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HUNTING, SHOOTING 
 
 AND 
 
 FISHING 
 
 A SPORTING MISCELLANY. 
 
 m;- 
 
 ANECDOTIC CHAPTERS ABOUT HORSES AND DOGS. 
 
 
 Jltrmemtrs lUustratmnsi. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 SCRIBNER, WELFORD, & ARMSTRONG. 
 
 1877. 
 
 \AX\ rights reserved.] 
 

CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Adventures op a Lady i>^ Search of a Horse. Witli 
 
 Seven Illustrations by ' Phiz' 5 
 
 The Sporting Adventures of Mr. Felix : 
 
 I. The Last Eun with the Harriers . . . 6^ 
 
 IL The Last Eun with the Staghounds . . 75 
 
 IIL Mr. Felix goes Trout-fishing . . -91 
 
 Hlustrated by A. W. Cooper. 
 lY. Mr. Felix on the Moors . . . .105 
 
 y. Mr. Felix IN Stubble 119 
 
 Illustrated by G. B. Goddard. 
 Two Ways op going over. Illustrated by G. Bowers . . 132 
 My First Day's Foxhunting. Illustrated by G. B. Goddard 133 
 My First and Last Steeplechase. With Two Illustrations 
 
 by G. B. Goddard .146 
 
 How I WON my Handicap. Told by the Winner . .164 
 Dickens's Dogs ; or the Landseer of Fiction. With Five 
 
 Illustrations . . . . . . . .172 
 
 A Shooting Party : 
 
 I. Going INTO Action 196 
 
 II. In Action 197 
 
 Simpson's Snipe 197 
 
 The First Day of the Season, and its Eesults. With 
 
 Two Illustrations by ' Phiz' . . . . . .216 
 
 The Sportsman's Eesolve. Illustrated by G. B. Goddard . 228 
 
IV 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 A JS'lGHT AMONG WlLD-FOWL 
 
 Miss Middlesex on the Moors. With. Four Illustrations 
 
 Salmon-spearing 
 
 Carpe Diem. With Two Illustrations 
 * For Sale — A Thoroughbred ]^ag, Unbroken' 
 Fowl in the Bat. Illustrated by H. Johnson . 
 HuNTiNGCROP Hall. With Five Illustrations . 
 
 PAGE 
 229 
 
 247 
 
 258 
 
 270 
 
 278 
 
 302 
 
 303 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY IN SEARCH 
 OF A HORSE. 
 
 %l!iilili!!!!!l3P^^ 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 ' Then her cheek was pale and thinner 
 
 than should be for one so young, 
 And her eyes on all my motions with a 
 mute observance hung.' 
 
 Locksley Hall. 
 
 ' There is nothing like exer- 
 cise, my dear madam, in a 
 case of this sort; yon may 
 de^Dend npon me when I tell 
 yon so ; and as exercise npon 
 four legs will be even more 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY 
 
 advantageous than exercise upon two, you mnst get a 
 horse for your daughter, and let her ride as much as she 
 can: provided always that she is not afraid. Eh, my 
 dearf 
 
 This last query was directed by Sir Erasmus Globule, 
 the fashionable physician of the day, to his youthful 
 patient Miss Gloriana Applegarde, who had been brought 
 to him for advice, in one of those difficult cases in which 
 general decline of bodily health takes place, without any 
 ostensible or tangible cause. It had baffled tJie attempts 
 of the country practitioner utterly to arrest, or even to 
 understand it; and it was indeed at his recommendation 
 that the shrewd and affable doctor (who had earned a 
 world-wide fame more from quickness and penetration 
 than from any deep learning or research) had been at last 
 consulted by the anxious mother on her daughter's account. 
 
 Under his sunshiny influence the most desponding 
 patient Avould become cheerful and reassured ; and in the 
 case in question it was evident that he had hit upon a 
 remedy acceptable to the invalid, for her pale cheek 
 flushed, and her slender frame trembled with eagerness, 
 as she replied, ' Afraid ! oh no, indeed, Sir Erasmus ; I have 
 always had a passion for horses, although I have never 
 had the opportunity of riding. I should like it better than 
 anything in the world.' 
 
 It was, indeed, just as she said. As a child she had 
 read of horses, dreamt of horses, and loved horses in that 
 reckless impassioned sort of way in which little girls are 
 supposed to love only dolls or kittens ; as she had grown 
 older, she never formed in imagination a tale or a ro- 
 mance, in which a horse w^as not the principal hero, the 
 biped being on every occasion entirely subordinate to the 
 glorified quadruped. She had never found any difficulty 
 in learning by heart any piece, prose or poetical, which 
 treated of the all-engrossing subject; she had wept with 
 James Fitz- James over the fate of the e-allant horse that 
 
/N SEARCH OF A HORSE. 
 
 lay a-dying in the Highland glen, and believed that nothing 
 in poetry equalled the pathos of the lines — 
 
 ' Then, touched with pity and remorse, 
 He sorro-\ved o'er the expiring horse ; 
 '' I little thought when tirst thy rein 
 I slacked upon the banks of Seine, 
 That Highland eagle e'er should feed 
 On thy fleet limbs, my matchless steed. 
 Woe Avorth the chase ! woe worth the day ! 
 That cost thy life, my gallant gray ;" ' 
 
 or the majesty of those in ' The Battle of the Lake Regil- 
 lus,' describing the noble grief of him who was ' the fleetest 
 steed from Aufidns to Po :' 
 
 ' But like a graven image 
 
 Black Auster kept his place, 
 And ever wistfully he looked 
 
 Into his master's face. 
 The raven-mane that daily, 
 
 With pats and fond caresses, 
 The young Herminia washed and combed, 
 
 And twined in even tresses, 
 And decked with coloured ribands 
 
 From her own gay attire. 
 Hung sadly o'er her father's corpse, 
 
 In carnage and in mire ;' 
 
 or the graphic force of those in the Spanish ballad, when 
 the Cid displays his peerless charger, in the sight of the 
 king and the conrtiers, saying — 
 
 ' But that 3^our Majesty may see him. 
 
 And know him to the core, 
 I'll make him go as he was wont 
 
 When his nostrils smelt the Moor.' 
 
 After which gallant display of horsemanship, the science 
 of the Cid is put to the last test, by the breaking of the 
 bridle, when, equal to the occasion, in sight of the won- 
 dering crowd, he is seen ' proudly ruling' the fiery steed, 
 ' with the fragment of his rein.' 
 
 Although the penetrating eye of Sir Erasmus Globule, 
 aided by liis wide experience, could hardly have enabled 
 him to ascertain all this at a glance, it had enabled him. 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY 
 
 metapliorically speaking, to put his finger at once upon 
 the seat of disease. Some employment or amusement, 
 which would act as a counterbalance to the mind subject 
 to a brooding and overwhelming thought; some healthful 
 exercise calculated to restore energy and buoyancy to the 
 drooping frame : this was what experience told him was 
 necessary for the recovery of his patient ; and such em- 
 ployment and such amusement, experience had also told 
 him, Avere more often productive of good results, when 
 obtained through the agency of the ' four legs' (whose 
 good offices we heard him bespeak, in his facetious and 
 amiably patronising way, in the beginning of this chap- 
 ter), than by the unassisted efforts of only two. Miss 
 Applegarde's passion for horses, which had never before 
 been in the way of being indulged, made the simple pre- 
 scription of the great man, in this particular instance, one 
 of his luckiest hits. 
 
 Had he not been the most reserved, as well as the 
 most acute of men, he would naturally have questioned so 
 tender a mother as Mrs. Applegarde, as to her daughter's 
 tone of mind, and the circumstances into which she had 
 been thrown ; but he trusted to his own instinctive per- 
 ception ; and in that instance, as in most of those which 
 came* under his observation, he did not trust in vain. 
 Never was guinea fee more easily, and at the same time 
 more deservedly earned; and before the sound of the 
 wheels of liis brougham had died away, and mingled with 
 the rumble of the distant streets, Mrs. Applegarde ex- 
 claimed, with enthusiasm, ' I am so glad, really, that we 
 came to town; we never sliouJd have thought of your 
 riding, should we, my dear f 
 
 ' I daresay not, mamma,' said Gloriana ; ' but,' she 
 added, with a spark of the old animation in look and voice, 
 ' I like the idea very much, now that it is put into my 
 head for me, as a thing that can be done. I have no doubt 
 that I should have thought of it long ago, if it had only 
 
IN SEARCH OF A HORSE. 
 
 seemed to be in the least practicable. As it is, I cannot 
 exactly see how it is to be managed.' 
 
 ' I confess that I foresee a difficulty in the matter of 
 procuring the animal/ Mrs. Applegarde remarked delibe- 
 rately, while a smile, tender, but rallying, played about 
 lier daughter's lips, as she answered — 
 
 'It is indeed that first difficulty of "catching your 
 horse" which appears to me almost insurmountable : there 
 will be no difiiculty about the riding part of it, for that 
 has been my day-dream all my life. We have no one to 
 take into our council but Wells ; and I do not suppose 
 that he is much of a judge of horses, even should he be 
 willing to help us, which I think more than doubtful.' 
 
 Gloriana had not uttered so many consecutive sen- 
 tences, or appeared so much interested upon any subject, 
 since her insidious illness had been gradually but surely 
 gaining ground upon her life, which circumstance Mrs. 
 Applegarde noted with delighted surprise, as she replied, 
 ' I had no idea, my dear child, that you would have cared 
 so much about it, or I would have procured you a horse 
 long ago. But, to tell you the truth, such an event as your 
 taking to riding never entered my head; and, with no 
 gentleman to manage anything for us, there must always 
 have been some little difficulty in the matter. No\v that 
 riding is ordered for you, however, by Sir Erasmus, for your 
 health, it is a very different thing ; and, in spite of diffi- 
 culties, in whatever shape or form they present them- 
 selves, the thing must be done.' 
 
 It will be necessary here to explain, how it came to 
 pass that so lovely a girl as Gloriana herself, and so 
 elegant and attractive a woman as her widowed mother, 
 should have to appear upon the list of ' unprotected fe- 
 males,' whose difficulties and dilemmas in the great battle 
 of life have afforded a rich vein of amusement for those 
 lovers of the grotesque and the incongruous, who are still 
 chivalric enough to feel that there is a reproach to the 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY 
 
 male public, conveyed in the words themselves : that it 
 should be possible for a ' female ' to be made conscious of 
 her unprotected state, when thrown upon the mercy of 
 society in an advanced stage of civilisation, is, we presume, 
 the incongruity which excites the risible muscles of the 
 stronger sex. 
 
 Hoping that it is so, I hasten to acquit the men of 
 Mrs. Applegarde's acquaintance, and those honoured also 
 by relationship to the fair widow and her daughters, from 
 the reproach of want of taste, or want of feeling, which 
 any backwardness on their part might well seem to imply. 
 Mrs. Applegarde's isolated position in the world, had been 
 entirely the result of her own self-chosen line of action. 
 Naturally of a timid and retiring disposition, the great 
 grief into which she had been plunged by the early loss 
 of her husband, had given her an absolute distaste to 
 society of any kind, Avith the exception of that of her two 
 orphan children, Gloriana and her sister Katherine (com- 
 monly called Kate), in whom every thought of her heart 
 was centred. She had withdrawn herself so entirely from 
 the world that the process of forgetting — never a difficult 
 one in that busy quarter — had been very quietly accom- 
 plished on either side, and very near male relatives, or 
 friends, Mrs. Applegarde, since her last brother-in-law's 
 death, in the prime of his life, had none. 
 
 She had brought up her two young daughters in their 
 cottage home, v/here they lived like three white doves in 
 a cot, and in the enjoyment of a competence of about 
 tAvelve hundred a year, which, with their small establish- 
 ment, and moderate expenditure, might almost have come 
 nnder the head of wealth. 
 
