stand, and finding that a veterinary 
 surgeon might pass the pen, and that a few drops 
 of sherry would revive the ink, Tom devoted that 
 
136 THE GOLDTKAP ARMS; OR, 
 
 quantity of drink to it, and was presently in pos- 
 session of very " go-able " materials. 
 
 Our fair readers will doubtless now be anxious 
 for the offer produced under such inspiriting cir- 
 cumstances ; but, alas ! for the mutability of a 
 sportsman's intentions ! In sorting his letter-backs, 
 he pulled out the one containing Lord Lazy tongs' 
 invitation, which operated like the make-believe 
 pills of the doctors on people who have nothing 
 the matter with them. Finding he had got some- 
 thing to do he forthwith began trying to shirk it, 
 and, resuming his seat before the fire, with one 
 leg up and the other down, returned to the visit 
 at Dawdle Court, recalling the flow of words that 
 proceeded from his noble host's lips, and all the 
 wonderful performances he narrated. Then Tom 
 thought how needless an appendage such a man as 
 Captain Windeyhash was to his lordship, who was 
 so well able to run himself out ; and at last his 
 thoughts settled into the channel, that at slower 
 or at faster intervals produced the following current 
 of ideas : — 
 
 " Trot him out," thought Tom ; ay, that's a 
 proceeding adapted to bipeds as well as quad- 
 rupeds. " Trot him out again, Joe ! that's to 
 say, show him off, and see if you can't catch a flat. 
 There is just the same sort of thing among Chris- 
 tians, and whether it is done in the palpable way 
 of the horse exhibitor, or the apparently natural 
 though oftentimes studiously arranged impromptUy 
 
TROTTING HIM OUT. 137 
 
 depends altogether on the skill of the one party 
 and the docility of the other." 
 
 And here, leaving our friend in his arm-chair for 
 a few minutes, we may say that we "back" the 
 observation. *' Trotting him out " is a very common 
 recreation ; and tliough it requires the fine and de- 
 licate hand of the fly-fisher, yet we frequently see 
 it attempted by the clumsy fist of the mere dredger. 
 In truth, the ofiice of "trotter-out" requires a 
 considerable amount of skill, knowledge, and ob- 
 servation ; tact in drawing stealthily on the line 
 of the joke or story, apprising the individual with- 
 out preparing the party, knowledge of the humour, 
 we might say the caprices, of the "trottee," and 
 observation of the time most appropriate for intro- 
 ducing the subject. What can be worse than a 
 sulky " snub " instead of a " rise," or a still-born 
 joke shattering itself among a cast-iron-faced com- 
 pany ? Poor old Matthews used to say that if he 
 came on to the stage and saw his friend L — d — 's 
 imperturbable features, and great silver-rimmed 
 spectacles fixed upon him, it was such a damper 
 that he could hardly raise his spirits to go on with 
 his " At home." 
 
 There are two wavs of trottinej a man out, 
 just as there are two ways of trotting a horse 
 out. There is the trot to display, and the trot 
 to expose. AVe don't know that many men ol)- 
 ject to being trotted out for admiration, provided 
 the case is not too palpable, or the audience one 
 
J 3H THE GOLDTRAP AEMS ; OR, 
 
 before whom tlie "trottee" lias too recently ap- 
 peared. The " trot-out " to expose is seldom 
 undertaken hj any hut ill-natured fools, fellows 
 wath gumption enough to see, but not charity 
 enough to help, the amiable weaknesses of the 
 Avorlcl — felloAvs who say, "See how I'll trot old 
 Goodfellow out after dinner ; " and because the 
 kind, meek old man doesn't kick them, they fancy 
 he doesn't see what they are after. We have all 
 some pet story or other that we like telling, and 
 are we to be branded as " twaddlers " because 
 some gentleman has heard us tell it before ^ The 
 fault is his for being present again, not ours for 
 telling it. 
 
 This, of course, applies to natural, appropriate, 
 impromptu stones, not to your " lug-him-in-neck- 
 and-heels " sort of jokes. These latter fall more 
 in the department of the regular professional, or 
 licensed trotter-out. 
 
 A regular licensed trotter-out should keep a day- 
 book, and enter the performances of his Magnus 
 Apollo, registering the stories he tells, the jokes he 
 uses, how they were brought out, and the audience 
 before whom he appeared, so that he may not " trot 
 him out" before the same parties again too soon. A 
 story, like a fox-cover, should be allowed a certain 
 rest before it is disturbed again. In this respect a 
 town trotter-out has a great advantage over a 
 country one, for, with the large and varied field of 
 the metropolis, the same story may be come upon 
 
TROTTING HIM OUT. 1'39 
 
 or trotted out very often without running the risk 
 of falling into that dreadful wet blanket, a dead 
 silence, an " I think I've heard that before " — 
 or the still more bearish and unfeeling " That's 
 meant for wit, is it ? " 
 
 AVhat can be nioi-e chilling than a set of hard, 
 dry, matter-of-fact features, contracting into a 
 sneer instead of a snort at a joke ? Blessings 
 on the man, say we, who will help a lame dog 
 of a story over a stile Avitli a laugh. AVe can 
 forgive anything in furtherance of fun, except 
 the petty larcenist who sells another's jokes or 
 stories, and murders them in the telling. Sil- 
 vester Blubberhead is a great hand at this. Most 
 families keep a sort of first and second class com- 
 pany, into which bachelors are thrust indiscrimi- 
 nately, just as it it suits the convenience of the table ; 
 l^ut Blubberhead, tying a better neckcloth, if any- 
 thing, than our funny friend Tom Sparks, and 
 wearinoj both studs and rinos has rather the " call " 
 of him, as they say at the " corner," and Tom fre- 
 quently follows in the second class train, picking 
 up the scraps and remnants of his own good stories, 
 just like a cook after a crockery crash. 
 
 Blubberhead, however, comes more under the 
 denomination of a proser or a twaddler than a trotter- 
 out. Joe Slowman may be classed under the same 
 head. Joe will swear a man to a secret that he 
 swore him to twelve months before, and that most 
 likely a secret not worth knowing. 
 
140 THE GOLDTRAP ARMS ; OR, 
 
 Still, " trotting out " is worthy of cultivation as 
 a liberal science, and is capable of utilitarian as 
 well as of mirthful application. For instance, a 
 host and hostess at either end of a long table, with 
 a Birnham AVood of an epergne or a round of ship 
 beef between them, screening not only themselves 
 but shutting out half the company from a know- 
 ledge of what their respective " pieces of resist- 
 ance " are, may usefully trot each other out thus : — 
 
 Mr. Blowout. " AVhat have you got there, my 
 love ? " 
 
 Mrs. Blowout. " Ten chickens and a tongue, 
 my dear. What have you down there ? " 
 
 Mr. Blowout " Round of beef, my love." 
 
 So champagne " stinters " might invent a " trot 
 out " instead of that horrible holding of the 
 bottle to the light : but that being an unworthy 
 application of the art, we shall leave them to con- 
 trive a form for themselves. 
 
 Trotters-out for admiration are generally kind, 
 obliging sort of people. With no great talents 
 themselves, or perhaps with an over modest es- 
 timate of what they have, they yet lend them- 
 selves to the amusement of society, by showing off 
 others who they think have more. Those who are 
 in the secret may see a professed trotter-out 
 " touting," as it were, for a story, laying the bait, 
 during the progress of the soup, that is to bring 
 in the rich " guffaw " of a laugh after the first glass 
 of champagne. London party-givers understand 
 
TROTTING HIM OUT. 141 
 
 the doctrine of " trotting-out " so well that they 
 never think of separating a joker and his accou- 
 cheur. Indeed, the professed punster wouldn't 
 stand it. Have me, have my friend, Orlando Burst- 
 sides. 
 
 It is derogatory to a wit to act the part of a 
 retriever. 
 
 We have seen this sort of cut-and-dried trotting- 
 out attempted in the country, but it is not adapted 
 for general use, and this reminds us that we are 
 taking — if not the woi'ds out of Tom's mouth — 
 at all events the thoughts out of his head, Avho the 
 obliging reader will have the kindness to consider 
 as still dozing in his arm-chair, with much the 
 same thoughts passing through his head that we 
 have been detailing. 
 
 The most flagrant case of premeditated " trotting- 
 out " I ever witnessed, thought Tom, beginning to 
 grapple with particulars, was that of poor Jerry 
 Goldfinch, of Bumpkin Lodge. Jerry had the 
 vanity to marry the daughter of a dilapidated l)a- 
 ronet, and having nothing but her pedigree to 
 regale on, she is extremely tenacious of main- 
 taining her dignity ; and awful are the rages she 
 used to get into when her claims were not recognised 
 and allowed. AVhen she first came into the county 
 she spoilt two or three dinner parties by declaring 
 she had the cramp in her stomach when she was 
 not taken out first, and monopolised all th(^ hot 
 plates to apply them to it, instead of letting people 
 
14-2 THE GOLDTRAP ARMS ; OR, 
 
 get tlieir victuals upon them. AH this, of course, 
 was visited on poor Jerry's head when he got 
 home. "Poor spiritless wretch, to see his wife 
 used so ; " " not fit to be called a man," and so on. 
 By-and-by, Jerry, who had been bred to the bar, 
 started what he would call a " beautiful fiction," a 
 sort of "leader of the gallop," oi- "trotter-out." 
 This was a sneaking, grinning, wriggling, old 
 bachelor, of the name of Rufus Slackbags, who 
 goes the round of country parties just as an organ- 
 grinder's hat goes the round of street ones. The 
 following was their mode of proceeding ; it is much 
 in the style of the old thimble-riggers : — 
 
 The company being assembled, Jerry and Slack- 
 bags would get together in the thick of the covey, 
 and start a controversy respecting the date of some 
 real or imaginary baronetage, which Jerry would 
 carry on in the loud argumentative style so dis- 
 tinctive of the lower order of the bar ; while 
 Slackbags, on his part, maintained his position with 
 a greater degeee of tenacity than is usually shown 
 by gentlemen fishing for dinners. He Avould say, 
 that " Sir Mark was a baronet of yesterday, a ba- 
 ronet of yesterday — yes, a baronet of yesterday ; " 
 speaking as if he held new baronets in the utmost 
 contempt. Cunning Jerry would then take the 
 other side, and maintain the antiquity of the title ; 
 and so they would wrangle and battle on till they 
 got general attention drawn to themselves, — a thing 
 not at all difficult to do, just before dinner, espe- 
 
TROTTING HIM OUT. 143 
 
 cially iu the country. " Well, but my good friend," 
 Jerry would rejoin, sotto voce, as if his delicacy rather 
 made him shy of proclaiming it before company, — 
 *' well, but my good friend," he would repeat, his 
 voice rising as he saw the plot ripen, " I kiioio you 
 are wrong, and I'll tell you why. In the first place," 
 continued he, applying the forefinger of his right 
 hand with a flourish to the palm of his left — " in 
 the first place, I married the daughter of a 
 BARONET. My wife, Mrs. Goo-o-o-oldfinch," — for he 
 puts no end of o's in — " my wife, Mrs. Goo-o-o-old- 
 finch, is the sixth daughter of Sir Martin Moon- 
 shine, OF Sunbeam-court, in Somersetshire, and " 
 — "Please, sir, dinner's sawed/" exclaims old Ber- 
 lins, throwing open the door ; and away goes the 
 happy, smiling, smirking, i\Irs. Goldfinch, with the 
 host, minus the cramp iu her stomach. 
 
 I'm sure, thought Tom, draining his tumbler of 
 negus, I saw that " cross " come off half-a-dozen 
 times, till Mrs. Goldfinch got her precedence fairly 
 established. 
 
 The greatest " sell " I ever heard in the way of 
 a "trot-out," continued Tom, as he brewed him- 
 self another, was that by my old friend ^Ir. 
 Trumper, of Jollyrise, of the great Mr. Tarquinius 
 Muff; of Muff Hall. Trumper doesn't like i\Iuff— 
 never did, indeed. Long before Tarquinius hallooed 
 him on to the fresh hare, and insulted his harriers 
 by calling them beagles (or beggles, as Trumper 
 
144 THE GOLDTRAP ARMS ; OR, 
 
 pronounces it), he used to fight shy, and talk of 
 him as " that man Muff," " Noodle Muff/' and 
 so on. 
 
 Somehow, Muff doesn't see it, or doesn't fancy 
 it possible for any one to be insensible of the im- 
 portance of his acquaintance, and he patronises 
 Trumper extensively. He thought to show him off 
 to his friend ]\Iajor Tinhead, of Blocksby, at the last 
 meeting of the Stumpwicket Cricket Club. 
 
 At the previous meeting Mr. Trumper had been 
 discussing the merits of Mr. Neville's and the 
 Teardevil countries, when he entered into a very 
 long and interesting discussion, showing how by 
 the omission of certain great woodlands in one, and 
 the drainage of certain great tracts in the other, an 
 excellent country might be formed of the two ; to 
 all of which "Muff" said "ditto," as though most 
 thoroughly appreciating and approving the doctrine. 
 Trumper then favoured us with some of his "hunt- 
 ing reminiscences," — what he did long, loug ago, 
 much in the style of Nimrod's popular work of 
 that name ; and altogether the party spent a most 
 agreeable and instructive evening, as the newspaper 
 reporters would say. Well, the next meeting being 
 the last, and consequently the best, each member 
 had the privilege of feeding a friend, and the 
 strangers being placed next their hosts in the seats 
 of honour at the top of the table, our thinker sported 
 Trumper, and Tarquinius brought Tinhead, the 
 couples sitting opposite each other. 
 
TROTTING HIM OUT. 145 
 
 Tarqiiinius having " wined " with Mr. Trumpcr, 
 and done all that a gentleman in diamond studs 
 could be expected to do by an old drab-breeched 
 farmer, tried to trot him out during dinner, be- 
 ginning with the subject that had brought him 
 out before. Trumper kept snorting and tucking 
 in his dinner, giving monosyllabic answers and 
 most likely angry looks, varied occasionally by 
 a kick of Tom's shins under the table, just as if 
 he were spurring a horse to get away from a 
 humbug out hunting. Tarquinius, however, was 
 too dense to see anything of the sort, and attri- 
 buted Trumper's indifference to devotion to his 
 dinner; and after the usual loyal and patriotic 
 toasts had gone the rounds, and the tight-lacedness 
 of eloquence had dissolved into the freedom of a 
 circle round the fire. Muff began again before the 
 now diminished audience. Never was such a man 
 set to tickle a trout as ]\Iuff! His action was just 
 like the ungainly gambol of a cow compared to 
 the smooth glide of the race-horse. Instead of 
 getting something fresh and 'ticeing him up another 
 stream, he tried the old bait that Trumper had 
 already refused to nibble at. He went out of his 
 way in the most forced, self-evident manner, and 
 interrupted an argument on draining to lug in that 
 of hunting. And he luould have it in, too, despite 
 the efforts of the Rev. Timothy Goodman, the 
 chaplain of the Goose and Dumpling Hunt, who, 
 seeing the perplexity of his great patron, tried 
 
 UrMIVLRL,ITY 
 
1 i6 THE GOLDTRAP ARMS ; OR, 
 
 liard to restore tlie current of conversation to its 
 former channel. 
 
 *' Don't you tliink, Mr. Trumper/' asked Tar- 
 quinius, aj)pealing directly to our friend, "that 
 Neverbreak woods are a Sfreat drawback to Mr, 
 
 o 
 
 Neville's country 1 " 
 
 " AYell, but if a two-foot drain will carry," in- 
 terposed Goodman. 
 
 " At all events, don't you think we could easily 
 afford to give them to the 1 " 
 
 *'The Elkington system of draining," again in- 
 terposed the parson. 
 
 " Well, but now there's no man knows more 
 about hunting or the country than you do, Mr. 
 Trumper," observed Muff, throwing out an arm, and 
 raising his voice high above that of the chaplain, 
 " and I'm sure there's no one whose opinion we all 
 respect more : might I ask now, for the sake of 
 information, what is your opinion of the general 
 character of this country as a hunting one ?" 
 
 That was a point-blank question, and put so 
 forcibly and publicly that Muff hugged himself at 
 having at length pinned him, and thought how his 
 promise to Tinhead of trotting out Trumper was 
 about to be fulfilled. He was, however, reckoning 
 without his host. Trumper, who had had recourse 
 to a pipe by way of parrying Muff's importunities, 
 sat some seconds after the question was put, with 
 his keen eye glistening, and a smile on his coun- 
 
TROTTING HIM OUT. U7 
 
 tenance, which Tarquinius construed into an ar- 
 rangement of thoughts, and expected the same 
 extensive observation and luminous discussion he 
 had listened to before, showing how the Grassmere 
 vale was very fine, and the Roxley Hills very- 
 heavy, and the Tew AVoods very troublesome, and 
 so on, all of which he thought Avould impress Tin- 
 head with a due sense of his (Muff's) great import- 
 ance as a sporting character. 
 
 Instead of this Trumper sat "whif, ivhif, luhiffing," 
 until silence could no longer be maintained without 
 rudeness, when knocking the top ashes out of his 
 pipe on the hob, as if he were going to begin, he 
 looked Muff in the face, and uttered these words^ 
 "Think of the country — arh hog/" amid the out- 
 rageous laughter of the party. 
 
 " And yet Trumper will trot when he's properly 
 handled," mused our friend Tom, still sipping at the 
 tumbler. 
 
 " A great deal," continued he, " depends on the 
 skill of the leader in the matter of a trot-out. A 
 man will trot quite freely with one person and yet 
 be perfectly restive in the hands of another. Nay, 
 I have seen men trot themselves out who would 
 " shut up " directly if the trot was attempted by 
 another. Trumper may be quoted as an instance of 
 this sort. He has a joke that has laughed off half 
 the waistcoat strings in the country, which he lies 
 in ambush for with the most perfect malice prepense 
 
 L 2 
 
148 THE GOLDTEAP ARMS ; OR, 
 
 that ever was witnessed. It is the chorus of a 
 hunting song, not the old — 
 
 " There's nothing can compare 
 To hunting of the hare ! " 
 
 but a regular ballad, built by the local bard of the 
 country in honour and glory of Trumper himself, 
 descriptive of his superlative qualities, his keenness 
 — his ejameness — the worth of his hounds, with the 
 usual flourish about his love of the poor and all 
 that sort of thing, the chorus of which is — 
 
 " May Trumper live a thousand years, a thousand years, 
 May Trumper live a thousand years, 
 And I be there to see." 
 
 This is the stock song of a certain set in our 
 country ; the farmers sing it, the ale-houses roar 
 with it — it comes belching out of the beer-shop 
 doors — the clods hum it at the smithy, and alto- 
 gether it is just as well knovrn as the cross in the 
 market-place. If I have heard it sung once in 
 Trumper's presence, I have heard it sung fifty times, 
 and have often wished for the pencil of Thack- 
 eray to sketch the delightful complacency with 
 which he sits listening to all the handsome things 
 that are said of him. But richer far is the twinkle 
 of his eye and the sly chuckle of his face as he pre- 
 pares to let ofl" the well-accustomed joke. It is a 
 fine piece of acting. The first time over he merely 
 puts on a wise face and cocks his ear as if surprised 
 at the proposition, and considering whether, if he is 
 
TROTTING HIM OUT. 149 
 
 to take a lease certain, he may not as well ask for 
 twelve or fifteen hundred years. Then he listens 
 while the song recites the stoutness of his horses 
 and the mettle of his hounds, when he begins fidget- 
 ing his great patent cords about in the arm-chair, 
 as if unable to sustain the idea of separating from 
 the darlings at any time ; but when the chorus 
 again bursts forth, limiting him to a paltry 
 
 " Thousand years," 
 
 his feelings quite overcome him, and starting from 
 his seat, he exclaims at the top of his voice, 
 
 " I don't like to be stinted ! " 
 
 amidst the uproarious plaudits of the delighted 
 company. Hooray 1 hooray 1 hooray ! hooray ! 
 Reader ! Avhat say you to " One cheer more for okl 
 Trumper ! " Hooray ! 
 
 " Confound it," continued Tom, rousing up with 
 the excitement produced by this last recollection, 
 *' I'll be hanged if I won't put these thoughts 
 upon paper — make an article for Bell's Life, the 
 Quarterly Review, or some of the periodicals." 
 So saying, he snuffed the thick-wicked cauliflower- 
 headed candles, stirred the fire, arranged his 
 paper, and when he had got all ready he found 
 his thoughts had taken flight and he could not 
 catch any of them. 
 
 He therefore went to bed instead. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE STOUT-AS-STEEL HOUNDS. 
 
 People who fancy all the dirt and discomforts of 
 life are centered in large towns, have only to visit 
 the small one of Sludgington to satisfy themselves 
 of their error. One would think that a place through 
 which a two-horse coach can barely pay its way 
 thrice a week, would be tolerably free from the 
 noise and din of bustling places; but not even 
 the "White Horse" in Fetter-lane, or the old 
 " Bull and Mouth," in their noisiest, dirtiest, most 
 coaching times, could surpass the disquiet of the 
 Goldtrap Arms. Long before daylight Mr. Scott 
 was aroused by the roll of carts, and the most 
 unearthly yells proceeding from the drivers to their 
 horses ; a sort of guttural sound, that seemed to 
 come up from their very stomachs, much like what 
 one hears aboard a steam packet. Having once 
 commenced, the nuisance was repeated every half- 
 hour or so, either at the front or the side of the 
 house, both of which passages his bedroom com- 
 manded, until it seemed as if all the carts in the 
 world were grinding about the Goldtrap Arms. 
 Sleep with such a noise was impossible, even if his 
 old friend the cuckoo clock had not kept jingling, 
 clattering, and chiming, in the intervals unoccupied 
 
THE STOUT-AS-STEEL HOUNDS. 151 
 
 l)y the carters. He was curious to see what could 
 cause such commotion, and availed himself of the 
 first dawn of day to look out of the window to 
 see what sort of a morning it was, and look what 
 the carts were loaded with. Of course they then 
 suspended operations for a time ; and having tired 
 of staring at the closed shutters of the chemist's 
 opposite, and the sign of '* Isabella Jenkins, licensed 
 dealer in tea, coffee, tobacco and snuff," at the side, 
 he again crept into bed, thinking the transit was 
 past, and he might yet sleep off the head-achey 
 discomforts of the night. No such thing, however. 
 Just as he was dropping into a doze, jingle, jingle, 
 jingle, went the works of the old cuckoo clock, 
 bang flew the doors, out pounced the bird, and 
 cuckoo ! cuckoo ! cuckoo ! sounded with the most 
 provokiugly prolonged monotony. When it ceased, 
 two cats on the top of Isabella Jenkins' house com- 
 menced a serenade that w^as enough to disturb the 
 whole town. 
 
 " Flesh and blood can't stand this ! " cried Tom, 
 turning deliberately out of bed and groping for 
 his razor. "I'll abate two nuisances at once ; " so, 
 stealing quietly on to the staircase where the clock 
 was, he very soon returned with its w^eights in his 
 hand, leaving the cuckoo to flounder itself down at 
 its leisure. 
 
 Up then went the window, and hang f harig ! 
 went the weights at the cats, causing them to start 
 in the midst of a most uproarious frolic, and run 
 
152 THE STOUT-AS-STEEL HOUNDS. 
 
 belter skelter over the pantiles in contrary direc- 
 tions. 
 
 Singular as it may seem, notwithstanding the 
 constant noise the thing kept up in the house, 
 neither Cake nor Madame missed it ; at least Scott 
 heard nothing about it, and the house is too small 
 to allow of any commotion without it being heard 
 " all over." He heard no observation about the 
 cuckoo clock having suspended payment — no sudden 
 exclamation, " Law me ! what's got the cuckoo 
 clock weights'?" nothing, in fact, to indicate anything 
 " out of the common." Nor was there anything 
 in the bill, though it had almost every imaginable 
 item printed, from pipes and baccey doAvn to ginger 
 beer. 
 
 When one gets into a place, how it magnifies, 
 and how one feels part and parcel of it 1 Though 
 there never was a more contemptible place than 
 Sludgington, still, like a vapouring bully, it had 
 forced itself into something like importance ; and it 
 was only when three or four strides of the old 
 mare took Scott clean out of it up the road towards 
 the hills, that he was satisfied what a regular 
 " cock-o'-my- thumb " place it was. 
 
 ****** 
 
 How beautiful everything looked — magnificent, 
 Ave might say, — the noble mountains, in all their 
 pure and placid grandeur, swelling over each other 
 till the snow-clad points of the highest seemed to 
 touch the very sky. The goats and sheep browsing 
 
THE STOUT-AS-STEEL HOUNDS. I'j.'i 
 
 on the sides looked like mere specks ; while the 
 bells of the cattle lower down kept up a lively- 
 jingle, as each motion in feeding set them agoing. 
 The road was well calculated for showing off the 
 scenery ; now winding round the hill bases, now 
 past some stupendous steep, with naught but stunted 
 trees starving in the rocky desolation around ; now 
 skirting some gentle slope up which the plough had 
 ventured as high as the depth of soil would carry ; 
 now past some wooded dell at the base of adjoining 
 hills, down whose rugged course the mountain 
 torrent flowed in gentle, sparkling streams. All 
 about was so pure and healthy — such a contrast 
 to little cramped Sludgington, The white farm- 
 houses, the rose-twined, heather-thatched cottages, 
 the rustic bridges, the very rustics themselves, all 
 had a clean wholesome look, far different to the 
 frowsy ostler and people Scott had left at the Gold- 
 trap Arms. The incompatibility — to make use of 
 a fine term — of coml)ining real romantic scenery 
 with first-rate hunting, is, perhaps, the only draw- 
 back to the chase, and certainly the two liave 
 hitherto been denied to all countries we have seen. 
 Those wags of all wags, " the Warwickshire wags," 
 as the song calls them, used to boast of the pic- 
 turesque beauties of their "shire;" and " 2)ictu- 
 resque" is a very proper term to apply to them, 
 being chiefiy of the tame tractable order suited to a 
 picture — beauties that look better in a picture 
 perhaps than in reality. But the grand mountain 
 
154 THE STOUT-AS-STEEL HOUNDS. 
 
 scenery of the Welsh side of our island, where the 
 sagacious reader will of course see our friend's 
 travels lie, defies the power of the artist ; and 
 however good their pictures may be for recalling 
 the scene, they fail of conveying an idea of the 
 bold realities of the land to parties who have not 
 been there. 
 
 But we are turning artist instead of sticking to 
 our text — the Stout-as-Steel Hounds. Scott had 
 penetrated some five or six miles (according to 
 time, for they don't sport milestones) into the 
 bowels of the mountains ere he saw any indication 
 of hunting. Having pulled up at a cross road a 
 little beyond a small row of white cottages, to 
 try and decipher a washed-out finger-post, a halloo 
 and a wave of a hand to the left from a man that 
 Scott's red coat had brought to the door, put him 
 on the right line ; and presently Scott saw his guide 
 take the same direction by the fields, followed by a 
 large black and tan hound, whose deep-mouthed 
 baying, as he jumped and frolicked about his master, 
 was echoed back by the surrounding hills. After 
 the man's politeness in directing him, our friend 
 could not do less than court his society ; so he 
 pulled up to a pace at which the man would easily 
 overtake him. 
 
 He was a stout young fellow dressed in the 
 conical hat, red and green embroidered flannel 
 jerkin, cord breeches, blue stockings, and laced 
 boots of the hill country. 
 
THE STOUT- AS-STEEL HOUNDS. 155 
 
 ** You were going the wrong way," said the man, 
 as he overtook Scott. 
 
 " Yes," replied Scott ; " how far will it be from 
 here ^ " 
 
 "Not above half an hour," replied the man, 
 putting his best leg first. 
 
 "You're taking your dog to assist the hunt, 
 then ? " said Tom, looking at his black and tan 
 comrade. 
 
 " Ay, Muffler, can't do without Muffler ; can they, 
 old man ? " asked he of the hound, clapping him 
 on the back in return for the look up he gave on 
 hearing his name. " The captain has no dog in 
 his pack like Muffler," added the pedestrian. 
 
 " And yet he has some good ones, I suppose ? " 
 observed Tom. 
 
 " Ay, but he always sells the best," rejoined 
 his companion ; " he's o'er fond of money's the 
 captain." 
 
 So Tom and his new friend journeyed on in the 
 usual unreserved freedom of fox-hunters, the cap- 
 tain's character not improving as they went. 
 ****** 
 
 "Yon's the bridge," at last exclaimed Scott's 
 companion, as a sudden turn of the road brought 
 them full upon the beautiful valley stretching away 
 to the foot of the lofty Bevis Blount. The sun was 
 lighting and sparkling up the broad expanse of the 
 shallow streams, which narrowed about the centre, 
 where a low bridge of many arches was thrown. 
 
156 THE STOUT- AS-STEEL HOUNDS. 
 
 This l)ridge carries the cross road over the valley, 
 from the left hand side of which Mr. Scott's guide 
 intimated the hounds would come. 
 
 Already the rough battlements and the green- 
 sward at either end of the bridge gave indications 
 of the coming sport. Groups of foot people, mostly 
 in the costume of Scott's companion, mingled with 
 the horsemen, among whom were already a slight 
 sprinkling of red coats, 
 
 Tom and his companion were presently among 
 them. 
 
 After a fairish wait, " here they come ! here they 
 come / " at last burst from a dozen voices, as a 
 hound or two in advance emerged from the moun- 
 tain pass, followed by a scarlet-coated horseman, 
 surrounded by the body of the pack. Nothing 
 could be more beautifully picturesque than this 
 sudden emergence from an unknown land, as it 
 were, — nothing more lively than the gay colours of 
 the group contrasting with the sun-bright scenery 
 of the mountain pass. 
 
 " But what long ears the horses have !" exclaimed 
 our friend Tom as they apj)roached, and a sidelong 
 glance showed them flopping about. " Horses ! 
 great heavens, they're mules / " 
 
 And so they Avere — great, dark, glossy- coated, 
 mealy-legged mules. 
 
 " Well, I think ! " exclaimed our friend. " What 
 will Mr. Neville say ! The master and servants of 
 the Stout-as- Steel hounds mounted on mules ! " 
 
THE STOUT- AS-STEEL HOUNDS. 157 
 
 The Ccavalcade advanced at an ambling sort of 
 pace, and the whole were presently within scanning 
 distance ; at least for people with the use of their 
 eyes, though half the world should be put under 
 " Titniarsh " * to learn how to see things. 
 
 Captain Cashbox, the master, was a distinguished 
 officer in the horse marines, and he still retains 
 some of the characteristics of that anomalous 
 service. 
 
 "Avast there ! avast .'" exclaimed he, as the hounds 
 neared the bridge, and he wanted to turn aside to 
 " heave anchor " on the green. 
 
 He was a fierce, square built, chuckle-headed- 
 looking little chap, with a coarse black fringe of beard 
 all round his face, and the gills of a blue striped shirt 
 turned down over a gapiug mohair stock, with the 
 dickey strings staring out behind. Scott couldn't 
 help thinking what an admirable study he would 
 have made for the sigjn of the Saracen's Head on 
 Snow Hill. Though the day was serenely fine, 
 scarce a cloud hanging round even tlie highest 
 mountain top, he yet sported a shining glazed hat, 
 and liad a black oilskin cape tacked on to the brass- 
 bound pommel of his saddle. His coat was the old 
 uniform one of the hunt in Mr. Squander's time — 
 scarlet with dark blue collars and cuifs ; a mixture 
 that looks better than it reads, at least the portrait 
 
 * The clever author of a "Journey from Cornhill to Grand 
 Cairo," &c., who saw more in a month than most travellers see in 
 a year. 
 
158 THE STOUT-AS-STEEL HOUNDS. 
 
 Scott had of his cousin in it does not look amiss ; 
 but how Stultz or Nuoree would have laughed at 
 the grotesque contortions of the captain's cut. 
 Coat, it could hardly be called, it was more like 
 one of those respectable, old gentlemanly articles 
 of dress called a " spencer," with short square laps 
 tacked on. It was plentifully sprinkled with 
 buttons, not even omitting some at the bottom of 
 the laps ; which would afford great satisfaction to 
 the captain's seat when he happened to alight upon 
 them of a sudden. He had a boatswain's whistle 
 attached by a blue ribbon to a button hole, and 
 carried a telescope in a spare stirrup leather across 
 his shoulder. His waistcoat was made of seal skin, 
 and what little breeches were visible above a pair of 
 gaping, green-lined, fishermen's boots, fastened up at 
 the side like overalls, appeared to be of canvas or 
 unbleached duck. The boots had a miserably harsh, 
 hackney-coach-head, lack-lustre look, which was 
 unnecessarily heightened by his Britannia metal 
 looking spurs, being newly rigged out with patent 
 leather straps with broad pads. The mules we 
 have already spoken of as fine animals of their 
 sort ; while between Enoch, the old huntsman, and 
 the hounds, there was a striking similarity of 
 appearance. The hounds were of a breed now 
 rarely seen, save in hill or mountainous countries, 
 being bright-coloured, wiry-haired, rough-muzzled 
 animals, combining the power, mettle, and endur- 
 ance of the fox-hound, with the hard-bitten perti- 
 
THE STOUT-AS-STEEL HOUNDS. 159 
 
 ncacity of the terrier. Enocli Tiphill was just such 
 another looking piece" of goods. A little, light, 
 wiry, grey-muzzled, keen-visaged old man, looking 
 as though you might trundle him down, mule and 
 all, from the top of Bevis Mount, over rocks, crags, 
 precipices, and points, without hurting. The me- 
 mory of man runneth not to the contrary when 
 other than Enoch hunted the Stout-as-Steel hounds. 
 In Mr. Squander's time he had a little mountain- 
 bred grey mare, on which he performed such feats 
 of activity and daring as could only be equalised 
 by a chamois, or by the enterprising Mr. Gomersal 
 in the character of Timour the Tartar, Napoleon 
 Bonaparte, or some such vigour-requiring service. 
 