 Although, however, Park Side Cottage Avas, as I 
 have shoAvn, innocent of any male element Avhatsoever, in 
 the higher grade of life, that small menage was ruled with 
 a rod of iron, by a domestic tyrant, in the shape of ' the 
 old servant,' the treasure of the family, who had lived with 
 
AV SEARCH OF A HORSE. 1 1 
 
 Mr. Applegarde from his boyhood, and who, while he 
 secretly worshipped every member of the family, mani- 
 fested his inward affection, principally by the "undesirable 
 outward sign of general and indiscriminate intimidation. 
 
 Mr. AVells, the faithful and time-honoured butler, was, 
 it must be owned, the head of the House of Applegarde. 
 Since Gloriana's spirits and health had failed, indeed, no 
 one had ventured to contradict or to thwart him in any 
 one single particular. She had always been, as he ex- 
 pressed it, the most 'spirity' of the three; and, often and 
 sorely as she had tried his domineering and irritable tem- 
 perament, he would have given the famous receipt for 
 plate-powder, which had gone down an heirloom from 
 father to son in his family for some generations, to have 
 welcomed once again from her lips the bold defiance or 
 the saucy repartee. It was Wells, indeed, who had first 
 suggested to Mrs. Applegarde, that his young lady's lassi- 
 tude and general debility was assuming an alarming shape, 
 and that, 'as far as he saw, Mr. Kempe' — the family 
 apothecary, who had attended at Park Side Cottage on 
 all occasions when juvenile epidemics had awoke the 
 anxious fears of the mother for her little girls — ' was no 
 better than an old woman, for anything more out of the 
 common than measles or whooping-cough. It's easy to 
 see,' he continued, ' that he doesn't understand the case. 
 It's all very well to say, " I ood, miss," if my young lady 
 Avishes to walk on the downs, with an east wind blowing 
 like a razor, because she thinks it bracing ; or " I oodn't, 
 miss," if she takes it into her head not to go out in mild 
 weather, because she considers it damp. But, without 
 being able to see into a millstone, it's easy enough to see 
 that he is a better judge of port-wine, than he is of Avhat's 
 ailing Miss Gloriana — and has been for these weeks past.' 
 
 But one half or one quarter of this harangue would 
 have been sufficient to raise in Mrs. Applegarde's anxious 
 breast a thousand apprehensions for her daughter's health. 
 
12 THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY 
 
 Her husband, and several members of his family, had died 
 of consumption ; and the idea that her eldest child might 
 be already drooping from the effects of that insidious 
 and fatal disease, filled her with horror and dread. 
 
 The heart of Wells, indeed, bled inwardly as he saw the 
 thin transparent cheek of his beloved mistress grow white 
 nnder the probe of his awakening words ; but he steeled 
 it with the reflection, which greater philosophers than he 
 have made before him, there is nothing so blind as the blind- 
 ness of love. It is one of the most painful things in life 
 to witness that fatal blindness of affection for the danger 
 which threatens its object — to hear a husband, or a parent, 
 or a wife talk calmly of those ' to-morrows,' which, it is an 
 evident fact to the eye of the most indifferent stranger, 
 Avill never come — to see the eye of the foe in ambush 
 glaring upon the unconscious victim, and know that in a 
 few moments the terrible spring will be made. 
 
 Cruel as the words might have appeared at first sight 
 to be, they were dictated by the honest affection of the 
 old servant for his late master's widow and child; and 
 they did good service in the result, which was the well- 
 timed advice of a sagacious doctor, who saw at a glance 
 the best means of arresting the progress of the morbid 
 and melancholy tone of mind, which was laying its wither- 
 ing finger day by day upon the health of the body. Such 
 cases had doubtless come under the doctor's searching 
 eye before ; and the same remedy been prescribed per- 
 haps in the same words ; for the idea of ' exercise upon 
 four legs being better than exercise upon two ' was quite 
 a joke in Sir Erasmus's estimation, and he was fond of a 
 joke, that dapper affable little man, the idol of the fashion- 
 able world. 
 
 It certainly sounded like a simple remedy enough : 
 but how about the four legs in question? how about the 
 blemishes, the spavins, the splints, the ring-bones, the 
 string halts, the corns, the unsoundnesses, and all the 
 
IN SEARCH OF A HORSE. 1 3, 
 
 subtle and incurable evils that those four legs in horse- 
 flesh are heir to '? How was it likely that three lovely 
 and innocent women, and one aristocratic butler — to 
 whom the 'noble animal,' as I was taught from my 
 infancy to call the horse, was a quadruped unknown — 
 could procure four sound and intact specimens of the 
 article required, against, as it were, a world in arms ? 
 How indeed? The experienced in such matters will 
 scarcely be inclined to agree with Mrs. Applegarde on 
 the subject, who, in the exuberance of her maternal soli- 
 citude, declared that the matter ' would be easy enough, 
 if they only set about it the right way.' An easy solu- 
 tion to all the problems which life offers for our considera- 
 tion, if in that ' right way ' itself did not lie the pith and 
 the centre of our bewilderment. 
 
 'Don't be volatile, Kate,' she added, addressing her 
 youngest daughter, a mischievous sprite, who was ready 
 enough to make fun of the council of sages assembled, in 
 congress, to discuss the momentous question ; ' don't be 
 foolish, my dear, but help us to think what is best to be 
 done under the circumstances. What do you think now 
 of an advertisement, in the Grei/minster Herald? I can 
 write one out at once :' and taking a sheet of note-paper, 
 and seating herself at the elegantly-appointed writing- 
 table, she began to write with much appearance of de- 
 termination ; quoting herself, as she concluded, the first 
 word of the first sentence, which was the comprehensive 
 word seen in such endless repetition in the columns of 
 the Times — the word ' Wanted.' 
 
 ' There,' she said, Avith an air of innocent triumph, in 
 her progress so far in the inght road to achievement — 'I 
 have written that ; and now, Mr. Wells ' — Mrs. Apple- 
 garde thus addressed her butler, in the dignity of office, al- 
 though the man to her was, for the sake of old associations, 
 sometimes 'Wells,' but oftener than all, simple 'James' 
 — ' now we must consider what it is that we do want.' 
 
14 THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY 
 
 And at this stage of the proceedings, it must be con- 
 fessed, that the right way became less clear, and that 
 Mrs. Applegarde became painfully conscious of an inca- 
 pacity, which is common to many, of saying lucidly, or 
 even grammatically, what she did want, when that was 
 to assume the dignity of a ' local habitation and a name ' 
 in the advertising sheet of a newspaper. What terrible 
 confusion of the uses of nouns proper and substantive, 
 and what a reckless disregard of the situation of corre- 
 sponding adjectives, do not such columns daily present, 
 for the mystification of mankind! Why, for instance, 
 should a respectable divine, of average dimensions, and 
 the usual bulk of Vv^ell-grown humanity, hold out his own 
 diminutive stature as a recommendation to the tenement 
 which he is anxious to let ? Why should he take a sort 
 of imbecile and morbid satisfaction in appearing, in the 
 public chronicles of the day, under the depreciating, and, 
 as it appears to us, 'Heep'-ishly 'umble' title of 'a small 
 clergyman' % 
 
 Why did Mrs. Applegarde, who was diffident and re- 
 tiring to a fault, write down three sentences, each calcu- 
 lated to convey — by implication at least — an unseemly 
 exultation in the charms of her eldest daughter to a 
 supercilious and gainsaying world % ' A pretty lady's 
 horse, — A quiet ladys hack, — A handsome ladys pony,' 
 she read aloud, with unblushing cheek, and unfaltering 
 voice, quietly appealing to the daughter so described as 
 to ' which she should leave V ' Or shall I say,' she con- 
 tinued, warming to her work, and getting vaguely glib 
 upon the subject, "Wanted, a horse, for a lady in delicate 
 health, pretty to look at, and not too tall, with a long 
 mane and tail, and must be quiet, and well recommended. 
 Price not such an object as a suitable animal. Apply at 
 Park Side Cottage, Ambledown" V 
 
 ' Oh no, mamma, that really won t do at all,' said 
 Gloriana, now thoroughly roused from the languor which 
 
AV SEARCH OF A HORSE. 
 
 15 
 
 bad taken such a hold upon her, and awakened such 
 anxious fears on her account. ' If you send that, we shall 
 have all the screws in the country sent for our inspection. 
 I don't care, either, about having a regular cantering 
 lady's horse ; I should like to have one that I could make 
 myself.' Here I must mention that, owing to circum- 
 stances (which I do not feel called upon at this stage of 
 the 'Adventures' to explain), Gloriana had heard more 
 about horses than any of the party assembled. That she 
 had read more about them, too, I mentioned before ; but 
 the hero horses, the ' Austers,' and the ' Bevises,' and the 
 ' Biavicas ' of romance, resembled no more the everyday 
 horses that she was likely to meet in real life, than did 
 their shadowy warrior riders the sporting youths in 
 knickerbockers, with their hands in tlieir pockets, and 
 cigars in their mouths, whom she had met with 'up at 
 the Park.' 
 
 Book-knowledge, however, and knowledge confined 
 to mere hearsay, upon any subject, is soon fathomed and 
 exhausted; and in personal experience with regard to 
 them, she was as innocent and as ignorant as the rest of 
 the party. ' We need not mention the height,' she went 
 on to say ; ' I have heard people say that a lady always 
 looks better on a horse that is rather high.' The reader 
 will observe that the young lady forbore the word tall in 
 describing a horse, which her mother had made use of. 
 
 ' I would not have a helephant either, miss,' remarked 
 AVells sententiousiy, who entertained a well-founded hor- 
 ror of anything too nmch exalted in the shape of a horse, 
 always taking into consideration the probability of a 'fall.' 
 
 ' The Duke has been thrown, I hear,' remarked one of 
 the field to the huntsman of a celebrated pack, and in re- 
 ference to an enthusiastic sportsman, who could not ride. 
 ' His grace fell off,' was the short and pointed reply ; and 
 it was no doubt with reference to such a contingency, 
 that Mr. Wells delivered his oracular sentence on the 
 
1 6 THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY 
 
 occasion in question. His young mistress had never 
 ridden before. It was more than probable that, in the 
 first days of her initiation, she would meet with the 
 catastrophe Avhich befell the nnlncky nobleman, and with- 
 ont any particular cooperation on the part of the horse, 
 find it incumbent on her inexperience to ^fall off.' 'I 
 should say that a good-sized pony would answer all pur- 
 poses, and be easier to get on and off.' 
 
 ' So it would, James,' said his mistress, who in this 
 case recognised and approved the feelings of the man.. 
 ' I should not be so nervous about a pony, when Gloriana 
 takes her first rides.' 
 
 ^ But is Glorry to ride by herself?' observed Kate, 
 suggesting thereby a new difficulty; for it had not en- 
 tered into the calculations of this family council that 
 somebody would be required to ' ride after ' Miss Apple- 
 garde, or that that somebody. must, of necessity, come under 
 the head of a class held in the utmost abhorrence by Mr. 
 Wells, belonging to the genus groom. A respectable full- 
 blown coachman, who had nothing to do but to handle 
 the reins of his equally fat carriage-horses, was the nearest 
 approach to the region of the stable which that stately 
 official could tolerate between the wind and his nobility. 
 
 At Kate's remark, therefore, Mr. Wells experienced 
 that sort of mental revulsion described by the sensation 
 novelist under the type of an earthquake — ' if an earth- 
 quake had opened under his feet he could not have been 
 more staggered, or his senses been merged into such utter 
 or irremediable confusion,' et cetera, et cetera. The effect 
 of this curious mental phenomenon, in this instance, was 
 that it presented to the imagination of the individual 
 most concerned a series of dissolving views, each one more 
 unwelcome and more clearly defined than the last. 
 
 The vision of an intruder at all into the precincts of 
 that refined and aristocratic establishment was cruel enough ; 
 but when another rapidly took its place, of a saucy upstart, 
 
IN SEARCH OF A HORSE. ly 
 
 looking upon the lovely housemaid, or the good-natured 
 cook, with the aspiring glance of love : of a low wretch, 
 strengthening by open rebellion, or secret strategy, the 
 scarcely stifled faction existing between the kitchen and 
 the housekeeper's room : of an earthworm who, as reigning 
 monarch of the stable, would beard and defy the autocrat 
 of the pantry — the feelings of the victim are more easily 
 imagined than described. The countenance of the great 
 man, generally so immovable, must have betrayed the 
 contending emotions that were at war in his soul ; for the 
 •contemplation of it provoked Gloriana into remarking, 
 with one of her old smiles, 'You see in what an imder- 
 taking we are embarked. " Exercise upon four legs " is 
 an easy thing to talk about; but in our singularly im- 
 horsey establishment we are involved in a diiSculty every 
 way we turn. Fortunately, there are stables ; but where 
 shall we find a respectable trustworthy groom ?' 
 
 ' Where indeed f said Mrs. Applegarde nervously, for 
 she had seen the cloud gathering on the brow of the 
 faithful Wells, as the objectionable word had passed her 
 daughter's lips ; ' this is indeed an unforeseen difficulty.' 
 
 'And what is he to ride? You must advertise for 
 two horses, whilst you are about it, mother dear,' put in 
 Kate suggestively. ' Sir Erasmus might have made more 
 of his prescription and of his joke, for there must be eight 
 legs in it after all, to say nothing of the additional biped.' 
 
 ' Kate ! Kate ! you are incorrigible. I really do 
 not see though what is to be done, unless you could find 
 some riding companions, my dear.' 
 
 ' W^hat a pity the young Squire, and Miss Levison, are 
 away from the Park,' remarked Mr. Wells ; and at this 
 speech a crimson flush rushed painfully into Gloriana's 
 pale cheek : to divert attention from which circumstance 
 it was, I have no doubt, that she said so hastily : •' Why 
 can't I have a pony, and then surely there could be no 
 harm in my riding about the Park, the commons, and 
 
 B 
 
l8 THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY 
 
 these quiet lanes by myself? Let me write the advertise- 
 ment, mamma, please, and we will see first what comes of 
 that;' and taking the pen from her mother's hand, she 
 sat down, and, after a little meditation, wrote as follows : 
 — ' Wanted immediately, a good-sized pony, strong, hand- 
 some, temperate; Avarranted sound; that will carry a 
 lady. Apply to Mr. Wells, Park Side Cottage, Amble- 
 down.' 
 
 ' It is better to imply that there is a man in the case,' 
 the young lady added ; ^ we are less likely to be done.' 
 
 'Certainly, miss,' said the now gratified Wells, with a, 
 condescending air of lofty superiority ; ' it is by far the 
 better plan.' And smiling the bland smile, which pro- 
 claimed that the irascible temperament had accepted and 
 swallowed the sop artfully prepared for its sensitive 
 palate, he condescended himself to be the bearer of the 
 important missive, to the post-office in the village, hard 
 
 Now there might have been just visible to the naked 
 eye of an ordinary mortal, not bent upon reading aright 
 the riddle of that impassible countenance, the sign of a 
 latent chuckle, hovering round the corners of the mouth, 
 which one of the ' close observers,' so often called to the 
 aid of the story-teller and the novelist, would have traced 
 at once to some mysterious cause, deep hidden in the 
 portly bosom of the man ; but as the quiet country village 
 in question afforded neither sage nor philosopher so pro- 
 found, and recognised Mr. Wells only in his haughty offi- 
 cial capacity, the secrets of the human breast were not, in 
 this instance, doomed to be betrayed, and the words which 
 might have revealed their import to the ' earnest inquirer' 
 were muttered to the empty air. 
 
 'So the wind lies that way, does itf he observed 
 twice, when indulging in the habit of absent and pre- 
 occupied people, of talking to himself — ' so the wind lies 
 that way :' and that he employed a metaphor, while 
 
IN SEARCH OF A HORSE. in 
 
 making this profound statement for his own personal 
 edification, would have been apparent to the aforesaid 
 ' close observer,' or patent-novelist-human-breast pene- 
 trator, from the fact that his eyes were bent upon the 
 ground at his feet, and that the gilt weathercock on th e 
 church steeple before him was not called upon, in either 
 instance, to warrant or to corroborate the announce- 
 ment. 
 
 The advertisement, the wording of which had been so 
 carefully considered by the inmates of Park Side Cottage, 
 was in time for insertion the same week in the columns of 
 the Greiiminster Herald; and from that date it must be 
 allowed that the * parties' in question entered upon a new 
 phase of existence, and became subject to the anomalous 
 infliction of a daily iiightmsive, in the shape of horses with 
 three legs to go upon, horses with two, and horses with 
 none ; of horses too high, and horses too low ; of high- 
 couraged horses, whose grooms could not hold them; 
 and of lean and hungry horses, that might have formed 
 models for Don Quixote's Rosinante ; of high-stepping 
 carriage, and even brougham horses ; and of low shuffling 
 ponies ; of young horses ; of old horses ; of bay horses ; 
 of dun horses ; of iron-gray and chestnut horses ; of bad 
 horses ; of vicious horses ; of lame horses ; of used-up 
 horses ; of horses of every style, stamp, and condition, 
 that would be utterly and entirely useless to a young lady 
 in delicate health, who wished to indulge in a daily canter 
 round the home lanes and commons, in accordance with 
 the advice of her shrewd London physician. 
 
 ' Let us decide upon buying the next that comes that 
 seems in the least likely to do,' said Gloriana, at last, 
 wearied with the daily and almost hourly arrival of the 
 regiments of screws that offered themselves for the inspec- 
 tion of four pair of eager eyes, all equally ignorant and 
 inexperienced, and all equally determined not on any ac- 
 count to be done. As she spoke the door opened, and the 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY 
 
 butler announced the arrival of another man, and another 
 liorm, ' or cob, as he calls it,' he further condescended to 
 explain ; for it must be acknowledged that the temper of 
 Mr. Wells had imdergone a severe ordeal, and his dignity- 
 been much compromised-, by the endurance of unseemly 
 chaff and ridicule, from low-minded individuals belonging 
 to the genus groom. 
 
 ' Let us have round the horse, or cob, then, or what- 
 ever he likes to call it,' said Gloriana languidly. And in 
 compliance with her request, an essentially 'useful animal,' 
 accompanied by a scampish and very horsey-looking at- 
 tendant, soon made his appearance at the hall-door. ' The 
 cob' was not at all a bad shape, compact, made for 
 strength, and in size something between a horse and a 
 pony, as his name denoted. His hairy legs, however, and 
 coarse head, showed his under-breeding, and detracted 
 much from his merits in the eyes of the ladies. 
 
 It was evident that Mr. Wells strongly affected him ; 
 and a dose of flattery, not too finely drawn, from the 
 broken-down horsedealer, did more than he would have 
 willingly acknowledged towards securing his good word 
 for the cob. 
 
 ' I don't like his head,' observed Miss Applegarth ob- 
 jectively ; 'it is so large and clumsy-looking.' 
 
 ' Large, ma'am, do you call it f said the man, with an 
 air of well-feigned surprise. And then measuring, through 
 a half-closed but infinitely cunning glance, the amount of 
 flatness with which he had to deal, he gathered up all the 
 effrontery of his nature, and rode over the last fence be- 
 tween the cob and Mr. Wells's good graces in this re- 
 markable and original sentence : ' Why any one that knows 
 abou.t an oss,' — and here he winked knowingly at the 
 butler, to insinuate that he was included in the respectable 
 category, — ' any one that knows about an oss, knows that 
 his strength lies in his head. This here cob is the strongest 
 and the 'andsomest in England : and it would be no use 
 
/.V SEARCH OF A HOKSF.. 
 
 \0-''W^^ I 
 
2 2 THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY 
 
 of my abusing him to you, sir, because I can see with 'alf 
 an eye that you knows what an oss is! 
 
 Now, Mr. Wells, although a man of exalted mind and 
 unimpeachable integrity, was a mortal man after all, 
 and, like other mortals, found it impossible to resist the 
 influence of the flattery that had not a leg to stand 
 upon. 
 
 If the horsedealer of broken-down appearance had pre- 
 sumed to remark upon the glitter of the family plate, or to 
 enlarge upon the value of the receipt for plate-powder, which 
 had been handed down as an heirloom from flither to son 
 for three generations, the vulnerable point in Mr. Wells's 
 nature would hava remained untouched — he would have 
 seen through and despised the attempt upon his under- 
 standing at once. But to be told openly, and by implica- 
 tion, that *he knew what a horse was,' seeing that he 
 knew nothing about horses in general, or any horse in 
 particular, was the little pebble out of the brook against 
 which, properly propelled, his giant strength was as 
 naught. 
 
 Flatter a beautiful foolish woman upon her intellect, 
 and a plain clever woman upon her good looks ; tell your 
 literary friend, of undeveloped muscularity, that he is first- 
 rate across country, and your sporting friend, who can 
 barely spell, that he would write brilliant articles, and the 
 grossness of the flattery will neither be resented nor per- 
 ceived, but, on the contrary, it will be imbibed with the 
 greatest relish and gusto. 
 
 It is so with frail humanity generally ; nor did Mr. 
 Wells in this instance belie his mortal origin. His heart 
 opened towards the man, and towards the strong but ugly 
 brute who was the object of eulogy ; and he assumed in 
 their behalf his most pompous and oracular manner as he 
 slowly pronounced the emphatic sentence — 
 
 ' I think this is decidedly the best animal we have seen, 
 ma'am; ' while his eyes wandered with unwonted admira- 
 
IN SEARCH OF A HORSE. 
 
 23 
 
 iion from the short thick legs to the long carcass and 
 clumsy head of the ' 'andsomest cob m England.' 
 
 The gentle, ladylike, still pretty widow was out upon 
 the lawn, surveying this last specimen of horseflesh which 
 had been presented to her discriminating gaze, through 
 her eyeglass, and she said, when thus appealed to, with 
 the candour that was natural to her — 
 
 ' I cannot say that I think him pretty ; but if he is 
 •quiet and gentle, I shall be satisfied, as Miss Applegarde 
 has had no experience in riding as yet ; but is ordered to 
 do it for her health,' she added, turning, as she spoke, to 
 address the horsedealer, with that trustful and appealing 
 gaze, which is natural to a fond mother when her child's 
 health and safety are the matters at issue, and which 
 might have possibly touched the ' better nature' of the 
 hardened ruffian in question, for he replied fluently 
 enough — 
 
 ' It w^as what I thought, ma'am, when I seed the ad- 
 vertisement ; and ses I to myself. Why, there's the brown 
 cob Brutus, as I had off Genei^al Hunter, as will carry the 
 lady like a lamb. No wice or nonsense about him ; war- 
 ranted sound, neat as paint, and a bargain at forty guineas, 
 which is his price, and dirt cheap too at the money.' 
 
 'I should really think he is worth it, mamma,' said 
 Gloriana decisively; 'we have looked at so many, and I 
 don't think we have seen anything more likely to suit us. 
 Suppose that you write a cheque, and let the man leave 
 the horse.' 
 