 We once heard a gentleman who had wandered 
 into a strange country, give an account of the es- 
 tablishment he there found, and as it contrasts 
 with the opinion our friend Tom passed upon the 
 captain, we will repeat it here. After speaking 
 favourably of the meet, the field, and the style of 
 country, the gentleman entered upon the more 
 delicate one of the master and cstabHshmcnt. " The 
 hounds," said he, " were really very good-looking 
 animals, and in very good condition, the men were 
 smart, clean, and well mounted ; in short," added 
 he, " there was nothing ridiculous about the estab- 
 lishment until they threw off! " 
 
 So let it not be said of the Stout-as-Steel ! Let 
 not Captain Cashbox's incongruous garments pre- 
 judice a hunt that Scott's cousiD, Squander, spent 
 
inO THE STOUT-AS-STEEL HOUNDS. 
 
 tlie best part of liis fortune in supporting. But let 
 us away to the hills, and enjoy the brief sunshine of 
 the hour ! 
 
 The captain having eyed Scott with the suspicious 
 curiosity masters — with the fear of pen-and-ink men 
 before their eyes — regard strangers, until they are 
 recognised by some of the field, honoured him with 
 a touch of his glazed hat, as he saw him shaken 
 hands with by two or three of his members ; after 
 which he jocosely observed, that he "supposed they 
 mio^ht weigh anchor." 
 
 Scott then for the first time began to look for 
 the cover. Woods there were none, at least none 
 with any lying ; what little apologies of trees there 
 were, scattered on the more rugged parts of the 
 hills, being so open at the bottom as to show all the 
 stones in which they were stuck, and though there 
 might be patches of gorse here and there, they did 
 not seem large enough to hold much temptation to 
 a fox. 
 
 " What do we draw ? " asked Scott of one of his 
 friends, whose face he knew, but whose name he 
 either never knew or had forgot. 
 
 "Oh, just draw the hills," replied the interro- 
 gated, nodding his head towards a great plum-pud- 
 dingey-shaped one, with some fern and brushwood 
 about the middle, towards which Enoch was steerino; 
 with the hounds. " Foxes lie all about," added he. 
 
 So Enoch seemed to think, for he steered all ways 
 as if trying for a hare. 
 
THE ST0UT-AS-8TKEL HOUNDS. 101 
 
 "You don't pay much for cover rent in this 
 country, I imagine,"' said Scott to his friend, 
 
 " Nor for damage either," replied he. 
 
 " They've got a scent," continued he, shortly after, 
 as the hounds bccran feathering towards the fern and 
 brushwood on the before-mentioned hill. 
 
 " Ay, yon shepherd by the fire on the opposite 
 hill views him," added he, just as the outburst of 
 melody from the pack proclaimed tbey had found 
 the fox. 
 
 Down the hill reynard came pouring with his 
 great bushy tail whisking in the air, as much as to 
 say, " I don't care a copper for any of you ; " and 
 hard upon him followed Enoch, full tilt on his mule, 
 with three couple of hounds, Enoch blowing his 
 horn, and screeching like an owl for the rest. 
 
 They came pouring over one another like a 
 waterfall ! 
 
 The fox got such an impetus that he cleared the 
 high stone wall and burn at the bottom of the hill 
 like a greyhound, and commenced the ascent of the 
 opposite hill with a stoutness that looked like wind 
 and condition. 
 
 " Hooray ! " cheered a party of miners, at a fire on 
 the crags towards which he was pointing, causing 
 him to alter his line, and run the hill side. 
 
 The hounds havinor once got together, there 
 was no further call for hooping or hallooing, or 
 blowing the horn. Away they went at a pace that 
 showed how good was the scent, and how hopeless 
 
10-2 THE STOUT- AS-STEEL HOUNDS. 
 
 the attempt to follow tliem. Eclipse himself could 
 have done nothing on the rough, stony, steep moun- 
 tain sides ; and the hounds streaming away in full 
 cry, with old Enoch toiling along on the mule, fur- 
 nished an apt illustration of the fable of the hare 
 and the tortoise — the further he went, the further 
 he was left behind. 
 
 " This way ! this ivay ! " screeched little Cashbox, 
 in a state of excitement bordering on phrensy. 
 *' This luay / " repeated he, ramming his mule down 
 a rutty hill side, and working his arms like a tele- 
 graph. So the field rattled and clattered away in 
 his rear, for his mule was in a good humour, and 
 went at a pretty good bat. They soon got into the 
 valley of Dol Velin, along the margin of whose 
 bright stream a broken track-road ran, for there 
 are few places so uncivilised as not to have roads 
 of some sort, if people could but find them out. 
 This most accommodatino- one led them straiojht 
 throuoii the mountains, on the left range of which 
 the hounds were running with a breast-high scent, 
 to the astonishment of the goats, and sheep, and 
 ponies, herding on the sides. 
 
 Though the devious course of old reynard, now 
 ascendino;, now descendino^, now oroino- straio-ht 
 ahead, was in their favour, still the pace was too 
 good to allow of much halting to look. The 
 Captain, who led the way with his telescope set, 
 occasionally indicated, as he put it to his eye, 
 which hounds were leading ; and after they had 
 
THE STOUT- AS-STKEL HOUNDS. 1G3 
 
 pursued tlie chase in this peculiar way for some 
 five miles, the Captain having given the foreground 
 a good raking, proclaimed that he saw the fox him- 
 self. " He's tried the great earths at Stetley Crags, 
 where the fire is," said he, halting and holding the 
 telescope in the direction of the far-off fire, " and is 
 now stealing down the hill among the sheep and 
 cattle." 
 
 Just then a movement among some distant dots 
 indicated the Fox's whereabouts, and presently the 
 hounds came pouring down upon the spot followed 
 by a drove of ponies, who seemed to join the chase 
 to show how soon they would be beaten off. 
 
 The hounds were well called the Stout-as-Steel, 
 for they ran as hard now after traversing so many 
 miles of rough moorland country as they did at 
 fii-st. Let stag-hunters say what they will, five 
 miles hard running is no joke. 
 
 The field had now a perfect panoramic view of the 
 chase, without more trouble than they would be put 
 to at the Diorama, or any London show. A splendid 
 sun lit up the wild mountain sceneiy, while a slight 
 tinge of frost rarefied the air, bringing distant ob- 
 jects near, and causing the music of the hounds to 
 fall like thunder on the scene — reverberatincc like 
 Mons. Jullien's band of a hundred and twenty per- 
 formers at a " Bal Masque." 
 
 Presently they had fox and all in view, and 
 beautiful it was, watching the unerring truth with 
 which the pack followed his every twist and turn 
 
1G4 THE STOUT-AS-STEEL HOUNDS. 
 
 and bend. There lie was creeping and stealing 
 along, not at the high galloping defying pace at 
 which he started, but coolly and collectedly, as 
 though conscious of the work he had to do. 
 
 So he returned about a hundred yards below the 
 line he had taken in going, followed by a large flock 
 of his old enemies, the crows, who kept a noise up 
 overhead second only to that of the hounds behind. 
 Luckless reynard, when so pursued, for you rarely 
 escape destruction ! 
 
 So it was this day. The striving pack gained on 
 him just as one race-horse gains on another. The 
 fatal view at last ensued ! a dodge, a snap, and a 
 cataract of hounds as usual ended the scene ! 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 mr. jenkins jones. 
 
 " Who-hoop ! " 
 
 " AVlio-hoop ! that 's a queer way of beginning a 
 chapter, Mr. Author ! " 
 
 " So it is, Mr. Reader, but you'll have a good 
 many more of them before you are done." 
 
 Our last left the Stout-as-Steel hounds in the act 
 of running into their fox on the far hill-side, the 
 field viewing the feat across the water. Not a soul 
 appeared near them, but ere the " worry " was com- 
 plete, old Enoch dropped as it were from the clouds, 
 and dived into the middle of the pack. To be sure 
 the latter part of his descent was visible enough in 
 the shape of a red thing sitting as it were on the 
 bock of a rabbit, sliding on its hind quarters down 
 the mountain. 
 
 Having reached the pack, up went the fox, and 
 baying leaped the hounds, the group forming a lively 
 speck on the wide expanse of mountain scenery. 
 
 Few people are willing to admit that a fox has 
 been killed, unless they see him — at all events 
 seeing him seems to add considerably to their satis- 
 faction ; and away Captain Cashbox cut, followed 
 by the field, for ocular demonstration. Through 
 the water splashed the mules, over great boulder 
 stones, enough to throw down an elephant, across 
 
166 ME. JENKINS JONES. 
 
 the rushy, rugged bottom, and now np the steep 
 hill-side — clatter, clatter, clatter, they went among 
 the loose riimhling stones — blob, blob, blob, they 
 floundered on the unsound ground beyond. 
 
 *' Who-hoop ! " each man exclaimed, on pulling 
 up within " ware-horse " distance of the huge fox, 
 now hanging his head before the pack in all the 
 terrors of grim death. " Who-hoop ! " yelled little 
 Cashbox, putting his finger in his ear, as though 
 he were afraid of deafening himself. " Who-hoop!" 
 screamed he, still louder, throwing himself off his 
 mule and rushing up to Tiphill for the fox. If the 
 Captain had gone on all-fours, and hunted and killed 
 the fox himself, he could not have taken greater 
 credit to himself for the feat. The hounds might 
 kill him, but who brought the hounds ? Captain 
 Cashbox — and therefore to Captain Cashbox belonged 
 tlie honour and glory of the day. 
 
 Having got the fox from Enoch, he held him up 
 for some seconds above his head, in the manner of 
 a " Poses Plastique " master, until his little arms 
 tiring, he threw him flop on the ground. 
 
 " He's a terrible length from the snout to the 
 stern," observed the nondescript little man, stooping 
 and measuring the fox with his whip. 
 
 Without announcing the longitude, he proceeded 
 to divest him of his appendages. 
 
 Off" went the head. 
 
 " There's the head of a traitor 1 " exclaimed the 
 Captain, holding it up. 
 
MK. JEXKINS JONES. 171 
 
 " But can't you be sure ? a gentleman with 
 gingery liair. Has ]\Ir. Jenkins Jones gingery 
 hair ? " 
 
 " Why y-e-a-s ; I should say he lias," replied he, 
 " and rides a clipped horse." 
 
 " Where does he live ? " asked Scott, 
 
 " At Down House, about six miles from here," 
 replied the man. 
 
 " Ay, that's him," said our friend, leaving the 
 stable, and running into the house. "Jenkins 
 Jones, of Down House, is the man ; " indeed, I 
 fancied I heard somebody call him Jones out 
 hunting. 
 
 ***** 
 
 What with the bother of packing, waiting for 
 the bill, and then for the horse, the limited allow- 
 ance of a winter's day began to give indications of 
 declining ere Scott got sufficiently near the resi- 
 dence of which he was in quest, to gain any decided 
 information from the few country people and moun- 
 taineers he met as to its precise distance and locality. 
 One man told him it was three miles, another that 
 it was two ; and an old woman that he overtook, 
 driving a flock of geese, and who said she had 
 lived in the country all her life, didn't know where 
 it was at all — had never heard of Down House 
 before, or of Mr. Jenkins Jones either — had heard 
 of a Mr. Thomas Jones, but he lived at Frengford, 
 at the back of the hills, but he had been dead many 
 years, and " of course," she said, " it couldn't be him." 
 
172 MR. JENKINS JONES. 
 
 A woodman, however, that Scott next met, 
 Avas better informed, and after running the words 
 "Jenkins Jones, Jones Jenkins, Jenkins Jones," 
 backwards and forwards on his tongue, as a Lady 
 runs up and down the notes of a piano, he directed 
 him through a pass at the low end of the mountain 
 range. 
 
 Having trotted through it just as night began to 
 close in, he came upon a wild, undulating down 
 country — open, spacious, and far-stretching. Here 
 and there dark patches, occasionally indicated by 
 the fitful gleam of a passing light, denoted human 
 habitations, but the extreme distance was completely 
 lost in the clouds. 
 
 To heighten the confusion of the scene, the road, 
 as he had been warned by the woodman, resolved 
 itself into a mere race-course sort of track, whose 
 line was marked by little chalk heap mounds thrown 
 up on the turf. 
 
 The springy down, so tempting under ordinary 
 circumstances for a canter, was now traversed 
 slowly for fear of losing the thread of the heaps, 
 and having to pass the night on the wide dreary 
 Avaste. 
 
 " It must be a primitive place, indeed," thought 
 Scott, riding close inside the line of chalk heaps, 
 " where a track like this serves alike for carriage, 
 cart, and bridle road. No fear of having one's 
 rest disturbed by the rumbling of carts, the yells of 
 drivers, or the music of cats, as it was last nis^ht." 
 
MR. JENKINS JONES. 173 
 
 A biijjjer wave of land that the mountain throe 
 had rolled further inwards, obtruded just as the fast- 
 falling shades of night began to make him wish to 
 be at his journey's end ; on reaching the top of 
 which the lights from a house ensconced among trees 
 appeared within a couple of hundred yards, and the 
 quick eye of the mare presently caused her to halt 
 at a light iron gate, dividing the lawn from the 
 downs. 
 
 The clatter the gate made in swinging to and 
 fro, caused an outburst of barking and yelling from 
 the kennel, while the raising and hurried drop- 
 ping of the curtain of a low-windowed room on the 
 ground floor showed that the inmates were aroused, 
 and ere he had dismounted at the sash-windowed 
 door, a shirt-sleeved groom had rushed round from 
 the back of the house to take his horse. 
 
 A glass door, while it is pleasant and cheerful in 
 summer, has the advantage in winter of letting a 
 guest see who is coming, and the Ijright burning 
 oil lamp discovered our friend's host, now attired in 
 a comfort<able suit of plaid instead of the cloth and 
 leather of the fox-hunter. 
 
 How we pity people who lived before "tweeds," 
 railways, and writing directions on newspaper's, 
 were invented ! 
 
 The gentleman shaded his eyes with his hand 
 and shut them, as some people do who want 
 to have a good look at one ; but a momentary 
 glance produced an ** Oh, Mr. Scott, is it you ? 
 
174 MR. JENKINS JONES. 
 
 I'm glad to see you," confirmed by a cordial shake of 
 the hand. 
 
 Scott then proceeded to " hang up his hat." 
 " You've brought your nightcap, I hope," ob- 
 served the gentleman as he helped Scott off with his 
 paletot. 
 
 While this was going on in the passage, Scott 
 overheard the following nursery dialogue in the 
 parlour : — 
 
 " Little Jack Horner] 
 Sat in the l " 
 
 " Where did little Jack sit, my pet ? " 
 
 " Pie," lisped the child. 
 
 "No, my darling, not in the i^iej' responded the 
 questioner. 
 
 '•' Let me introduce my friend Mr. Scott, my 
 dear," interrupted the host, throwing open the 
 door of a cheerful-lookinf^ room, and disclosinor a 
 beautiful dark-eyed lady, with a lovely little child 
 half on her lap, half on the table, studying the 
 interestino^ career of the o-entleman aforesaid. 
 
 An attempted rise, with a sweet smile mingling 
 with ^a half-suppressed laugh, at Jack Horner's 
 novel position, made Scott feel quite at home, and 
 he readily accepted his host's offer of an arm-chair 
 by the brightly burning fire. 
 
 As Scott looked at him he thought it was 
 lucky he had been able to give some other ac- 
 count of him beyond a mere description of his 
 person, for hunting things make such a differ- 
 
MR. JENKINS JONES. 175 
 
 ence in men's appearance that it is not always 
 easy to recognise them in others. The gentleman, 
 however, speedily touched on the grand ice- 
 breaker of conversation " the run of the morning," 
 and his wife having gathered up the child's toys, 
 consisting of a jumping mouse, a Macassar oil bottle, 
 a tin kettle, a tatter'd doll, and an illuminated copy 
 of "Jack Horner," departed with her treasure in 
 her arms. 
 
 Scott soon found he was in capital quarters. 
 Indeed he recollected to have heard from some of 
 "their hunt" who had strayed so far out of the 
 world as ^Ir. Neville's men consider the hill coun- 
 try, that there were some " capital fellows " in it, 
 which, in current sporting phraseology, means, men 
 who are glad to see their friends without any fuss ; 
 or, as in Scott's case, men who are glad to see fox- 
 hunters at any time. 
 
 There certainly is a Avonderful freemasonry 
 amono[ fox-hunters. There is no letter of intro- 
 duction equal to the few words, " This man's a 
 sportsman." It is far superior to any formal appli- 
 cation to be allowed to recommend one's particular 
 friend Mr. Augustus Fitznoodle, eldest son of Sir 
 Augustus and Lady Fitznoodle, who was a daughter 
 of Huejh fifth Earl of Biffacres, to their attention in 
 the way of a " ticket for soup," as these unfortunate 
 documents are sometimes termed. Ikit we arc 
 getting off the line, and must be running into our 
 subject. They had a capital dinner, some famous 
 
170 MR. JENKINS JONES. 
 
 mutton broth, with meat in it, thick and strong ; 
 a well- crimped piece of cod with oyster sauce, a 
 leg of dark-gravied four-year-old Welsh mutton, 
 followed by a woodcock and a dish of nice hot mince 
 pies, assisted by sherry and iced champagne at 
 dinner, and a bottle of fine old port and a devilled 
 biscuit after. 
 
 Tlie next morning, as they sat at an equally good 
 breakfast, Scott saw a fustian-clad groom arrive on 
 a horse at exercise, and presently a note was brought 
 in, which his host, after perusing, presented to him 
 with a smile, saying, " This refers to you." Thus 
 it ran : — 
 
 ** Dear Jones, 
 
 "Have you seen anything of Mr. Scott of 
 Hawbuck Grange ? He promised to come to me 
 yesterday, and has never cast up. 
 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 "Jones Jenkins." 
 
 *' Good God, ain't I at Mr. Jones Jenkins's now ? " 
 exclaimed our friend. 
 
 " Why, no," replied his host, laughing ; " my name 
 is Jenkins Jones, his is Jones Jenkins. I saw you 
 had made the common mistake last night when 
 you came, but was not going to deprive myself of 
 the pleasure of your society by telling you." 
 
 "You are extremely kind, I'm sure," replied 
 Scott. " I did think, when I saw you, that your hair 
 had got darker, but I attributed it to the shade of 
 
MR. JENKINS JONES. 177 
 
 the lamp, or to not having seen you with your hat 
 off." 
 
 "Oh, I assure you, it's nothing uncommon," 
 replied his host, " nothing uncommon at all ; we 
 get each other's letters and parcels, and papers, 
 and all sorts of things. A Frenchman brought a 
 bill for a musical clock here the other day, and 
 insisted upon my paying it. It was directed 
 ' a Monsieur Jones Jenkins.' In vain I protested 
 that my name was Jenkins Jones. ' Vel, sare,' 
 said he, ' it shall be all de same — dey have jost put 
 de Jones before de Jenkins ; you are de man.' 
 'Nonsense! ' said I, sporting the old joke, 'there's 
 just as much difference between Mr. Jenkins Jones 
 and Mr. Jones Jenkins, as there is between a 
 chestnut horse and a horse chestnut.' " 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 HOMEWARD BOUND. 
 
 Taking leave of his kind host and hostess at the 
 Down House, Tom Scott again mounted the old 
 mare, "homeward hound," as Captain Cashbox 
 would say. 
 
 He had not got above a couple of miles on the 
 high road before he was overtaken by a man on 
 foot, going at a pace known only to fugitives, 
 servants who have been loitering at public-houses, 
 or people in pursuit of sport. Urgent or exciting 
 must be the cause that spurs a pedestrian past a 
 horse. Nevertheless the individual shot ahead, and 
 that without look or observation. 
 
 " He's a good'un to go," said Scott to himself, 
 eyeing the quick short steps with which he got away 
 from the old mare. He was a square-built, bow- 
 lesged, stiff little fellow, not at all of the cut that 
 one would imagine a " Hookey Walker." His dress 
 was puzzling, as well as his pace. It consisted of a 
 brown duffle frock coat, black and white plaid 
 trousers, with drab gaiters, and he carried an oil- 
 skin-covered umbrella under his arm ; quite a town 
 turn-out — at all events, not a " week-day " one in 
 the country. 
 
HOMEWARD BOUND. 179 
 
 " I wonder Avliat the buffer is," said Scott, 
 watching him as he stepped along. " I'll be bound 
 to say he can't keep that pace up long," continued 
 he. Still he trudged on, and Scott followed, 
 thinking, as he rode, that he had the best of it. 
 
 Presently the pedestrian began to look about 
 him, first over one hedge, then over another, as 
 though he wanted liis nurse, or an excuse for 
 bolting. 
 
 " What now, old boy 1 " said Scott, eyeing the 
 proceeding ; ^^ you surely have no business in the 
 fields." 
 
 He seemed to be of a contrary opinion though, 
 and, coming to a weak place in the hedge on the 
 left, he popped over the rail that protected it, and 
 forthwith (commenced a rapid ascent of the hill. 
 
 He was quickly out of sight, leaving Tom to 
 pursue his road and ruminations together. 
 
 About a mile further on, Avliere a mountain 
 pass runs into the Netherdew turnpike, our traveller 
 was struck with a vast concourse of people coming 
 dowm, some on foot, some on horseback, some in 
 gigs, some on mules. "A foot-race," said he to 
 himself, eyeing the numbers ; " the Llandogget 
 Stag against the Bob-Daniel Flyer, or some such 
 fun ; " and he fancied he saw the poles and ropes 
 Avith which they were going to stake off the turn- 
 pike. 
 
 " Or'd, hang it, no ! they are a set of dancing- 
 dogs or monkeys," exclaimed he, as the red and 
 
180 HOMEWARD BOKND. 
 
 gaudy jackets of the animals and the yellow flag 
 of one of the leaders became apparent. " What 
 queer creatures they must be in these parts ! " con- 
 tinued he ; " only fancy a bevy of great men turning 
 out after such animals ! " 
 
 Notwithstanding this denunciation, he pulled up 
 to have a look at them himself, and he was so lost 
 in astonishment at seeing that the whole party 
 were English, instead of the white -teethed, olive- 
 complexioned Italians, the general attendants of 
 monkeys and dancing-dogs, that he was right in 
 the middle of the cavalcade before he saw the 
 animals were greyhounds — greyhounds in all the 
 pom]) and paraphernalia of race-horses, coloured 
 hoods, quarter-pieces, and bottle-carrying leaders. 
 " Gad," thought he, " what 'a go ' it would be if 
 they were to bring a pack of foxhounds to the 
 cover side in clothing ! " 
 
 It's odd if a fox-hunter gets into a crowd of 
 sportsmen, within half a hundred miles of home, 
 without being recognised by some one ; and from 
 the heterogeneous assemblage of shooting-jacketed, 
 and great-coated, and duffle-coated, and cloaked, 
 and shawled, and paletoted, and trousered, and 
 Taglionied, and jack-booted, and overalled, and 
 fiddle-case booted, and gambadoed, and umbrella- 
 handed horsemen, a voice from a complete moun- 
 tain of mackintosh exclaimed, " Halloa, Tom Scott ! 
 is that you ? " 
 
 " It's me ! sure enough," exclaimed our friend ; 
 
HOMEWARD BOUND. 181 
 
 ** but who the deuce you are beats my compre- 
 hension ? " 
 
 *' Don't you remember Charley Travis ? " replied 
 the questioner, lowering his comforter, and raising 
 a puddingy plaid cap off his brow, so as to dis- 
 play a pair of large boiled-gooseberry-looking eyes 
 staring out of a great red harvest-moon of a 
 face. 
 
 " Charley, my boy ! " exclaimed Scott, starting 
 at the familiar name and the change that time had 
 effected on its bearer. " Charley, my boy, how are 
 you ? I'm delighted to see you," and thereupon they 
 rung a requiem over the twenty years that had 
 elapsed since they met, and aroused the spirits of no 
 end of " larks " that had flown with the time. 
 
 Upon the evidence of so much cordiality, divers 
 of the sporting gents lifted their hats and caps to 
 the stranger, indicating that our traveller's friend 
 Charley was " somebody," and that a portion of liis 
 greatness was reflected upon Tom. 
 
 " I shouldn't have known you," said Scott, 
 looking at the man mountain he now rode beside, 
 and recalling the smart slim youth he had parted 
 with. 
 
 " Nobody does," replied he, " nobody does — my 
 leg's as big as my whole body used to be," shoving 
 out a great woollen-clad mackintosh-cased limb, 
 terminating in a black and red list slipper, " Do 
 you remember when I squeezed through the pot of 
 Miss Gammon's chimney, and descended amongst all 
 
182 HOMEWARD BOUND. 
 
 the bread and butter misses at their tea ? " asked 
 he. " Couldn't do that now, by jingo ; no, nor ride 
 8 St. 7 lb. as I used to do. However, never mind ; 
 I am delighted to see you again, old fellow. Tell 
 me now what's brought you into this part of the 
 world ? " 
 
 " Ah ! still as fond of hunting, still as fond of 
 hunting as ever, are you ? " observed he, after listen- 
 ing to a narrative of where Scott had been. 
 
 "Just the same," replied Scott, "just the same. 
 If anything, the older I get, the bigger fool I get. 
 I should think hunting couldn't do you any harm," 
 added he, looking at his friend's puffy face. 
 
 " Bless you, my dear Scott," shivered he, " it 
 ivould kill me. Consider, my dear fellow, what a 
 mass of complaints, what a lump of corruption I 
 am. Look at the chalk stones in my hands," 
 continued he, pulling off a sable glove. " It takes 
 two men to put me horseback. Hunt ! Suppose 
 I should be spilt ! I should never get up again — 
 I should lie kicking on the broad of my back like 
 a sheep or a bull frog ! " 
 
 " But what's made you gouty, old boy ? " asked 
 Scott. " Your parents were healthy, and you had 
 nothing of that sort in your youth." 
 
 " Had I ! " exclaimed he, earnestly, "you know I 
 hadn't — never a moment's illness of any sort. As 
 long as I was starving on a hundred a year I was 
 the healthiest and happiest mortal alive ; but the 
 moment the money came, down came a whole bevy 
 
HOMEWARD BOUND. 183 
 
 of ills, and I became one mass of disorders. 
 Stevens ! " exclaimed he, '•' is it time to take my 
 pills ? " 
 
 While the individual thus appealed to was sup- 
 plying his wants, it flashed across Scott's mind that 
 the hero he was addressinoj had been chanofcd into 
 a baronet, and that Charley Travis of former days 
 was now Sir Charles Munchino-ton, bavins; been 
 most unexpectedly metamorphosed one morning 
 Avhile shaving by a fourpenny glass in a barrack- 
 room at Gibraltar. 
 
 " I'm afraid you live too well. Sir Charles," said 
 Scott, as the Baronet gulped down the last of the 
 pills. 
 
 ''Live ! my dear fellow, I wish you saw me live ; if 
 rice puddings and soda water are living, then I do 
 live. But, talking of that, come to me to-day after 
 coursino-." 
 
 o 
 
 "■ Thank you," said Scott, " but I'm expected at 
 home." 
 
 " What, you're married, are you ? " asked he. 
 
 " AVliy, no ! yes ! no ! not exactly ; but the fact 
 is, I'm out of linen — got my last shirt on." 
 
 " Oh, I'll find you linen, and be shot if I don't 
 take a glass of wine, too, for ' auld lang syne.' I'll 
 lend you shirts and shoes, and everything, for I have 
 them of all sizes since I began to magnify, till I 
 think Daniel Lambert and I might now go partners 
 in a wardrobe." 
 
 We trust the reader will believe ^Mr. Scott sincere 
 
184 HOMEWARD BOUND. 
 
 in saying that lie had every intention of going home 
 that day. Indeed he wished it ; for, independently 
 of being out of linen, he was extremely short of 
 other things, and a man feels the want of trifles that 
 he does not appreciate when at hand. Besides, he 
 wanted to see how things were going on, whether 
 the red cow had calved, or any of the young horses 
 got lamed. Still, what could he do ? Here was an 
 old friend whom he had not seen for twenty years, 
 gouty and unwell, yet willing to take a glass of wine 
 with him. Prudence said " No," but inclination said 
 " Ay," and accordingly " ay " had it. 
 
 " Come and see a course," said Sir Charles, as the 
 cavalcade turned oft' the road through a gate into 
 some extensive pastures ; " you don't know what fun 
 it is, and w^e are getting near a tie," added he. 
 
 Tom had a pretty good idea though, for he once 
 kept a greyhound himself, and a more daft, mis- 
 chievous, useless beggar was never seen. It used to 
 do nothing but run a muck at the poultry, and 
 sheep, and foals, and practise feats of agility 
 through the windows. Worse still, the insensate 
 brute was continually losing itself, and cost him no 
 end of half-crowns for casting up, until he was for- 
 tunate enough to see the animal enticed away by a 
 mugger-man, from whose care there is seldom much 
 escape. The fellow thought he'd got a prize. 
 
 Scott followed the motley group, which had now 
 been joined by his pedestrian friend, into the field, 
 and a couple of dogs were stripped of their hoods, 
 
HOMEWARD BOUND. 185 
 
 and spectacles, and quarter-pieces, and put in the 
 slips. They then made a circuit of the enclosure, 
 following the important Mr. Marksman, the judge, 
 with the rear brought up by a most miscellaneous 
 rabble of foot people, interspersed with brandy-ball 
 and lollypop merchants, the usual concomitants of 
 pedestrian crowds. 
 
 They ranged that field and another, and beat a 
 bank-side, and then crossed a nice trout-stream on 
 to some water meadows beyond. 
 
 " Let us stand here and see the course," said 
 Sir Charles, sheltering under the lee of a tumble- 
 down building, from one of those heavy, cutting, 
 rattling hail-storms that so disconcert lazy house- 
 maids with bright grates. Patter, patter, patter 
 it came, rattling down upon the harsh dry mackin- 
 tosh, making the large bullets bound again. 
 
 Before it was well over, at least before they had 
 fairly opened their daylights again, a shout pro- 
 claimed the course beoun, and, lookinsj across the 
 water, Scott saw two great snake-like animals 
 stretching and striding away over the plain after an 
 unfortunate little driblet of a thing, that evidently 
 had a very poor chance with them. It went away 
 stoutly at first, to be sure, and there was little 
 sensible advantao-e so lono; as it ran strais^ht ; but 
 the moment it began to swerve, the superiority of 
 the followers was evident. 
 
 So it went twisting and turning, the efforts Ije- 
 coming " smaller by degrees antl beautifully less." 
 
186 HOMEWARD BOUND. 
 
 Sir Charles was in ecstasies ! He jerked, and he 
 jumped, and he worked his arms, and bit his lips, 
 and hung to one side, just as a cockney does in a 
 cab that he thinks is about to capsise. " Beaiitiiul 
 course ! " exclaimed he ; " beautiful course ! " as the 
 dark dog turned the poor drab thing to the left, 
 and the light dog sent it right ahead again. 
 " Finest course I ever saw in my life ! — finest 
 course I ever saw in my life ! " ejaculated he, as 
 the hare made straight for a gate. 
 
 " By Jove, that's well done ! " said he, as the 
 dogs cleared it together. " Now for the tug of 
 war ! " 
 
 They were now upon a seed field, and gaining 
 painfully upon poor puss. First one strider turned 
 her, then the other, the poor thing's energy con- 
 tracting with each effort, till the dark dog shot 
 a length in advance, and chucked her right up in 
 the air. 
 
 Then up hurried the field, the victor all glee, 
 the loser all glum, while water-bottles and clothino* 
 Avere produced, and another brace of dogs had their 
 spectacles taken off and were put in the slips. 
 
 So they went on from field to field, coursing and 
 killing, and losing and missing, amid the betting 
 and cheering of the company. 
 
 At last the course came on deciding whether the 
 owner of the dark dog or a red one was to have the 
 honour of keeping a pewtery-looking cup for the 
 year, and of sacking a certain number of sovereigns 
 
HOMEWARD BOUND. 187 
 
 in the shape of stakes. We dare say there was as 
 much as ten pounds at issue ; and if there had been 
 a million, there couldn't have been more noise. 
 " Five shillings on the Dusty Miller!" exclaimed a 
 sreat, fat, l)utcherified-lookin2r fellow, in blue wool- 
 lens or tweeds, mopping the perspiration from 
 his brow, which he had managed to acquire in the 
 " trot " of the last course — a thing that none but 
 a twenty-stoner could accomplish with such an 
 atmosphere. 
 
 " I'll lay a shilling on the Miller ! I'll lay two ! 
 I'll lay three ! I'll take three to two ! " exclaimed 
 another. 
 
 "I'll lay you half-a-crown to two shillings, 
 Jubbins," replied Popkins ; and the quantity and 
 nature of the betting showed that there would be 
 a great demand for silver after the course. 
 
 The awkward part of betting on a course seems 
 to be that there is no way of regulating the race. 
 It isn't like a trial of speed between horses, for 
 twisting and turning seems to have quite as much 
 to do with winning as the straightforward fly. So it 
 was here. After much to do they at length got a 
 satisfactory hare ; but, after the usual bowling about, 
 the victory was declared in favour of Bright Star, 
 Dusty Miller, for some unapparent cause, being 
 non-suited, though an inexperienced courser would 
 have said that he followed suit quite as stoutly as 
 his competitor. 
 