 The moment of decision, however, was always more 
 or less an uneasy one to Mrs. Applegarde ; and at such 
 "times the feeling of her unprotected state, and of her ' lone 
 and lorn ' condition, was wont to intrude upon her with 
 melancholy force. 
 
 ' If Ave had only been able to consult some one who 
 really understands about horses,' she began, nervously and 
 unconsciously, but rudely trampling under foot the new- 
 
24 
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY 
 
 born vanity in tlie breast of Mr. Wells : ' it strikes me for- 
 cibly that there is a wicked expression about the eye of 
 this horse, and I don't quite like the way in which he 
 moves his ears about when you approach him.' 
 
 To this remark the horsedealer vouchsafed no direct 
 reply ; but making as though he were about to lead the 
 injured Brutus off at once, he said, addressing himself to 
 the butler, ' If the lady's no buyer, I can't waste my time ; 
 the cob's a real good un, and there's twenty after him as 
 it is.' 
 
 ' / don't presume to offer an opinion,' was the majestic- 
 reply ; and the tone and manner in which it was made 
 awoke Mrs. Applegarde to the conviction, that the feel- 
 ings of her faithful domestic had been lacerated in some 
 vital part, and that nothing but the most abject humilia- 
 tion on her side would pour balm into the cruel Avound. 
 
 Once aware of the fact, she hastened, with her usual 
 kindness, to soothe the feelings that her thoughtless 
 words had ruffled, and to make the amende honorable by 
 saying at once, ' It is your opinion that we must act upon : 
 and it is with Mr. AVells that you must deal,' she added, 
 as the horsedealer maintained a somewhat sulky and 
 impertinent demeanour, while awaiting the result of the 
 conference. 'If he approves of the horse I am quite 
 willing to purchase him.' 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to add, after this, that the deal 
 was concluded, and that the renowned Brutus was left 
 upon the hands of the ladies of Park Side Cottage, to 
 whom the question thus became a matter of paramount 
 importance, ' What they could make of him f 
 
 Mr. Wells himself exhibited a certain amount of ner- 
 vous agitation, when the last glimpse of the figure of the 
 horsedealer had told itself off in the direction of the 
 nearest public; but recovering his usual dignity by a 
 strong effort of will, he knowingly avoided the responsi- 
 bility of handling the cob himself, and assuming a magis- 
 
IN SEARCH OF A HORSE. 
 
 25 
 
 terial air, commanded the small boy, who did what country 
 people call ' odds and ends' in the house and garden, to 
 lead the horse to the stable, which had been ready pre- 
 pared for the advent of an animal of some sort or another. 
 ' Your father understands about horses, Bill,' he began, 
 thus paving the way to a negotiation which he had had 
 in his mind since the introduction of the horse subject at 
 Park Side ; ' just ask him to step up this evening, and 
 have a glass of ale, will you f 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 HOW THE HORSE TURNED OUT WHOSE ' STRENGTH LAY IN 
 HIS HEAD.' 
 
 In the course of a day or two everything was pre- 
 pared for the event of Gloriana's first ride ; and Brutus in a 
 bran-new saddle and bridle, and Gloriana in a bran-new 
 habit and hat, formed the nucleus of an admiring crowd of 
 small urchins, Avho were attracted on the way from school 
 by the novel sight of Miss Applegarde mounted on her new 
 purchase, which seemed likely to afford her some little 
 trouble in the process of ' making' which she had looked 
 forward to with such laudable zeal. Indeed, he appeared, 
 as far as their juvenile faculties were capable of discrimi- 
 nating, to have a very strong will of his own, in further- 
 ance of which he brought his ponderous head to bear, in 
 all its boasted strength, upon the young lady's weak and 
 inexperienced hands. 
 
 ' I shall be tired to death,' she said to herself when the 
 tussle was at last over, and the cob's head turned, sorely 
 against his will, in the direction of the common, which 
 extended for nearly a mile, and a view of which was com- 
 manded from the drawing-room windows of the Cottage. 
 
26 THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY 
 
 She was, indeed, almost tired to death as it was, for 
 she was far from strong ; but the worst was still to come. 
 She had not hitherto attempted to nrge the animal out of 
 a walking pace, and was recruiting her strength for the 
 operation of ' putting him through his paces,' which she 
 hoped to do with immense eclat before the admiring eyes 
 of her mother and sister, of Mr. Wells and the boy, and of 
 the boy's father, 'who understood all about horses,' and 
 whose services Mr. Wells had, indeed, finally secured, in 
 order that the cob might do credit to the establishment, 
 and not by his bad condition or slovenly appointments lead 
 to the installation of that hateful functionary, a regular 
 hond-fide groom. 
 
 ' You must canter first, you know,' said Gloriana con- 
 descendingly, to the brown cob Brutus, who was so devoid 
 of birth and breeding as to reply to this conciliatory ad- 
 dress on the part of his mistress, which was accompanied 
 by a corresponding action of hand and foot, by a resolute 
 shake of his uncouth head, and by a decided downward 
 inclination of that appendage in the direction of his fore 
 feet. ' My goodness ! I do believe he's going to kick,' said 
 Gloriana; and the observation in this instance was not 
 directed to the horse, but wrung from her in the agony of 
 apprehension which the certain conviction brought to her 
 mind. But Brutus rested satisfied with indulging his play- 
 ful mood by a caper or two, w^hich, although comparatively 
 innocent in the eyes of lookers-on, shook Gloriana in her 
 saddle to an alarming extent, for the movements of the cob 
 were rough and quick, and there was no manner of spring 
 in the well-developed joints and muscles which had excited 
 such admiration in the breast of Mr. Wells. Once set in 
 motion, Brutus vouchsafed to proceed to the far end of the 
 common in a tolerably steady canter ; every now and then, 
 however, breaking into a heavy and dislocating trot, which 
 threw Gloriana's light figure high into the air, and caught 
 it again at the rebound, with a strength and jerkiness 
 
IN SEARCH OF A HORSE. 
 
 27 
 
 which had an exhausting rather than an exhilarating effect 
 on the nerves and mnscles of his rider. Gloriana was not 
 at all devoid of the English quality — pluck; and once em- 
 barked in an enterprise, it was not in her nature to give 
 in. ' I have no doubt that it will do me good — in time/ 
 she said spasmodically, between the jerks, when weak 
 physical human nature was pleading rather hard to be let 
 off the severe ordeal of being pounded to death on the 
 back of a regular bone-crusher, and suggesting the aban- 
 donment of the whole plan in despair. And it was doing 
 her good, inasmuch as it was employing the faculties both 
 of body and mind — rousing her to exertion, and dispelling* 
 the morbid fancies which had been taking such hold of her 
 young imagination. The elephantine gambols of Brutus 
 had accomplished this, if they had done nothing more; 
 but his paces and action had proved so rough and tiring, 
 that as Gloriana dismounted from his back by means of a 
 chair, which the ever-watchful Wells had brought for her 
 accommodation, she turned suddenly pale, and then reeled 
 and fell from the chair into his arms in a dead heavy 
 swoon. 
 
 ' Take the brute away, can't you?' the butler said, with 
 much irritation, to the man of understanding with regard 
 to the noble animal ; ' take him away to the stable. If 
 this is to be the consequence of exercise on four legs, I 
 think two's a better number; and I don't put so much 
 faith in Sir Erasmus as I did. Don't be alarmed, ma'am,' 
 he continued, as he bore his insensible burden into the 
 -drawing-room, and deposited it upon a sofa ; ' it's only the 
 haction of that ^ere Brutus that has been too much for Miss 
 Gloriana ; and she so weak, poor thing ! I doubt whether 
 she'll be able to stand it now.' 
 
 Poor Mrs. Applegarde looked as pale as Gloriana, but 
 Kate, whose presence of mind never forsook her, began 
 immediately to busy herself about the prostrate form of 
 her sister — chafing her hands and feet, bathing her white 
 
2 8 THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY 
 
 face and brows Avitli eau cle Cologne, and applying smell- 
 ing-salts to her nostrils. 
 
 ' She's a-coming to now,' said Wells, as the first tender 
 flush of colour in her cheeks bespoke the return of sus- 
 pended animation ; and the poor mother, who was trem- 
 bling in her helpless anxiety, stooped to kiss her forehead, 
 saying, in a flutter of lachrymose agitation — 
 
 'It's all that nasty horse, 1 know. Sir Erasmus made 
 a great mistake, and forgot how weak the poor child 
 was. But never mind, my dear, you shall not attempt 
 to ride again ; and it will, indeed, be quite a relief to my 
 mind. I said all along there was something wicked about 
 its eyes and the way in which it put its ears back when 
 you approached it ; and after it jumped about with you in 
 that dreadful Avay on the common, I could not bear to look 
 out again. Kate told me that you had come through the 
 front gate all right, and the next thing I beheld was Wells 
 carrying you in in a fainting state. But never mind, 
 my dear, you shall not ride again ; and we'll get rid of 
 that dreadful horse as soon as possible.' 
 
 ' Indeed, mamma,' said Gloriana, raising herself on her 
 elbow^ on the sofa cushion, ' it is not at all a dreadful horse, 
 and I enjoyed my ride immensely ; I hope to ride again to- 
 morrow and every day ; and I do not intend to disgrace 
 myself in this way again. After all, there Avas nothing 
 Avonderful in my fainting, for I have heard men say ' — and 
 here she blushed slightly, for the sayings and doings of 
 men had been hitherto little canvassed amongst the gentle 
 tenants of Park Side Cottage — 'I have heard men say that 
 they are often regularly knocked up with the first day's 
 hunting ; and of course a first ride is the same thing to me. 
 I am all right now,' she added; but it must be confessed 
 that her looks did not quite bear out the assertion; and she 
 was obliged before very long to own to a more than usual 
 feeling of fatigue and exhaustion, and to retire unwillingly 
 to bed. But the spell, it w^ould appear, was already work- 
 
AV SEARCH OF A HORSE. 29 
 
 ing, for she did all she could to arouse herself, and fought 
 against the languor which before this memorable ride she 
 had perhaps in some measure fostered and encouraged. 
 
 In the course of the evening Mr. Wells was summoned 
 to an interview with the man of understanding with re- 
 gard to the stable economy of the brown cob Brutus, which 
 ended, I am sorry to say, in his becoming a second time a 
 dupe, through the medium of the unerring shaft of flattery, 
 directed with faultless aim to the vulnerable point in his 
 manly breast. That the quadruped in question was likely 
 to consume a certain amount of hay and corn, and that he 
 ' lay upon straw,' was the extent of his information upon 
 the subject under discussion, and he was, therefore, as 
 might be supposed, helpless as a child in the hands of a 
 man who possessed a large share of the quality oVcidenesH, 
 generally supposed to appertain to intellects sharpened on 
 the grindstone of a knowledge of horseflesh. The spoils 
 of the unconscious cob had, indeed, formed the corner-stone 
 of a very pretty castle in the air, which had been run up, 
 regardless of expense, in the fertile brain of the worthy 
 known to the village by the suggestive cognomen of 
 'Knowing Ned ;' and he blessed the happy fate that had 
 cast into his net such an immitigated ' flat ' as the worthy 
 butler, who became in his hands an easy, although uncon- 
 scious tool. 
 
 ' I'll do justice to that oss, Mr. Wells,' he began, ' pur- 
 vided you see me through it in the matter of wages. I 
 understands all about osses, and did from a boy ; but if I 
 undertakes groom's work, I must have groom's pay — bar- 
 ring the livery, which I don't ask for, seeing I can't ride 
 since I threw out a splint in my near leg, which you knows, 
 Mr. Wells, as well as I can tell you, and that I speak the 
 truth. There's my old 'ooman, as attends church reg'lar, 
 and always did from a child, would tell you the same any 
 day on her Bible oath.' 
 
 * We don't want no grooms in livery here,' replied the 
 
30 
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY 
 
 butler, with so much eagerness that, by an over-Hberahty 
 in the matter of negatives, he destroyed the force of his 
 own remark. ' But the horse must be attended to ; and 
 I'll speak to my mistress on the subject. Have a glass of 
 ale, my good man, and look to the cob till further orders, 
 will you'?' 
 
 And it was in this manner that the man of under- 
 standing with regard to horses, the father of the boy who 
 did the odds and ends of work at Park Side Cottage, who 
 went by the name of ' Knowing Ned ' in the village, in- 
 serted the thin end of the wedge of his own fortunes into 
 the tempting aperture which the false diplomacy of Mr. 
 Wells with regard to an irregular groom oifered to his 
 acute perceptions. 
 
 ' I sees my way to fifty pounds, if I sees it to a shillinV 
 he said to himself, as he swallowed a refreshing draught 
 of his patron's home-brewed ale. ' The first thing I'll do 
 will be to swop the brown cob for the old mare Blind Bess. 
 If Miss Applegarde rides him to-morrow she won't the day 
 after — unless I am very much mistaken, leastways.' 
 
 What diabolical plot was hatching under the skull of 
 knavish contour appertaining to ' Knowing Ned,' to per- 
 petrate on the morrow with regard to his young mistress 
 and the brown cob Brutus, I will leave the next chapter 
 of these 'Adventures' to reveal, only hinting that it was 
 one which appeared to afford him unwonted satisfaction, 
 for he chuckled to himself a low cunning chuckle as ha 
 littered down Brutus for the night, observing to that stolid 
 quadruped during the operation, ' You are a nice oss, you 
 are 3 but you ain't fit for a lady noways.' 
 
AV SEARCH OF A HORSE. n j 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 STABLE SECRETS — SHOWING HOW THE BROWN COB BRUTUS 
 BECAME THE PROPERTY OP 'KNOWING NED,' AND THE BLIND 
 MARE THE PROPERTY OF MISS APPLEGARDE. 
 
 Gloriana escaped the designs of that villanous indi- 
 vidual ' Knowing Ned,' whatever they might have been, 
 for a whole week. She was, indeed, regularly knocked 
 up ; and, notwithstanding her courage and determination, 
 she was unable to conceal the fact from the watchful eyes 
 of her mother and sister, and was, consequently, absolutely 
 forbidden to ride again until she had recovered her usual 
 amount of strength, or rather the same amoimt of it that 
 she possessed when she had consulted the London doc- 
 tor. On the eighth day from the date of her first ride, 
 Knowing Ned becoming anxious, like all plotters, to put 
 his design into execution, made a point of meeting Mr. 
 Wells as he took his short daily walk to the village post- 
 office ; and pulling his forelock wdth the same amount of 
 respect he Avould have shoAvn to a master had he possessed 
 one, he thus addressed him : 
 
 ' The cob's wery fresh, Mr. Wells ; he'll be too mAich for 
 the young lady if she don't keep him in exercise ; he's got 
 a temper, too, of his own ; and them low-bred uns is apt 
 to get tricky.' 
 
 'Good gracious! what is to be done, thenf w^as the 
 butler's reply. ' It's a take in, if the cob ain't quiet ; be- 
 cause we advertised for a quiet one, " to carry a lady." ' 
 
 'He ain't quiet now — leastways he's very free with 
 his heels in the stable ; and I don't see no chance of his 
 getting quiet standing eating his head off in the stable^ 
 and nothing taken out of him noways.' 
 
 With these ominous words, which filled his hearer with 
 apprehension, and causing him to give utterance to those 
 
32 
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY 
 
 peculiar signs of lamentation made with the tongue and 
 palate of the month, Knowing Ned turned away, and 
 hobbled slowly in the direction of the stable. A few 
 minutes afterwards he was followed, as he had foreseen, 
 by Mr. Wells, who was anxious to ascertain the state of 
 the brown cob's temper with his own eyes, and who, before 
 he got to the door, became aware, through the medium of 
 another organ, that an active encounter or trial of strength 
 was going on between him and his personal attendant, 
 while in tones of remonstrance the latter addressed his 
 charge : ' You would, would you ! — Quiet, you varmint, 
 Avill you ! — Come up ! — Stand still ! — Go over ! ' while, as 
 Mr. Wells cautiously peered round the stable-door, two 
 iron-shod heels flashed within a yard of his face, causing 
 him to retire with precipitation, heedless of the invitation 
 addressed to him by Ned to come in and see what a 
 ^ wicious brute ' he had to deal with ; or to lay his hand 
 upon his quarters, and just see 'if he didn't let out.' Un- 
 willing to put the irascible temperament of the cob to any 
 personal test, he heartily concurred with the remark that 
 ' he was not fit for a lady noways;' and as he hastened the 
 preparations for tea, which, in an establishment so entirely 
 feminine, was, as I need scarcely observe, the meal of the 
 day, he resolved upon disburdening his mind on the sub- 
 ject of the brown cob's disqualifications during the progress 
 of that social repast. 
 
 Gloriana herself paved the way for the observations he 
 intended to make by saying, ' I shall be able to ride again 
 to-morrow : the stiffness is quite gone off; and Brutus will 
 be getting too much for me if he has neither exercise nor 
 work.' 
 
 ' I am very much afraid that he won't suit, after all. Miss 
 •Oloriana,' said Wells pompously. ' I am afraid he is fall of 
 vice : he nearly killed Ned and me in the stable to-day.' 
 
 ' Oh, horses are often very vicious in the stable that 
 are very quiet out ! ' was the reply. ' There is War Eagle 
 
AV SEARCH OF A HORSE. 33 
 
 up at the Park, who is as quiet as a lamb when he's 
 mounted. And there's only one of the helpers that he 
 will let dress him over ; and he nearly killed him once.' 
 
 ' Dear me !' said Mrs. Applegarde ; ' how dreadful ! 
 And how did you hear that, my dear V she added, while, 
 luckily for Gloriana's sake, whose colour, ever rosy, had 
 become deep crimson at the question, she wandered on in 
 a way that was habitual with her. ' But it really is such 
 an undertaking having anything to do with horses with no 
 gentleman to consult, and so much roguery and deception 
 going on. I do so much regret that your poor dear uncle, 
 who always had such fine horses, and so beautifully kept, 
 should have died just when he did — not, of course, on that 
 account only, but such a loss as he was to his family. Like 
 your poor dear papa, my dears, excepting that he was 
 never such a domestic man, and not so tall or good-looking, 
 either — not such an Applegarde, in fact,' said the widow, 
 drawing herself up, and glorying in the name of the hus- 
 band whom she had idolised, and to whom, in the fresh- 
 ness of her remarkable beauty, she had also been all in all. 
 Perhaps, had he lived, the great simplicity of her character, 
 which was an additional charm in early youth — But why 
 should I suggest any doubt as to his constancy under 
 a contingency not fated to occur ? Why should we des- 
 pise simplicity even in mature age, when it is the sign of 
 the innocence of a nature that contact with the world can 
 neither sully nor efface ? Let simplicity grow old if it can. 
 If it sometimes Aveary us, it must command, nevertheless, 
 our love and our respect. There are depths and heights 
 both of evil and of good which must be hid from such 
 natures evermore. But while the strong currents wrestle 
 in the deeps, and the storm-clouds gather on the moimtain- 
 tops, let the sunbeams play gently on the shallows of life : 
 all are beautiful : it is we who are blind in only allowing 
 beauty in what we can appreciate and understand. Mrs. 
 Applegarde's nature was a very simple but a very lovable 
 
 C 
 
24 THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY 
 
 one ; and I was wrong in hinting that had her husband 
 hved he would have found it less attractive than in the 
 fresh spring-time of early youth. I am sure, upon reflection, 
 that I was quite wrong. 
 
 *I shall try Brutus again to-morrow, at all events,' 
 said Gloriana, taking up the thread of the subject which 
 she and Mr. Wells had had under discussion when her 
 mother had rambled off on her favourite palfrey of some- 
 what disconnected reminiscences ; ' it will not be easy to 
 get rid of him if he does not suit.' 
 
 ' I am afraid not, miss,' was the reply ; ' but there's no 
 knowing ; and things do turn up sometimes unawares' — 
 a maxim in the philosophy of human affairs, which none 
 of Mr. Wells's audience felt inchned either to gainsay or 
 refute ; indeed, as he disappeared with short quick steps 
 under the weight of the tea-urn and his own increasing 
 flesh, Mrs. Applegarde remarked enthusiastically, ' I really 
 don't know what would become of us without James,' so 
 entirely had he impressed his mistress with the idea that 
 he was a necessary unit in the scheme of her existence — 
 the unit, in fact, which gave importance and meaning to 
 the three ciphers which, in all matters of business (or 
 horseflesh), she considered herself and her daughters to 
 be. 
 
 As Knowing Ned the next day saddled Brutus for Miss 
 Applegarde to ride, there Avas a latent sparkle of triumph 
 to be observed in the corner of his most knowing eye, 
 which did not diminish as the cob made his exit from the 
 stable with a playful flourish of his heels, and with a snort 
 v/hich betrayed to the experienced in such things, that he 
 was ' full of fettle and play.' 
 
 ' 'Ware heels ! ' cried Ned, in tones of caution to Mr. 
 Wells, who was ambling slowly and cautiously round the 
 palfrey, with a view of ascertaining that he was ' all right ' 
 before his young mistress mounted ; and before the words 
 were well out of his mouth, Brutus indulged in a kick 
 
IN SEARCH OF A HORSE. 35 
 
 which had for its object the person of the vahied domestic, 
 to whom he appeared, indeed, to have conceived a great 
 personal aversion. 
 
 "Ow on earth is Miss Gloriana to get up, I should like 
 to know, with the brute lashing out in that way f said the 
 butler, with great asperity, and surveying the clumsy form 
 of the 'andsomest cob in England' with but little trace 
 of his former admiration and approval. 
 
 ' She ain't afraid, I knows,' was the answer intended 
 for Gloriana's ears, who appeared at that moment ready 
 equipped, and followed by Mrs. Applegarde and Kate, who 
 shared the fears of Mr. Wells with regard to the cob, and 
 who were both nervously anxious as to the result of the 
 ride. 
 
 'I must have a chair, I believe,' said Gloriana, who 
 blushed a little at the idea of the implied inexpertnessboth of 
 the mounter and the mountee ; but the chair having been 
 placed, after some little display of resistance on his part, 
 hy the, side of the horse, she displayed great quickness 
 and nimbleness in mounting thence to his broad back. 
 
 No sooner was she in the saddle, and the reins gathered 
 ' nohow,' as Ned afterwards observed, in her hand, than 
 Brutus, left to his own devices, kicked over the chair which 
 had been a source of annoyance to him ; and finding that 
 in so doing he had hurt his own heels, he kicked again 
 spitefully more than once, so that Gloriana with difficulty 
 kept her seat, and was fain to cling for life or death to 
 the pommel of her saddle, which, being an old-fashioned 
 one supplied from the stock of the village sadler, possessed 
 that appendage in a more developed state than is neces- 
 sary now in the improved state of things with regard to 
 modern side-saddles, the tall awkward crutch on the off 
 side being now entirely done away with, and the balance 
 preserved by what is, in fact, only a second pommel placed 
 in a different position. 
 
 ' He'll be all right presently, miss,' said Knowing Ned, 
 
36 THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY 
 
 who in his own mind had planned that Gloriana should 
 have enough of the cob's antics that day to sicken her of 
 him at once and for ever. ' Just give him his head, and 
 take it out of him a bit, right down the common. He'll 
 be quiet enough after a bit.' 
 