 Amidst cheers for the victor the scene closed, and 
 many of the field availed themselves of the oppor- 
 
188 HOMEWARD BOUND. 
 
 tunity afforded by pulling out their purses to pull 
 out their pocket-handkerchiefs too, for it was in- 
 tensely cold. 
 
 On reachinfij the villao;e of Leisjhford, Sir Charles 
 abandoned his cob, and a brougham, with post 
 horses, was presently at the Greyhound Inn door, 
 in which he insisted on seating Scott, and carrying 
 him off to his residence. 
 
 It requires a strongish intimacy to accompany 
 an invalid with no better prospect than what the 
 baronet had held out ; but friends decrease so, as 
 we get on in life, that it is cheering to put one's 
 hand into the back shelf of time, and pull out an 
 old one, altered, dusted, and damaged thouo;h he 
 may be. If a chap is a good fellow at twenty, 
 there's little chance of his being a bad one at forty ; 
 and, barring his ailments, Sir Charles was just tlie 
 same hearty cock Scott had parted with twenty 
 years before, when he sailed for India. Alas ! the 
 then gay stripling was now the premature old man. 
 
 It was just light enough, as they dashed across 
 the ornamental bridge, over the swan and fowl- 
 swarming water, and dived among the undulations 
 of the deer-stocked park, for Scott to see that 
 his friend had " lit on his legs ; " and when they 
 stopped, with a jerk, under the wood-paved 
 Gothic porch of the ancient edifice, and two neatly 
 dressed footmen responded to the sound of the 
 bell, it was evident there was what a literary 
 appraiser would estimate at " ten thousand a year." 
 
HOMEWARD BOUND. 18!) 
 
 Nobody that has " any thing " has less, thanks to 
 the liberal talent of Mr. Warren. 
 
 " I don't keep these fellows to look at," said Sir 
 Charles, as he sidled from his seat in the brousrhani 
 on to their crossed arms, and was carried bather- 
 woman fashion into the house, ordering one to get 
 the room next his ready for Scott, and the other to 
 tell the groom to see after our friend's mare, which 
 was coming with his cob. 
 
 " Oh, doctor ! " groaned the baronet, as they 
 placed him on a couch, in a perfect snuggery of a 
 room ; " ah, doctor ! " groaned he, to a little white- 
 headed old man, in knee-breeches and buckles, who 
 Scott could have sworn Avas the doctor if he 
 hadn't been so addressed; "I'm dreadfully exhausted 
 — very ill indeed ! " 
 
 " Indeed, Sir Chorles, I'm sorry to hear that. 
 Sir Chorles," replied the little gentleman, advancing 
 solemnly to his patient, at the same time pulling up 
 a great noisy watch by a sort of jack-chain, to which 
 was appended many seals, as if he was going to feel 
 his pulse. 
 
 " Oh, no ; it's not physic I want — it's not physic 
 I want ! I've taken all your pills and the blue 
 draught into the bargain," exclaimed the invalid. 
 ** I want something to restore me — to revive me, in 
 fact." 
 
 " Well, Sir Chorles," mouthed the man of medi- 
 cine, " suppose you have a little water gruel," 
 looking mysteriously at Scott. 
 
190 HOMEWARD BOUND. 
 
 " D — n your water gruel ! " screamed the invalid; 
 " why, what an inhuman monster you must be to 
 want me to take water gruel on the venj day I've 
 fallen in with Tom Scott, after an absence of nearly 
 twenty years ! " 
 
 " Well, Sir Chorles," responded little blacklegs, 
 taken rather aback, " what would you like to have, 
 Sir Chorles ? " 
 
 " — Hang it ; I want you to recommend, man ! " 
 continued he, precisely in the tone that he used to 
 blow up the waiters and landlords of the inns 
 when they didn't please him. " I want you to re- 
 commend, man. What's the use of being a doctor 
 if you can't tell what's good for me ? " 
 
 The little man was quite abashed. 
 
 " Do you think a glass of maraschino would do 
 me any harm ^ " at last asked Sir Charles. 
 
 " Oh, not the least — none whatever," replied the 
 doctor, glad of the suggestion — " at least, that's to 
 say if you don't take more than a glass, or tioo^' 
 added he, seeino- the brow beorin to lour. 
 
 " And a slice of 'pate de fo'ie gras, perhaps ? " 
 continued Sir Cliarles. 
 
 "You might find benefit from it," replied the 
 doctor, '' especially if your stomach's empty, and it 
 wants an hour yet to dinner," continued he, looking 
 at the watch, which he still fumbled in his hand, 
 
 " Stomach empty," growled Sir Charles ; " why, 
 now, is it likely a man would eat if his stomach 
 wasn't empty ? At least / know / wouldn't." 
 
HOMEWARD BOUND. 191 
 
 "And bring two or three dozen oysters, and 
 some pale ale," exclaimed Sir Charles, as the servant 
 was going, after receiving the above orders ; adding 
 to the doctor, "Oysters are wholesome enough, at 
 all events, I hope ? " 
 
 " Nothing more so. Sir Chorles," replied the man 
 of medicine. 
 
 " A beaker of burgundy would be right after the 
 'pate, wouldn't it ? " asked he in continuation. 
 
 " It would give tone to the stomach. Sir Chorles, 
 especially if you have rather overdone yourself with 
 exercise." 
 
 " Well, then, my good fellow/' interrupted the 
 patient, " will you have the kindness to go into the 
 cellar for it yourself, and see and wrap it properly 
 up in flannel, so that it ma^Ti't get chilled by the 
 way 1 " 
 
 With such a " whet " the reader will conjecture 
 what the dinner was like ; nor will it, perhaps, be 
 necessary to point out why Sir Charles is not as 
 healthy as he was with his hundred a year, to pre- 
 vent rich people parting with their money for fear 
 of getting like him. Should there be any alarmists, 
 however, Mr. Scott says he can take a few sackfuls, 
 which may either be sent to Hawbuck Grange, or 
 left with the publishers of this work. The accom- 
 modating reader will now have the kindness to 
 suppose our friend Tom Scott returned to the 
 former place. 
 
 CT - ! 
 
 UNIVE.H! 
 
 OF 
 
 •ALlFOR^i* 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 
 
 Doubtful days — that is to say, days on whicli one 
 does not know whether to go to hounds or stay at 
 home — are great bores. To be sure, a native has 
 no great business to be bothered by them, seeing 
 that he has no need to " turn out " on other than 
 undoubted days, and can chop over to his other 
 occupation should a day seem un propitious ; but in 
 a sport-stinting season, even natives are very apt to 
 try and get a day that, in a favourable winter, 
 would be rejected. Gentlemen who leave their 
 homes for the purpose of hunting are fairly ex- 
 cusable for going sliding and slipping to a meet. 
 Not but that even they had better stay at their 
 lodgings and read the " Annual Register," or 
 whatever work of light reading they have brought 
 with them. 
 
 Speaking of the season, 1846-7, our friend Scott, 
 after prefacing his observations by declaring that he 
 ** doesn't wish to say any thing unhandsome of the 
 weather, or of anybody," denounces it as " the most 
 tricky, capricious, unhandsome season he ever re- 
 members." "It is not the frost and snow that I 
 complain of," says he, " though we had enough of 
 
THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 193 
 
 them in all conscience, but it was the dirty, deceitful, 
 delusive sort of changing that kept raising men's 
 hopes, apparently for no other purpose than ' dash- 
 ing them to spinage.' " 
 
 Of course he spoke of the weather in Mr. Neville's 
 country, but we believe it was pretty much tlie 
 same all over. After an inordinate quantity of 
 frost and snow, fi-om the end of November to the 
 beginning of January, there was a slight cessation, 
 and the wide-awake ones actually got a few days' 
 hunting in some countries. At the end of the first 
 week, however, just as all the packs were again 
 blooming into advertisement, back came the frost, 
 harder, if possiljle, than ever, accompanied by a 
 fresh fall of snow ; and again, about the last week 
 of the month, they both disappeared, and hunting 
 was resumed with all the advantages of first-rate 
 scent, to be again stopped on the 31st, by the 
 return of frost and snow. Then look at that little 
 snuffling, shabby month of February, one that in 
 ordinar}" seasons we reckon as the second best 
 hunting one of the year. It came in, of course, 
 with a white coat and an icicled nose, when all of 
 a sudden, on the night of the 4th, it turned to a 
 thaw, the west wind got up and cleared the country 
 of snow in an incredible short space of time, when 
 lo ! as all the snow-broth yet floated on the fields, 
 back came the frost on the 7th, caking it on the 
 top, to the damage, if not the destruction of the 
 wheat crops, and then a fall of snow succeeded to 
 
194 THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 
 
 keep all snug. Now that wc call very unliand- 
 8ome — unworthy of the great and enlightened 
 eighteen hundred and forty-seven ; it's as bad as 
 kicking a man when he's down. 
 
 Not being fond of doubtful days, Tom Scott 
 missed a run or two durino; the first interrconum, 
 and paid dearly for it by the persecution of Muft' 
 & Co., who happened to be out. Indeed, he 
 could hardly get their township books through at 
 the next meetinsr of the board of guardians, from 
 first Muff, and then Tinhead, and then Tinhead, 
 and then Muff, bursting into exclamations about it. 
 
 " Thomas Felix Badman, relieved in kind — 
 two kicks and a basin of barley water," read the 
 clerk. 
 
 "Major! do you recollect that splendid cast the 
 hounds made of themselves at the four cross roads ? 
 Just as we came to Briarly Dell, where the fox 
 had met the sheep in the face, and made them 
 * right about wheel 1 ' " inquired Muff (Tarquinius), 
 who was in the chair, of his docile friend Tinhead, 
 who stood wj,rming himself before the fire. 
 
 " Ellen Draggletail told she must behave herself 
 better, or she'll get no more ginger," continued 
 the clerk. 
 
 "Ah, but did you see them at Heathhanger 
 Bridge 1 " asked the major : " I don't think I ever 
 saw hounds behave better." 
 
 " January 3. — Mark Scrimagour received into 
 the house at four o'clock without any hat, and a 
 
THE DOUBTFrL DAY. 105 
 
 pair of shocking bad breeches — lent him a ca]> 
 and a pair of union trousers/' read the clerk. 
 
 "The fox had run the parapet," observed Tin- 
 head, "and when the hounds came up, of course 
 they " 
 
 " January 4. — Mark Scrimagour refused to scour 
 the candlesticks, because he had not had enough 
 sugar in his milk at breakfast." 
 
 " Hang his sugar," snapped Tinhead. 
 
 "By the way, Mr. Scott, what got you?" 
 inquired the all-important Tarcpiinius Muff, throw- 
 ing open his blue paletot, and displaying an acre of 
 chest, bespangled with studs and encircled with 
 chains. " I thought you were one of the * never- 
 say-die ' sort," continued he — " a regular sac re mat hi 
 man for the chasse, as the French say." 
 
 The hounds had had good sport, an hour and 
 twenty minutes one day, and a very sharp twenty 
 minutes the second ; and if Tom had had an hour 
 and twenty minutes to comi)ose it in, he'd have 
 said something to Muff as sharp as the last run ; as 
 it was, he parried his importunities by pretending 
 to be desperately busy with tlie accounts, inwardly 
 resolving not to give him a chance of crowing over 
 him another time. 
 
 The foregoing took i)lace on a Wednesday, and 
 an oi)})ort unity was afforded on the Friday. ]Mr, 
 Neville always advertises his liounds, in doubtful 
 times, putting " weather permitting " at the top of 
 the advertisement. This is a g<wd plan, for though 
 
196 THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 
 
 masters may say that it is always understood tliey 
 hunt the last advertised meets, or meet at the 
 kennel the first hunting day, we can assure them 
 there is no such resfular understandino; in the 
 world, and people don't like running the double 
 chance of " weather permitting," and hounds being 
 " somewhere else " too. Advertising costs nothing ; 
 the trouble to " masters " is a mere trifle, while the 
 convenience to the country is very great. Localities 
 vary so. The frost sometimes strikes a particular 
 district, while a neighbouring one is wholly un- 
 touched. We have seen a difference of three weeks' 
 hunting between adjoining countries — hounds being 
 at a stand-still in the one, while they were going 
 on, with sport too, in the other. Sea-side tracts are 
 often quite huntable, while inland and particularly 
 upland regions, are perfectly unrideable. Again, 
 we have seen the reverse of this. We have seen 
 a sea-side country bound up in iron frost, while 
 hounds met, hunted, had sport, ay and killed their 
 fox, ten miles inland. At least we were told so, 
 for we didn't go to see. It was rather a singular 
 circumstance, for Ave got within four miles of the 
 meet before we turned back, having got our horse 
 from the groom, who had turned too. The ground 
 certainly was so hard where we changed that we 
 could scarcely find fault with the man for turning ; 
 but being so far on the road, and the horse want- 
 ing work, we thought we might as well go on, 
 which we did, till we came to the house of a friend, 
 who persuaded us it was perfectly ridiculous 
 
THE DOUBTFUL DAY. It) 7 
 
 going ; the meet being the highest, coldest, hleukest, 
 most frost-catching pkee in the world. He wouldn't 
 go for any money. So we sat an hour or two witli 
 him, in the course of which the horse caugrht cold, 
 and we returned home with a sore throat. 
 
 These sudden changes and capricious visitations 
 defy all calculation. The only serviceable observa- 
 tion that can be made, is the situation of the kennel, 
 and whether it is in a country liable to be suddenly 
 frost-stricken or not, so as to prevent hounds leav- 
 ing it : for though hounds may be entrapped into a 
 frosty country out of a soft one, yet there is seldom 
 much chance of their leaving a frosty one in search 
 of a soft one. '^ Too Jiard," the huntsman will say 
 the first thing in the morning, and tliat settles the 
 business of the day. 
 
 It is odd that few days are so bad liut that 
 some one will appear at an advertised meet. 
 Even though they go sliding and skating at the 
 imminent risk of their limbs, if they mount 
 their scarlets, they -will mount their horses too. 
 They get their rides at all events, and their horses 
 exercised ; and even should the hounds come, they 
 know they have no occasion to ride a yard unless 
 they like. It is another matter, however, with the 
 huntsman and whips. They must follow tlieir 
 hounds, and despite the cavillings and grumblings 
 of fault-pickers and hole-finders, we maintain that 
 hounds far oftener throw off Avhen they should not 
 than refuse when they ought. 
 
198 THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 
 
 There is no pleasure in hunting in a frost. None 
 whatever. Far better stay at home, and read the 
 " Post Office Directory," *' Annual Kegister," 
 or any work that is not encumbered with a plot, 
 than go picking one's ground so as to keep where 
 the sun has struck, leaving a yard measure behind 
 each hoof on pulling np. Men who leave their 
 homes for the purpose of hunting must occupy 
 their time in some way or other, and those who 
 can't read are perhaps excusable in accompany- 
 ing hounds. It is of no use contending with the 
 elements. It is poor work shivering at a meet, 
 calculating whether hounds will come or not — 
 magnifying old women's red petticoats into "pinks," 
 and flocks of sheep into hounds. 
 
 There is a sort of desolation attending doubtful 
 days, unlike the concomitants of regular seasonable 
 hunting ones. Long before one gets to the meet — 
 whatever country it may be in — one sees something 
 indicative of hunting on a real hunting day. A lad 
 riding faster than his horse, a countryman with a 
 stick, pacing along at a very different rate to what 
 he would be going if he were carrying a message 
 from his master ; the imprints of light-shod horses 
 on the grassy road sidings, or careful grooms clus- 
 tering at the doors of the Ked Lion or Barleymow, 
 taking their early glasses as they loiter to cover ; 
 but on a doubtful frosty morning, all doors are 
 closed, no one turns out that can help it ; master 
 rides his own horse on, and saunters round by the 
 
THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 199 
 
 farm, or the fjictotum's, or some place or other to kill 
 time and see what effect the sun has as he goes. 
 If you arrive at the meet at the right time, the 
 chances are there is nobody there, and you begin 
 to fear you have mistaken the day. The children 
 stare with astonishment ; and one urchin bolder than 
 the rest at lenfvth ventures to ask if the " hunds be a 
 coomin to-day ? " That's just what you want to 
 know. A (quarter of an hour elapses and still no 
 symptoms of hunting. Your watch perhaps may 
 have stolen a march, or the clocks may vary. If 
 it's at a village, however, the clocks presently 
 undeceive you. A miller comes past, riding on his 
 sacks ; you ask him where the hounds come to when 
 they meet there, and he assures you he knows 
 nothing about them — millers never do — they are 
 the most uninformed race of men under the sun. 
 Some peo})le, however, have the knack of knowing- 
 nothing, and the way they preserve their ignorance 
 is truly astonishing : they should have a patent for 
 it. " Ar doan't know" — " Ar carn't tell" — are 
 the invariable drawls after a good stare. Ask a 
 cockney boy where such a street is, and he tells you 
 in a minute, or slangs you well ; but a yokel can't 
 declare his ignorance without exposing his stupidity. 
 But we are reversing the order of things, and 
 converting a real Tom Scott day into an imaginary 
 one, instead of making an imaginary day look as 
 much like a real one as possible. We began by 
 deprecating doubtful days, and showed how Tom 
 
200 THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 
 
 had missed two runs durinor the hrief interrej^num 
 of January by adhering to the doctrine, and now 
 we propose showing, a very common case if people 
 would but admit it, how Tom was piqued into 
 going by a man — a gentleman we should say — of 
 whose hunting capabilities he has no great opinion. 
 Mr. Neville's Hounds met on this day at the village 
 of Thornfield, on the north side of their country, 
 not a bad rough sort of meet, and one Avhose wood- 
 lands are favourable and accommodating for hounds, 
 especially in frosty weather. Still it is a place 
 Tom very seldom goes to, nor would he have 
 thought of it, but for the crowings of Tarquinius 
 Muff', and the fear of giving him another 
 opportunity. Independently of that, Tom had 
 employed some of his leisure frost in riding over 
 to Snailswell once or twice, and though we are not 
 at liberty to mention (except in strict confidence, 
 of course) what passed between the fair Lydia and 
 him, yet we may say, that it had been so far satis- 
 factory as to induce him to make a fresh appoint- 
 ment at each leaving. " I'll ride over again on 
 Sunday," or " I'll look in upon you again as I'm 
 passing to Edge-Hill on I\Ionday," he would say, 
 for he carried on the courtship more by " innuendo " 
 than by the old point blank, " If you love me as 
 I love you,^' &c. Indeed, to tell the truth, Tom 
 is rather a cautious cock, and thought if he could 
 but get his own consent, that of the lady would 
 follow as a matter of course. We have already 
 
THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 201 
 
 hinted that she ^vould not have any money, but 
 this deficiency Tom had at haigth induced him- 
 self to overlook ; but thinking that a woman who 
 was to be a " fortune in herself," ought to be 
 sound and all right, he had lately stuck at the 
 matter of her teeth, whose beautiful pearly -white- 
 ness he thought " too good to stand." Upon this 
 point he determined to take the opinion of his 
 friend Mrs. Sylvanus Bluff, a lady great in the 
 medical ' art, and it Avas until her decision was 
 obtained that he now " hung off. " All that, how- 
 ever, will hereafter more fully and at large appear, 
 as the lawyers say, though we believe if the frost 
 had lasted steadily, Tom would have dropped 
 quietly into an engagement, an offer at all events, 
 for the visits were getting both more frequent and 
 longer, when the upljraidings of Muff nettled him 
 into taking advantage of an apparent change in the 
 weather. 
 
 So now to the day named at the head of the page. 
 The previous one felt like frost, and the morning 
 of this one was decidedly frosty, Ijut having been 
 called for hunting Tom got up, and having got up 
 he got breakfast, and having got breakfast he got 
 on to his horse, and though his hoofs made that 
 ringing sort of sound peculiar to horses and well- 
 built London carriages on hard roads, he speculated 
 on the influence of the sun and the favourableness 
 of the woodland l)ottoms, and ])roceeded on his 
 road as we have described up to the conversation 
 
202 THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 
 
 with tlic miller. Therefore that part of the sketch 
 may stand as " part of the bill." 
 
 As the miller slouched out of sight, and Scott 
 rode backwards and forwards on the village bridge, 
 a pair of leather breeches hove in sight — not the 
 genteel cream-coloured things of modern times, but 
 a pair of good old-fashioned yellow ochre's, whose 
 owner was further encased in a black dress coat, 
 a black satin stock, and dingy lack-lustre boots. 
 
 It was our old friend Doctor Podgers, on his fat 
 black pony, master and nag counterparts of each 
 other. 
 
 On ordinary occasions a doctor may be in boots 
 and breeches without signifying a hunt, but a rich 
 grandfather-looking silver-mounted hunting-whip, 
 and a ribbon to his shaved black hat, committed 
 him beyond all extrication. 
 
 " Good morning, Doctor," said Scott ; " do you 
 think the hounds will come ? " 
 
 Doctor (raising his hat to the extremity of the 
 ribbon). "Upon my word, sir, I don't know. 
 What do you think 1 " 
 
 " Why, I think so of course, or I shouldn't be 
 here." 
 
 " It's very cold. Do you think the frost is going 
 to hold ? " at length Scott asked, rather ashamed of 
 his tartness. 
 
 Doctor. "Upon my word, sir, I don't know. 
 What do you think ? " 
 
 Though a man may " trot " himself into a belief 
 
THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 20.3 
 
 that tliere will be hunting, the sad reality of 
 " standing " generally produces a candid opinion. 
 
 Scott could not but admit that the ground about 
 was very hard, that the atmosphere was veiy frosty, 
 and the only chance there was of hounds coming- 
 seemed to be the possibilility that it might not be 
 (juite so hard or so frosty in the neighbourhood 
 of the kennel. 
 
 The only alleviating circumstance there is in 
 a case of non-hunting is the coming of the hounds, 
 which shows that a man is not so wide of the 
 mark as he would otherwise appear. Indeed, it 
 almost amounts to a case of " l)ig foolism " being 
 there without them, and Scott strained his eyes 
 and cocked his ears up the Gunnerton Road, in 
 hopes of seeing them or of hearing one of those 
 knowing notes that fall so musically on the ear, so 
 symptomatic of hunting, so unmistakable for any- 
 thing else. 
 
 It was all in vain. 
 
 There was a crack of a whip, but it was a cart- 
 man's — there was a holloa, but it was from a 
 boy frightening crows. There is no more simi- 
 larity between these and the genuine thing than 
 there is between the jovial mirth of the village 
 school broke loose upon the green and the determined 
 tallyho of the man who has been thrown into 
 convulsions by viewing the fox. 
 
 Scott began to be rather ashamed of havincf 
 come, especially as he could not but feel (though 
 
204 THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 
 
 of course he would not admit it to anybody) tliat 
 lie had been rather "talked into it" by Tar- 
 quinius Muff. 
 
 Just as he thought of Muff, his other greatest 
 abhorrence of life, Dolores BrowTi of Bleakhope, 
 cast up. 
 
 There are some people in the world whose 
 looks or whose manners are so melancholily 
 lugubrious as to make one unhappy to see them, 
 and Dolores combines both these unfortunate 
 qualities. He is the most unhappy-looking wretch 
 that ever was seen. He is a sort of ill-omened 
 bird, for people say they never have sport when he 
 is out. Some people's jolly good-natured phizzes set 
 one agog and cheer one up, but Dolores never does 
 anything but depress the spirits. It isn't his nasty 
 looks alone, but he is an ill-conditioned creature into 
 the bargain. Nobody ever heard him say a good 
 Avord of any one without his adding as much spite 
 as counteracted the praise. He may be called a 
 praising detractor, only he does much more in the 
 detracting than in the praising line. He is a 
 grumbling, dissatisfied, cantankerous animal, never 
 happy but Avhen he's miserable. He has always 
 some fault to find, some hole to pick, or some 
 misfortune to forbode. The master of the hounds 
 is generally his stock victim. He, poor man ! never 
 does anything right. After the master, the hunts- 
 man comes in for his maledictions, and then the 
 whip. It is gratifying to know that Mrs. Brown 
 
THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 205 
 
 takes her " change " out of him at home. There, 
 he daren't say his " soul 's his own," and we have 
 often heard it suggested that he comes out hunting 
 to escape her. Whatever his motive may he, it is 
 a frequent observation that Dolores Brown never 
 brings luck. A doul)tful day seems just the sort 
 of one for him to cast upon. 
 
 If we had a Daguerreotype machine we would 
 sketch him as he sits under the stunted, crooked, 
 decaying ash tree, and impale him on our page ; 
 but that not being practicable, and our friend 
 " Phiz " not being at hand, we will just do what 
 we can with the pen. 
 
 Dolores is a farmer — a large fiirmer — he keeps 
 four or five draughts, and has two or three thou- 
 sand vslieep herding on the downs about his appropri- 
 ately-named residence of " Bleakhope " — one of the 
 highest, coldest, most exposed places in the country. 
 Still, as if by a frolic of nature, there is some good 
 land upon it, and, cold as he looks, Dolores is sup- 
 posed to be ivarm. To look at his nasty, lank, strag- 
 gling, sandy-coloured hair, impoverished whiskers, 
 and clay-coloured cheeks, you would fancy he was 
 the follower of some noisome trade instead of a 
 wholesome out-of-door-living farmer. He may 
 be any age from thirty to fifty ; indeed, one often 
 sees far fresher-looking men at sixty or even 
 seventy. His features are harsh and sharp, and 
 there is a cunning watchfulness about his little 
 watery grey eyes. 
 
206 THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 
 
 His clothes are as unwliolesome looking as his 
 person. His napless, low-crowned hat is all glue- 
 stained round the band, the marks widening out in 
 front into a thing like a chimney-sweeper's badge. 
 The frost makes the hat's browning hue more appa- 
 rent. A good hat is about the only thing that 
 looks well on a frosty day, and if anything will 
 bring a thaw it surely is the temptation a new 
 one offers to Jupiter Pluvius. Dolores's coarse 
 draojorlino[ o-iUs are guileless of starch, and his 
 washed-out, blue-striped neckcloth, dirty, twisted, 
 and knotted into what the French call a " Tyburn 
 tye," exposes, rather than covers, his long scraggy 
 neck. The greasy collar of a browning black cut- 
 away coat, and the frayed top of a shabby striped 
 waistcoat, appear above a seedy, well-worn brown 
 tweed, slightly slit up behind for the saddle, and 
 covering the greater part of tlie hard, crackey-look- 
 ing patent cords, and almost black top-boots in 
 which his spindle shanks are shrouded. 
 
 His horse was a bay, until it was clipped and 
 singed into a dun-duckety sort of mud colour. The 
 cold makes the uneven jagging of the scissors and 
 the blotches of the singer more apparent, for badly 
 clipped greys are the only horses that will stand 
 the searching investigation of a frosty day. This 
 horse is a sour-headed, sunk-eyed, cock-throppled, 
 ewe-necked, ragged-maned beggar, though with 
 some apparent breeding about him. Light feeding 
 seems the order of the day both with horse and 
 
THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 207 
 
 master, and clesjDite the laziness of tlie season, 
 Dolores has contrived, by the substitution of bran 
 mashes and boiled turnips for corn, to keep his 
 horse's girth in much the same moderate compass 
 as his own. Between its ragged, rubbed-out tail 
 and Dolores's shabby, straggling locks there is a 
 striking resemblance, and altogether, what with the 
 bother of the little doctor, the nastiness of Dolores, 
 and the unpromising appearance of the day, we hope 
 the considerate reader will excuse Tom Scott slip- 
 })ing up to the sign of the " Haymaker " to get a 
 glass of brandy and water. 
 
 ***** 
 Hark ! here come horses ! Three red coats heave 
 in sight on the sheep-walk road, visible as they pass 
 the gaps and bits of w^alls built into the ragged 
 hedge, where the village and pedestrian depreda- 
 tions have extinguished all hopes of the quicks l)eing 
 ])ermitted to grow. 
 
 The sight of red coats is cheering. " No kno wing- 
 but the hounds may come yet," said Sr^ott to him- 
 self, as he returned, feeling like a giant refreshed, 
 *' throw oft', have a glorious run, old Dolores be 
 trundled into a l)lack l)og, and the hounds run into 
 their fox on the hill above Hawbuck Grange. " 
 
 " The horses' hoofs sound louder than 1 like," 
 continued he, cocking his ear to the east wind, " for- 
 biddingly keen ; " but no sportsman ever forgets 
 that the celel)rat('d Billesden Coplow run took place 
 under similar unfavourable circumstanci-s. 
 The tramp of horses approaches. 
 
2U8 THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 
 
 What a noise the riders make ! Their jabber 
 sounds on the clear frosty air as if they were close 
 by, though they are still a quarter of a mile off. 
 " Hah ! hah ! hah ! " what a laugh. There it is 
 again ! " Haw ! haw ! haw ! " deeper and deeper 
 still. " He ! he ! he ! " a third volley. The hounds 
 must be coming, and they know it. There goes 
 the baccy ! Smoking and all. How clear that puff 
 by the gate curled up in the 2:>ure air : Lord, how 
 they laugh ! That must be a capital joke, for they 
 are all " haw * haw ! hawing ! " together. Who 
 can they be ? 
 
 " As I live," exclaimed our friend Scott, " the 
 Muffs, and old Tom Tinhead ! " 
 
 Fortunately Scott made the discovery just in time 
 to enable him to slip back to the sign of the Hay- 
 maker, from the cowshed at the end of which he 
 surveyed the scene and overheard the conversation. 
 
 Up came great " Muff Tarquinius," as Trumper 
 calls him, full fig, in a spick and span hat, new 
 bright scarlet coat, with the corner of a white cam- 
 bric handkerchief peeping out of the breast pocket, 
 a sky-l)lue satin cravat, embroidered with roses and 
 lilies, a roll collar waistcoat, most unexceptionable 
 leathers, and shining jack boots, set off with bright 
 heavy spurs, running most desperately to neck. 
 Tarquinius Muff is an immense man ; we dare say 
 he rides eighteen stone, and sits full souse on his 
 horse, for all the world like a five thousand a year 
 man, as he is. Could he have been certain that 
 
THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 209 
 
 tlie hounds would not come he would not have had 
 a care, in the world, for he was "got up " for the 
 drawing-room and not for the cover side. Just the 
 man for a frosty day. 
 
 Bad as old Muff is we really think he is better 
 than his brother, Blatheremskite. Blatheremskite 
 affects the coachman ; but his favourite " Rover " 
 and " Telegraph " being off the road, he mourns 
 their glories in the dress of a coachman, which he 
 cleverly adapts to all the pursuits of life. His 
 shining silk hat is " as round as a cheese, and as 
 flat as a flounder." His hair is close-cropped, and 
 his white shawl cravat is secured by a massive gold 
 coach-and-four pin, forcing its way above the step 
 collar of his long, coachman-cut, rough, drab vel- 
 vety-looking waistcoat, with a double row of flap 
 pockets. His stout, India rubber cloth, strait-cut, 
 cuffless scarlet, is a compound of stitching, back 
 strapping, and flaps. The narrow collar has a 
 strong double hem, the seams behind are back 
 strapped, and there is a curious device of strength 
 just above the waist buttons, looking as though 
 he expected a trial of strength with the garment 
 generally, or a game of " pull devil, pull baker," 
 with the laps. The outside pockets are guarded 
 with ample double -stitched flaps, out of the 
 mouth of one of which what he would call a 
 " bird's eye fogle " api>ears, while the other has got a 
 decided drag downwards from the frequent occupa- 
 tion of his hand. The front buttons arc firmly set 
 
210 THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 
 
 in Oil a separate strip of cloth, and al^out the centre 
 of the breast is a small sort of watch-pocket, as if 
 he had to time himself constantly. The broad 
 greenish-coloured patent cord breeches, buttoning 
 in front with mother-of-pearl buttons, come a long 
 way down the leg, where they at last meet a pair of 
 receding tops, the length of the breeches and the 
 shortness of the boots producing the observation 
 from Tom Bowles, the first whip and wag of the 
 hunt, that " he supposed Mr. Blatheremskite paid 
 double price for one and half price for the other." 
 The long tops are of the roseate tint, and the thick 
 double soles are of a texture to resist any quantity 
 of wet ; all very well for a coachman paddling about 
 a coach in sloppy weather, but perfectly unnecessary 
 for even the most inveterate " leader over " of a fox- 
 hunter. His action, as well as his dress, is that of 
 the coachman. He holds his reins, and works his 
 arms, as if he were on the box ; and, altogether, he 
 is about as great a snob as the great historian of 
 " Snobs " himself could wish to draw. 
 
 " Hallo, doctor ! " exclaimed Muff to our friend 
 of the yellow ochres, as the trio turned into the 
 road, " halloo, doctor ! at it again ; keen dog, keen 
 dog, very." 
 
 Doctor Podgers acknowledged the compliment 
 by raising his hat to the limit of the hunting 
 string. 
 
 " Where are the hounds ? " asked Muff. 
 
 " Not come," replied the doctor. 
 
THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 211 
 
 " Not come ! " retorted MutF ; " why wliat's hap- 
 pened ? " 
 
 " I think it will be the frost," observed an earth- 
 stopping gamekeeper, touching his hat, and crack- 
 ino; an ice-star with his staff. 
 
 "Frost?" exclaimed Muff; "there's no frost to 
 hurt." 
 