 Fallacious hope ! No sooner did Brutus find under his 
 hoofs the short elastic turf of Ambledown Common, than, 
 mad from the effects of his long holiday and four feeds of 
 corn daily (with Avhich Ned had supplied him, for purposes 
 best known to himself), he commenced a series of plunges 
 and jumps which were terrible to look at, and still worse 
 to experience. 
 
 ' What a beast you are !' said poor Gloriana, shaken to 
 death, and really hurt with the violence of the cob's move- 
 ments. ' I can never do anything with you, I am quite 
 sure, so it's no use attempting it :' and turning his head 
 towards home, she intended to take him back, and give up 
 all attempts to ride him for the future. But, alas ! even 
 that little space she was not destined to traverse in safety, 
 for the overfed and underbred cob finding his head turned 
 towards the stable Avhich had proved such a Paradise to 
 his sensual nature, gave a final bound and twist, which 
 succeeded in dislodging Gloriana from the saddle ; and as 
 she lay prostrate on the turf, which was luckily soft with 
 recent rain, he galloped home, snorting and riderless, to 
 frighten the inmates of the Cottage almost to death on the 
 spot. Gloriana herself was the least frightened of all, 
 excepting, perhaps, the wicked author of the mischief^ 
 Knowing Ned, who had fed up Brutus in the hope of the 
 present result, and who, having his Avits more about him 
 than any of the rest of the party, and notwithstanding the 
 splint in his off leg, ran down the coach-road and out upon 
 the common with the speed of an agile demon to offer his 
 hypocritical condolences to the victim of his own craftiness. 
 
 ' You ain't hurt, miss, I 'ope,' he said, as Gloriana picked 
 herself up, and proceeded to walk with rather unsteady 
 
/iV SEARCH OF A HORSE. 37 
 
 trembling steps towards home. ' I told Mr. Wells what a 
 wicious varmmt he was afore ever you got on his back.' 
 
 ' No, I am not Imrt in the least/ was the reply ; ' but 
 I can see that the cob will never do for me. I am tired to 
 death before I have been on his back five minutes.' 
 
 ' In course you be, miss. He ain't got no spring about 
 him, he ain't; and he's a reg'lar low-bred un into the 
 bargain. There's nothing like blood for a lady. I wos 
 a-thinking this morning, miss, afore you went out, of a 
 black mare that would suit you to a T.' 
 
 ' We have got to get rid of the cob before we think of 
 getting another,' said Gloriana, rather shortly, for she felt 
 that the horsey man was too loquacious to be altogether 
 agreeable ; and she hastened on to assure her anxious 
 mother that there were no bones broken, and that she was 
 hone the worse for the fall, with the exception of the 
 shake. ' But one thing I am certain of, mamma,' she added, 
 with a sigh, ' and that is, that Brutus will never do I he is 
 too rough and too full of tricks. And I am only very sorry 
 that I persuaded you to buy him.' 
 
 ' Don't think about money, my child, where your pre- 
 cious health is concerned : there must be suitable horses 
 to be had for money ; and if your poor dear uncle had only 
 lived, he would have given us the best advice of any one 
 that I ever knew. We must get rid of this one, there is no 
 doubt — nasty thing ! — if we only get ten pounds for him.' 
 
 The plot which Knowing Ned had hatched in his art- 
 ful brain would, he foresaw, through the innocence of his 
 victims be very easily carried into execution. His brother, 
 a vagabond horse-coper, who wandered about the country 
 from one fair to another, had upon his hands at that 
 moment a black thorough-bred mare — aged, blind of one 
 eye, and, as Ned himself would have described it, ' screwed 
 all over,' which he had purchased at the high figure of 
 three pound ten, in the hope that he might be lucky enough 
 to find some one willing to buy her for five. 
 
38 
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY 
 
 That very afternoon a despatch was forwarded by a 
 sure hand from the stable-room at Park Side, which, for 
 brevity of expression and condensation of matter, might 
 have formed a model to be studied with advantage by 
 members of circumlocution offices, who manage to cover 
 
 ' BKUTUS WILL NEVER DO !' 
 
 reams of paper without conveying a quarter of the mean- 
 ing contained in the terribly dirty document, which ran 
 as follows : 
 
 '• Send the black mare bak by barer — I've got some flat 
 uns. — From bruther Ned.' 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to add, after this, that the black 
 
I.V SEARCH OF A HORSE. 
 
 39 
 
 mare duly arrived, or that she proved a good card in the 
 hands of the vagabond horse-coper and his knowing- 
 brother. She was a sweet-tempered, gentle beast, show- 
 ing a great deal of blood : she had, indeed, in her palmy 
 days, been a promising racing mare, but had broken down 
 suddenly and irrevocably in the zenith of her fame, and 
 had since been knocked about the world, being preserved 
 only from utter ruin by various good qualities, which made 
 her a pleasant hack. All her remaining advantages were 
 now, however, sadly upon the wane. Her regular up and 
 down lady's canter was becoming daily more wooden and 
 unsafe. Her eyes were going: one, indeed, was quite 
 gone ; and she was, in fact, a mere wreck, hardly worth the 
 three pound ten that had been given for her on speculation 
 by her latest purchaser. She was in very fair condition, 
 never having had the misfortune to fall into bad hands, in 
 the merciless sense of the words; and as she was led 
 round and round the carriage ring, for the inspection and 
 approval of the ladies, they all exclaimed simultaneously, 
 ' What a pretty creature 1' while the romance attending 
 the name of 'Black Bess,' her high-bred and gentle manners, 
 and the way she had of insinuating her velvet muzzle into 
 their caressing hands, decided the feminine council at once 
 upon the expediency of the siuop, which Knowing Ned had 
 so artfully proposed. He was not likely to lose much by 
 the transaction, for Brutus, the cob, was a valuable animal 
 in his own line. Six years old, sound, strong as a camel, 
 and with a camel's powers of endurance, he was quite 
 worth the forty guineas which Mrs. Applegarde had paid 
 for him, although not worth forty shillings to her ; for had 
 he been ever so quiet, his action in itself would have pre- 
 vented any one so delicate in health as her daughter then 
 was, from enjoying the exercise of riding him ; and tricky 
 and restive into the bargain, it was quite out of the question 
 that she would be able to profit by his services. Notwith- 
 standing the fall, however, and notwithstanding the shake, 
 
40 THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY 
 
 wonderful to relate, she was decidedly better. She had 
 roused herself from the lethargy and languor mto which she 
 had been fast sinking, and the difficulties attending the at- 
 tainment of the prescribed exercise excited, amused, and 
 interested her. Truly Sir Erasmus Globule deserved credit 
 for the discernment which had foreseen such happy results. 
 
 Perceiving that his design was succeeding, even beyond 
 his expectations, Knowing Ned was seized with a brilliant 
 idea, and on the spur of the moment, and with unblushing 
 effrontery, he said, ' For twenty guineas and the brown 
 cob, my brother would part with the mare ; there's not a 
 sweeter 'ack in all the country than she is on road or 
 turf.' 
 
 'What do you think. Wells?' said Mrs. Applegarde, 
 appealing to the family oracle, who, since his signal failure 
 with regard to the cob, had been rather silent when the 
 subject of a fresh purchase had come under discussion. 
 
 ' I think Miss Gloriana had better try this one, in the 
 first instance,' he said deliberately : ' one can't always 
 judge of a horse by the outside.' 
 
 ' ni put the saddle on her at once, miss,' said Ned 
 suggestively ; ' she'll carry you like a lamb, and you'll see 
 that there's no deception about her. She's no bone-crusher, 
 she ain't.' 
 
 So Gloriana, being easy of persuasion with regard to 
 adventure, determined upon trying Black Bess at once ; 
 and having mounted by means of the chair, the mare 
 cantered away with her quietly down the coach-road, and 
 then quietly on to the smooth turf, with easy action, up 
 and down like a rocking-horse, and holding her light head 
 in a graceful arch from her neck, a very different thing 
 from the heavy pull which the cob had maintained upon 
 the weak hands of his rider. 
 
 ' Oh, this is delightful ! and you are a dear creature,' 
 was Gloriana's exclamation, as she rode up to the door, 
 neither shaken nor exhausted, but with a healthy glow in 
 
IN SEARCH OF A HORSE. 
 
 41 
 
 her transparent clieek. ' I feel, mamma, that this sort of 
 riding ivill do me good.' 
 
 * I wish I had said forty and the cob,' said Ned to him- 
 self, as he saw the gratified looks of the whole party, and 
 witnessed the caresses lavished on Black Bess, Avhile Wells 
 himself was not afraid to approach within three arms' 
 length of the gentle animal. The bargain was concluded 
 there and then, according to the first proposal, and the 
 valnable mare was installed in the vacant place of Brutus, 
 who, as he took his departure, was little regretted by any 
 of the party, least of all by his particular patron, Mr. Wells, 
 who had so strongly affected him in the first instance. 
 Black Bess, on the contrary, became quite a pet with the 
 whole establishment, and some weeks had elapsed before 
 anything occurred to throw a light upon the real value of 
 the animal, for whom four times her value in money had 
 been given, and the cob actually given away. 
 
 As far, indeed, as Gloriana's health was concerned, she 
 had proved a good investment. The gentle exercise, 
 without fatigue, which her easy action and light mouth 
 afforded, did such wonders, that in tln*ee weeks the country 
 doctor pronounced that Miss Applegarde was in a fair way 
 to the recovery both of her health and spirits. ' But,' he 
 added, in a voice of warning, ' you must be very careful 
 how you ride, for that mare is far from safe, and the com- 
 mon ground is very rough and uneven in some places : 
 if she were to come down there, she would give you a bad 
 fall.' 
 
 ' Black Bess is as quiet as a lamb, doctor, I assure you,' 
 put in Mrs. Applegarde. ' Gloriana tells me that it requires 
 no exertion to manage her, and that is the great thing, 
 after all, in her delicate state of health.' 
 
 ' Quiet she is, ma'am, I grant you, but not safe, never- 
 theless ; and a blind horse, with shaky fore legs, is scarcely 
 a deshable mount for a young lady, who, with all the 
 courage, has scarcely at present the best hand in the 
 
42 
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY 
 
 world,' remarked the blunt doctor ; while Gloriana blushed 
 crimson with indignation at the slur thus cast upon her 
 riding, and exclaimed, simultaneously with her mother 
 and sister : 
 
 * A blind horse ! You do not mean to say that Black 
 Bess is blind, doctor V 
 
 ' One eye is going, and the other is already gone ; and 
 
IN SEARCH OF A HORSE. 43 
 
 I believe,' he added, ' that the name of the animal has 
 undergone a slight alteration lately, and that by changing 
 three letters blind has become Hack, for your especial ac- 
 commodation, I heard all about Blind Bess at Hill Top 
 Farm, where she is as well known as the postman, who 
 has ridden her backwards and forwards on the turnpike 
 road to Fairyard every day for the last three years. She 
 fell down with him so often, that he sent her to the fair, 
 where she was sold for three pound ten. I won't say 
 who to, for fear of making mischief, but I could not hear 
 all this without giving you warning, and putting you more 
 on your guard.' 
 
 ^ It must be really dangerous, my dear,' said Mrs, 
 Applegarde, addressing her daughter ; ' you know you 
 have told me about her stumbling so much lately, and 
 Ned put it down to her having been newly shod : but I do 
 not like this account at all, and only trust that he knew 
 nothing of the creature's antecedents when he brought 
 her here.' 
 
 ' I know nothing about that,' said the cautious doctor ; 
 * but I hope and trust that Miss Applegarde will ride her 
 carefully, if she continues to ride her at all.' 
 
 ' I always do that,' she replied ; ' and, indeed, you must 
 not think of recommending me to give up riding, now that 
 I am so fond of it, for if I do I shall certainly be ill 
 again.' 
 
 ' Give up riding on no account, but ride with as much 
 regard for your neck as you can ; and do not, above all 
 things, trust to the perception of a blind mare when you 
 gallop over rabbit commons with a loose rein.' 
 
 ' What stuff he talks,' said Gloriana peevishly, as he 
 left the room ; ' he goes gossiping about at farmhouses, 
 and believes all the nonsense that they tell him. I am sure- 
 that Black Bess is perfectly safe myself.' 
 
 Now that her eyes had been opened, however, to the 
 unwelcome fact, she could not help recalling to mind that 
 
44 
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY 
 
 the mare did very often stumble, especially on rough or 
 uneven gromid, and that she relied entirely on the hand 
 which guided her, which being an inexperienced, and on 
 that account an undecided one, often courted the danger 
 which it wished to avoid. It was but a week after the 
 doctor's warning that she fell as she was galloping, pro- 
 pelling her rider over her head with some force to the 
 ground, and cutting her own knees cruelly on the mound 
 of gravel which had caused the accident. Poor Gloriana 
 returned home somewhat crestfallen, but fortunately not 
 much hurt. A family council was held the next day, in 
 which it was decided the poor broken-knee'd Bess should 
 be turned out in the meadow belonging to the cottage, and 
 kept merely as a pet ; for her sweet temper and affectionate 
 disposition had won for her the regard of all the inmates 
 of Park Side Cottage, and they agreed that for the services 
 she had rendered she was entitled to a pension, or turn 
 out in clover, for the remainder of her natural life. 
 
 ' She has done her part in bringing back your roses, 
 my dear,' said Mrs. Applegarde ; ' and she deserves my 
 everlasting gratitude for that. And now there is a more 
 difficult question to decide, and that is, What is to be 
 done about getting another? And whom,' added the 
 widow despairingly, ' whom are ive to trust f 
 
 ' I have been thinking it over,' replied Gloriana mus- 
 ingly. *I heard from Miss Levison the other day, and 
 she wishes me to have the Welsh pony, " Taffy," until 
 they return from abroad. Perhaps it will be the best 
 plan after all ; and, as I ride alone, it will be easier to get 
 on and oif, and to open and shut gates : don't you think 
 «o, Katef 
 
 ^ Would they not allow us to buy the pony f sug- 
 .gested Mrs. Applegarde. ' I do not much like being under 
 an obligation, even to the Levisons.' 
 
 ' Perhaps they think the obligation would be the other 
 way,' said Gloriana proudly : ' they asked me, as a favour, 
 
IN SEARCH OF A HORSE. 45 
 
 to use the pony, and I have reason to know that they 
 mean what they say.' 
 
 As Gloriana had mentioned only Miss Levison's name 
 in the first instance, the substitution of the third person 
 plural for that of the third person singular would have 
 struck the ear of most mothers at once, for in that plural 
 was included their very good-looking, manly, and agree- 
 able young Squire and landlord, Ralph Levison, who had 
 taken it into his head suddenly to go abroad for six 
 months, no one knew why or wherefore, just before 
 Gloriana's illness had alarmed her friends. But Mrs. 
 Applegarde had not that instinctive penetrative faculty 
 which makes a secret an impossible thing to a mother's 
 eye. She did not know, and she could not see, that the 
 motive which induced Gloriana to accept the offer of the 
 Welsh pony, made to her by Mr. Levison through his 
 sister, had something more in it than appeared on the 
 surface : and when her daughter did all that she could do 
 under the circumstances, viz. hint it to her, she did not 
 take the hint. 
 
 The reader must exercise his own discernment upon 
 this matter. It is not likely that he should be more dis- 
 criminating than a mother ; nor am I bound to reveal any 
 secrets, or make any hints, before the appointed time. All 
 that it is necessary to say here is, that Taify was located 
 in the empty stall, and he became first favourite with Glo- 
 riana, who enjoyed upon his back what she began to call 
 real rides. He was a handsome, strongly- built, spirited 
 pony, full of courage, and entirely free from vice. Over 
 the wild breezy commons, in the rough and stony lanes, 
 he was equally clever and safe as a hack, and Gloriana, 
 although self-taught, was learning, by daily experience, to 
 ride well. The only thing remarkable about this pony 
 was his extraordinary appetite. The stable-bills which 
 Mrs. Applegarde settled every quarter mounted up to 
 fabulous sums ; and when she remonstrated with Ned on 
 
46 THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY 
 
 the subject, the only remark that he vouchsafed in reply 
 was: 
 
 * Them Welsh ponies is hawful ones to feed ; and Miss 
 Applegarde won't have him stinted, anyhow.' 
 
 ' Of course ; no one wishes him to be stinted,' replied 
 his easy mistress ; ' and if he wants it, he must have it ; 
 but it seems to me quite extraordinary that a mere pony 
 should eat so much.' 
 
 ' It's no objick to me,' said Knowing Ned doggedly : 
 ' we'll make him do upon less ; but if he looks poor, I know 
 who'll get the credit of it when the young squire comes 
 home.' 
 
 And acting upon the dark threat which he had held out, 
 he supplied poor Taffy with about half a feed of corn a day, 
 out of a supply sufficient to keep two hunters in high 
 condition for the ensuing quarter ; so that the pony's ribs 
 began to show, even through the heavy coat with which 
 nature had provided him. 
 
 •He looks worse and worse,' said Gloriana, as she 
 brought him in early one day, grieved to the heart to see 
 him falling off so when she wished him to be looking his 
 best. 'Do you think that you give him corn enough?' 
 she added, looking hard at Ned, who had not, it must be 
 owned, enjoyed her perfect confidence since the suspicious 
 affair of Black Bess. 
 
 ' I gives him what the missus allows,' he replied, saucily 
 enough : 'I can't do more by him nor that.' 
 
 Gloriana flew to her mother to inquire into the mean- 
 ing of this mysterious imputation, and extracted from her 
 that she had certainly recommended retrenchment in the 
 matter of the stable economy, but that she had expressly 
 stipulated that the pony should have enough. 
 
 ' He must have enough, if I pay for it out of my own 
 pocket,' was the hasty reply. ' I can never send him back 
 to the Park with his bones staring out of his skin, in the 
 way they are doing now.' 
 
IN SEARCH OF A HORSE. 47 
 
 And the next day she did in fact order two bags of 
 corn from a friendly farmer, which she kept under lock 
 and key, and from which, notwithstanding the black looks 
 of the irregular groom, she administered three feeds daily 
 to Taffy with her own fair hands. 
 
 * There will be no corn-bill for mamma this quarter,' 
 she said severely to that worthy, who looked terribly sulky 
 at being outwitted in the tactics which the easy credulity 
 of his mistress had suggested to his fertile mind. He 
 had his revenge, however, and the pony was the sufferer 
 after all. 
 
 ' He'll put on no flesh till he's clipped, miss,' he re- 
 marked to his young mistress, who was lamenting over 
 Taffy's shaggy appearance ; ' he was always clipped up 
 at the Park long afore this.' 
 
 ' Was he V Gloriana eagerly remarked. ' We must get 
 him done at once, then. I do not want them to see any 
 difference in him when he goes back.' 
 
 Taffy was clipped and singed accordingly ; and with 
 the additional supply of corn, and the superabundant flow 
 of spirits induced by the loss of his thick greatcoat, he be- 
 came almost too much for Gloriana, and as frisky without 
 any vice as a pony could well be. The nights were frosty 
 and cold, and Taffy's coat was very short ; so that a window 
 left open — by accident, of course — one bitter night, did the 
 work that was to prove Knowing Ned's revenge for the 
 interference of Gloriana in the matter of stable economy. 
 Taffy coughed twice the following morning ; and the next 
 day he coughed continuously ; and the day after that Miss 
 Applegarde heard the unwelcome news that the pony had 
 inflammation in him, and that it was a chance if his life 
 could be saved. A messenger was sent at once into 
 Greyminster, on the blind mare, to summon the veterinary 
 surgeon that the town afforded. He came with all speed, 
 but only in time to find that the pony was beyond his aid : 
 the sudden change from starvation to good feeding, and 
 
48 THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY 
 
 the exposure to the chilling night air in his newly-clipped 
 state, had done its work. Taffy was indeed dying ; and 
 if the poor pony had been a Christian, as the saying is, 
 the announcement could hardly have been attended with 
 more genuine sorroAV in the hearts of all concerned ; while 
 Gloriana herself was the victim of the most agonising 
 pangs of remorse. Knowing Ned, who had not intended 
 or foreseen the fatal result of his work, lost no oppor- 
 tunity of impressing upon her mind that it was all her 
 doing, and that the pony had been overfed ; in which 
 opinion he was confirmed by the doctor, who observed 
 that there was more harm done by overfeeding among 
 ladies' pets, whether ponies or lap-dogs, than by the more 
 healthy abstemiousness of less-favoured animals. This 
 was the last straw on the camel's back, which proved too 
 much for Gloriana to bear. To be accused of being instru- 
 mental in the death of the poor pony, who had been her 
 one thought and care since she had undertaken the charge 
 of him — whom she had fed and caressed daily with her 
 own hands, and ridden with as much care as though in his 
 sturdy frame had been concentrated the glory and the 
 value of all the horses in Christendom — oh, it was too 
 much ! and the burst of grief which followed the announce- 
 ment must have touched even the heart of the author of 
 the evil, if anything so human throbbed in his villanous 
 breast. There was a Nemesis for him in poor Taffy's death, 
 and this last stroke of diplomacy was fatal to his own 
 cause. Gloriana absolutely refused to make any further 
 efforts to procure either horse or pony to supply the lost 
 favourite's place. 
 
 ' It is absurd, in an establishment consisting entirely of 
 women, attempting to have anything to do Avith horses,' 
 she said. ' It's bad enough to have to tell the Levisons 
 that Taffy is dead, without letting them think that I have 
 thought so little of it as to set up another already in his 
 place.' The Levisons were, indeed, at that moment on 
 
IN SEARCH OF A HORSE. 49 
 
 their road home, so she knew not where to write to them 
 to break the sad news of the pony's death. 
 
 ' I do beheve, Glorry, that yoii had rather it had been 
 me,' said Katie rally ingly, as with a pale and harassed 
 face her sister prepared for her walk to the Park the day 
 after the return of its inmates, to convey the first news of 
 the misfortune herself. 
 
 * Do not laugh at me, Katie,' was the reply ; ' but tell 
 me what I shall say to Mr. Levison. I shall be quite ill 
 with worry and anxiety before it is over.' 
 
 ' I thought Taffy belonged to Miss Levison^ said Kate 
 archly. ' You always talked as if Harriet had lent him to 
 
 yon.' 
 
 ' She made me the offer, of course,' answered her sister, 
 whose neck and temples were crimson as she spoke ; ' but 
 the pony did not belong to her.' 
 
 ' Then, indeed, I do not think that you have much to 
 be afraid of,' Kate remarked, with a glowing smile. ' 
 Glorry, what a fool you must think me if you don't know 
 that / know all about it ! ' 
 
 ' Hush ! hush ! ' said Gloriana, putting her hand over 
 her sister's mouth ; ' there is nothing to know. And don't 
 tease me, Katie dear, for I am so very unhappy. Come to 
 the Park with me,' she added beseechingly ; and the loving 
 little sister, who saw that she really wished it, and who 
 was full of genuine feeling under her fun, lost no time in 
 putting on her hat and shawl, and was ready and waiting 
 before Gloriana, who Avas still lingering, had slowly de- 
 scended into the hall. 
 