 "None whatever!" assented Blathcremskite, 
 breaking an upshot column of smoke against his hat 
 brim. 
 
 " Oh, they're sure to come," rejoined Muff, after 
 a pause, hoping they wouldn't, adding, " there's no 
 frost in the ground, none whatever." 
 
 " It's hard here," observed the gamekeeper, 
 tapping his hob-nailed shoes against the ground. 
 
 " Oh, but that will give by twelve o'clock ; see 
 what a sun there is overhead," continued Muff, 
 looking up at the heavens. 
 
 " They can't plough," observed the keeper, think- 
 ing to clench the argument. 
 
 " Ah, that's because they won't," replied Muff, 
 turning to Brown with a " what do you think of 
 the matter, Mr. Brown ? " 
 
 Of course Brown, like all men at a meet, thought 
 hounds were " sure to come ; " but mere opinion 
 not having the effect of drawing them, after about 
 ten minutes consumed in smoking and flopping 
 their arms, the conversation began to take a down- 
 hill turn, derogatory to the hounds and their ma- 
 nagement. 
 
 F a 
 
212 THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 
 
 "Well, this is the slowest thing I oversaw in 
 my life," exclaimed Muff, as his fears were quieted 
 on recoo-nisino; Tom Muffinmouth's face under a 
 hunting cap, instead of that of one of the servants 
 coming as he feared with the dread intelligence 
 tliat the hounds would be there at twelve. 
 
 ''Well, this is the slowest thing I ever saw in 
 my life," repeated he, tendering Tom the unusual 
 compliment of a hand ; for Muff tries to combine 
 the courtesy of the candidate with the open frank- 
 ness of the fox-hunter. 
 
 " What ? " inquired Tom, blushing, thinking Muff 
 meant that his new sugar-loaf-shaped cap was 
 the slowest thing he ever saw in his life ; nor would 
 it have been far from the mark if he had said so. 
 
 " The hounds not coming," replied Muff, with ill- 
 
 feio^ned diso;ust ; Tom Muffinmouth assented, not- 
 es o ' ' 
 
 withstanding his blue nose and red-rimmed ears 
 gave striking evidence of the severity of the frost. 
 
 " Neville's o-ettino- too old," observed Muff, with 
 a toss of the head and flourish of the hand. " One 
 doesn't like to say anything in disparagement of 
 an old man who has been a good one in his time," 
 continued he, " but, between you and I, it's about 
 time he was laid on the shelf." 
 
 " Old Ben's all bedavered, too," observed Dolores 
 Brown with a sneer ; " he never rides over a fence 
 if he can get any one to pull it down. He set all 
 my South Downs wrong the other day merely 
 because he wouldn't ride over a hurdle." 
 
THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 213 
 
 With this and simihar conversation the next 
 quarter of an hour was beguiled, the perfect in- 
 competence of the whole establishment becoming 
 more clearly developed as the discussion proceeded, 
 until, like Gil Bias's mule, it seemed all faults. 
 A successor, who lived more in the centre of tlie 
 country (like ISIuff), was faintly hinted at, and having 
 allowed the discussion to run up to appropriating 
 point. Muff adjourned the meeting, and, attended 
 by his staff, Blatheremskite and Tinhead proceeded 
 to Honeybower HaU to lunch and flirt with the 
 Miss Oglebys— for, shocking to relate, such is the 
 lamentable destitution of countiy society, that these 
 fine girls are forced to tolerate the Muffs, while 
 Tinhead is pawned off on the old lady. 
 
 As they disappeared in the distance, Scott came 
 sneaking "'out of his hiding-place, intending to be 
 off too, when a joyous " Yonder they come ! yonder 
 they come ! " diffused pleasure over the faces of the 
 hitherto disappointed-looking countrymen who had 
 been losing a day in hopes of a hunt. We always 
 pity a (iountryman under such circumstances. 
 Strong must be the passion for hunting that in- 
 duces\ man to sacrifice his total income for that 
 day for the pleasure of the chase. " Little think 
 the great men," as Mr. Canning's friend of humanity 
 said" to the needy knife-grinder, when interrogatmg 
 him about his misfortunes, "little think the great 
 men," say we, "mounted on their spicy steeds, 
 with cigars in their mouths, and good dinners in 
 
214 THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 
 
 view at tlie end of the clay, how much better they are 
 off than the jioor pedestrian, who returns leg-weary 
 and worn to his home, without even the usual 
 humble fare his labour would have procured him." 
 
 The cynic may say he had no business out 
 hunting ; but sportsmen will take a kinder view of 
 the case, and feel for the man whose ardour has 
 carried him into a pleasure that he cannot afford. 
 Let sportsmen do more ! Let them put their hands 
 in their pockets and give them a shilling. 
 
 Money thus bestowed is not always wasted, as 
 we will prove by an incident that happened to our 
 friend Scott last season. He was riding over a 
 half-finished bridge on the " Grand Gammon and 
 Spinach Junction Railway," when the taskmaster, 
 timekeeper, overlooker, or whatever they call the 
 man in authority, exclaimed, as the hounds caused 
 the navvies to pause and look up from their work, 
 " Come ! drop it at once, or stick to it ! " causing a 
 struggle between duty and inclination, ending, how^- 
 ever, in the general triumph of duty, and return to 
 the digging. Two men only out of above forty 
 threw down their spades, and, mounting their 
 flannels, set off after the hounds. 
 
 " You are fond of a hunt then ? " said Scott, as 
 they came running past him. 
 
 " 'Deed am I, your honour ! " replied the first, 
 whose good-natured open countenance proclaimed 
 him an Emeralder, even before he spoke. 
 
 " Well, then, I'll give you a shilling," said Scott, 
 handing them each one. 
 
THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 215 
 
 " Long life to your lionour ! " exclaimed one. 
 
 " Sure you're a worshipful jontleman," observed 
 the other. 
 
 After crossing the railway they came upon the 
 rich vale of Grassmere, rich in agricultural posses- 
 sions, lavish in black bogs, and renowned for the 
 width and bottomlessness of its drains. What 
 persuaded old Ben, who was merely goiug from 
 cover to cover, to cross it, we don't know, but the 
 field were presently at a cut that set the " funkers' 
 nerves a-shaking," as the song says. It wasn't a 
 large place, but it was a deep one, and the three or 
 four first horses breaking the somewhat undermined 
 banks, it began to look wider and wider, till Tarqui- 
 nius Muff's famous water-jumper. Harlequin, coming 
 up full tilt, made a regular " stand and deliver," 
 shooting his luckless rider overhead in the muddy 
 water. 
 
 Splash, splash, blob, blob, up and down, back- 
 wards and forwards, Muff went, now calling 
 out for help, now emptying his hat, now fishing 
 for his whip, now feeling for his gloves, in the 
 dripping, forlorn, drowned-rat, pitiable-looking 
 state of an extinguished exquisite, setting those 
 who had got across laughing, and those who were 
 on the wrong side wishing " they were well over." 
 
 There wasn't a man there but whose horse would 
 have taken the cut (according to their own ac- 
 counts), if Tarquinius's had not set them the example 
 of refusing, and diverting it was to see the half 
 
216 THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 
 
 resolute, half timid way some of them rode at it, 
 pretending to " shove," but in reality holding for a 
 crane. 
 
 " None but the bold deserve to clear the brook," 
 and unleKSs horse and rider are well agreed upon 
 the point and go at it resolutely, it is far better 
 to tie the whipthong to the snaffle rein, and lead 
 over, or to blob in and out, anything rather than 
 a " stand and deliver," or a mutual recumbency in 
 the bottom. We don't know a more humiliating 
 sight than a man " rocking- horsing it " in a brook 
 — now the head up, now the tail, now the tail, and 
 now the head — till they either struggle out 
 (perhaps on the wrong side), or part company, the 
 horse perhaps setting oif on an expedition of its 
 own to discover the source or delluxion of the 
 stream. 
 
 Scott was riding the "young-un," the chestnut, 
 a sweet horse, well worth a hundred to any of our 
 readers, but with the common complaint of well- 
 bred young-uns — rayther given to bucking at 
 water. In getting away from Coldbrook Gorse 
 one day after just two rounds that showed there 
 was a rare scent, and the crash and music of the 
 bitches had raised any little remnant of pluck to 
 its highest pitch, when, careering down the grass- 
 field on the north side of the cover, Scott came 
 upon Tarquinius Muff's former bed of roses before 
 he knew where he was. He was up in his stirrups 
 though, and seeing master Reynard travelling 
 
THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 217 
 
 away at a very business-like pace over a famous 
 large pasture, lie dropped the " Vincents " into the 
 young-un, giving him a shake of the head, as much 
 as to say, " Look what you're after." 
 
 Down they came upon the brook. 
 
 Tom thought nothing in the world could prevent 
 their being over, when, lo ! up bucked the young-un, 
 Tom doesn't know how high, and dropped right 
 into the middle of it. If he had only stretched 
 himself to the extent that he rose, he would have 
 cleared two such places. 
 
 But we will draw the curtain over the remainder 
 of that scene, and proceed to "Brook No. 2." 
 
 AVith a lively recollection of the misfortunes of 
 No. 1. Tom contemplated the scene at No. 2. with 
 anything but pleasumble emotions. 
 
 The " young-un " had not seen water since his 
 immersion, though he set up his back and snorted 
 as he came up as if he had a perfect recollection of 
 it. Cold-blooded water leaping, especially on a cold 
 day, is always to be deprecated, and Tom was just 
 going to practise what we preach, by knotting the 
 point of his whip to the rein, and leading over, 
 with " lots of line," when his Irish friend nudged 
 his elbow. 
 
 " Sure, your honour, I'll ride him over for you," 
 said Paddy. 
 
 " Will you ? " said Scott ; " but are you sure you 
 can ride ? " 
 
 " Arrah, by Jasus, and is it myself you ax that 
 
ai8 THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 
 
 question on ? Sure I was groom to the great Squire 
 something, of something Castle, who kept a 
 stud of forty horses, besides milch cows, and a 
 dacent sjDrinkling of pigs." 
 
 With this his friend began poking his high-low 
 into the stirrup, and having got the reins clubbed 
 in his hand, in the true " hang-on-by-the-head " 
 style, he was presently in the saddle, and turned 
 away to get a run at the brook, so as to take it fly- 
 ing. And very flying-like he looked, his Avild hair 
 straggling away from beneath a mufiin cap, his 
 loose flannel jacket filling with wind, and his red 
 and green garter ends flowing about the saddle flaps 
 as he went. 
 
 Havins: taken a liberal distance, he forthwith 
 began kicking and talking to the horse, increasing 
 his speed and raising his voice as he went till he 
 got him full gallop, when, with a flourish of his 
 arm and a wild hier-r-r-o-s-h sort of shout, he sent 
 him flying many feet beyond the foremost hoof- 
 mark across the cut. 
 
 " Ride mine over, Paddy ! and I'll give you a 
 shilling ! " " Ride mine over, Paddy, and 111 give 
 you half-a-crown 1 " shouted several. 
 
 " Sure but I'U be losing the hunt if I do," replied 
 Pat, dismounting and running away. 
 
 There's a long story by way of parenthesis, sup- 
 posed to be told on a frosty morning while waiting 
 for hounds. We had just got to the outburst of 
 joy that proceeded from the group of pedestrians 
 
THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 219 
 
 as old Beu and tlie hounds appeared, rounding 
 Wenburg Hill in the distance, after giving the field 
 a somewhat long wait, that looked very like not 
 coming. The hustling })ace at which they ap- 
 proached, while it looked very like Imsiness, would 
 have cut our story through in the middle, if we had 
 been allowed no longer time for the telling it than 
 intervened between the view and the arrival. 
 
 " Gently, Eantipole ! liie hack ! " rated Tom 
 Bowles, as Eantipole dashed in advance to seek for 
 her master in the crowd. 
 
 " Here again, hounds, here again ! " exclaimed 
 old Ben, with a whistle and wave of his hand, pull- 
 ing up short at a gate to take the hounds into a 
 grass field. 
 
 " Good morning, Ben," said Scott, thinking that 
 looked like throwing off — " What are you going to 
 do ? " 
 
 " Oh, I suppose we shall hunt. Sir," said Ben 
 quite gaily, with a touch of his cap as he spoke. 
 
 " Is Mr. Neville coming ? " asked Scott. 
 
 " No, Sir, but he said we had to hunt, if we could. 
 It 'U do the hounds no harm." 
 
 " Foxes nouthcr," ol)served Tom Bowles. 
 
 " Tom Scott nouther," added our hero, cheered by 
 the intelligence. 
 
 " We hav'n't been here since cub-hunting," ob- 
 served Ben, " and the foxes want routing out sadly. 
 There were three litters hereabouts, and the farmers 
 are beginning to complain of the poultry. In such 
 
220 THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 
 
 a season as this we must just take every day we can 
 get." 
 
 " It's a bad season," observed Scott. 
 
 "Shocking!" rejoined Ben, with a solemn look 
 and shake of the head. 
 
 "I see the sessions are coming on," observed Tom 
 Bowles, "and they are advertising for people to 
 send instructions for indicting prisoners. I wish 
 some one would send instructions for indicting the 
 weather. Talk about ether," added he, "for 
 cutting folk's heads off when they're asleep, without 
 hurtin' of them, I wish they'd etherise me, and let 
 me sleep during a frost." 
 
 • It is odd how people " turn up " at a meet of 
 hounds, let the hour be what it will. The select 
 party had not consumed above five minutes in this 
 sort of conversation before half-a-dozen horsemen 
 of one sort and another appeared. 
 
 Tom Griston and Giles Clapgate, both farmers, 
 turned out of the Falcon, while Mr. Sheepskin of 
 Bossall and Mr. Eandall of Reay came riding to- 
 gether, and then there was Tom Muffinmouth, and 
 Podgers, and the earth-stopping gamekeeper, wdio 
 had now got upon his pony. Best of aU, Dolores 
 Brown had taken his departure in the wake of the 
 Muffs, the wdiole swearing. that hounds not coming 
 was the " slowest thing " they ever saw in their 
 lives. 
 
 " Well I suppose we may as well be going," ob- 
 served Ben, eyeing the w^orkpeople going home to 
 
THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 221 
 
 tlieir (liimcrs, adding, " it's twelve o'clock by tlicse 
 clocks, it seems, though I should say it was half 
 past twelve by the day." 
 
 So saying, he whistled his hounds together, and 
 trotted out of the field to the cover. 
 
 This was a chain of woodlands, beo;innino- at the 
 village of Thornfield, and stretching into a wider 
 range about two miles further on, where a wild and 
 broken sort of country intervenes between the vales. 
 Rossington Wood comes in here, a sort of amphi- 
 theatre, formed of wooded hills round an area of 
 warm, well-cultivated land, just the sort of place for 
 a doubtful day. In went the hounds. 
 
 They had not been in cover ten minutes before 
 Tom Scott saw l)y the increased motion of Ben's 
 shoulders and heels, that there was a scent afloat, 
 though no hound as yet having spoke, Ben did not 
 care to break the silence. 
 
 At last, a low short whimper, more of a catch 
 than a note, brought out a " liave at Jdm, Brilliant, 
 old boy," and presently Brilliant threw his tongue 
 in a downright "I'll stake-my-reputation-there's-a- 
 fox " sort of way, that convinced Ben there was 
 one, though none of the others taking it up, Mr. 
 Sheepskin, the solicitor, hinted that it was in con- 
 sequence of Ben's cheer, and muttered something 
 about its " not Ijcino- rio-ht to lead hounds in that 
 
 o o 
 
 way." 
 
 Brilliant presently dropped another note still 
 deeper, that old Ben cheered to the echo ; and first 
 
222 THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 
 
 one and then another joined in the proclamation, 
 upon which Sheepskin observed, " if there wasn't a 
 fox they ought all to be sus. per col." 
 
 , " Hoic ! hoic ! forrard ! foirard ! " screamed old 
 Ben, and with one twang of the horn he went 
 scrambling and tearing through the wood regardless 
 of l^ranches, briars, breeches, and boots. 
 
 What a crash they made ! There were five-and- 
 twenty couple of hounds, and every hound throwing 
 his tongue, making the woods echo and re-echo to 
 their music. 
 
 They soon got to where the full width of the woods 
 made it advisable to keep inside, when the softness 
 and splashiness of the rides satisfied Tom Scott that 
 old Ben had done right in throwing off. The 
 horses sunk in the ground as they went, and threw 
 the clay and mud about in a manner that was quite 
 delightful considering the frost. Scott got stained 
 in a way that would have done credit to November, 
 and Sheepskin's great splay-footed black horse put 
 his foot in a trod that sent the yellow water squirt- 
 ing up into his master's face, and nearly blinded 
 him. 
 
 " You've got six-and-eight pence worth there, I 
 think, Sir," said Tom Bowles, cantering past, as 
 Sheepskin sat mopping his face, dyeing a cheap 
 white silk handkerchief yellow. 
 
 How much finer, wilder, and more natural is 
 the cry of hounds in a large, resounding wood, 
 than the close, suppressed muffle from a small, 
 
THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 223 
 
 confined gorse. Artificial covers are doubtless 
 useful, but tliey detract sadly from the fine, 
 riotous spirit of hunting. Our friends had a rare 
 chivey to-day. We don't know how many foxes 
 they viewed, but if tiie hounds changed they must 
 have done it very quickly, for they were never off 
 their noses. It takes a good deal of persuasion to 
 induce a fox to leave a wood of several hundred 
 acres, especially a wood where the travelling is more 
 favourable to him than to the hounds, and possibly 
 nothing; but the fact of his havinoj been hunted 
 before, and being about as good a judge of pace as a 
 Newmarket " tout," could have induced him to be 
 satisfied with the two rings that he made of the 
 amphitheatrish ground before he proceeded up the 
 Dean to the west of it. 
 
 There he was viewed by tlie foot people, "an 
 enormous big-un ! " and " dead beat," of course ; 
 and as he was o-ettinof into more circumventable 
 covers, and the scent was first-rate, Mr. Sheepskin 
 expressed his opinion that he was as good as 
 " realised." 
 
 It is seldom that anybody says a good word for 
 a fox, but this certainly was a most accommodating 
 one ; for instead of taking the high ground, and 
 sending the field skating and sliding about at tlie 
 risk of their limbs, he ran the bottoms, and those 
 he selected with considerable judgment. He took 
 them up Apedale Dean, through the Buckland 
 
224 THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 
 
 Bog, and past tlie Decoy at Casterton, scarcely- 
 crossing a dozen enclosures the whole way. His 
 line was then Swinbrook Plantations, where he 
 hung a bit, having been headed by some shooters, 
 and probably driven from his point, for he took 
 down the little valley of the Dingle, and was pre- 
 sently into Hardingham Plantation. 
 
 One loses one's latitude and longitude so des- 
 perately out hunting, especially in cover, that 
 Scott had no idea which side of the plantations 
 they came out at, or where they were going, further 
 than that some well-hung green gates, and better 
 cultivated land, betokened prosperity. 
 
 They clattered through the gates, making the 
 hard ground resound with their horses' hoofs, while 
 the frosty air was filled with the cry of the pack, 
 now running frantic for blood. 
 
 The nimble and accommodatingly disposed reader 
 will now perhaps have the kindness to transport 
 him or herself to Honeybower Hall, and imagine 
 the Muffs palavering the young ladies, while old 
 Tom Tinhead is billeted on " mamma." 
 
 We need not trouble them with their balderdash ; 
 how they abused " old Neville," and ridiculed the idea 
 of hounds not coming, and ]iow Tarquinius talked 
 of " taking the country himself if they didn't make 
 him represent it," and so on, as being matter quite 
 as easily imagined as described. For that piece of 
 leniency, however, we must request the reader — 
 
THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 225 
 
 non-luncheon eater though lie'"' may be — to accom- 
 pany the party to the parlour, where the usual 
 savoury hashes are commingled with jellies, roast 
 potatoes, and cold fowls— Hie-sos-sofi-sos-sos ! 
 
 " Hark ! " exclaimed Muff in the middle of a 
 merry-thought : " I thought I heard the horn," con- 
 tinued he, rising and going to the bay window 
 which opens to the ground. 
 
 Muff was right. It was old Ben sounding a 
 requiem over his fox in the park on the east side 
 of the hall, a view that never having taken of it 
 before caused Scott not to recognise it, till Muff 
 stepped out of the window on to the lawn, 
 
 "Why, there's Mr. Muff!" exclaimed our friend 
 as he recosrnised Muff's o-reat white stomach between 
 his black jacks and red coat. 
 
 " So it is ! " replied Ben. " This will be Honey- 
 bower Hall, I dare say," observed he, looking at 
 the house, with the right of entry air of a Fox- 
 hunter. 
 
 Ben had now got the brush and head in 
 hand, and the pads being distributed, up went 
 the fox and down it came rollino- rio-ht into the 
 
 o o 
 
 jaws of the whole fifty hounds. 
 
 " Who-lioop! tear him. and eat him! Who-hoop!" 
 "I'll tell you what, Tom," said Scott to the wlii}) 
 
 as soon as the latter had satisfied himself with 
 
 * Ladies are always luncheon eaters, su we need not put " she " 
 liere. 
 
2:>6 THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 
 
 liooping and screeching while the hounds worried 
 the fox, " I'll tell you what, I'll give you a 
 guinea if you'll go and present Mr. Tarquinius 
 Muff Avith the brush," pointing to Muff as he stood 
 at the window, surrounded by the ladies, like a 
 cock of the midden. 
 
 " I'll soon do that for nothing," replied Tom, 
 taking the brush from the huntsman, and shuffling 
 away in the crab-like fashion of a whipper-in, up 
 
 to the house. 
 
 ***** 
 
 " Please, sir," said he, touching his cap, as he 
 saw a frown o'erspreading Muff's ample face 
 instead of the smile that usually irradiates a man 
 about to be honoured. " Please, sir, Ben has made 
 free to send you the brush, and is sorry you've 
 missed the run." 
 
 " Is he ? " sneered Mufif. " I feel much flattered 
 by his condescension," at the same time sticking 
 his hands under his coat-tails to remove all idea of 
 his accepting the offer. 
 
 " Pray where is Mr. Neville 1 " asked he, after a 
 pause. 
 
 " He's not out, sir," replied Tom, with another 
 touch of the cap. 
 
 " Not out ! " exclaimed Muff". " You don't mean 
 to say you've thrown off" without him ? " 
 
 " Master said we were to hunt if we could, and 
 there was anybody there." 
 
 " Well, and who have you had ? " asked Muff: 
 
THE DOUBTFUL DAY. 227 
 
 " Oh, there's Mr. Scott, and Mr. Sheepskin, and 
 Mr. Brown, and Mr. Randall of Reay, and several 
 others," replied Tom. 
 
 "They are not owners of covers, I think," 
 snapped Muff. 
 
 " Hazelhanorer belono^s to Mr. Scott," observed 
 Bowles. 
 
 "Well, you know your orders best," observed 
 Muff pompously, " but if you were my servants, I 
 should say you had done extremely wrong in 
 throwing off on such a day, especially to such a 
 field, disturbing such an extent of country ; " where- 
 upon he gave a loud hem, and returned with the 
 ladies to the luncheon, repeating as he went, " ex- 
 tremely ivrong, indeed ! " 
 
 "Vain liis attempt who strives to please them all ! " 
 
 Q 2 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE BAD MEET. 
 
 " Oh ! yau — au — Neville's at the chase. Monday," 
 puffed great Captain Rasher through a mouthful 
 of mustachios in his barrack-room at Scrapetin, as 
 he read the county paper. " Sha'n't go — never 
 get a run — confounded woodland place — up to 
 one's horse's hocks all the day in mud and clay — 
 bad for curbs " — with which observation the man 
 of war settled the matter ; and beino- the huntino- 
 authority of the regiment, of course all the subs 
 followed suit. Lieutenant Scrimagour denounced 
 it as the most uncivilised place that ever was seen ; 
 and little Cornet Muttonjaw, who is just weaned 
 and entered to hunting, swore " he wouldn't go if 
 anybody would lend him a horse and give him five 
 pounds into the bargain." 
 
 So they settled the matter in barracks. 
 
 " I sha'n't hunt to-morrow, William," said Tar- 
 quinius Muff, strutting into his stable at the four 
 o'clock feeding time, with his friend old Major Tin- 
 head, to show off his stud. It's the most confounded 
 nasty place to get away from that ever was seen, 
 and a very likely one for an accident. Strip 
 that horse, Tom," said Muff to helper No. 1., who 
 
THE BAD MEET, 229 
 
 had just replaced the clothing, " aud let the major 
 see him." 
 
 " Tliere ! " exclaimed Mutf, as the lad swept the 
 highly-finished richly-lettered clothing over the 
 horse's quarters again. " There," repeated he, ex- 
 tending his right arm, " I call that shape. You may 
 go up to him," continued he, seeing the major stand 
 in the vacant way people do when called upon to 
 admire a horse in a stable, " you may go up to him 
 — he's quite quiet ; " whereupon Tinhead availed 
 himself of Muff's liberality, and scjueezed up the 
 stall till he got beside the servant, when he under- 
 went the usual penalty of spanning the horse's 
 knee, grasping his pastern, admiring his loins, and 
 criticising his colour. 
 
 ]\Iuff then rewarded him by making him do 
 " ditto " by another, and so on through the five ; 
 four hunters and a hack being Muff's comple- 
 ment, though one would do all his work. We 
 need scarcely say that Tinhead is Muff's toadey. 
 He looks like a toadey — a little shrivelled, parch- 
 ment-faced, precise, old-maidish sort of animal, 
 that nine men out of ten would take a dislike to at 
 first sight without knowing why. 
 
 " You may exercise the horse to-morrow, as well 
 as the mare," said Tom Talkington to his half 
 groom, half flunkey, " 1 sha'n't go to that beastly 
 Chase — was nearly smothered in a bog the last 
 time I was there." 
 
 " What horse will you ride to-morrow, sir ? " 
 
230 THE BAD MEET. 
 
 asked Joe Beaus of his master, Mr. Muffinmoutli 
 as the latter came in from coursing. " To-morrow ! " 
 exclaimed Muffinmouth, " to morro^Y — what's to- 
 morrow ? " 
 
 "The Chase," replied Beans. 
 
 " The Chase be hanged/' replied Muffinmouth, 
 turning on his heel as though it were not worth a 
 thought. 
 
 Every country has its proscribed meet — its 
 place that " Nobody thinks of going to," which 
 redeems itself every now and then by some tremen- 
 dous run, drawing all the chatterers back, to be 
 choked off by degrees, and Abbeycroft Chase is the 
 *' beastly place " of Mr. Neville's hunt ; not that it 
 is a bad place, looking at it as far as the interests 
 of hounds are concerned, for it is sporting-like and 
 spacious, and lying on the verge of two countries, 
 is always full of foxes belonging to each. In short, 
 it is one of those sort of places that require 
 routing out every fortnight or so, in order to be 
 sure of finding foxes in the smaller ones. Its 
 great imperfection undoubtedly is the absence of 
 fences and leaps, which are hardly compensated 
 for by sundry terrific bogs that dye a red coat 
 black in no time. Still that is not the sort of 
 excitement Capt. Rasher, Cornets Muttonjaw and 
 Shaver, or such like cocks, delight in ; they want 
 a cutting whip, and a line of flags through four 
 miles of stiff" country, with a break-back brook in 
 the middle. 
 
THE BAD MEET. 231 
 
 Long life and two necks to each of tliem, say we ! 
 
 Neither is the out-of-the-way locality of tlie 
 Ohase, nor the wild sylvan beauty of its scenery, 
 attractive to men like the Muffs, who prefer basking 
 in the sunshine of sloping lawns, or the gentle 
 undulations of the deer-stocked parks of turreted 
 towers. 
 
 ^ If a large extent of rideable woodland, with wild- 
 ness and boldness at every step, has any charms 
 for fox-hunters, Abbeycroft Chase ought to rank 
 high ; and though too many foxes undoubtedly 
 lead to changing, still if hounds have the luck to 
 get settled to a good one at starting, and there is 
 anything of a scent, he must either fly or be twisted 
 up in cover. 
 
 If it were a favourite place its situation would 
 be convenient for the commingling of the apricot- 
 coloured coats of the Dazzlegoose Hunt with the 
 British scarlet of Mr. Neville's ; but save just after 
 some redeeming run, which is most likely magnified 
 to stag-hunters' measure who, we are sorry to say, 
 often lie (under a mistake, of course, as Lord Byron 
 said), they seldom muster more tlian ten or a dozen, 
 independently of farmers. 
 
 But we will take Monday's meet as a sample. 
 
 It was almost the first 7'eal hunting day our 
 friends Tom Scott and Co. had had after the most 
 disreputable season of 184G~7, turned the Tatten- 
 ham Corner of 1847 and as Tom got on to his 
 hack, he felt the sort of spring glow that almost 
 
232 THE BAD MEET. 
 
 persuades one into growing. The colt's coat had 
 a kindly glossy hue, which underwent no change 
 on opening the stable door, though he stood 
 immediately opposite. A horse's coat furnishes a 
 pretty good criterion of the state of the atmosphere, 
 far better than one of those curious old instruments 
 in bottles which profess to show everything, though, 
 if they are all like ours, they only show the pur- 
 chaser's stupidity in buying them. 
 
 " The Chase " is an unmeasured fourteen miles 
 from Hawbuck Grange, to do whicli Tom allows 
 himself two hours and a half. When he got to 
 
 o 
 
 where the Galton cross-road joins the Hardingham 
 turnpike, he saw, by the great splay footmarks on 
 the lifting mud, that the hounds were "on," and 
 he presently got a glimpse of a red coat passing a 
 gap in a plantation beyond. Hounds' feet certainly 
 do not show to advantage in sticky soil, and no- 
 body would liave thought that Mr. Neville's round 
 ball-footed dog pack would have left such great 
 slovenly-looking imprints behind them. 
 
 The meet was at a beggarly farmhouse just on 
 the confines of the Chase ; a farm that has brought 
 more people on the parish than all the rest of the 
 township put together. 
 
 AVhen our friend arrived, he found even Mr. 
 Trumper's attention was drawn from the powerful 
 pack, now stretching and rolling about on the 
 soundest part of the much plunged green, to the 
 picture of misery and desolation before him. 
 
THE BAD MEET. "^SS 
 
 " Did you ever sec sucli a place, ^Ir. Scott 1 " 
 asked Trumper, pointing to the dilapidated house, 
 with the windows pasted over with paper, or stuffed 
 lull of straw and old hats. " Just look at those 
 stacks," added he, pointing to three or four crooked 
 half-covered corn stacks, slipping out of their ropes, 
 on which the pigeons, poultry, and sparrows were 
 reo-alinoj. 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Trumper," exclaimed Mr. 
 Neville, bustling up on his hack, and shaking hands 
 with our hero ; adding, " I'm very glad to see you 
 out with m7j hounds." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," replied Mr. Trumper, making 
 his obeisance. 
 
 " And how are your hounds going on ? " asked 
 Mr. Neville, for he is one of the few masters of 
 foxhounds who are not jealous of harriers. 
 
 " Oh, middling well, sir, thank you," replied 
 Trumper ; " we began our season early, and had 
 some good running up to the end of November, 
 but we've done nothing almost since." 
 
 " Nor we," replied i\[r. Neville, " nor we ; 
 nothing, at least, to speak of. Euns that we 
 should have thought nothing of last year are 
 magnified into splendid ones this." 
 
 " Ay, that'll be your fine pen-and-ink gentleman, 
 I presume," said Trumper ; adding, "I've been 
 suflering a little in that way myself. I'll goose 
 and dumplin them," continued he, with a shake of 
 the head. 
 
234 THE BAD MEET. 
 
 "You've. got the old horse still, I see," said Mr. 
 Neville, eyeing our friend Golumpus. 
 
 " Ay, the Yorkshire horse," replied Trumper, 
 lifting his long green lap up so as to show the 
 horse's great round barrel, adding, " good horse, 
 varry." 
 
 " What a size he is ! " observed Mr. Neville. 
 
 " I don't like to be stinted," replied Trumper, 
 quite incontinently. 
 
 " I know you don't," rejoined Mr. Neville, with a 
 smile. 
 
 " What age is that horse, now ? " inquired Mr. 
 Neville, after a pause. 
 
 " He'll be seventeen this grass," replied Trumper, 
 " This is his tenth season, and he's as fresh as a 
 four-year-old." 
 
 " You didn't be2;in ridinsj him till he was seven, 
 I think," observed Mr. Neville. 
 
 " He wasn't broke till he was six," replied 
 Trumper, "but then he comes of a good sort — a 
 M'Orville — all the IM'Orvilles are natural hunters, 
 and you save a season or two that way. Mr. Muff 
 Tarquinius wanted to buy him," added Trumper ; 
 " indeed he sent his groom for him with a blank 
 cheque for me to fill up, and very much astonished 
 the man was at not getting him away. ' Do you 
 think he is strong enough to carry your master ? ' 
 asked I. 
 
 " ' Indeed I think he is,' replied the man, cau- 
 tiously. 
 
THE BAD MEET. 235 
 
 " ' Then I think he's strong enough to carry me,' 
 added I ; * so I won't part with him,' Tarquinius 
 has never been quite friendly witli me since," added 
 Trumper. 
 
 " Whose liorses are tliose 'i " asked Mr. Neville of 
 a diminutive tiger who now rode round the corner 
 of the stackyard with a couple of splendid animals, 
 just as "Mr. Neville had exchanged his hack for his 
 hunter. 
 
 "My Lord Lazy tongs'," replied the lad with a 
 touch of his hat. 
 
 " And whose are those 1 " asked Mr. Neville, as 
 two more hove in sight. 
 
 " My Lord Lazytongs'," too," replied the speaker. 
 
 " What's his lordship going to vide four ? " asked 
 Mr. Neville, with a smile. 
 
 "No, sir, those are for Captain Windeyhash," 
 replied the lad. 
 
 " And where are they coming from ? " asked Mr. 
 Neville. 
 
 " From Dawdle Court, sir," replied the lad. 
 " We are from Newbolt this morning." 
 
 " Dawdle Com-t!" exclaimed Mr. Neville — '"'why, 
 that's thirty miles off." 
 
 " Five-and-twenty, sir," replied the groom, who 
 had now come u\), having given the benefit of his 
 superior weight to the Windeyhash detachment. 
 
 " They'll never come,'' whispered Scott, remem- 
 bering the Ecclesford Green day. 
 
236 THE BAD MEET. 
 
 " AVc must wait a few minutes,'"' observed ]\Ir. 
 Neville, " for gentlemen who are coming so far." 
 
 " Is his lordship riding ? " asked Mr. Neville of 
 the groom, after a jDause. 
 
 " He comes in the carriage as far as Danebury 
 Hill, sir," replied the man, " w^here there are hacks 
 waiting to bring him on to Newbolt, and there are 
 fresh ones again at Newbolt." 
 
 " Humph," considered Mr. Neville, meditating 
 how long he ought to Avait for gentlemen who had 
 made so much preparation. 
 
 " Do you think they'll come 1 " asked he, after a 
 pause and a lapse of some minutes. 
 
 " AVhy, T should think so, sir," replied the groom. 
 *' Our orders were very particular — half-past ten 
 to a minute ; it's a quarter to eleven now," added 
 he, pulling out his watch. 
 
 " Is there any one at Dawdle Court ? " asked Mr. 
 Neville. 
 
 •' Oh yes, sir ; the house is full of company. 
 Indeed, I know his lordship wants to be back at 
 half-past tw^o, to shoot a match." 
 
 " The deuce he does ! " exclaimed Mr. Neville ; 
 " then I think I'd better throw off, and have a fox 
 on foot for him against he comes." So saying, he 
 gave the usual jerk of his head to old Ben, and the 
 glad pack at length bounded away to Ben's whistle. 
 
 " Shoot ! " said Mr. Trumper to Scott, as the 
 latter came alongside, adding — " That's the cj[ueer- 
 est style of hunting I ever heard of. I should 
 
THE BAD MEET. 237 
 
 have thouojlit fox-huutino: was amusement enonorh 
 for any man for one day." 
 
 Before they reached the first straggling brush- 
 wood on the risinf]^ o;round of the " Chase " that 
 the hounds condescend to draw, a brimstone- 
 coloured coat was seen sailins; throuofh the fields 
 below at a very first-rate pace. 
 
 " C)'ash " the wearer went through a rotten 
 wattled hurdle ; " swich " he divided a live thorn 
 fence ; " down " he sent a row of rails, and so the 
 wearer went careering triumphantly on till he was 
 most ignominiously brought up by a sheep net. 
 
 " That'll be my lord," said Mr. Trumper, eyeing 
 his lordship's long legs working away at the nag 
 to make it face the nets. " He'd better leave that 
 game alone," added he, with a shake of the head, 
 as the animal turned tail to the stakes. 
 
 Tootle, tootle, tootle ! blew Mr. Neville on his horn, 
 to let his lordship see where the hounds were ; for 
 there was a direct way up from the enclosures into 
 the Chase, through a most conspicuous new white 
 gate, but ]\Ir. Neville's intimation had just a con- 
 trary effect to what was intended, and converted 
 the affair of the nets into a sort of " eyes-of-Eng- 
 land-are-upon-you " point of honour. Seeing he 
 was observed, his lordship was more determined to 
 take the nets, and making a considerable semi- 
 circle, he again charged them most stoutly. 
 
 No ; deuce a bit ! the horse wouldn't have them, 
 and round went the tail as before. 
 
23S THE BAD MEET. 
 
 A third charge ended in a similar result. 
 Just as his lordship's hack turned tail for the 
 fourth time, the biggest fox without any exception, 
 that Tom Scott ever set eyes on, crossed the glade 
 towards which they were riding in the most 
 haughty, disdainful, arrogant manner imaginable. 
 He had his head in the air, and his brush in the air, 
 and went careering along just like a colt turned 
 into a strange field. He sniffed the air, and 
 threw his head about, as much as to say, " AVhat 
 the deuce do you mean, you disorderly dogs, by 
 disturbing a gentleman in this w\ay ? " As yet 
 nothing but the horn had been heard. 
 
 " Talhjho ! " screamed Mr. Neville, enlightening 
 him on the subject, when down w^ent the brush, 
 and away shot the owner across the open, amid 
 the tallyhos, and screams, and screeches of the 
 field, till a friendly copse screened him from view. 
 
 How the clog pack made the welkin ring, as 
 they scored to cry, and every hound owned the 
 scent ! Echo answered echo, till one might have 
 thought there were a hundred couple of hounds at 
 work. 
 
 " Mofj 0-oies ! " exclaimed old Trumper, sucking 
 in the melody, " but that's f-o-o-ine." 
 
 Screech ! screech ! went the horn, " crack, crack," 
 went the whips, but there wasn't the slightest 
 occasion for either, only servants are afraid if they 
 don't make a noise, people may think the hounds 
 kill the fox and not they. 
 
THE BAD MEET. 239 
 
 They now dived into the tliick of the Chase, 
 where lofty forest trees supplied the place of stunted 
 oaks, and crags and rocks appeared hurled promis- 
 cuously around. 
 
 The riding, though not bad, at least not bad for 
 woodland riding, required a sharp eye both above 
 and below to keep the riders' heads on their shoul- 
 ders for the trees, and their horses on their lejjs for 
 the bogs. 
 
 The Chase bogs are a very peculiar kind of bog'' ; 
 not that nervous, protracted blob, blob, blol), 
 "deeper and deeper still," of moors and heaths, 
 but deep, black, over-head -and-ears-at-once sort of 
 places that a horse should clear in his stride. 
 Some of them are awfully deep, though not very 
 holding, a late occupant looking more like a man 
 out of an inkstand than out of a mud cart. To 
 be sure the places are tolerably marked by the 
 unhealthy green, and yellow, and grey moss on 
 the stunted birch trees, as also by the hassocky 
 ground and coarse reedy grass about, but strangers 
 are seldom satisfied of the real importance of a 
 Chase bog until they have fathomed one. After 
 that they ride to a "leader," as they all did 
 to-day. That leader was old Ben, who has a sort of 
 map of the bogs in his head. How he sailed away 
 to be sure, hopping over them just like water fur- 
 rows, trusting as much to his voice as his reins for 
 making his old mare leap. Horses are much like 
 sheep in the leaping line, when one begins, the 
 * '* New Foresters." 
 
2-10 THE BAD MEET. 
 
 rest generally follow ; much in the same strain, too, 
 as will often have been observed by men whose 
 horses have made tremendous leaps over " nothings," 
 merely because the one before them leapt wide. 
 Ben had the best of it, barring the risk, for before 
 they had gone very far, the black daubs, and spots, 
 and stains on the white breeches and ties showed 
 who rode behind and who didn't. It was no time 
 for stopping, however; indeed we question that 
 any horse worthy the name of a hunter would have 
 submitted to be pulled up with such ravishing music 
 before him. If he did, we are sure the man on his 
 back wouldn't deserve to be called a sportsman. 
 Forrard ! they went, making every bunny on the 
 ground and tom-tit in the trees quiver with fear. 
 
 We often wondered whether there is such a thing 
 in the world as a man whose heart wouldn't leap 
 into his mouth at the sound of a pack of hounds in 
 full cry. We should think not ; at least, if there 
 is, we should be very sorry to back a bill for him. 
 To-day would have been a grand one to try him. 
 
 None of the field who were out seemed deficient 
 in sporting spirit, for they went at a pace that 
 mio-ht be called truly awful — awful considering the 
 squire traps, trees, and other contingencies. 
 
 There was no time for politeness — no time for 
 saying, " Take care, sir, or you'll be getting your 
 eyes scratched out," or, "Mind what you're after, 
 sir, or you'll be getting your head in your hand ; " 
 it was every man for himself and the mud take 
 
THE BAD MKET. 211 
 
 the hindmost. If the hounds ran musically, the 
 
 field rode mute. And here let us pause to pay 
 
 a tribute of respect to dog packs generally. There 
 
 is something fine and noble in the appearance of 
 
 the great strong animals, and theirs is a far 
 
 honester, more substantial, John Bullish style of 
 
 hunting, than the quick sharp whimper and cut 
 
 away of the bitches. The dogs seem to say to the 
 
 horses, " Come along, my hearties, and let us enjoy 
 
 ourselves together," while the bitches seem as if 
 
 they were always wanting to steal a march upon 
 
 the nags, and to have all the sport to themselves. 
 
 The dogs look grand and no1)le ; something to " fill 
 
 the eye," as Trumper says. 
 
 Aw\ay, away, away the field went, now alongside 
 
 of the hounds, now behind, now perhaps a leetle 
 
 before. Eeynard picked his ground with judgment. 
 
 A check at last ensued. 
 
 ***** 
 
 " He's into the enclosure I " said old Ben, eyeing 
 Brilliant jumping at the high palings — "/yooi over! 
 they go," hallooed he as a whole bevy of hounds 
 charged the palings in line. 
 
 " lies down !" cried Ben, holding his hand in the 
 air for silence whilst he listened for the sound of 
 their tongues in the dean. 
 
 " They're on him again ! " (added he, as a slight 
 whimper burst into full cry). 
 
 ''Get together hounds! get together!" hallooed 
 
242 THE BAD MEET. 
 
 Tom Bowles, cracking his whip, though there wasn't 
 a stras^orler to be seen. 
 
 "We must be inside," observed IVIr. Neville, 
 hustling along with a great patch of black mud on 
 the side of his Jiat that looked for all the world 
 like a cockade. 
 
 " There's a bridle-gate just below," observed Ben, 
 who knows every point and pass in the country. 
 
 They were presently at it ; — a nasty place it was, 
 too, as most wood bridle-gates are — boggy and 
 plungy, with a pair of most resolute posts for a 
 liot horse to dash his rider's legs against. 
 
 " One at a time, and it'll last the longer ! " ex- 
 claimed Mr. Neville, cocking up his knees to avoid 
 a collision. 
 
 '' ril lead," observed Mr. Trumper, throwing 
 himself from the now lathered Golumpus. 
 
 " Why, what a mess you're in, Beaney ! " ob- 
 served Trumper, eyeing Beanstack's desperately 
 bespattered front. 
 
 " Am II" replied the now purple-faced Bean- 
 stack ; "I can't be much worse than yourself; look 
 at your breeches ! " 
 
 The time for estimating dilapidations, however, 
 was not yet come, and having all blobbed through 
 the gateway in some fashion or other, and Mr. 
 Trumper having climbed on to Golumpus again, 
 they now found themselves in a better managed 
 part of the Chase. In lieu of the natural straggling 
 glades and rotten inundations of land, they were 
 
THE BAD MEET. 243 
 
 among regular grassy rides, diverging in all direc- 
 tions through thriving plantations, whose open 
 bottom afforded every facility to the chase. 
 
 The hounds pushed their fox through as straight 
 as an arrow. 
 
 " If there's half such a scent in the open as there 
 is in cover," observed Mr. Neville, " we shall have 
 him in hand in ten minutes." 
 
 " Hark ! lies doivn," exclaimed he, as a sudden 
 burst of melody to the left proclaimed the fox had 
 turned at last. 
 
 " He must break," said Mr. Neville, turning too, 
 
 " or be killed in cover. Hark ! I believe they have 
 
 him," added he, as a sudden lull ensued. 
 
 ***** 
 
 " No, he'll be away," said old Ben, spurring his 
 horse into a canter, and making for the spot ; 
 adding, '* I'll be b^aid he's just slipped back at the 
 woodman's cottage below." 
 
 A loud, long, shrill tallyho ! almost instantly 
 confirmed Ben's surmise, and on scuttling away to 
 the gate they found the second whip with his cap 
 in the air, in the high state of excitement lads are 
 generally in who have " viewed the fox." 
 
 " Hooj^ ! hoop ! hoop !" screamed he, turning 
 his horse, and sweeping his cap towards the ground 
 on the line the fox had gone. 
 
 Out poured the hounds ; crash came Ben, horn 
 in hand, through the wattled fence ; and the scene- 
 
 R 2 
 
244 THE BAD MEET. 
 
 shifter having changed the slides, the second act of 
 the drama commenced in the open. 
 
 What an open it was, too ! And how the top of 
 the rising ground, up which the fox had gone, 
 favoured the view ! After hugging and holding up 
 the hill, they looked upon the rich vale of Bright- 
 well, the vaunted " crack " of the Dazzlegoose 
 country. Large grazing grounds stretched away 
 in fertile greenness, while what arabje land there 
 was showed sound and brown on the surface. 
 There is something fine in running slap into an 
 adjoining country. It is a sort of sporting foray, 
 which enables us to compliment our friends on the 
 sport they unwillingly afford us. The old spirit, 
 in fact, that instigated the Pytchley man of old to 
 exclaim to his horse, as the fox went away into 
 Leicestershire — 
 
 " Now, Contract," said Dick, 
 
 " But -we'll show these d — d Quornites the trick." 
 
 Loving and sociable as fox hunters undoubtedly 
 are in the aggregate, still there is always a strong 
 feeling of jealousy between neighbouring packs. 
 On this occasion the Dazzlegoose men began to 
 hustle their horses and show in front as the hounds 
 pointed for their vale, as though they thought it 
 incumbent on them to do the honours of the 
 country. " Recumbent " — one of them — Dick Jelly- 
 head — very soon was, for his trouble. The fox 
 having taken the old Swinbrook road, for a couple 
 
THE BAD MEET. 215 
 
 of Imndred yards, wliicli runs parallel with the 
 hills from whence they had all just descended, 
 the hounds, after running that distance nearly 
 mute, suddenly burst into chorus on the grassy 
 side of the I'oad next the vale, and in another 
 instant they flew over the fence, formed of a bank 
 with a hedge on the top, into the adjoining pas- 
 ture. 
 
 The 'fox had run the inside of the fence, and 
 there was a gate from the road into the field a little 
 before, but Jellyhead, disdaining such chicken- 
 hearted work, pulled his hairy-heeled steed across, 
 and shoved him at the bank. 
 
 Perhaps there is not a more promising way of 
 getting a fall than pulling a horse up short, and 
 shoving him aw\ay from his companions. Inde- 
 pendently of this, Jelly's horse didn't look like a 
 flyer. "We don't want to buy him, therefore we 
 have no interest in disparaging him ; but we shall 
 convey an idea of the style of the animal when we 
 say that he was a sort of horse that a dealer would 
 declare "looked solitary without the gig at his 
 tail"— a good machiner ; thirty pounds' worth, 
 
 perhaps. 
 
 One sometimes sees an affinity between rider 
 and horse ; indeed we have seen them alike in the 
 face, and between Jellyhead and his there was a 
 decided similarity of cut. They were both stout, 
 
 * SiT Robert Peel, for instance, stamps about on a bay, the 
 counterpart of himself. 
 
246 THE BAD MEET. 
 
 square, clumsy-made looking creatures, and the 
 broad cut of Jellyhead's laps corresponded with the 
 square dock of the horse's tail. This resemblance 
 was painfully apparent Avhen, having mounted the 
 fence, the laps Hew up in response to the tail, the 
 master " spread-eagling " as the horse went down 
 on his head on the far side — a melancholy example 
 of disappointed "show off." Fortunately the 
 ground was soft, or there is no saying but such a 
 head as " Jelly's " even might have suffered. 
 
 AVhen the rest of the sportsmen got into the field 
 by the gate, they found him busy pulling his head 
 out of his hat, with the unconcerned air men 
 assume when the crown lies at their feet. The 
 insensate author of the misfortune was grazing 
 quietly at the hedge-row, just as if nothing had 
 happened. This, too, in spite of the hounds pouring 
 up the side of the field, pointing straight into the 
 vale in defiance of all conjectures that the fox was 
 back to the " Chase." 
 
 Leaving the open for the vale is like leaving the 
 camp for the thick of the fight ; but no one seemed 
 at all concerned at the change. Even Mr. Trumper, 
 wdio declines leaping altogether, pounded along on 
 Golumpus, as though he had perfect confidence in 
 gettino- throudi. Indeed the field soon resolved 
 themselves into a sort of mutual assistance society, 
 and keeping with the hounds was all they looked 
 to. The rest of the apricot coats took warning by 
 their fellow, and discontinued the pioneering trade. 
 
THE BAD MEET. 247 
 
 Good farming is certainly a great promoter of 
 Imntino^. Instead of high, rouo-h, raojcjed, b riar 
 choked, water-soughed fences, through which a 
 horse can scarcely bore, and which occupy no end 
 of ground, our friends now got among nice, level, 
 well-laid, well-pleached fences, that a horse could 
 both see his way " on and off." The total absence 
 of hedge-row timber, too, aided the sight, which 
 would otherwise have been rather impeded by the 
 extreme flatness of the land. What a change of 
 opinion we have seen in the matter of hedge-row 
 timber! We remember when the wise ones used 
 to counsel a man to stick trees in his fences at 
 every yard, and used to calculate to a fraction what 
 they would be worth at the end of the world ; 
 whereas now " Mechi* and Co." teach us to shave 
 our fences as close as our faces. All fox hunters 
 are Mechiites in that matter. 
 
 The burst of the early part of the chase had now 
 settled down into a good hunting run — not a scent- 
 diminishing run, but a good holding steady pace, 
 that looked like mischief. Every hound threw his 
 tongue, and first one and then another took the 
 lead — a most sporting, mud-stained, varmint-look- 
 ing, working-like pack they were, as tliey bustled 
 and carried the scent amongst them — not one would 
 go a yard without it. 
 
 * Mr. Mechi, tlie celebrated cutler of Leadeuliall Street, and 
 of Tiptree Hall, in Essex, is one of the great authorities of the day 
 on farming. His' ' experience in drainage " is excellent. 
 
218 THE BAD MEET. 
 
 When they got upon grass, they ran hard ; but 
 master Keynarcl seemed to have preferred the light 
 Land of the fallows, indeed rather to have gone out 
 of his way for them. 
 
 This caused a division of opinion as to his point, 
 Mr. Neville fixing Linton Woods, while Ben and 
 Mr. Trumper stood up for the main earths at 
 Castlebar. 
 
 These main earths are a drawback upon running 
 a fox into a neighbouring country ; for if he 
 reaches them, there's an end of the matter so far 
 as his brush is concerned ; and a fellow sitting, 
 straddling, and " whohooping," cap in hand, as 
 thouoh he were full of delio'ht. over a main earth, 
 is a poor substitute for the joyous, upstanding, 
 baying of the " fox in hand " of a kill. 
 
 Mr. Neville was right, and Trumper gladly ac- 
 knowledged the superiority of his judgment. If 
 the fox had any doubt on the point himself, it 
 would appear to have been settled in his mind in 
 the course of his progress up a long slip of rubbish- 
 ing wood, between a turnip field and a fallow ; for 
 on getting to the end of it, he put his head straight 
 for the woods, despite the rising ground over which 
 he had to travel. 
 
 " Yonder he goes ! " exclaimed Mr. Neville, 
 viewing him somewhere, though "where," nobody 
 could tell but himself. 
 
 Some people have a wonderful knack at viewing 
 foxes, and think those desperately "dunch" who 
 don't see them. 
 
THE BAD MEET. 21-9 
 
 " Where ? " exclaims one. 
 
 " Why there — there to he sure ! " replies the 
 viewer, as if the fox's Hue was set out like a rail- 
 way. 
 
 Qui frieud hadn't much " wliere"-ing to-day, 
 everybody being satisfied that Mr. Neville knew a 
 fox from a cur, and the hunting of the hounds 
 held out every expectation that they would shortly 
 have a closer inspection of the one they were after. 
 Moreover, a few of the nasjs had bes^un to sob, and 
 Mr. Trumper thought it well to take the castle off 
 the elephant, and lead \\\) the hill. 
 
 On reaching the rising ground, after easing their 
 horses, grinning and holding on by the manes up 
 the hill, they all saw the fox sailing away down 
 the other side towards the river. Nor did his j^ace 
 and action give much prospect of speedy relief to 
 the now panting and perspiring steeds. On the 
 contrary, he went high, and though he had lowered 
 his standard, he kept on at an even pace that looked 
 very like lasting. 
 
 The hounds hunted him as true as beagles over 
 the wretched starvation land that he had now 
 chosen for his course, stuff that one would be sorry 
 to take at two-and-sixpence an acre. Little ad- 
 vantage was perceptible on either side, so long as 
 they kept on the high land, but when the fox de- 
 scended, and ran the river margin, the hounds 
 evidently gained upon him, until Dangerous and 
 Hannibal caught view, when, as if by magic, the 
 
250 THE BAD MEET. 
 
 whole pack flew from their noses to the worry, and 
 rolled one over another with their victim into the 
 river. 
 
 " God bless us, what a f-o-i-n-e run ! " exclaimed 
 Mr. Trumper, pulling up, his horse and himself all 
 running down with sweat. The lathered Golumpus 
 gave himself a hearty shake, as much as to say to 
 his master, " Why don't you get off, you great 
 slush-bucket ? " 
 
 Mr. Trumper then plumped down, and the 
 scraping of his whip-stick under the horse's belly 
 was followed by a regular flow of water. 
 
 How different the poor dripping rat-like fox 
 looked as he was brought out of the river to the 
 dashing, staring, brush-whisking, high-going flyer 
 they had started with an hour or so before — an 
 hour, a glorious hour ! What a deal had been 
 compressed into that time ! The field had done a 
 week's work in it. 
 
 How variously we estimate time ! We knew a 
 man who went to a dentist's to get his dinner set 
 overhauled, and after having been some twenty 
 minutes in the chair he went away declaring he had 
 been three hours. And he was a man of veracity 
 too, but doubtless calculated the time by the pain. 
 So with a run. The ground we go over, the 
 incidents of each moment, the change of scene, the 
 varieties of pace, all tend to magnify the time — 
 especially if there happen to be two or three checks, 
 when every minute is like a half hour, except when 
 
THE BAD MEET. 251 
 
 one's nag is rather blown, or there is a big leap that 
 we don't yet see how to avoid. 
 
 "One hour and ten minutes, exactly^' observed 
 ^Ir. Neville, sliutting his gold hunter against his 
 cheek. 
 
 "aSo," replied Mr. Trumper, "1 thought it had 
 been more." 
 
 " Well hunted he was," said ^Ir. Neville, alighting 
 from his horse. 
 
 " Oh well ! " rejoined Trumper in ecstasies. 
 
 *'Wliat an old villain he is!" exclaimed Ben, 
 opening the fox's mouth as he lay distended on the 
 ground. " He's hardly a tooth in his head. 
 He's had many a turkey poult, I'll be bound." 
 
 Ben then proceeded to the usual ceremony of 
 decapitation, de-paditation, and brush-i-tation. 
 
 "Give me that!" said Mr. Neville, as Ben was 
 proceeding to pocket the yet dripping brush. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Trumper," said he, wringing it out, 
 " you often send me a very fine hunted hare — let 
 me present you with the Ijrush of the animal I 
 hunt." 
 
 "Thank you, sir," said Mr. Trumper, receiving- 
 it with a low bow. " I'll put this in a glass case, 
 and Avrite the i^at'tichlars below it." 
 
 " Ay, you may say it was a 'tickler,' " observed 
 Mr. Neville. 
 
 "So it was!" replied Trumper, "a veglar one." 
 
 The pads were then distributed to Jellyhead and 
 
5iy- THE BAD MEET. 
 
 the Dazzlegoose gentlemen, who in the harmony of 
 the kill buried the jealousies of country. 
 
 It was carried unanimously that he was a good 
 fox, had shown them a good run, over a good 
 country, and Ben very truly observed, that he was 
 just as likely to be one of Mr. Neville's foxes as 
 one belonging to the Dazzlegoose country. 
 
 So the mixed field parted in the greatest har- 
 mony. 
 
 -;':• -re- * 4C- * 
 
 Let us now take a glance at the absentees. 
 
 "Aw — yaw — aw — they say Neville's had a 
 run," said Captain Rasher, throwing his cap into 
 the corner, as he rolled into the mess-room in the 
 tight-laced ease of a full-figged heavy. 
 
 " I don't believe it ! " exclaimed Lieutenant 
 Scrimagour. 
 
 "Aw — yaw — aw — why I don't much," said 
 Rasher, twirling his resolute mustachios, a process 
 that he generally has recourse to when short of 
 ideas. 
 
 "People tell such lies about hunting," observed 
 Major Tinhead, who had done somebody out of a 
 dinner, it being band day. 
 
 " They do," exclaimed little Cornet Mutton- 
 jaw. 
 
 " There isn't one man in fifty knows what a run 
 ought to be," said Tinhead. 
 
 "Aw — yaw — aw— I defy them to have a run 
 from such a place as that Chase,"' observed Rasher ; 
 
THE BAD MEET. 253 
 
 adding, " It suits old Neville and old Ben, and a 
 few old })otterers of that sort ; but who the deuce 
 could take any pleasure in such riding?" 
 
 Captain Rasher then resolved the mess tal)le into 
 a model of the country, making the plateau-stand 
 in the centre do duty for the Chase, and the lamps 
 and wine-coolers to represejit the Linton Woods, 
 Castlebar earths, and covers generally, from which 
 premises he made the most satisfactory deduction 
 that it was utterly impossible for hounds to have a 
 run — a position that he estaljlished to the satis- 
 faction of all, just as the tawdry mess- waiter came 
 in with the soup. 
 
 Next day Tarquinius ]\Iuii" having come into 
 town to see his aunt, get his hair cut, or something 
 of that sort, met Kaslier in the High Street, sabre- 
 tache swinging, heel-spur ringing, bonnet staring 
 under, as usual, and confirmed the opinion. 
 
 The verdicts of the others, our readers will 
 perhaps excuse our entering on the " record.'' 
 
 They were generally delivered in the laconics, 
 " Oh my ! " " No go ! " '' Not possible ! " " Won't 
 believe it ! " " Hookey Walker ! " " Tell it to the 
 marines ! " and so on. 
 
 We may, however, add, that our friend Tom 
 was so delighted with it, that he wrote a lono- 
 account of it to his lady love, instead of one of the 
 three-cornered laconics with which he generally 
 favoured her. 
 
 ,,' OF -HE \\ 
 
 ' UNIVERSITY 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE BLANK DAY. 
 
 It's four years since last February, though our 
 friend Tom says he remembers it as if it were but 
 yesterday, so rare are the calamities of blank days in 
 the catalogue of his misfortunes. 
 
 The Duke of Tergiversation, having the Prince of 
 Spankerhausen, Mpiheer Von Cled, and several 
 other great Dutch swells, whom he wanted ''gal- 
 vanizing," had written to Lord Harry Harkaway 
 to bring his unrivalled hounds to Fast-and-Loose 
 Castle, on that most forlorn of all forlorn specula- 
 tions, the " chance " of finding a fox. 
 
 Dukes are people that generally have their own 
 way, let them be ever so unreasonable ; and even 
 if Lord Harry had been inclined to object to trash- 
 ing his hounds and horses such a distance, the offer 
 of hospitality to himself and establishment would 
 have caused him to think that he might as well 
 avail himself of the opportunity for paying the duke 
 and duchess a visit. 
 
 Accordingly the hounds were advertised to meet 
 at Fast-and-Loose Castle on " their " day of the 
 week, with a non -hunting one on each side of it, 
 though what that day was, we don't pretend to 
 
THE BLANK DAY. 255 
 
 say, dates and distances being things we seldom 
 trouble our head about. 
 
 It was the first season of Lord Harry's hunting 
 the country, the hounds having just come out of 
 Yarnshire with the usual high-flown renown of new 
 packs. 
 
 Fast-and-Loose Castle, indeed the whole Tergi- 
 versation territory, had long been looked upon as 
 extra-parochial in the hunting line, neither Sir 
 Charles Wild blood nor his predecessor Lord Heav}'- 
 sop ever having thought it worth while to play at 
 drawing^ his srrace's covers a second time. Not but 
 that his grace is a patron of fox-hunting, a patron 
 in his own peculiar way, — ^just as he is a patron 
 of racing, to uphold which, he keeps two or three 
 wooden-limbed brutes that go the rounds of the 
 district. Fox-liunting he looks upon in much the 
 same light as racing ; a sort of amusement of 
 the hour, that requires no care or consideration 
 during the rest of the year. He therefore gives 
 hounds leave to draw his covers, on certain set days 
 of the season — the 15th of December, the 15th of 
 February, and again on the 15th of April, provided 
 none of those days fall on a Sunday, in which case, 
 the hunt stands adjourned to the Monday. 
 
 But the system will develop itself with the nar- 
 rative. 
 
 The talk people make about anything new, espe- 
 cially anything new in the hands of a nobleman, 
 made Tom Scott take a fancy for seeing Lord Hark- 
 
256 THE BLANK DAY. 
 
 away's hounds, and though the distance from 
 Hawbuck Grange is great, five and thirty miles to 
 the kennel, yet the town of Barkeston being within 
 easy distance of the castle, by lying out a couple 
 of nights, he could easily accomplish his object, 
 especially as, like Lord Harry, he could kill two 
 birds with one stone — get a hunt, and pay a visit 
 to his old friend the Rev. Peter Blackcoat, the 
 worthy rector of Barkeston. 
 
 Accordingly Tom arranged it so. 
 
 It was not until he got to Barkeston that he 
 heard the exact state of the fox question. His 
 grace having lately made one of his periodical 
 changes of politics, Tom thought he had very likely 
 turned over a new leaf in the hunting book too, and 
 that things were going to be diflferent, 
 
 " I am afraid you've come on a forlorn hope," 
 observed Peter Blackcoat, wringing Tom's hand, as 
 he met him at his neat parsonage gate. 
 
 " How so ? " asked Tom, fearing the whole thing 
 was put off. " The duke hasn't changed his mind, 
 has he?" 
 
 " Oh no," replied his friend ; " the thing is to 
 take place ; that's to say, there's to be a grand 
 spread of a breakfast, cherry brandy — cheese, and 
 so on — but as to finding a fox, there isn't such a 
 thing in the parish." 
 
 " The deuce there isn't ! " exclaimed Tom ; " then 
 what are the hounds there for? " 
 
 " Oh, just for the duke to show them to his 
 
THE BLANK DAY. 257 
 
 friends. He's got a lot of great Large-built 
 Dutchmen there, who can't speak a word of English, 
 and he'll persuade them that the hounds are his, 
 and that Lord Harry is a sort of retainer of the 
 castle, and so they'll go back to the place from whence 
 they come, and tell all the great boundless burgo- 
 masters and fellows what a tremendous great man 
 the Duke of Tergiversation is." 
 
 " The deuce ! " exclaimed Tom, wishing himself 
 home again. 
 
 "Nay, don't look glum," replied the parson, 
 patting the mare's neck. " I dare say the game- 
 keeper will manage something in the shape of a 
 fox. All the world will be there, and it won't do 
 to disappoint a whole country side." 
 
 ''Manage something in the shape of a fox, my dear 
 Peter/" exclaimed our friend, in disgust. "You 
 don't think a fox is like a coat, that you can have 
 to order and turn out when you want it ? Believe 
 me, my dear fellow, a fox is very like what the 
 young ladies, bless them ! say of love ; there is but 
 one real love, though there may be a hundred dif- 
 ferent copies of it ; so there is but one right sort 
 of fox, though there may be a hundred imitation 
 ones." 
 
 This very philosophical observation 1 »rought Tom 
 to his friend's stable door, a comfortable three- 
 stalled edifice, with a gig and harness room adjoin- 
 ing. 
 
258 THE BLANK DAY. 
 
 We never get into a parsonage house without 
 thinking if it wasn't for writing the weary sermons, 
 we'd like to be a parson ourself. They are always 
 so snug, and have such capital port wine ! 
 
 But we will pass over the feeding and friendship, 
 and proceed at once to the festival. 
 
 Tom's friend said the thing that was true. As 
 he rode away in the morning through the usually 
 quiet little town of Barkeston, all heads were at 
 the windows, those who were to l)e left behind 
 looking wistfully after those who were going, and 
 one-horse chaises and two -horse chaises were 
 loading and driving away with mirthful parties, to 
 say nothing of an omnibus full inside and out. 
 There were Mrs. and the two Miss Sugarlips in 
 their yellow phaeton, driven by young Mr. Whateley, 
 the rising apothecary ; and there were Mr. Luxford, 
 the bookseller, and " his lady," as the genteel ones 
 call their wives ; Mr. Kidd, the hosier, rode with 
 Mr. Holmes the saddler, while their respective ladies, 
 with some seven or eight children between them, 
 followed in the public "private" landau of the 
 duke's arms. The duchess — that is to say, the 
 landlady — had just been confined, and couldn't 
 show. Nevertheless every horse they had, both 
 from the hotel and the farm, was in requisition, 
 and great was the demand for saddles, bridles, and 
 tackle generally. 
 
 The plot thickened tis Tom proceeded until the 
 road swarmed asjain. More orio-.s, more horsemen, 
 
THE BLANK DAY. 259 
 
 more horsemen, more gigs, and pedestrians witliout 
 end. 
 
 The most astonishing thing, however, was the 
 appearance of a troop of yeomanry that came 
 iindinof and cLatterinir down the Heckfield-hine on 
 to the turnpike, in all the pomp and terror of cart- 
 horse cavalry. 
 
 " Who's dexid, andioUat's to paij?" exclaimed Tom 
 Scott, as a most insignificant little officer, almost 
 extinguished by his horse-tailed helmet, was l)orne 
 against him Ly a great pulling powerful hlack 
 mare, who seemed fully intent upon running away 
 with him. 
 
 "Co-o-o-m-e and s-s-e-e, old b-o-y," ejaculated 
 the victim, pretending to be quite at his ease. 
 
 " Why, Billy Bobbinson ! is that you '? you little 
 unfortunate devil ; what have you been about now, 
 that they have dressed you up in that way 1 " 
 exclaimed Tom. " Who looks after the shop when 
 you are out soldiering 1 " But Billy was deaf to the 
 inquiry, and the troop rattled on as if they were 
 going to quell a "rebellion or extinguish a fire at 
 the least. Little thought Tom that they were the 
 Duke of Tergiversation's cavalry going to form a 
 hunting guard of honour on Mynheer Von Cled 
 and Co. ! 
 
 Our friend Tom had never seen Tergiversation 
 Castle except from the Cockington Fort road, where 
 it is visible in the usual style of castle visibility, 
 towers above trees, and a flag al)ove towers. -Its 
 
260 THE BLANK DAY. 
 
 ground dimensions lie had no idea of, neither did he 
 care much, seeing he was not likely to be wanted 
 inside. 
 
 The castle certainly had a very imposing appear- 
 ance, when he got the whole concern mustered 
 in one grand vieAV — body, wings, giblets and all. 
 There was great liveliness and animation apparent, 
 both inside and out, quite relieving the austere 
 frownings of the cloisters, and the heav}^ Gothic 
 architecture of the buildino^. 
 
 Powdered footmen, in gorgeous plum-coloured 
 liveries, bedizened with silver lace, with massive 
 covered dishes, pushed their way among " gentle- 
 men's gentlemen" and heavy-looking moustached 
 Dutchmen, who seemed as if they had nothing what- 
 ever to do but smoke ; while occasional glimpses of 
 the "real quality" might be caught through the 
 plate- glass windows of the receiving rooms, and 
 good steady studies made of ladies' maids staring 
 out of the windows or disj^orting themselves on the 
 leads and turrets above. 
 
 The spacious court-yard Jjchind presented a 
 curious medley of war and pastime, soldiers and 
 fox-hunters. The yeomanry had dismounted, and 
 were busy rectifying the little derangements of 
 dress and appointments incident to the march. 
 Those whose saddles had threatened to come over 
 their horses' ears for w^ant of the crupper w^ere 
 now slamming them back in their places ; others 
 were scraping the frothy sweat off the stinking, 
 
THE BLANK DAY. 201 
 
 hairy-heeled brutes, while some were combing out 
 the manes and tail of theirs, by way of trying to 
 make them look a little decent. There was a 
 stranw contrast between the cumbrous, misfittins; 
 uniforms of the ploughman soldiers, and the trim 
 neatness of the hunting and stable servants. 
 Nevertheless, the former seemed very well pleased 
 with themselves, and clamped and strutted about 
 the yard in their heavy jack-boots, dragging their 
 noisy swords after them, looking about for admira- 
 tion from the maids. 
 
 The hounds were advertised for eleven, but that 
 hour had long passed without any indications of a 
 move. To be sure, a little after eleven, sundry 
 footmen emerged from the castle, bearing trays, 
 covered with cakes and biscuits, with bottles of 
 slierry and glass jugs full of water for the schedule 
 B people outside, while bread and cheese and ale, 
 with something in a most profane looking black 
 bottle, circulated freely among the troopers and 
 trampers at the back. The servants of the hunt, 
 being billeted in the castle, surveyed the scene in 
 easy indolent attitudes from the stone steps leading 
 from the offices into the court-yard, and criticised 
 each comer just as the first-class company criticised 
 the outsiders from the windows in front. 
 
 Little Billy Bobbinson, with his face all flushed 
 with liquor and tight girthing, conveyed the first 
 symptoms of active animation by floundering along 
 
262 THE BLANK DAY. 
 
 the stone passage in his iron-heeled jacks, with his 
 spurs dragghng and his sword banging and nearly- 
 tripping him up as he went, to give the word of 
 command for the men to "prepare to mount." 
 Billy is the most unfortunate-looking little object 
 that ever was manufactured into a heavy dragoon, 
 being split up far too high — all legs, and no body. 
 Still Billy was in great force. He would not have 
 exchanged figures with Hercules, nor his rusty, 
 misfitting, dragging, lace-tarnished scarlet with 
 green facings, or his parchment-looking leathers 
 and lack-lustre jacks, for the outfit of the youngest 
 and smartest ofiicer in the Life Guards. 
 
 " Prepare to mount ! " hallooed little Billy from 
 the top of the steps, standing on one leg and 
 putting his right hand to his mouth, so as to convey 
 the sound right amono- the soldiers. " Peepare 
 TO MOUNT ! " repeated he in a still louder tone. 
 
 " Hurrah for the cornet ! " exclaimed Tom Curlin, 
 the half-drunken farrier, tossing off" a third pota- 
 tion from the black bottle, and " Hurrah ! hurrah ! 
 hurrah ! " was shouted and repeated from all parts 
 of the yard. 
 
 Billy the hatter and Billy the soldier are very 
 different people, and he does in his red coat what 
 he would never think of doing in his black. 
 Seeing Scott standing in the desolate way a man 
 does outside a great house waiting for hounds, he 
 came with a patronising air of one with the entree, 
 and asked if our friend wouldn't " walk in;" adding 
 
THE BLANK DAY. 263 
 
 liis conviction, '' that the duke wouhl be extremely 
 happy to see him." 
 
 Tom didn't think the duke would ; and not 
 knowing what practical jokes some of Billy's half- 
 drunken heavies might play on the old mare if he 
 went to try the experiment, he contented himself 
 by saying, that " he had breakfasted," and was 
 anxious to know whether it was to be " a fox-hunt 
 or a review ? " 
 
 " Oh, it's a fox-hunt," replied Billy, quite gravely, 
 adding, confidentially, " the fact is, we are here as a 
 guard of honour on the prince." 
 
 "To prevent the fox eating him, I suppose," 
 said Scott, as puss-in-boots waddled away to get 
 his men mounted. 
 
 All this gathering, and quartering, and liquoring, 
 and soldiering, so unlike the "real thing," was any- 
 thing but encouraging ; nor did the prospect appear 
 brighter when sundry postillions in bullion-laced, 
 plum-coloured jackets, spic and span leathers, with 
 tasseled caps, and glass-blown wigs, emerged from 
 the servants' hall, whips in hand, and w^ended their 
 ways to the coach-house department in the adjoin- 
 ino; court to where the soldiers were. 
 
 Presently the tramp of horse announced some- 
 thing coming, and a light blue landau, drawn by 
 six blood bays with their manes full of ribbons, 
 followed by a barouche and four, drew up in the 
 inner court, for the " army," as the Irish call a 
 
26-i THE BLANK DAY. 
 
 handful of recruits, to arrange themselves around, 
 so as to proceed in proper form to the front. 
 
 This was no easy matter ; for few of the honest 
 Dobbinses being accustomed to such lord mayor's 
 shows, they flew in all directions as the postillion 
 wormed his leaders among them ; and more than 
 one heavy dragoon measured his length on the 
 ground. A wicked wag, too, whom Billy Bobbin- 
 son had rather " done " in the matter of a hat, had 
 figged the old black, who began lifting her hind 
 quarters as he mounted in a sort of cross between 
 a kick and the action of a dancing horse at Astley's. 
 Drink ! all glorious drink, however, had strung 
 Billy's nerves, and he rebuked her, and jagged her 
 in a way that plainly said, " he wasn't the Billy he 
 was when he came." 
 
 At last they all got mounted and under way, 
 and a brandy-nosed trumpeter having ,made the 
 castle courts echo with his battered instrument, 
 Billy Bobbinson gave the order " to draw swords," 
 and having got his own great cheese toaster hoisted 
 over his shoulder, the cavalcade proceeded to join 
 the greatly-increased crowd in front. 
 
 It was now twelve o'clock — "our great-grand- 
 fathers' dinner hour," as Nimrod said in "The 
 Quarterly " — and they had not yet started to find 
 the fox. The day, we should observe, though 
 bright, was clear and cold, with certain indications 
 of frost in the air, just sufficient to make people 
 thump their hands against their thighs, and urge 
 
THE BLANK DAY. iibo 
 
 tlieir horses into little backwards and forwards 
 trots before the castle, by way of giving the in- 
 mates a hint that they ought to be coming. 
 ***** 
 After numerous false alarms, at last one of those 
 unmistakeable moves was perceptible in the castle, 
 and ere the lumbering heavies had got themselves 
 into "attention," a rush of servants threw back 
 the great doors, and the Prince of Spankerhausen 
 appeared, with the Duchess of Tergiversation, in 
 feathers and sky-blue satin, on his arm. The 
 prince was a full-sized, stout, heavy-shouldered, 
 enormously big-chested man, with a great mean- 
 ingless yellow face, little ferrety blue eyes, straight 
 sandy-coloured hair, and bushy mustachios. He 
 was dressed in a half uniform, half-hunting sort of 
 costume, a cocked hat and feather, a double- 
 breasted red hunting coat, buttoned up to the 
 neck, with leather breeches and jack-boots, and 
 wore a small couteau de chasse at his side. The 
 Duke of Tergiversation was dressed in the costume 
 he used to pretend to hunt in when a young man, 
 a loose bed-gowny frock coat, yellow-ochre leathers, 
 coming low down the calf, and very short maho- 
 gany-coloured top-boots. 
 
 Having stood on the stone step inside the por- 
 tico for a few seconds to show themselves becom- 
 ingly to the crowd, the prince handed the duchess 
 into the landau, in which she was followed by 
 Mvnheer Von Cled, who, as our readers are aware. 
 
26 G THE BLANK DAY. 
 
 is encumbered witli a cork leg. Two other swells 
 having filled the back seats, the landau moved on, 
 to allow the barouche to take up the ladies, Chop 
 and Change, and a party of juveniles. The prince, 
 havins; seen them all in, mounted his Flemish 
 prancer, sheep-skinned, netted, tasseled, and capa- 
 risoned according to the custom of his country, 
 and the duke taking his place on the right, and 
 Lord Harry Harkaway on the left, the army placed 
 itself so as to keep a space open for the great guns 
 to ride at their ease. The brandy-nosed trumpeter 
 announced their departure on his instrument ; the 
 emblazoned flag on the tower was lowered, so that 
 all the country round might know that the Duke 
 of Tergiversation and Co. had gone forth to give 
 battle to the foxes. Minute guns began to boom 
 from the battlements. Amid all this sporting mag- 
 nificence, the party proceeded in state up to Tower 
 Hill, which commands an extensive view of the 
 park and neighbouring country. 
 
 Lord Harry Harkaway quitted the curious ca- 
 valcade as it reached the foot of the hill, to join his 
 poor neglected hounds, now wending their way 
 with the servants in the bottom, his lordship wear- 
 ing the dejected air of a man under orders to make 
 a fool of himself. 
 
 " Well, this is the rummest go I ever saw," ob- 
 served his lordship to Tom Tiptop, his huntsman, 
 as he reached the latter. 
 
 "Oh, it's all my eye, my lord," replied Tom, 
 
THE BLANK DAY. 267 
 
 taking off his cap ; " there hasn't been a fox here 
 these five years ;" adding, " they are going to turn 
 down a brace of things on the otlier side of the 
 hill that have been in a sack these three days, poor 
 things." 
 
 "The best thing would be to make a drag of 
 one of them," observed his lordship. 
 
 " I believe it would," replied the huntsman, 
 ** and so be done with it at once, and then we might 
 draw homewards, for it'll be night before we get 
 away, if we don't." 
 
 The humbug then commenced by drawing se- 
 veral belts of plantations, and clumps of trees and 
 tufts of brushwood, scattered and dotted about the 
 park, from whence issued hares, pheasants, rabbits, 
 deer, wood pigeons, partridges, tomtits, every 
 thing except a fox. Meanwhile, his grace availed 
 himself of the opportunity for pointing out to the 
 prince and Mynheer Von Cled the vast extent of 
 his park and territory, and the most remarkal^le of 
 the distant views. 
 
 Here, there, and everywhere, Lord Harkawny 
 tried with a patience and perseverance deserving 
 of a better fate. At lensjth he neared Gullinf^ton 
 Wood, where fox No. 1 had to be turned down. 
 Turned down he had been ; but the supine keepers 
 having omitted to spring the rabbit traps, they 
 found poor reynard in one of them, when a lioiind 
 very quietly finished him. 
 
 Clumps and belts intervening between Gulling- 
 
2G8 THE BLANK DAY. 
 
 ton Wood and Poppington Dean, and his lordship 
 anticipating no better luck with the second fox, he 
 desired his pad-groom to drag the carcass of the 
 one they had killed at the l^ack of the hill, while 
 the company were staring and gaping in front. 
 " Just drag him alongside your horse," said his 
 lordship, " keeping on the far side of all the planta- 
 tions and places, so that they mayn't see yon, and 
 after making a good round of the park, finish in 
 old Absolom Brown, the keeper's garden, by the 
 South Lodge, where we can bury him, if the 
 hounds won't eat him, and come out with the brush 
 and pads, and all things proper." 
 
 This was a very good instruction ; for though 
 " No. 2 " did raise a cry in cover, the melody w^as 
 very soon terminated by a kill, which his lordship 
 seeing, he out with his horn and blew for hard 
 life, while Tiptop and the three whippers-in set 
 up such screeches and yells, and made such cracks 
 with their whips, that the whole cavalcade seemed 
 to be suddenly electrified, and soldiers, and fox- 
 hunters, and gigs, and carriages, and omnibus, and 
 grooms, and prince, and duke and duchess, and 
 Mynheer Von Cled, were all mixed up in a minute 
 in one glorious state of indescribable confusion. 
 
 " Yonder he goes," roared Jemmy Fitznoodle. 
 
 " Hold hard ! " screamed Tom Crawley. 
 
 " Halt ! " roared Billy Bobbinson. 
 
 " Go it, ye shavers ! " exclaimed Jack Hobler, 
 pushing through the crowd, as all eyes were 
 
THE BLANK DAY. 269 
 
 strained after his lordship, in hopes of viewing the 
 fox. 
 
 The hounds poured out of cover, down went 
 their sterns, and out came the music, as they crossed 
 the line of the drag, and settled like a swarm of 
 bees on the scent. 
 
 Away ! away ! away ! went the field, the bold 
 dragoons mixing up with the rest, leaving the 
 prince to look after himself, while gigs, and cars, 
 and phaetons, and landau, and all strained over 
 the green sward as best they could. It was a 
 splendid burst ! 
 
 The prince's Flemish punch even seemed to 
 catch a little of the infection, and gave two or 
 three squeals and hoists up behind, indictitive of 
 what he mio;ht do if his highness did not loose his 
 head a Httle. This the nag accomplished just as 
 the Duke of Tergiversation, who had been nearly 
 capsized by a dog-cart, came alongside, and sug- 
 gested that they ought to be getting forward if 
 they meant to see the sport. 
 
 On then they bumped together in about equal 
 enjoyment of the run, which was dexterously pro- 
 longed by sundry doubles, that would have led the 
 knowing ones to think it was a hare if Jemmy 
 Fitznoodle had not had ocular demonstration of 
 the brush. 
 
 At last the conical roof of old Absolom's thatched 
 cottage was seen peering from among the laurels 
 and evergreens in which it is stuck ; and when the 
 
270 THE BLANK DAY. 
 
 oreat Q-uns arrived, it was announced to the duke, 
 who put it into French for the prince, that the fox 
 was at bay in the garden. 
 
 Great were the rejoicings thereat, great the ex- 
 ultations of each party on coming up " piping 
 hot " to the finish. " Glorious run ! splendid sport ! 
 finest si^ht that ever was seen." 
 
 " Who shall say there are no foxes at Fast-and- 
 Loose Castle ! " exclaimed his grace, wiping the 
 perspiration from his brow. 
 
 " WJw, indeed ! " echoed Jemmy Fitznoodle, add- 
 ing, " This is the biggest one I ever set eyes on ! " 
 
 " Who-hoop ! " screeched Lord Harry Harkaway 
 at last, poking his way under the ivy-twined arch 
 of the little garden-gate, with the brush and pads 
 high in hand. 
 
 " Who-hoop ! " echoed half a hundred outside. 
 
 " Give the brush to the prince, my lord ! " ex- 
 claimed the duke, as the outburst of joy subsided 
 — " give the brush to the prince, my lord : he rode 
 like a hero and deserves it ! " 
 
 His grace then interpreted the compliment, while 
 the great phlegmatic Dutchman sat on his horse 
 looking as unconcerned as a cow. Mynheer Yon 
 Cled got a pad, (rather an equivocal compliment, 
 considering his deficiency in that line,) and the 
 compliments and congratulations being at length 
 exhausted, the duke capped the performance by ex- 
 claiming, " My Lord Harry ! you'd better come to 
 the castle and have a little refreshment after your 
 fatigue." 
 
THE BLANK DAY. 271 
 
 Lord Harry thought otlierwise, and having paid 
 the hist tribute of res2)ect to poor reynard's remains 
 in the garden, he groped his way through the now 
 squeezing and jostling crowd to his horse, which 
 havins: mounted, the brass music of the horn and 
 bugle drew off their respective cohorts, the hunters 
 passing outside the park, while the soldiers again 
 formed into something like line to conduct the 
 heroes back to the castle. 
 
 In ten minutes the lately distracted park had re- 
 sumed its usual placid grandeur. The grey-headed 
 green-coated gate-keeper rolled the heavy iron gates 
 back as the last donkey cart took its departure, 
 closing the fox-hunting scene, let us hope, " for 
 ever and for aye ! " 
 
 " Well, but where's your blank 1 " we fimcy we 
 hear the reader say. " You've killed a brace of 
 foxes ! how's that ? that's no blank ! " 
 
 Gentle reader, we admit it ; it wouldn't be a 
 blank to some, but it was to Lord Harkaway and 
 many of the gentlemen who "harkaway" with 
 him. Will you, however, take it seriously amiss if 
 we tell you that all this is merely preliminary to 
 the " blank day "? " We hope not, for unless you 
 close the book, you have all your medicine to take 
 yet. 
 
 Perhaps, however, unlike Lord Hariy Harkaway, 
 the reader may require a little refreshment after 
 such a run, so we will reserve tlic real l)lank for 
 another chapter. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE BLANK DAY — [continued). 
 
 The Duke of Tergiversation's park- wall en- 
 croaches so on the townshi]) road outside, that the 
 field was lengthened into something like military 
 linc until they cleared its precincts. Indeed it was 
 not until they got upon the liberal width and grass- 
 sidings of the Cockington Fort road, that Tom Scott 
 had an opportunity of diving into the melee, and 
 seeing " who was who." Others had been in the 
 same predicament, for Tom had not advanced far 
 into the crowd of horsemen, ere he was hailed by 
 some of the " best fellows under the sun," exclaim- 
 ing, in the wild outburst of surprise, "Damme, 
 here's Tom Scott ! " " What the deuce has brought 
 you here, old boy ?" " AVell, Tom, did you ever ?" 
 " No, I never I " and so on, alluding to the recent 
 Fox and Goose exhibition in the park. 
 
 Despite the retirement of the prince, and the 
 carriages, and the cavalry, and the costemiongers, 
 there was still an immense field : from a hundred 
 and fifty to two hundred horsemen at least. The 
 country papers of the next week, who devoted 
 three columns and a half each to the details of the 
 pageant, "Grand Sporting Pageant at Fast-and- 
 Loose Castle, in honour of his Serene Highness the 
 
THE BLANK DAY. 273 
 
 Prince of Spankerhauseii and the great Dutch 
 merchant Mynheer Von Cled," decLared there were 
 a thousand — a thousand, exclusive of the handful 
 of yeomanry, whom they magnified into " two 
 hundred of the Hower of the country." 
 
 And here we may ol)serve, how much better it 
 is for a respectable paper to have a regular cut- 
 along correspondent, who sticks to the truth, and 
 tells what he sees, calling things by their proper 
 names — fools, fools — humbugs, humbugs — and 
 so on, instead of one of your word-sprawling gen- 
 try, who are perfectly bewildered when they come 
 to handle a hunt, and who only make absurdity 
 more ridiculous. 
 
 Who doesn't remember the mess they made when 
 her Majesty went out at Belvoir, and again when 
 glorious Tom Smith * revisited the green haunts 
 of Leicestershire ! 
 
 But to the adjourned hunt. 
 
 " AVhy didn't you come into breakfast at the 
 castle, Mr. Scott ? " asked Sir George Stiftenecke, 
 who had got straggled all the way down to the 
 " duke's," and was still prosecuting the chase, not- 
 withstanding his grace's return, in hopes of gaining 
 an appetite for dinner. "Why didn't you come 
 
 * Thomas Asslieton Smith, Esq., one of the best s])ortsmeu the 
 workl ever saw. This scene, we are hajjjjy to hear, is in course of 
 redemption by the imrivalled pencil of Mr. Grant, and we liope the 
 public -n-ill be favoured with an engraving of it. 
 
 T 
 
274 THE BLANK DAY. 
 
 in to l)reakfast at the castle ? " repeated lie, adding, 
 " The duke would have been happy to see you." 
 
 " I dare say would he," replied our uncourteous 
 Tom ; "just as happy as I am when I find a straw. 
 Dukes are only for such great men as yourself. 
 Sir George," added he, thinking to smooth over 
 the roughness of the former part of the speech. 
 
 "Well, but his grace is extremely affable and 
 condescending, I'm sure," rejoined Sir George. 
 
 " Oh I devilish affable — especially about election 
 times," replied Tom. "Then one may expect a visit 
 from his agent, Mr. Saucyjaw, with his forty- 
 horse power of impudence, reminding one of the 
 breakfast, and his grace's condescension, and saying 
 that his grace having just discovered 'black's 
 white,' hopes Mr. Scott won't object to voting in 
 the affirmative; and if one refuses, the duke storms 
 and fumes as if he had been robbed of his birth- 
 right. I don't buy my groceries quite so dear, Sir 
 George," added Tom : , " if great men wish to retain 
 their influence over little ones, they must be con- 
 sistent." 
 
 Sir George was rather posed, for he's a short- 
 noticed Jem Crow-er himself. 
 
 The Stiffenecke conversation was here interrupted 
 by a most dislocating thump on the shoulder from 
 Tom's very sincere, but very heavy-fisted friend, 
 Foxey AVollop, of Tod House, a ginger-haired 
 gentleman, with a coarse cane-coloured beard, and 
 a stronsf cross of the fox in his face. 
 
THE BLANK DAY. 275 
 
 " Why, what tlie deuce has brought you to this 
 sceue of absurdity ? " inquired Wollop, after he had 
 followed up the blow l)y nearly crushing Tom's 
 fingers in his vice of a hand. 
 
 " You iiwy ask that," replied Tom, wringing 
 his tingling hand against his horse's side: "I came 
 to hunt, but we don't always get what we come 
 for." 
 
 " Indeed we don't," replied Foxey Wollop. 
 *' However, if you'll come home with me, I'll tell 
 you what you'll get, and no mistake — you'll get a 
 cut off a beautiful round of beef, three weeks in the 
 salt, with the gravy springing out of the centre, 
 like a fountain, and a pie or a pudding, or something 
 of that sort." 
 
 " That's a very good offer," said Tom, " but at pre- 
 sent I'm for the fox, et 'preterca nihil." 
 
 " Oh, fox ! we shall find no fox," replied Wollop, 
 with a smile, *' unless it is such another as we had 
 in the park." 
 
 " That's a pity," said our friend, " for I've come a 
 long way to see these hounds, and should like to 
 have a round with them of some sort." 
 
 " Ah ! then you must come another day ; or, 
 I'll tell you what do — stay over to-morrow with 
 me, and hunt Saturday at Crashington brake ; a 
 sure find, and a cajiital country." 
 
 " Can't," replied Tom with a shake of the head ; 
 " got to be at home ; but tell me," added he, " what 
 are they going to draw now ? " as a whip opened 
 
270 THE BLANK DAY. 
 
 a gate on the left of the road, for the hounds to 
 pass into a field. 
 
 " Oh I it will be Thorneyhalf Dean, one of the 
 duke's," replied WoUop ; " one of the duke's — 
 might as well draw the turnpike — Lord Harry, I 
 suppose, thinks he may as well make a day of it, 
 and go through the form." 
 
 Nevertheless, " a lively-faithed " field ranged 
 themselves orthodoxly for reynard to break : the 
 whips scuttled to their respective points, and the 
 swell huntsman yoicked his hounds into cover, and 
 stood erect in his stirrups eying the Dean, as 
 though he really expected to find. 
 
 " Have at 1dm there, good dogs ! " holloaed he ; 
 "yoicks, Avind him! yoicks, push him up!" and 
 then he gave his own patent note, something be- 
 tween a screech and a demi view-holloa ; a cheer, 
 however, that we are sorry to say is not reducible 
 to paper. 
 
 Most huntsmen have a pet noise of their own, 
 and that was Mr. Tiptop's. 
 
 While this make-believe work was going on, 
 Gurney Sadlad came up grinning from ear to ear, 
 with a " I say, Scott, old boy, they've been hoaxing 
 the ' cretur ' that you are the Duke of Devonshire, 
 and we want you to carry on the joke." 
 
 " They've been what ! " exclaimed Tom in asto- 
 nishment. 
 
 " Hoaxing the ' cretur : ' you know the ' cretur,' 
 don't you ? " inquired Sadlad. ''Everybody know^s 
 
THE BLANK DAY. 277 
 
 the * crctur/ Toe Tugtail. Well, they've been hoax- 
 ing the ' cretur ' that you are the Duke of Devon- 
 shire, and we want you to let us introduce him to 
 you in form." 
 
 " Nonsense," repicd Tom ; adding, " / can't do 
 Duke at short notice — / can't personate the Duke of 
 Devonshire, a man I never saw in my life." 
 
 " Oh ! that's nothing," rejoined Sadlad ; " the 'cre- 
 tur ' never saw him either ; therefore you'll be 
 matched in that respect." 
 
 The oentlcman thus indicated, althouoh then a 
 perfect stranger to Tom, was so well known by 
 the field as to make them suppose he must at all 
 events have heard of him ; and so, lest we should 
 fall into a similar error with the reader, we will 
 here give a slight sketch of him from the know- 
 ledge Tom afterwards obtained. 
 
 Toe Tugtail, whose real name is Anthony, An- 
 tony Tugtail, Esq., derives his appellation, either 
 from the natural abbreviation of his name, or 
 from a propensity the unkind ones say he has 
 of making people's acquaintance through the me- 
 dium of their toes. He is a watering-place bird, 
 and has mustered an extensive acquaintance by a 
 dexterous application of his foot. If he sees a 
 ring formed round a (juadrille, or a staring circle 
 environing a set of peticoat-whirling waltzers, 
 Toe ell)Ows his way in tiil he gets beside the party 
 he wants to know, when dropping his hat, or 
 his glove, or his handkerchief, he contrives to 
 
278 THE BLANK DAY. 
 
 toucli the person, which is immediately followed 
 up by ten thousand aj)ologies, and a sort of im- 
 perceptible glide into conversation respecting the 
 performances, the lights, the music, the any thing 
 that happens to be handy. The foundation of the 
 acquaintance is thus laid. If it is a " don/' off 
 goes the hat the first time Toe meets him alone ; 
 but if Toe is in company, he tries the familiar 
 half nod of a bow, and says, *' That's my friend, 
 Sir John, or Sir Tom, or Lord Harry." 
 
 Before Tom Scott had time to arrange his 
 thoughts or ideas, he saw a move among the horse- 
 men about twenty yards lower down the hedge, 
 and presently a little wizened, ugly old man, in a 
 rusty old scarlet coat and moleskin breeches, backed 
 a mealy-legged, mealy-muzzled, fiddle-case headed, 
 bay horse out of the rank, in answer to Sadlad's 
 summons, who had gone half way back to give it. 
 
 Scott had a good view of him as he came prim- 
 ming himself up, and certainly he did not seem 
 undeserving of the name of the " cretur." It was 
 visible at a glance that he dyed his hair ; indeed it 
 does not require a conjurer to see that, for a prac- 
 tised eye may almost tell what o'clock it is by the 
 various shades a dyed head assumes during the 
 day. The pheasant-coloured tint of the " cretur's " 
 showed that it was loDg past noon. 
 
 Scott had observed Mr. Tugtail in the Park ; 
 indeed he saw him come out of the castle close on 
 the Prince of Spankerhausen's heels, but from 
 
THE BLANK DAY. 279 
 
 seeing him running a muck, first at one great 
 man, and then at another, Scott had concluded he 
 was either a great man himself, or an attache to 
 one at all events. That " birds of a feather flock 
 together " holds as good with peers as with pigeons. 
 
 Sadlad, we should observe, is one of those harum- 
 scarum creatures whom it is no use being angry 
 with. He will have his joke, let Avhat will be the 
 consequence ; and even if our friend Tom had had 
 presence of mind to ride away, we dare say Sadlad 
 would have followed with Tugtail at his back. 
 It was, therefore, perhaps best to surrender at dis- 
 cretion. Sadlad's was the fault, Tom's the mis- 
 fortune. 
 
 " My lord duke, will you allow me to present 
 my particular friend, Mr. Tugtail," said Sadlad in 
 a sonorous voice, and the most respectful manner, 
 extending his right arm a little behind to where 
 his particular friend came creeping along. 
 
 The " cretur's " hat made an aerial sweep, finish- 
 ing at the spur. 
 
 " Great pleasure in making ^fr. Tugtail's ac- 
 quaintance," replied Tom, raising his hat, string 
 high. 
 
 "Your grace is very fortunate in the day," ob- 
 served the " cretur," after a grin. 
 
 " Very," replied Tom, not knowing whether he 
 meant in the sport or the weather. 
 
 "It was a splendid run, indeed," said Tugtail. 
 
 " Oh, splendid," rejoined Tom, looking at the 
 
280 THE BLANK DAY. 
 
 creases in Tugtail's coat and tlie moth -holes at his 
 breeches' knee, and wondering how long it was 
 since they had been aired. 
 
 Twang — tivang — tivang ! went Lord Harry's 
 horn ; screech — screech — screech ! went Mr. Tip- 
 top's too, who was not to be done out of his 
 blow. 
 
 " To him, hounds — to him ! — get ciivay! " hallooed 
 the men, cracking their heavy thonged whips. 
 
 "No go, here, I'm afraid, my lord duke,'' ob- 
 served the " cretur," with pretended concern. 
 
 " I'm afraid not," replied Tom, gathering his 
 reins, thinking to escape from the listening, laugh- 
 ing, gaping, giggling, crowd. 
 
 Vain hope! Whenever Tom turned, the "cretur" 
 was at his heels ; worse still, the crowd followed to 
 hear the fun. How he did be-duke, and be-grace 
 and be-lord him I 
 
 From Thorneyhalf Dean they went to Cressing- 
 ham Copse, another cover of Tom's noble brother 
 Tergiversation's. As they proceeded, the wicked 
 author of his misfortune rode up alongside, and 
 whispered into his ear, ''Pitch i^ito him.'' 
 
 " Daren t," replied Tom ; " he'd have me up for 
 an assault." 
 
 " I don't mean that," said Sadlad, " but cram 
 him luell." 
 
 "Your grace hasn't much hunting in Derby- 
 shire, I think," interposed the " cretur," crushing 
 up on the other side of Tom's horse. 
 
THE BLANK DAY. 281 
 
 " Not much," replied Tom, tliinkiug the cretur 
 might know more of Derbysliirc than he did. 
 
 "Noble place, Ch ats worth ! " oltserved Tiigtail, 
 confirming Tom's worst suspicions that he had 
 been there. 
 
 " Why, yes it is ; and yet 1 don't know/' replied 
 Tom, doubtfully, as if there were things he didn't 
 like about it, or his modesty prevented his praising 
 what was his own. 
 
 " Oh, splendid place I " rejoined Tugtail encour- 
 agingly ; " splendid place, indeed ! " 
 
 " You've been there, have you ? " asked Tom. 
 " Oh yes," replied Tugtail ; " as a sight-seer I 
 mean — merely to see the place, you know, your 
 grace." 
 
 " I hope I shall have the pleasure of seeing you 
 there as a guest next time," ol)served Tom, with 
 true ducal condescension. 
 
 The " cretur " nearly kissed his ugly horse's ears. 
 Having " done the polite," Tom made him a sort 
 of half bow, as if oioino; to talk to some one else, 
 and got his mare jogged into a trot, which, by 
 dint of spurring, he worked far into the yet 
 remainino- crowd, ere he afjjain ventured to look 
 over his shoulder. 
 
 " By gar, there was Monsieur 'Tonson again ! " 
 Tonson, followed by a longer tail than before, all 
 hiughing, he-he-he-ing, haw-haw-haiv-ing, " you dont 
 say so"-ing, as if they would s})lit their sides. 
 
 " Your grace was building your pointer kennels 
 
282 THE BLANK DAY. 
 
 the last time I was at Chatsworth," said the " cretur," 
 bringing his horse alongside again, to the displace- 
 ment of Gurney Sadlad, Foxey Wollop, and some 
 other wicked wags who had crowded round Tom 
 Scott to prompt him. " Let me see, when would 
 it be ! I was staying at Matlock. Ah, well, it's 
 immaterial ; but I ventured to susjorest that the 
 floors should be made of asphalte, which was then 
 just coming into vogue." 
 
 "And they are made of asphalte," replied Tom, 
 "and very much obliged I was to the gentleman 
 who made the suggestion, and most happy I am 
 to have an opportunity of thanking him personally," 
 continued Tom, tendering him his hand, to try if 
 he couldn't shake him off' that way. 
 
 No go ; the " cretur " stuck to him like a leech, 
 and shoved poor Sir George Stiffenecke aside, as if 
 he were the veriest plebeian under the sun. Un- 
 grateful man ! There are times when even the 
 knight is ardently worshipped. 
 
 " Your grace has splendid shooting at Chats- 
 worth," observed the " cretur." 
 
 "Pretty well," replied our newly-jumped up 
 duke ; " pretty well ; nothing compared to what T 
 shall have ; " adding confidentially, " I have an idea 
 in my head that, if carried out, will make the sport- 
 ing at Chatsworth one of the finest things under 
 the sun." 
 
 " Indeed, your grace,'"' observed Tugtail with 
 well assumed interest. 
 
THE BLANK DAY. 283 
 
 " I'm going to suljstitute peacocks, ostriches, 
 cassiowaries, and other eastern birds, for our com- 
 mon-place pheasants and partridges. What think 
 you of a peacock hattue or an ostrich hunt ? " asked 
 Tom. 
 
 " Splendid ! magnificent ! " exclaimed Toe, as 
 though he could hardly contain himself. 
 
 " I will tell you what my idea is," continued Tom, 
 lowering his voice, " but this, of course, is between 
 ourselves, and in strict confidence ; but my idea 
 wdtli regard to Chatsworth is this — it's a fine place, 
 no doubt, and the present mansion has its advan- 
 tages, but I think I could Orientalise the whole 
 thing, and combine every English comfort with 
 Eastern magnificence." 
 
 " Indeed, your grace," said Tugtail, all atten- 
 tion. 
 
 " My idea is this — but of course it goes no fur- 
 ther — to buy the Pavilion at Brighton, and place 
 it on the site of the present house, or to take the 
 Pavilion for a model, and try to improve upon it." 
 
 " It would have a very fine eflect, indeed, youi- 
 grace," interrupted the " cretur." 
 
 " You know the Pavilion, then ? " asked Tom. 
 
 " Oh yes, your gi-ace," replied he ; "I frequently 
 go to Brighton ; was there last summer — stay at 
 the York, on the Esplanade, close by the Pavilion, 
 you know." 
 
 The " cretur " had the advantage of Poor Tom 
 again, for he has never been there, and his only ac- 
 
284 THE BLANK DAY. 
 
 quaintance with tlie Pavilion is tliroiigli a picture 
 on his okl housekeeper's workbox, where it cer- 
 tainly looks like a most gingerbread affair. 
 
 " Well," said Tom, determined to brazen it out, 
 "I'm in treaty for the thing, and I think I shall 
 get it too. The Queen evidently doesn't like it ; 
 but it doesn't do for a purchaser to appear too keen. 
 We all like good l^argains, and royalty is not ex- 
 empt from the feeling." 
 
 " I should think her Majesty would be too happy 
 to give it to your grace," observed the " cretur/' 
 " especially to ornament so fine a site as Chats- 
 worth." 
 
 " I don't know that," replied Tom. " You see if 
 she w\as to give me the Pavilion, some one else 
 might take a fancy to Buckingham Palace, or 
 St. James's ; not that I think any one is likely 
 to trouble either of those ; but still the principle 
 is the same, and she might be left houseless, which 
 would be unbecoming the Queen of a great nation 
 of foxhunters like this." 
 
 " It would so," assented the " cretur." 
 
 " However," said Tom, " if the worst comes to the 
 worst, and she tries to 'Jew me,' I can always build 
 a similar thing, and perhaps improve upon it too." 
 
 The hounds had now got to Cressingham Copse. 
 It is an oval dean, with a strongish stream, 
 fringed with sedgy banks, the water running into 
 the large reservoir of the Dusty Binn Mills, a little 
 below. After the usual " make believe " drawing, 
 
THE BLANK DAY. 285 
 
 Lord Harry crossed the mill race at the sluice, and, 
 scrambling up a rough brush-woody bank, horn 
 in hand, surveyed the scene below. 
 
 It recpires a steady horse to insure your safe 
 transit over a mill dam, and some of the field did 
 not seem to fancy giving theirs a chance of tumbling 
 them in; among the number the "cretur," who, 
 sliding down the bank below the dam, began ex- 
 ploring a south-east passage. 
 
 " Duke ! " exclaimed he at the top of his voice, 
 as he saw a footpath winding up the bank from 
 the road he was now taking, " Duke ! " repeated he, 
 though Tom answered at the first shot, "Here's a 
 better way ! here's a better way ! " 
 
 " Oh, your grace, I'm not going to draw any 
 more ! " halloaed Lord Harry Harkaway, fit to 
 drop out of his saddle with laughing. So saying- 
 he took off his hat with o-reat deference, and havins: 
 acknowledged his courtesy, Tom cut away as hard 
 as ever he could lay legs to the ground. 
 
 * * * * # 
 
 ***** 
 
 Well, it's four years ago, as we said before, and 
 Tom had forgotten all about the " cretur," and the 
 "duke," and the "Pavilion," and all the nonsense 
 he had talked, until they were most unpleasantly 
 forced on his recollection last season. 
 
 ]\Ii'. Neville's hounds met at Scruftiugton Clump, 
 one of the wildest and most out-of-the-way places 
 they have ; but proscribed meets being rather in 
 
2S6 THE BLANK DAY. 
 
 voo-ue since the " Chase " day, there was a fairish 
 sprinkling of sportsmen, including our unfortunate 
 friend, the "duke for a day." Why he went we 
 don't know, save that oats were very dear, and he 
 had had very little hunting for his money ; for 
 Scruffington Clump, independently of being a most 
 uninviting place, is only an uncertain draw, espe- 
 cially in the spring. It lies handier for the Dazzle- 
 goose hounds ; but Mr. Neville, who is one of the 
 old, hard-bitten, uncompromising order of masters, 
 and would as soon part with an inch off his nose as 
 an acre off his country, keeps it as a sort of Botany 
 Bay to send his hounds to in bad weather, or on days 
 that he doesn't mean to go out himself. When 
 asked to give it up, " as it is of no use to him," he 
 always says, " / dont know hoiv soon I may ivant 
 it," and muttering something about railways he 
 closes the discourse. It's a nasty place— a land- 
 mark clump of Scotch firs, that haven't grown an 
 inch these twenty years, placed on the summit of the 
 swelling Whitcliffe Hills. The land around is of 
 the poorest, most impoverished order ; the wretched 
 water weeds, the yellow moss, the unhealthy rushes, 
 and the scattered broom and brushwood scarcely co- 
 vering the thin water-gruelly-looking soil. It seems 
 to grow everything but what it should. Some en- 
 terprising individuals enclosed a considerable por- 
 tion of it some years ago, and the weak hedges are 
 in that delightful state of mossy rottenness as to 
 make gates superfluous articles. The cattle just 
 
THE BLANK DAY. 2S7 
 
 walk through the hedges where they like. The 
 country indeed is fast returning to its pristine, 
 goose an acre, state. Its fox-hunting feature is not 
 amiss, and if it were a sure find it would not be a 
 bad place ; but there is no regular holding cover 
 in the draw, and Mr. Neville's hounds are gene- 
 rally indebted to the Dazzlegoose people for a run 
 Avhen they get one. Such was the place which our 
 friend Tom Scott cast up at, and, not having been 
 there for five years, he got such a fright that we 
 don't think he will venture there again. 
 
 Unpromising as the place was, they had a field — 
 Trumper was there, also the Hobbletrots, and one 
 or two other Goose and Dumpling men. 
 
 Of red coats they had Muttinmoutli, Colonel 
 Buckskin, Mr. Palmer of Walford, Mr. Mouldeu of 
 Bradfield, Mr. Harford and his son, Mr. Murray of 
 Hadham, a few Dazzlegoose men in apricot colour, 
 and some of the great un shaved from the barracks. 
 
 Judge of our poor friend's horror on leaving the 
 clump to draw some loose-bottomed belts of plant- 
 ations below, at seeing Tarquinius Mufi^'s great 
 white stomach coming along with a diminutive-look- 
 ing companion, who, at a glance, Scott saw was 
 the "cretur." 
 
 He had hardly time to shove his great Graham- 
 like""'" gills into his cravat, push his coat collar up, 
 
 * Sir James Graham is very liberal in the matter of shirt collars, 
 as used to be ably de|iicted by Punch during the virtuous adminis- 
 tration that did so much lor the farmers. 
 
288 THE BLANK DAY. 
 
 and stick his hat on sideways {d la Jerry, the 
 race-list seller), make himself as unlike himself as 
 possible, ere they were within descrying distance 
 of each other. 
 
 Scott pretended not to see Tugtail, but with a 
 sidelong sort of glance watched the first view strike 
 his frame, and saw that if revolving years had 
 deepened the wrinkles in his old cheeks, the day 
 had not yet taken the lustre out of the hair dye, 
 his precise locks being as black and as trim as a 
 raven's wingj. 
 
 Moreover, Scott saw Tugtail point him out to 
 Muff, and could almost tell by their manner what 
 each said. 
 
 " There's tlie Duke of Devonshire ! " exclaimed 
 Tugtail. 
 
 " Not a bit of it," replied Muff. 
 
 " Who is it then ?" inquired Tugtail. 
 
 " Which do you mean ? " asked Muff. 
 
 "The man on the chestnut." 
 
 "Oh! that's— haw— Mr. Scott— haw — a sort of 
 a — haw — gentleman — haw — farmer — haw — lives at 
 a place called Haw — Buck Grange — haw." 
 
 Muff was the great man of the day, and the poor 
 " cretur " who doats upon titles, was absolutely 
 high and dry for want of one. In this sad dilemma 
 he actually sought the acquaintance of our friend 
 Tom at the hands of Tarquinius Muff, all because 
 Tom looked like the Duke of Devonshire, or a man 
 
THE BLANK DAY. 289 
 
 he had l)een told was the duke, for he is no more 
 like him than we are. 
 
 Tom had dodged them for nearly an hour, till 
 they pinned him in the corner of a field from 
 whence there was no escape but over a high stone 
 Avail, 
 
 " Scott, let me introduce my friend Mr. Tugtail," 
 said j\IufF, bringing Tuggey up. 
 
 " Happy to make the acquaintance of Mr. Scott," 
 said the "cretur" with a most patronising bow, 
 just such a bow as Tom made to him on the former 
 occasion. 
 
 Tom sky-scraped in return. 
 
 After a common-place or two, the " cretur " thus 
 began : — 
 
 " Do you know, Mr. Scott, I was very nearly 
 making a most ridiculous mistake just now ? " ob- 
 served he. 
 
 *' What was that, Sir? " asked Tom, with a pretty 
 good idea of what was comino-. 
 
 " Why, do you know when I first saw you, I 
 dhsoluteli/ took you for my friend the Duke of 
 Devonshire." 
 
 " That would have been a mistake, indeed," ob- 
 served Tom. 
 
 " Well, I assure you it was so," replied he. 
 ** Our friend Muff Avill tell you the same. ' That's 
 the Duke of Devonshire ! ' said I, as you rode up. 
 * Nonsense I ' said Muff ; * it's Mr. Scott.' By the 
 
290 THE BLANK DAY. 
 
 way, may I ask if you are any way related to the 
 great Sir Walter ? " 
 
 " Not that I know of," replied Tom. 
 
 " Most likely, I should think," observed the 
 " cretur," anxious to make the best of our friend. 
 " Most likely, I should think," repeated he. '' Pray 
 do you spell your name with two t's ? " 
 
 "Yes," replied Scott. 
 
 " You don't know my friend the Duke of Devon- 
 shu-e, then," observed Tugtail, after a minute 
 scrutiny of Tom's features. 
 
 " No," replied Tom ; " I never saw him." 
 
 " Ah ! well, you'd know him if you were to see 
 him, for there's certainly a resemblance between 
 you," observed he ; " and your voice is something 
 similar. It must be so, indeed, or I couldn't have 
 mistaken you for a man I know so well." 
 
 " Does his grace hunt 1 " asked Tom, thinking to 
 " trot Tuggey out " a little. 
 
 " Oh, yes," replied he ; " rides well, too ; I should 
 say, but his mind inclines more to shooting." 
 
 " He'll have good shooting, I suppose," observed 
 Scott. 
 
 " Capital" replied his — not friend, but persecutor. 
 " He's great with his gun," added he. " Indeed it 
 is in the shooting way that I see most of him. I've 
 a room at Chatsworth whenever I like to go," added 
 Tugtail. 
 
 "Which you will occupy pretty often, I ima- 
 
THE BLANK DAY. 291 
 
 gine," observed Tom ; adding, " at least / would, I 
 know." 
 
 " I've many other friends," replied Tugtail, 
 " desirous of my company." 
 
 " Ay, Ijut I'd always go to the biggest," ob- 
 served Tom. 
 
 " Well, there's something in that," replied Tug- 
 tail, with a sagacious nod of his now puce-coloured 
 head. 
 
 Here Tom managed to shove in between old 
 Trumper and Tom Hobbletrot, and escaped the 
 " cretur " for half an hour or so. 
 
 After the usual promiscuous rambling about of 
 a " wild draw," going first to one nameless j^lace 
 and then to another, just as they turned up, and 
 seemed likely for a fox, the field arrived at Wil- 
 lowby Brake, the first really plausible-looking 
 place they had been at. 
 
 Here the " cretur " pinned poor Tom again. 
 " You don't know Chatsworth, I think you say, 
 Mr. Scott ? " observed Tugtail. 
 " No I don't," grunted Tom. 
 "Beautiful place," observed Tugtail; "at least 
 will be, when the duke makes his grand alter- 
 ations." 
 
 Tugtail then entered into a long and confidential 
 communication with Tom respecting the Pavilion, 
 whicli, singular enough, was then lately stated in 
 the papers to have been sold, or for sale, detailing 
 how, " by his advice," the duke, having held off for 
 
 U 2 
 
292 THE BLANK DAY. 
 
 some years, liad now got it at his own price, and 
 how his grace was going to establish an ostrich 
 hunt, and have hattues of peacocks ; a " rechauffe^' 
 in short, of the information Tom had given him four 
 years ago, with a few variations tending to Tuggey's 
 own glorification and exemplification of his intimacy 
 with the Duke. 
 
 So the "cretur" persecuted poor Tom from 
 cover to cover, throughout a long blank day, who 
 declares that if everybody suffers as much for 
 telling a lie as he did, he's sure they won't tell any 
 more. 
 
 Now, if that isn't a blank day, we don't know 
 what a blank day is. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE .SEASON 1846-7. 
 
 " What queer books you write ! " observed our ex- 
 cellent but rather matter-of-ftict friend, Sylvanus 
 Bluff, the other day, who seeing us doubling up a 
 sheet of paper in a rather unceremonious way, con- 
 cluded we were at what he calls our "old tricks." 
 " I Imy all your books," added he with a solemn 
 shake of the head, as though we were beggaring 
 him — " I bought your ' Jorrocks ' Jaunts, and Jolli- 
 ties,' I bought ' Handley Cross, or the Spa Hunt,' 
 I bought ' Hillingdon Hall, or the Cockney Squire ;' 
 but I don't understand them. I don't see the ivit 
 of them. / don't see the use of them. / wonder 
 you don't write something useful. I should think 
 now," added he seriously, " you could do something 
 better. I should say now you would be quite 
 ec[ual to writing a dictionary, or a book upon 
 draining, and those would be really useful works, 
 and your friends would get something for their 
 money." 
 
 Gentle reader ! we plead guil ty to the charge of 
 writing most egregious nonsense. Nay, we are 
 sometimes surprised how such stuff can ever enter 
 our head, astonished that we should be weak enough 
 to commit it to paper, amazed that there should be 
 
294 THE SEASON 1846-7. 
 
 publishers rasli enough to print it, and lost in utter 
 bewilderment that there should be good, honest, 
 sane, nay sensible folks, not only idle enough to 
 read it, but, oh wonder ! of all wonders ! extrava- 
 gant enough to part with their good current coin 
 to bay it ! 
 
 And talking of friends buying our books out of 
 politeness, we may here avail ourself of the oppor- 
 tunity to say that there is nothing we dislike 
 more; nay, so great is our objection, that if we knew 
 any honest, mistaken man about to commit such an 
 absurdity, we would absolutely forestall our own 
 market by offering him a copy. At least we thinh 
 \Ye, would. 
 
 We don't know why any one should do so, we are 
 sure, for neither by name, dedication, or date, 
 do we ever provoke so suicidal an act. AVe may 
 say, with our excellent friend Peter Morris, that " if 
 putting our Christian name and surname at the be- 
 ginning of a book were necessary conditions to the 
 dignity of authorship, we should never be one Avhile 
 we live." Like Peter, " we w^ant nerves for this." 
 We rejoice in the privilege of writing and printing 
 incognito, and think witli him that it is the " finest 
 discovery " that ever was made. Peter, to be sure, 
 got bolder with age, but then he felt that he was 
 "somebody." 
 
 Writing, we imagine, is something like snuffing or 
 smoking — men get into the way of it, and can't 
 well leave it off. Like smoking, it serves to be- 
 
THE SEASON 1846-7. 295 
 
 giiile an idle hour. Individually speaking, writing 
 makes us tolerably independent, both of the world 
 and the weather. We are never regularly high 
 and dry for want of a companion so long as we 
 can get pen, ink, and paper ; and though we should 
 not like to back ourself against such a winter as 
 the last (1846-7), yet writing enables us to con- 
 tend with a tolerable amount of bad weather. An 
 author has pretty much the same pleasure in 
 seeing his ugly cramped hand turned into neat 
 print that a traveller has in receiving five and 
 twenty francs for a sovereign on landing in France. 
 Eevising is something like returning to the reali- 
 ties of English money again. But we are getting 
 into the mysteries of authorship. 
 
 Next to buying our books out of politeness, our 
 greatest objection is to having them exposed to 
 view. If the great Lord Mayor was to " look us 
 up," and invite us to one of those gorgeous feasts 
 that annihilate so many turtles, and if on tlie table 
 in his reception room we were to see one of our books 
 — Hawbuck Grange, for instance — (and what au- 
 thor does not recognise his own works at a glance !) 
 our appetite would immediately fail us, and his 
 lordship would save both " his meat and his mense'V 
 as they say in the country. 
 
 Some men ** stand fire " better than others. 
 
 * This we believe is u localism : at all events, it does not 
 eeem to be a Londonism ; lor the printer liad it, " his meat and 
 Mb mouse." 
 
296 THE SEASON 1846-7. 
 
 We remember once dining at a great Russian 
 Jew's, whose drawing-room table was garnished 
 with nothing but New Monthly Magazines — New 
 Monthly Magazines in every stage of life, from the 
 well-thumbed " yearling," down to the newly- 
 issued number of yesterday. 
 
 Presently the door opened, and Sir Edward Lyt- 
 ton Bulwer, the avowed editor, was announced. 
 * * * # * 
 
 '■ Shir Edward Shir," said our host, taking up a 
 number as soon as the baronet's back had subsided 
 into still life, " Shir Edward Shir, I do not like 
 dis article of yours, on de state of parties, it is far 
 
 too " something, we forget what, and so he went 
 
 on lecturing and commenting on the numbers in 
 succession, till " dinner " put an end to the scene. 
 
 Our former admiration of Sir Edward's talents 
 was now divided at the heroic way in which he 
 stood fire. 
 
 This digression will have told the reader two 
 things, first, that we don't want any body to buy 
 this book on the Bluff principle ; secondly, that we 
 shall consider it a greater compliment of those 
 friends who do buy it, if they will keep it out of 
 sight, than if they were to parade it before us. 
 
 We now come to the more immediate purport of 
 this chapter. Our friend Bluff's re2')roof has made 
 us anxious to give this volume a flavour of useful- 
 ness, were it only to save us from the labour of 
 writing a dictionary, but the difficulty is, how to 
 
THE SEASON IS 16-7. 297 
 
 give a work relating so entirely to a pleasural >!(! 
 l^ursuit a flavour of usefulness. 
 
 In the course of our eogitations, it lias occurred 
 to us that the only possible way of doing it is to 
 give a sort of meteorological register of the season 
 in which our friend Tom Scott's adventures are 
 laid. Tom's adventures will do as well for one 
 season as another, because, generally speaking, they 
 refer to the sport and not to the weather ; Init an 
 actual matter-of-fact register may be useful here- 
 after, and perhaps save some from supposing that 
 future seasons are the worst that ever were known. 
 To do the full measure of usefulness we will begin 
 with a glance at the season which preceded it. 
 
 The season of 1844-5 was perhaps the best hunt- 
 ing one of modern times. The harvest was late, 
 and some packs got Httle or no cub hunting, but 
 from November up to the last week in ]Marcli, there 
 was a continuous run of fine hunting weather, and 
 generally speaking first-rate sport. A snow storm 
 then intruded, but like all spring storms it was of 
 short duration, and April again presented a fine 
 moist favourable month to those who live in coun- 
 tries where hunting can be pursued so late. The 
 summer of 1846 was unusually hot, and the harvest 
 remarkably early. Cub hunting began correspond- 
 ingly early as we have shown in Chapter I. of this 
 work, yet, with such a favourable commencement, 
 what an apology of a season it was ! What a hope- 
 raising, spirit-crushing affair all through ! If we 
 
298 THE SEASON 1846-7. 
 
 look back upon it from the commencement, have 
 we any pleasing recollection of it, any " run of the 
 season," any joyous reminiscence, any realised 
 pleasure, any greenest or reddest spot on memory's 
 hunting waste, any thing handsome to say of it ? 
 Is there anybody to speak to its character ? as the 
 judge asks prior to trouncing a prisoner. No one. 
 Let us review it. 
 
 We will begin with November. AVhat was No- 
 vember like ? More like a bad March than the 
 glorious, sloppy, poachy, wet-me-through month 
 we have long known by that name. We contend 
 that a free-born fox-hunter has a perfect inde- 
 feasible right to have his feet well wet every day 
 he goes out hunting in the month of November. 
 Yet we know we didn't get ours wet once, and as 
 to a general good soaking, a sort of return when 
 one first sends a shower from the hat by running 
 the finger round the rim, down to the squeeze out 
 of the purply coat tails, and the sucking, cork- 
 drawing blob of the boots, our garments are none 
 the worse for any thing they did last year. 
 
 In fact, we don't feel as if we had any hunting. 
 True we saw a stud of boots standins; ranged like 
 Major Ponto's library, and a " pink " folded lining 
 outwards, lying atop of the drawers, but they 
 were so seldom used, that the whole thing appears 
 more like those occasional visits that one makes to 
 fairs or country races throughout the year than the 
 compact three or four months into which we com- 
 
THE SP^ASON 1816-7. 290 
 
 press as much huntiug and pleasure as lasts us the 
 twelvemonth. We have had no such winter these 
 ten years. The season of 183G-7 was unfavourable 
 in some countries, and Avas well cut through in the 
 middle, particularly in the south, by a tremendous 
 snow storm, but it did not arrive till Christmas 
 Day, a period when nobody has any right to object. 
 The papers of that day said, that " On the twenty- 
 fourth and twenty-fifth of December the country 
 generally was visited by a fall of snow, heavier and 
 more serious in its consequence than has been ex- 
 perienced for many years, which not only put a 
 stop to hunting, but interrupted the internal com- 
 munication of the country." The great storm, 
 however, was only of short duration, and hunting 
 was resumed in the course of January, and con- 
 tinued in a catching sort of way, now on, now 
 off, according to the arrival of the floods, the frosts, 
 the falls of snow, and the gales with which it was 
 interspersed. Indeed the seasons of 1836-7 and 
 1846-7 have been somewhat alike, with the quali- 
 fication, that the latter being the freshest in our 
 recollection, of course appears the worst of the two. 
 There w^as snow in the middle of Ajml, 1837, but 
 we have had snow at Epsom races since then, which 
 of course throws the April performance into the 
 shade. There was a long stop to hunting in 1838, 
 but we had better say nothing about it, lest we 
 should rouse young 1848 to retaliate. We will 
 therefore just stick to our text, the season 184G-7. 
 
300 THE SEASON 1846-7. 
 
 November wc have seen through. We now come 
 to December. AVhat shall we say of December ? 
 Oh lank ! up to the hocks in snow all the month. 
 But we will take the rough outline as booked in 
 our pocket-book. Thus it stands. We should, 
 however, premise that November went out with 
 snow. The twenty-ninth and thirtieth have that 
 ominous word opposite their dates. December en- 
 tered with a hard frost atop of the snow, which 
 continued throughout the first week. On the 
 seventh there was a thaw, Avhich lasted till the 
 ninth. The tenth brought a hard frost with more 
 snow ; the eleventh ditto with more ditto ; the thir- 
 teenth, fourteenth, fifteenth, sixteenth, and seven- 
 teenth, ditto in the way of frost ; on the eighteenth 
 came another thaw, which on the nineteenth was 
 very rapid, and continued on to the twenty-third, 
 when, with Thursday the twenty-fourth, came a 
 hard frost, backed on the twenty-fifth by more 
 snow, and so the month continued to the end, with 
 the trifling variation of a make-believe thaw on the 
 twenty-eighth and twenty-ninth. Not a clay's 
 hunting throughout a month I 
 
 The new year opened doubtfully. We had alter- 
 nate snow and thaw for the first week. The seventh 
 of January we have booked as wet. But what 
 ominous words follow! — Ninth, frosty; tenth, frost ; 
 eleventh, hard frost ; twelfth, very hard— and so 
 on from the twelfth to the twentieth without varia- 
 tion, save that the words " and snow " are added to 
 
THE SEASON 18-16-7. 301 
 
 tlie List clay. Twenty-first was frost and snow, 
 twenty-second ditto and sleet, twenty-third ditto, 
 twenty-fourth very cold rain and high wind, twenty- 
 fifth thaw, twenty-sixth thaw continued, with the 
 usual ominous predictions resulting from the snow 
 still lying on the hill tops, the twenty-seventh was 
 very fine, and hounds began to stir again, hut the 
 month closed with a white frost and snow on the 
 evening of the thirty-first. So much for January. 
 
 February the first has the word " snow " Ijooked 
 opposite to it ; the second has " more snow and 
 frost " atiixed to it ; the third and fourth have 
 *' frost;" the fifth, "thaw;" the sixth, "thaw, 
 changing to frost at night ; " the seventh the 
 ominous words " hard frost ; " the eighth is dis- 
 tinguished by the words " bitter frost ; " the ninth 
 ditto ; the tenth has " snow " to it ; the eleventh, 
 " more snow ; " the twelfth, " frost ; " which ap- 
 pears to have continued to the fourteenth, when 
 there came a thaw, followed on the fifteenth by 
 a frost, succeeded again on the sixteenth by a thaw, 
 which lasted till about the end of the month — 
 the twenty-seventh — the day on which our pocket- 
 book says "hare-hunting ends," though Mr. Trum- 
 per says *'it does notliing of the sort," for he 
 reckons a ]\Iarch hare as good as most foxes. 
 ]\Iarcli we do not expect much from, and there- 
 fore have not much right to find fault wdth it. It 
 is generally a worse month than either January or 
 April, supposing all countries admitted of hunting 
 
302 THE SEASON 1846-7. 
 
 in April. This year we had snow in the second 
 week, making the fourth winter of the season, and 
 there was frost enough to stop hounds in many- 
 parts about the middle of the month. In the third 
 week the fallows were flying, and the ground was 
 too dry for anything but farming towards the end. 
 April, however, rectified that, for the smiling 
 month, entered with another fall of snow, the fifth 
 winter of the season, which continued to fall at 
 night and clear off" during the day for the fii'st 
 three or four days. So we think we may say the 
 season was a very had one. 
 
 And now having said our utilitarian say, we will 
 conclude this chapter, and finish our volume with 
 a description of Tom Scott's visit to the man who 
 provoked it. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE MORNING MEET. 
 
 Our friend Tom had put his red coat to bed, that 
 is to say, in the topmost drawer of the wardrobe, 
 and had commenced stripping his horses, when he 
 got the following note from his friend, Sylvanus 
 Bluif:— 
 
 " Cavil House. 
 
 " Dear Scott, 
 
 '•' I'm worried alive with Mr. Neville's foxes, and 
 heartily wish you'd come over and kill me some 
 of them, for I really think they won't leave me a 
 lamb, or a goose, or a head of game about the 
 place. I have written to Mr. Neville and Old 
 Ben till I'm tired, and it's perfectly ridiculous ex- 
 pecting me to preserve foxes, which I do most 
 sedulously, when they never come near to hunt 
 them. I have therefore got the Scratchley dogs 
 coming over on Thursday, and we are going to 
 turn out by daybreak to see what we can do with 
 a drag. I wish you would come over and assist, 
 as you know more about these things than I do. 
 Dinner at six. 
 
 " Yours sincerely, 
 
 " S. Bluff." 
 
301- THE MORNING MEET. 
 
 Bluff — like a great many of us — is a capital 
 fellow ill liis way — that is to say, if lie has his 
 own way — but he doesn't like to be thwarted; 
 least of all to have any of his live stock injured 
 or destroyed. Still he preserves foxes ; indeed 
 he calls himself a sportsman — a sportsman who 
 is content with two hunts a year, one in the spring, 
 the other in the autumn. When among non-hunt- 
 ing men, he talks big about hunting, and his 
 doings with the hounds ; but when among mem- 
 bers of the hunt, he always parades his patriotism 
 in preserving what are a '' downright nuisance to 
 him." Like a good many other men, he never 
 makes allowances for the seasons, and if he has 
 not the hounds at his house when he wants them 
 he considers himself slighted. Mr. Neville not 
 having got to him, had caused him to worry and 
 fido-et himself into a belief that he was in danoer 
 
 o o 
 
 of being eaten up by foxes ; and, partly as an act 
 of self-preservation, and partly, perhaps, by way 
 of what he calls "keeping Mr. Neville in order," 
 he had invited Sam Jubberknowl of Badstock to 
 bring over the Scratchley dogs. Jubberknowl is 
 a loose fish of a brewing, inn-keeping saddler at 
 Badstock, who, what they call, " heads the Scratch- 
 ley dogs ; " that is to say, is answerable to the 
 tax-gatherer for the ten couple which they return 
 as seven. It is generally observed that half the 
 Scratchley dogs disappear about taxing time. 
 
 When we see a pack of hounds advertised to 
 
THE MORNING MEET. 'i05 
 
 meet at lialf-past eight or nine o'clock in the morn- 
 ing, or hear them spoken of in the country as 
 " dogs," one has a pretty good idea what to expect ; 
 and, even if Scott liad not known Jubberknowl 
 and his establishment, he would have had little 
 difficulty in picturing the concern. As it was, our 
 friend Tom had often been puzzled to make out 
 whether Jubberknowl is a sportsman, or merely 
 one who busies himself about the "dogs" for the 
 purpose of furthering his other callings of saddler, 
 publican, and sinner. Tiie few times Tom liad seen 
 him out with Mr. Neville, he observed that he always 
 came very late, and went away very early, and 
 never passed a public-house without stopping to 
 refresh himself. The latter, however, might be on 
 the reciprocity principle. 
 
 It so happened that Scott was going over (jn the 
 afternoon of the day on which he got Mr. Bluti"'s 
 letter to have a field day on the flags with the 
 entry, and he took an early opportunity of telling- 
 Mr, Neville about it, expecting nothing but that 
 he would give Bluft", and Jubberknowl, and the 
 Scratchley dogs, a good blessing for their intended 
 unceremonious intrusion. 
 
 " I'm very glad you've mentioned it," observed 
 Mr. Neville, " for it reminds me that I've had two 
 letters from Mr. Bluff about the damage the foxes 
 are doing him, which I have quite forgotten to 
 answer, and Ben has had no end of complaints from 
 
306 THE MORNING MEET. 
 
 Steeltrap his keeper. AVliat can I do ? You 
 know," added lie, with a shnig of the shoulders, 
 " 1 can't make the season. I should only have 
 been too glad to have gone over and hunted his 
 foxes for him ; but ive couldn't go in the snow — 
 tve couldn't go in the frost — we couldn't go in the 
 wind — and it Avas no use going when the country 
 got ae dry and as hard as these flags," continued he, 
 stamping upon them as he spoke. 
 
 "But what do you say about the Scratchley 
 dogs ?" asked Tom, expecting to get Mr. Neville's 
 bristles up at the very idea of any one invading his 
 country. 
 
 " Why, as to that," replied our master, shaking 
 his head and looking very solemn, " I suppose 
 Mr. Bluff must just do as he thinks right. It's 
 true he always preserves foxes for us, and he has 
 some good covers in the centre of our country, 
 so that it wouldn't be prudent to quarrel with 
 him. One can't tell a non-hunting man like him 
 that he shall not do what he likes with his own, 
 and if he does not kill a vixen, he mayn't do us any 
 great harm." 
 
 "Perhaps," added he, after a pause, "the best 
 thing you could do would be to go over and see 
 what they do do, and if you shotold have such a 
 misfortune as to kill a vixen, which is almost the 
 only chance Bluff has of getting blood this dry 
 weather, you could secure the cubs at all events. 
 AVe are short on the Cannonbridsje side of the 
 
THE MORNING MEET. 307 
 
 country, notwithstanding wc liav^e killed so few 
 there this season." 
 
 So unexpected a permission completely staggered 
 our friend Tom, and it was not until he was on 
 his way home that it occurred to him that a visit 
 to Cavil House would again enable him to kill two 
 birds with one stone — see the fun, and consult 
 Mrs. Bluff about the teeth. Accordingly, he so 
 arranged it, and on the Wednesday rode over, 
 " bags and all," trusting to chance for getting his 
 horse taken care of. 
 
 It was a fine afternoon, the weather everything 
 that a farmer could wish, and a fox hunter object 
 to — warm sun, cold east wind, cracking clays, flying 
 fallows, and parched roads. 
 
 When Tom got to Cavil House, he found Mr. 
 Bluff with the now common accompaniment of a 
 country gentleman, a draining-pipe, in his hand, 
 which he flourished about like a fiddlestick, or a 
 field-marshal's baton. He was in the usual stew 
 of people who have got hold of something they 
 don't quite understand. AVe don't mean his drain- 
 ing-pipe, for with these he is quite at home, but 
 he found that boarding and lodging the Scratcliley 
 dogs was not quite so convenient as having ]\Ir. 
 Neville's well appointed pack trotted on to his lawn 
 at twenty minutes past ten. 
 
 "Most ravenous devils ! most ravenous devils!" 
 exclaimed he, grasping Tom's hand, and flourishing 
 the draining-pipe like the leader of a band, with 
 
 X 2 
 
308 THE MORNING MEET. 
 
 his face cas red as a turkey cock's tliropple, and liis 
 green cut-away thrown back, disphaying not only 
 his striped calamanco waistcoat, but his cotton 
 braces at the arm-holes. "Have lapped up all 
 the skim milk ! have lapped up all the skim milk ! 
 and now they want porridge ! and noiu they want 
 porridge ! Glad to see you, however ! glad to see 
 you ! " and thereupon he again shook Scott heartily 
 by the hand. 
 
 Tom was just going to say, " What they've come, 
 have they V when a most appalling chorus from the 
 back yard saved the question, and caused^ Bluff to 
 point his draining-pipe towards it. 
 
 " By gad, wdiat a row they make ! " said he ; 
 " by gad, what a row they make ! I really think 
 they'll drive Mrs. Bluff mad, for she hates dogs 
 any-how, and our youngest boy's just out of the 
 whooping-cough, and she'll swear that this will 
 throw him back ! and she'll sivear that this will 
 throw him back." 
 
 Another chorus more riotous than its predecessor 
 filled the air, and echo prolonged the sound. " If 
 we are to stand this all night," observed Bluff, with 
 a solemn shake of the head, grounding his draining- 
 pipe as he spoke, " we might as well have a mena- 
 a;eri3 at our door." 
 
 " Let's have them out," said Scott, getting off his 
 horse, " and see if we can't quiet them by walking 
 them about a bit.'' 
 
 " Out ! " screamed Bluff. " Out ! " repeated he ; 
 
THE MORNING MEET. 309 
 
 " but liow do you expect to get them iu again ? 
 We have had to carry them in one by one as it is, and 
 they've bitten two of my men desperately. Mrs. 
 Bluflf declares they are all mad, and has locked 
 herself into her room, and won't come out at any 
 price." 
 
 "Well, but where's Jubberknowl ?" asked Scott, 
 seeing poor Bluff's perturbation — " he can quiet 
 them, at all events." 
 
 "Jubberknowl be hanged," responded Bluff, 
 " Jubberknowl be hanged " repeated he with greater 
 emphasis — " he's behaved very ill ! he's behaved 
 very ill ! See what he's sent ! see what he's sent ! " 
 added he, producing a dirty slip of paper with the 
 following : — • 
 
 " Dear Sir, 
 
 " I send the dogs, and hop they will answer 
 your purpose. Am sorry he can't come myself, 
 having got for to go to Croppydock Fair, Ijut 
 Joshua knows all theii- names, and is very bidly. 
 They had better be coupled before they leave the 
 kennel. 
 
 " Your dutiful Servant, 
 
 " Samuel Jubberknowl." 
 
 The "bidly" gentleman now appeared, carrying 
 two pig pails in a stable hoop. 
 
 " By Jove, there goes all my pigs' meat ! " ejacu- 
 lated poor Bluff, inwardly wishing he had let the 
 
310 THE MORNING MEET. 
 
 whole alone. ** Might as well have a regiment of 
 soldiers billeted on one — might as well have a 
 regiment of soldiers billeted on one ; " adding, " It's 
 to be hoped he'll get them pacified at last — it's to 
 be hoped he'll get them pacified at last." 
 
 Joshua was a stout-set, square-built, drayman-like 
 fellow, of a uniform breadth from the shoulders to 
 the heels ; he was dressed in a sort of third-hand 
 suit of hunting things, the cap being a rusty brown, 
 the scanty coat deep purple, the abundant breeches 
 very dirty, and the almost black boots so short and 
 scant as to keep the majority of his swelling calves 
 above the tops. His square, coarse-featured, freckled 
 face was indicative of little except drink. 
 
 We will now take a glance at the internal arrange- 
 ments of Cavil House. 
 
 Mrs. Bluff is any thing but what the name indi- 
 cates. Indeed she seems to have made a serious 
 mistake in changing her maiden one of Green — 
 Kosamond Green— for that of Bluff. The roses 
 and lilies of youth having fled, she is left the most 
 nervous, pallid, washed-out looking creature that 
 ever was seen. The slightest thing throws her into 
 convulsions. She is one of those ailing sort of 
 bodies with whom nothing is really ever the matter. 
 Still she always lives in dread ; and whatever ailment 
 happens to be uppermost, she immediately invests 
 herself and family with it. When the cholera w^as 
 astir, she had it many times ; typhus fever is a stand- 
 ing dish with her, and meazles, hooping-cough, influ- 
 
THE MORNING MEET. 311 
 
 enza, are all frequent visitors. She buys all the 
 quack books that are published, and all the quack 
 medicines that are sold, and experimentalises upon 
 the poor people in the neighbourhood. 
 
 No sooner did the news of the men having been bit 
 reach her than she conjured up all sorts of horrors 
 respecting hydrophobia, and resolutely barricadoed 
 herself and children into her room. Even poor Blutf 
 was only permitted to hold communion sweet through 
 the key-hole. Of course the party at Cavil Housc 
 had not her company at dinner ; and almost equally 
 of course, Bluff, Tom Scott, and the few neighbours 
 Bluff had assembled, drank more Avine than they 
 ought. We don't mean to say they got drunk ; 
 but having no break, caused either by the retirement 
 of the ladies or by their summoning them to tea, 
 they settled more determinedly to the bottle, added 
 to which, they drank the first three bottles as two, 
 without finding out the mistake. Indeed it was 
 not until he got three quarters of a bottle aboard, 
 that Bluff could fairly be said to be himself again, 
 when, having got his waistcoat loose all but the 
 two bottom buttons, they gradually got his conver- 
 sation coaxed through the medium of his favourite 
 subject, draining, on to that of fox-hunting itself. 
 It was plain, however, that his inclination was for 
 the destruction, and not the pursuit, of the animal. 
 He was uncommonly blood-thirsty. The blood of liis 
 lambs and his leverets seemed to call for vengeance, 
 and the number of victims increased as the eveninjr 
 
312 THE MORNING MEET. 
 
 advanced, until he got the lambs up from ten to 
 near thirty. The sheplierd told Tom in confidence 
 that they had lost three, but one he believed had 
 been worried by a greyhound. The neighbours 
 gradually dropt off until Bluff and Tom were at 
 last left alone, when, having fixed the time for 
 turning out, said every thing they could think of, 
 and some things twice over, they both seemed to 
 think they might as well save the fatigue of further 
 conversational effort by going to bed ; and pulling 
 out their watches simultaneously, they found it was 
 on the point of striking t^^'elve. 
 
 Accordingly off they bundled. 
 
 Tom had scarcely got into bed when the violent 
 bang of tlie door in the next room, which was only 
 separated from his by a thin lath and plaster wall, 
 followed by a heavy footstep, and an ejaculation 
 that sounded very like "D — d fool," announced 
 that his host was hard by. Bluff stumped and 
 banged about, hitting this, knocking that, occa- 
 sionally letting fall an oath or an observation, such 
 as, " Curse the table " — " Absurd nonsense " — 
 " Women such fools " — " D — n the boot-jack ! " — ■ 
 until at length a creak and a heavy souse proclaimed 
 that he had turned into bed. 
 
 The poor man was condemned to sleep in his dress- 
 ing-room, for fear he might be mad, Tom Scott 
 mioht be included in the list of unfortunates, for he 
 
 o 
 
 was victimised by the arrangement. His room, 
 though an extremely good one, was not that terrible 
 
THE MORNING MEET. 313 
 
 bugbear, the best one, with a lofty bed a.s big as a 
 field, but a cozey, comfortable, easily-got-ready 
 one, looking to the north, or back of the house. It 
 so happened that the Scratehley dogs were lodged 
 in the brewhouse just below ; and these unruly 
 spirits, unused to the restraint of civilized packs, 
 kept howling and yelling throughout the night. 
 It was not the cheery chorus of hounds in kennel 
 filling the air with their merry voices, but a sort 
 of melancholy drawl resembling what is called the 
 death howl. This they set up al)Out every half 
 hour, bursting out in full chorus at first, with the 
 sound of scratcliinoj and miawino- at the door and 
 wood-work, until the howl gradually died out in a 
 moan. Nor was this the worst ; for Tom's host 
 could hear them also, though not so distinctly as 
 Tom did ; and what with the drink, the noise of 
 the hounds, and the strange bed he was in, Bluff 
 evidently could not get to sleep. This was plainly 
 indicated by his tossings and talkings. First he 
 began calculatincf the number of drainino- tiles to 
 an acre, at various distances, a calculation that was 
 interrupted every now and then by abusing the 
 hounds, wishing they were all in a warmer place 
 than the brewhouse ; then he banged over against 
 the wall, and snorted, as if trying to get to sleep 
 w^th a snore. The next thino Tom heard was, 
 " Curse the thing," and apparently stripping off the 
 counterpane. Then there was another lull, and 
 the dogs had their turn ; after which Tom heard 
 
314 THE MORNING MEET. 
 
 his friend at the novel recreation of saying his 
 multiplication table — twice two's four, twice three's 
 six, twice four's eight, and so on. This Bluff carried 
 on very perseveringly till he got into the fifth 
 column, when, after boggling at five times six, he 
 was regularly brought up at five times eight, and 
 the multiplication table seemed to die away in a 
 mutter. Tom really thought they would both 
 accomplish a sleep about this time, and he was as 
 near dropping off as could be, when the vaga- 
 bonds in the " lock-up " fell a fighting, and if there 
 had been fifty couple they could not have made a 
 greater noise. They yelled, and they tore, and 
 they bit, and they worried, and they howled, and 
 they growled, and they rattled and knocked the 
 butts, and tubs, and casks about, as if they would 
 destroy every thing in the place. 
 
 Fortunately their din had the effect of waking 
 Joshua, and presently he began clattering with a 
 broomstick at the door, and rating and calling to 
 them by name. " Miscreant ! " shouted he ; " Mis- 
 creant ! " he repeated in a still louder tone. 
 " Mis-CEEANT ! " roared he, with a tremendous rat, 
 tat, tat, tat, tan, of the broomstick against the 
 door, adding, " Ord, dom ye, ha don ! Ord, dom 
 ye, be c[uiet ! Oh ! Prowler, it's you, is it ! Prow- 
 ler ! ar say, ha don ! Prowler, for shame of 
 yoursel ! Plunderer ! what are you after there 1 " 
 inquired he, as the scene of action shifted to another 
 quarter. " Whistler ! Whistler ! ar say, Flasher ! 
 
THK MORNING MEET. .'515 
 
 for shame ! Towlek, be (|uiet! Guider, hn don ! ord 
 dom ye ! ar'll liang ye all, and put the rest i' the 
 small debts coourt ! " added he, with a kick at the 
 door that made it shake aoain ; and after ratino- 
 
 CD ' O' 
 
 and ratf tat, tanning, and kicking and clattering 
 for some quarter of an hour, peace was at length 
 restored. 
 
 Still Bluff couldn't get to sleep. He, however, 
 abandoned the multiplication table, and tried an- 
 other tack : he took to saying over the kings and 
 queens of England— William the Conqueror, Wil- 
 liam Rufus, William Rufus, William the Conqueror, 
 and so on down to Stephen, where he stuck. He then 
 skipped on to Edward the Fourth, from whom he 
 brought them on with a very fair hunting scent 
 down to Queen Victoria. Still that wouldn't do. 
 He then began spouting — " My name is Norval ! 
 on the Grampian hills," &c., but that did not seem 
 to answer any better, and he presently struck 
 off with— 
 
 " The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, 
 The lowing herds wind slowly o'er the lea ; 
 The ploughman homeward i)l()(ls his weary way, 
 And leaves tlie world to " 
 
 "D — n those hounds. '" roared he, as the brutes 
 again fell a fighting. Tom then heard him groping 
 for his bell, which having found, he gave such a 
 pull as left the rope in his hand. This pre- 
 sently went smash through the window. 
 
 Bluff then lay quiet for some time, and Tom was 
 
316 THE MOENING MEET. 
 
 in hojjGs lie had fallen asleep ; but lie had most 
 likely only heen listening if his footman was 
 coming, for in less than ten minutes he was back at 
 his multiplication table, trying to put his memory 
 over the leap it had stuck at before. It wouldn't 
 do, however, so he at last turned away from it 
 again, and began spouting ; and two o'clock found 
 him most appropriately rehearsing Henry the 
 Fourth's soliloquy to sleep : — 
 
 " How many thousands of my i)oorest .subjects 
 Are at this hour asleep ! O, geutle sleep, 
 Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, 
 Tliat thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down," &c. 
 
 which really seemed to operate beneficially, for a few 
 incoherent noises were followed by a deep snore; and 
 having got rid of his nearest persecutor, our friend 
 dropped asleep too, though when the servant called 
 him at five, he Avas ready to swear that he hadn't 
 had " a wink of sleep." 
 
 Poor Sylvanus looked ten years older when he 
 came down the next morning than he did when he 
 went to bed. Instead of the healthy, ruddy com- 
 plexion he generally has, and the full bright eye, 
 he was a sort of a bad green, much of the colour of 
 the cushions in the library of the Conservative 
 Club, with eyes like boiled gooseberries. His chin 
 was all jagged and hacked with the scrapings of a 
 blunt razor, or the shakings of an unsteady hand. 
 Nevertheless he had got himself into the old swal- 
 low-tailed scarlet and yellow ochres that Tom Scott 
 
THE MORNING MEET. 817 
 
 remembers ever since he (Tom) was a l:)oy. A red 
 coat is a red coat with some people, and year after 
 year we see them putting themselves into the 
 most old-fiishioned, extraordinary articles with the 
 most self-satisfied air. Sylvanus's had been made 
 when mother-of-pearl buttons were the fashion, 
 and he had great black animals engraved upon 
 them that might pass either for wolves or foxes. 
 The collar stood right up, in a sort of Gothic 
 arch, half way up his head, and the closely set 
 on waist-buttons were about half way between 
 his shoulder blades and where the small of his 
 back would be, if it had any small — Bluff's out- 
 line is pretty straight. 
 
 " Well Scott, old boy, how are you ? " exclaimed 
 he, with ill-assumed gaiety, extending a feverish 
 hand as they met in the passage leading into the 
 breakfast-room ; "hope you slept well." 
 
 " Pretty well, thank you,'' replied Tom, adding, 
 " the hounds rather disturbed me at one time." 
 
 He sunk " my name is Norval," the " kings and 
 queens," " multiplication table," and all that sort 
 of thing. 
 
 " Curse the hounds ! " muttered Bluft", adding, 
 ** they disturbed me too. One would have thought 
 all that pigs' meat would have kept them quiet ; 
 however, let's to breakfast, and go and take our 
 change out of them." 
 
 Very little breakf\ist did for Bluff. A devil'd 
 kidney and two cups of coffee were all he could 
 
318 THE MOKNING MEET. 
 
 master, though, as Tom slipped up the back stairs 
 for his gloves, he detected him in the butler's 
 pantry, getting a bottle of soda water on the sly. 
 
 It was fortunate Mrs. Bluff's room did not com- 
 mand a view of the l)ack yard ; for if she had seen 
 the great bloody, dirty, sooty, unruly devils rush 
 out full cry, and scour the yards and courts, and 
 outhouses, tearing here, there, and every where^ 
 regardless of Joshua's yells and threats, and screams 
 and tootles, and the cracks of his great flail-like 
 whip, she might well have thought they were mad. 
 
 " Give us a leg up ! " exclaimed Joshua, as, after 
 shooting the bolt of the brewhouse door, he stood 
 beside a wretched, iron marked, bay Rosinante, 
 whose galled back was protected from the pud- 
 dingy saddle by a piece of old green and yellow 
 Scotch carpeting. 
 
 '* Which way's the cover ^i " inquired he, as he 
 thrust his great feet into the rusty stirrup irons. 
 
 " Up the hill," replied the gardener, telegraphing 
 with his arm ; and forthwith Joshua tickled the 
 old nag with his solitary sj)ur, and hobbled off the 
 stones at a most woe-beo-one shuffle, blowing, and 
 hooping, and hallooing as he went. It was hard, 
 to say which leg the old nag was lamest on. 
 
 " They certainly are very unsteady, those hounds, 
 I should say," observed Mr. Bluff, whose black cob 
 seemed to have caught the infection, and began 
 kicking and capering, regardless of Bluff's remon- 
 strances and the diggings of his spurless heels. — 
 
THE MORNING MEET. 310 
 
 "Quick" was the word, and having mounted, our 
 friends hurried after the noise made by Jos as he 
 led the charge. 
 
 * "Jr 7^ ■?!?■ "$1^ 
 
 " tlie fellow ! he's not going to put them 
 
 into Keislip plantation, surely ! " exclaimed poor 
 Bluff, as, on clearing the well-wooded avenue, they 
 saw Joshua careering over the turf in that direction 
 with some six or seven couple of hounds apparently 
 hunting his horse, for they were going full cry. — 
 "Oh my God!" exclaimed Bluff, looking the 
 very picture of misery : " they'll kill every hare in 
 the place. Oh dear ! oh dear ! whatever shall I do ! 
 Scott, my good fellow ! Scott, my good fellow 1 your 
 horse can gallop ! do get forward and turn them, 
 or they'll utterly ruin me." 
 
 Tom shot off at best pace, and just got within 
 ear-shot of Joshua, as the resolute devils tore past 
 his horse, and rushed full cry into cover. Stopping 
 them was quite out of the question ; half a dozen 
 Jos's couldn't have done it ; no, not even a Jos to 
 each hound, mounted at least as this Jos was. 
 
 In they Avent as if they would eat it. 
 
 " A ! they gan in bonny ! " exclaimed Jos, pulling 
 up his cripple, apparently pleased at the feat. " If 
 he's there, they'll soon root him out. Forrard 
 in ! forrard in, Tapster, old boy ! " continued he, 
 as a great black and white devil came lobbing alono-, 
 towling and howling as he went. 
 
 *' They'll all be here enow," added Jos, looking 
 
320 THE MORNING MEET. 
 
 down upon the surrounding country, where one 
 hound was haying the cows, another chasing a 
 jackass, a third running a muck at the geese, and a 
 couple of beagles that had been beat by the pace 
 of their great four and twenty inch cousins were 
 establishing a little rabbit hunt of their own. 
 
 Poor Blu'" 's prophecy was speedily fulfilled ; for 
 the hounds had not been in cover a minute ere the 
 most lamentable screams and cries began to issue 
 from all parts, as first one poor hare and then 
 another was chopped by the savage invaders. 
 Pheasants rose in clouds with noisy whir, and 
 hares streamed wildly out in all directions, some 
 rushing into the very jaws of the arriving strag- 
 glers; and when Bluff's cob got him to the scene, 
 every dog had his hare, either dead or alive. 
 
 Steeltrap, the keeper, was frantic. He abused 
 Joshua like a pickpocket, asking him in the most 
 open way if Joshua " thought he was such a fool 
 as to allow a fox to set foot in the preserves ? " 
 It was, however, no time for talking. The screams 
 of the hares still continued ; and the keeper and 
 the foot people having armed themselves with sticks 
 and rails, and whatever they could lay hands on, 
 rushed to the rescue, and presently there was a 
 rare battering, and scrambling, and howling, and 
 fighting in the plantation, as the savage hounds 
 disputed the possession of the mangled pussey 
 remains with the assailants. 
 
 At length, by dint of blows from the cudgels 
 
THE MORNING MEET. 321 
 
 and blows from the horn, some six or seven couple 
 of hounds were got out of cover ; and the only plan 
 with scratch packs being to keep moving when 
 you get a majority, Joshua again set off over the 
 downs in the direction of Hailweston Woods, which 
 were pointed to him in the distance as the place 
 where he ought to have gone to throw off. 
 
 When they got to Hailweston Woods they found 
 the field consisting of a few neighbouring farmers, 
 a keeper, and a blacksmith or two, who had been 
 waiting some time for the hounds, each man, ac- 
 cording to his own account, having winded a fox as 
 he came. Some of them were ardent admirers of 
 the Scratchley dogs, and anticipated their throwing 
 Mr. Neville's completely into the shade. " Mr. Ne- 
 ville's dogs are very good when there is a scent," 
 observed Willie Wanderhead, " but they can't work 
 a fox in dry weather like these," said he, eyeing 
 the great bloody-fticed savages as they passed. 
 
 "That's Rollocker!" exclaimed Toby Butcher, 
 as a great mastiff-headed creature, half foxhound 
 half bloodhound, came throwin(]j his tonoue as he 
 travelled. " Ah, wdiat a fine note he has ! " and so 
 they were severally criticised in detail as they 
 passed into cover. Joshua was already in, " yoick- 
 inor " and cheerino- such as were inclined to listen to 
 
 o o 
 
 his voice. 
 
 Several of the stanch dogs giving tongue as 
 they drew, and all being desperately addicted to 
 hare, they had kept up a pretty continuous noise 
 
322 THE MORNING MEET. 
 
 in different j^arts of the cover before a decided 
 stream of melody indicated any thing better than 
 riot, when a loud, oft-repeated, most masterly 
 " Tallyho ! " to the south, announced that reynard 
 had been seen. Away they all cut to the place, 
 where they found a young ploughman, purple with 
 shouting, in the act of loosing a horse from the 
 harrows to join in the chase, leaving t'other ar'd 
 nag to follow with the harrows, if it liked. The 
 ground was very dry, but there was a good scent 
 in cover, and not a bad one out ; indeed, if truth 
 must be told, wet is not indispensable to scent, and 
 one of the best scenting days we ever saw was 
 when the ground w^as as dry as in summer. But 
 to the hunt. 
 
 The great business of a huntsman to a scratch 
 pack is to lay his dogs on the scent — "casting," 
 and "lifting," and "throwing in at head;" all 
 scientific manoeuvres, in short, are only for your 
 fifteen hundred, or two thousand a year packs. 
 AVhat can you expect for eight pound ten? The 
 scratch gentleman puts his hounds on the scent, 
 and it is their business to tell which way the ow^ner 
 of the scent goes, and not his. So it was with 
 Joshua. His poor, half-starved, broken-down steed 
 was quite done by the time it got to the halloa, 
 and, instead of setting to, and riding in the naughty 
 way Mr. Holyoake did in the " Quarterly," with a 
 couple of hounds or so on the scent, Joshua very de- 
 liberately got off, and sitting astride the fence rails. 
 
THE MOllNING MEET. 323 
 
 began puffing and blowing his horn to get all the 
 redoubtable dogs out of cover that he could. That 
 feat being accomplished, at least as far as he could 
 judge by the absence of noise, he shifted his saddle 
 back off the poor galled jade's withers, re-adjusted 
 the piece of carpeting, and proceeded at a gentle 
 trot along the higher ground of the line they had 
 gone ; his next business being to catch and couple 
 the dogs at the end, for which purpose he carried 
 two most formidable bunches of couples at his 
 saddle. So he hobbled and jingled away at his 
 leisure. 
 
 The majority of our readers, we dare say, will 
 have had experience enough of the elongated, 
 straggling style in which scratch packs do their 
 " splendid work ; " the difficulty there is in telling 
 which field has the head, and which the tail. 
 Perhaps some of them may have unjileasant reminis- 
 cences connected therewith, so, as our paper is 
 short, and our dinner we sincerely hope ncai-ly 
 ready, we will wind up this part of our sketch by 
 describing the scene that burst on Joshua's asto- 
 nished vision as, on rounding Fourburrow Hill, he 
 came all at once upon Woolridge Valley. 
 
 What " strange confusion there was in the vale 
 below ! " as the poet sings. 
 
 Fii'st and foremost were j\Ir. Sylvanus Bluff's 
 swallow tails flying out, as, horsewhip in hand, 
 he hurried from one upturned ewe to another 
 rescuing herself or her lamb from the fury of the 
 
 V 2 
 
324 THE MORXING MEET. 
 
 savage pack. Others were similarly engaged, while 
 their horses fled or grazed at their leisure. Dead 
 ewes and lambs were scattered around, while some 
 of the more depraved of the pack actually did battle 
 with the rescuers for the bodies of their victims. 
 Others sneaked stealthily around, diving up to 
 the very eyes in blood as opportunity offered, and 
 those that had gorged themselves with tender lamb, 
 curved their distended sides, and sought repose 
 among the bushes on the hill. 
 
 So the last state of Mr. Sylvanus Blufi" was a 
 deal worse than the first. 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 All you kindly disposed, generous-minded, coun- 
 try gentlemen who encourage fox-hunting without 
 partaking of it yourselves, make allowances for 
 masters, and beware, oh ! beware, of the Scratchley 
 dosfs. 
 
 And now we really think, what with the chapter 
 on the weather and this moral on the " muttons," we 
 have done something to rescue our work from the 
 charge of utter uselessness. It is somewhat 
 singular that we should extract a moral from the 
 misfortunes of the man who made the complaint; 
 but truth is stronger than fiction, and performs far 
 
THE MORNING MEET. 325 
 
 more unaccountable feats. The ol3ligations we 
 were under to Mr. Bluff for buying all our works, 
 without wantino- them, made us desirous of showino; 
 him some little civility in return ; accordingly, we 
 despatched our friend Phiz to make the sketch 
 illustrative of the scene we have described, and 
 which we hope the worthy man will like. We 
 have kept a proof before letters on India paper, 
 which we purpose framing and presenting to INIrs. 
 Bluff, for her houcloir or physic-room rather. Phiz, 
 when down on this errand, made a sketch of Haw- 
 buck Grange on speculation, which, as things have 
 turned out, was fortunate. 
 
 Our friend Scott doffed his red coat on his return 
 to Hawbuck Grange with very different feelings to 
 what sportsmen generally experience on parting 
 with their " pinks," and as he replaced the breeches 
 with tweed trowsers and the dusty tops with good 
 honest double-soled shoes, he felt rather glad than 
 otherwise that there was at last an end to the 
 humbug of hunting. 
 
 " I wouldn't give twopence to have any day over 
 again," said he, running the winter quickly through 
 his mind as he sat chano-ino- his stockino-s, Avlicn 
 his thoughts were suddenly directed into another 
 channel by the protrudance of a big toe through a 
 great hole. 
 
 " Confound tJie thing !" exclaimed he, pulling the 
 stocking off again and tlu'owing it from him, " that's 
 the care one's housekeeper takes of one ;" whereupon 
 
326 THE MORNING MEET. 
 
 his thouglits immediately flew to Snailswell and 
 matrimony, and if he had not wanted most par- 
 ticularly to see how his drainers were getting on, 
 and whether Jack Hoo^orers had harrowed out the 
 oat field or not, we have little doubt he would have 
 trotted over to Snailswell, and finished the day 
 with a little tea and courtship. 
 
 " rU go to-morrow, any-how," said he : "I'll not 
 bother mother Blufi" about her teeth : at all events 
 I'll go over and see her," continued he, relapsing 
 into cautiousness, and thinking he could make the 
 old excuse of trying the brother's three-year-old 
 serve again, as it had already served him very 
 often. 
 
 Having at length equipped himself for country 
 exercise, he broke cover and proceeded down stairs. 
 
 On the centre of a most bachelor-like little table 
 in the middle of the parlour, conspicuous on the 
 green baize cover, lay a note — pink paper with a 
 blue seal, a woman's all over ! — 
 
 " Why here's a letter from her ! " exclaimed 
 Tom, darting to where it lay. 
 
 He opened and read it. Thus it ran : — 
 
 " Snailswell, Fridmj. 
 
 " My dear Mr. Scott, 
 
 " The kind, I may say fatherly, interest you 
 have ever taken in my welfare makes me anxious to 
 give you the earliest intelligence of a matter deeply 
 aff'ecting my future prospects. My cousin, Harry 
 Crow, to whom you doubtless know I have long 
 
THE MORNING MEET. 327 
 
 been deeply attached, has at length made sufficient 
 money to enable him to quit the sea, and we are 
 about to be married forthwith. I would not for 
 the world that you should hear of this from any 
 one but myself I have therefore sent the boy 
 over on the young horse at exercise ; and with the 
 repeated expression of my sincere gratitude for 
 all your kindness, believe me to remain, my dear 
 Mr. Scott, ever yours most sincerely, 
 
 " Lydia Clifton. 
 
 " P.S. — Would you have the kindness to ask 
 your housekeeper for her receipt for making goose- 
 berry fool, and send it by post as the boy must not 
 wait." 
 
 " Curse those cousins ! " exclaimed Tom, dropping 
 
 the note and sinking into his easy chair. 
 
 ***** 
 
 " No mans safe luith them, I declare .'" continued 
 he, thumping the stuffed arm as he rose. — "This 
 young vagabond's been running about the house 
 just like a domestic cat wlien he was ashore, for I 
 don't known how many years, without ever raisino- 
 the slightest suspicion, and now it turns out 
 
 " Fatherly interest, indeed," muttered he, eyeing 
 himself in the glass, — " that's a precious piece of 
 impudence too. — Not so old as all that comes to, 
 either. — '' D — n all cousins, saij I ! " exclaimed he» 
 
328 THE MOENING MEET. 
 
 pacing hurriedly up and down the room, adding 
 "No man's safe ivhere they are.'' 
 
 "Gooseberry fool, indeed!" exclaimed he, tearing 
 up the note and committing it to the flames. " I 
 wonder who's been the fool in this business. Dare 
 say she wants to feed that young water-rat upon 
 it ; " adding, as he turned away, " I hope she'll make 
 him. sick if she does." 
 
 But we will not pursue the painful subject. — 
 The old ladies will doubtless say — "sarved him 
 right," while the young ones — to whom we now 
 address ourself — will, w^e hope, take a kinder view 
 of the case, especially as our friend Tom is now in 
 the market. We alluded to the fortunate circum- 
 stance of " Phiz " having made a sketch of Haw- 
 buck Grange, and the little dears wdll see why we 
 thought it so. Addressing ourself personally to 
 them Ave may say, it is all very well for you to 
 give yourselves airs among other girls, — say '' I 
 wouldn't have this man," — "I wouldn't tiiink of 
 that," and so on ; but when it comes to a down- 
 right case of tangible matrimony, few of you are 
 such fools as to throw away a chance. Here then 
 is a chance. Our young friend, and we are confi- 
 dent your mammas will tell you that all men are 
 young till they are married, our young friend 
 Tom Scott wants a wife, and, as we have shown, he 
 is not imperative about money. That is putting 
 the case we believe in its true light. He doesn't 
 say, " No girl with money need apply ; " far from it. 
 
THE MORNING MEET. 329 
 
 He would rather have one with money, but money 
 is not a "sine qua non" — which is French for 
 indispensable. 
 
 " Up then and at him ! " as the Duke of Welling- 
 ton said to the Guards at Waterloo. 
 
 Of Hawbuck Grange we need not say much ; 
 indeed Phiz has saved us the trouble of saying any 
 thing, for as poor Hood sang of Tom Rounding 
 the huntsman, when he exhibited him as a frontis- 
 piece to his Epping Hunt, 
 
 . Here shall the mu^ie frame no excuse, 
 But frame the man himself ; 
 
 SO Phiz serves up Hawbuck Grange in a similar 
 way. 
 
 N.B. — Only purchasers of this work will be en- 
 titled to view Hawbuck Grange. They must come, 
 Hawbuck Grange in hand, in fact. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 BKADBLRV, AOSEW, & CO., PKINTKRS, WHirKKRI AH.S. 
 
RADBURY, IIGNEW 
 
 AND MiO.'S 
 
 BnhlltdtianB, 
 
 0, & 10, Bouverie Street, E.G. 
 LONDOjST. 
 
2 Bradbury, Agnew, df Co!s Publications. 
 
 i^Dlje rnxX-^ lllusiraltir Jbtorti of our otoit Cxme. 
 
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 I 25. SURGEONS DAUGHTER. 
 
 26. LAY OF LAST MINSTREL 
 
 AND MEMOIR. 
 
 27. MARMION. 
 
 28. LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 29. LORD OF THE ISLES. 
 
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