5° 
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 ' Shy she was, and I thought her cold, 
 Proud, and I fled o'er the sea ; 
 Filled I was with folly and spite, 
 While Ellen Adair was dying for me. 
 
 In treating of Gloriana and her ' Adventures,' I must 
 plead guilty to having hitherto bestowed more attention on 
 
IN SEARCH OF A HORSE. 
 
 51 
 
 the liorses with which she was from time to time so artfully 
 saddled, than on the young lady herself. And to repair so 
 serious an error, I will proceed to give a description of 
 my heroine, now (through the agency of Sir Erasmus, and 
 those various steeds, good, bad, and indifferent) in the 
 possession of glowing health, and of all the charms with 
 which Nature had in her case been unusually lavish. She 
 was, indeed, a beautiful girl ; and she had also the great, 
 and not very common, advantage of being very diffident 
 and modest on the score of her own attractions. She had 
 lived so secluded a life, with little or no society but that 
 of her mother and sister, that she had not found the oppor- 
 tunity, generally afforded to a girl of her age, of testing 
 the value of her own beauty by the judgment of the 
 world of men. And yet hers was a face that no one could 
 pass, without longing to gaze again and again upon its 
 rare and perfect loveliness. It had the charm and fasci- 
 nation, which an ever- varying expression alone can give. 
 Animated or shy, merry or thoughtful, the countenance 
 was in every changing mood the reflex and image of the 
 pure and ingenuous mind. Her eyes, of a deep violet, 
 shaded by their dark lashes, were 
 
 ' Now brightly bold, now beautifully shy,' 
 
 and as eyes should be, they were the most attractive 
 feature of her face. Her hair was luxuriant in quantity 
 and rich in colour ; her figure lithe and slender, and, now 
 that she had recovered her health, upright as a dart, and 
 indicative of the strength combined with slightness, which 
 can alone be productive of genuine grace. ' She does look 
 well on horseback,' had been the remark of all who had 
 seen her, even on the sorry mounts — with the exception 
 of poor Taffy — with which she had hitherto been accom- 
 modated. 
 
 I observed above that Gloriana had had as yet no 
 opportunity of testing the power of her own attractions 
 over the hearts of the other sex ; one, however, there had 
 
52 THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY 
 
 been who would have proved neither indifferent nor dis- 
 loyal to them, had he received but the slightest encourage- 
 ment from the lips of his youthful enslaver. The young 
 Squire, Ralph Levison — who had become master of the 
 Park since the death of a distant relative, and who re- 
 sided there with his sister, ^liss Levison, a good-natured 
 but weak single woman of a certain age — no sooner saw 
 Gloriana, in her white dress and garden hat, pruning her 
 roses at the ' Cottage,' which was situated within the 
 boundaries of his own Park, than he fell desperately in 
 love with the fair vision, and, acting upon the spur of an 
 ingenuous nature, he lost little time in making his devo- 
 tion apparent. At this stage of the proceedings, however, 
 his ardour had received a check ; Gloriana was very shy, 
 and she also possessed a great deal of that comparatively 
 rare quality, maidenly dignity; and being conscious in her 
 own heart of a dawning partiality for their handsome 
 neighbour and landlord, she thought it incumbent upon her 
 to be less cordial and genial with him, than she would have 
 been to a more commonplace and indifferent acquaintance. 
 This line of conduct became more marked, in consequence 
 of the garrulous twaddle of Miss Levison, the maiden sister, 
 who was continually impressing on the minds of ^ the girls 
 at the Cottage,' that ' her brother was looked upon as the 
 catch of the county ;' and that the advances which were 
 made to him by mothers on the part of their daughters, 
 and even by the daughters themselves, were absolutely 
 'sliocUng' 'Shocking,' indeed, was MissLevison's favourite 
 condemnatory interjection ; and according to her own ac- 
 count the revulsions to which her delicate organisation 
 was subjected, in the course of one day, must have been 
 serious and overwhelming. She was very fond of talking 
 of her brother, and, indeed, the whole affection of which 
 she was capable was concentrated in him ; but owing to 
 the natural love of deception and misrepresentation, to 
 which all women who gossip are more or less subject, she 
 
AV SEARCH OF A HORSE. 53 
 
 managed to do him more mischief, in a matter which 
 affected his happiness, than she was at all aware of. He 
 was young, ardent, and impnlsive, and stung by the cold- 
 ness of Gloriana's manner, he wished by some sndden 
 attack to surprise her into emotion of one sort or ano- 
 ther. He had with this intention enlisted his sister in 
 his service, or rather believed that he had enlisted her, 
 and that she had understood the real motive, in the pro- 
 posal that he had made to her of going abroad Avith him 
 for six months — a projDOsal which had concluded with a 
 faltering — 'in case' 'You will be going down to the 
 Cottage this evening,' he added, after a pause; 'you can 
 just mention our plans to them. I want to know particu- 
 larly what they think of it — what she thinks of it, I mean,' 
 he said, raising his head with manly candour — he was not 
 ashamed of his devotion, why should he disguise or deny 
 it? 'I will come in later and bring you home.' Surely 
 this was clear enough ; and yet this delicate commission, 
 which a clever woman not interested in the result, one way 
 or another, would have managed in the most natural man- 
 ner in the world, was so wofully bungled in the hands of 
 Miss Levison, who ivas interested perhaps in the non-suc- 
 cess of her brother's suit, that it ended in the worst way 
 possible for all parties interested or concerned in the mat- 
 ter. For when the Squire ' dropped in' at the Cottage on 
 that lovely summer's afternoon, in the hope of meeting 
 with an inquiring or even reproachful glance from the 
 Aaolet eyes of the maiden whom he loved so ardently, 
 he was not even favoured with their usual half-shy, half- 
 conscious acknowledgment of his presence; but observed 
 that they were steadily fixed in an opposite and appa- 
 rently singularly unattractive direction. A cloud seemed 
 to hang, indeed, over the spirits of the party ; and Avhile 
 Mrs. Applegarde entertained her hearers Avith a story that 
 had no beginning, and which did not seem likely to come to 
 an end, two hearts which were struggling with the strength 
 
54 
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY 
 
 of their own emotions, had time to settle down into that 
 cold and nnlovely reticence — which might be compared to 
 the placing of a mental Chubb's lock upon all the outlets 
 of expression in the soul — so that two statues of stone 
 could not have revealed less, than did the inanimate forms 
 of those whose destinies were trembling in the balance of 
 fate. Ralph was the first to endeavour to place things on 
 a more genial footing between himself, and his fair tenants 
 of the Cottage. 'What do you think of our plan for going 
 abroad during the summer and autumn, Miss Applegarde'?* 
 he said, as he joined her suddenly in a shrubbery walk, 
 whither she had wandered, as he fondly hoped, to allow 
 him a * last appeal.' The words were simple ones ; but 
 Gloriana was woman enough to know all that they im- 
 plied. Raising her beautiful eyes, however, coldly and 
 calmly into her lover's face, she merely replied, ' / tlmik it 
 is a very good one.' Then there was a short pause ; it never 
 occurred to either of them that ' some one might have 
 blundered,' in the delicate commission with which that 
 some one had been so confidingly intrusted. An open 
 explanation, a few kind words, and all might have been 
 well ; but in such cases the explanation is never made — 
 the kind word never bestowed. Gloriana's heart was on 
 the point of relenting, as she saw something glitter for a 
 moment in Ralph Levison's eyes ; but she was too late — 
 the words she had said could not be recalled ; she had 
 accepted that cruel plan, at which her soul rebelled, as * a 
 very good one,' and the thing was done. AVith a powerful 
 effort, he, too, mastered the emotion which had sharply 
 stung his strong heart, and stretching out his hand, had 
 said, ' Thank you, Gloriana ; you have done your best to 
 cure me of my love for you. I will not harass you any 
 more — good-bye;' and before she was aware, he had raised 
 her hand to his lips, and kissed it passionately. After that 
 short interview, when he was gone whom she had loved 
 well, although unconsciously, she thought of the tear she 
 
IN SEARCH OF A HORSE. 55 
 
 had seen glittering in his eyes, and knowing what it must 
 have cost him, the remembrance of it poisoned the som-ces 
 of her Hfe. She pined and drooped, and nobody knew 
 what ailed her but the shrewd London doctor, who read 
 her secret at a glance, and who ordered her at once, as a 
 remedy, something to do, something to think of — and, 
 better than all, something that, above all other things, he 
 took an interest in. This last clause was of com-se nothing 
 more than a lucky hit — even the shrewd doctor s powers 
 of clairvoyance did not reach so far into a millstone as that. 
 The ' exercise upon four legs' had, indeed, turned out a 
 sovereign remedy ; for Gloriana had begun to rally from the 
 day that she had her first ride upon the kicking cob. Per- 
 haps a letter received from abroad not long afterwards, from 
 the repentant maiden sister, might have had something to 
 do w^ith her further recovery. ' We take a great interest,' it 
 said, * in everything concerning your riding. Ralph wants 
 you to have the Welsh pony, which, he says, is quite quiet, 
 and would carry you beautifully,' &c. &c. ; for Ralph had 
 heard that she was ill, and had forgiven even that cruel 
 acquiescence with regard to the advantages of their foreign 
 trip. After these revelations, the reader will not be sur- 
 prised, that the visit to the Park was an agitating one to 
 Gloriana. It seemed so like ' seeking him,' she thought, 
 ' and yet it must be done because of poor Taffy — and my 
 foolish pride deserves some punishment : it serves me right.' 
 Ralph Levison was proud also ; but he was too gene- 
 rous and manly to let his pride interfere with his feelings 
 of deference towards w^omen — particularly towards un- 
 protected women, like the widow and her two daughters. 
 He was, therefore, on his way to the Cottage, as the sisters 
 ^vere on their way to the Park ; and as they exchanged a 
 warm, but rather shy greeting, Gloriana raised her tearful 
 eyes to his face, and said, ' Mr. Levison, I do not know 
 what to say to you, or how to meet you — poor Taffy is 
 •dead. I killed him.' 
 
56 
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY 
 
 ' You Idlled him f repeated Mr. Levison, after her ; but 
 it would appear as if the pony's death had scarcely affected 
 him to the extent which it ought to have done, for Glo- 
 riana was in no haste to remove her hand from his, and if 
 her manner was shy, there was no trace of pride or cold- 
 ness now. 
 
 ' Yes, I killed him,' she replied solemnly ; ' I gave him 
 too much corn, and brought on inflammation, and I am as 
 sorry that he died as if he had been my brother.' 
 
 This confession came out with a sob, and she quite 
 started with surprise when the unloohed-for answer was 
 returned — 
 
 ' I am glad of it, Gloriana, if our quarrel is to be made^ 
 up over his grave.' 
 
 ' Oh ! you must not be glad, indeed you must not,' was 
 the eager reply ; ' our quarrel was made up long before, 
 and you must not be glad that poor Taffy died.' 
 
 Just at that moment Kalph Levison had no other wish 
 but to be glad or sorry, as she was glad or sorry, in whom 
 his heart delighted. It was the happiest moment of his 
 life, and I fear that the memory of Taffy was like a plea- 
 sant essence in his nostrils, since it had thrown down the 
 icy barrier of coldness and pride, which had been built up 
 between himself and Gloriana, and established their friend- 
 ship on the old footing of candour and genial unreserve. 
 From that day there were no more misunderstandings,, 
 no more intrusting of important missions to the fatal 
 third party, who invariably bungles in a love affair. Glo- 
 riana had found out, through bitter experience, that her 
 OAvn happiness was bound up in that of Ralph Levison's, 
 and he had long been aware of the truth, that his depended 
 entirely upon her ; so as a natural consequence, before a 
 week had gone over their heads, it was one of those widely 
 diffused secrets, that every one knows, that the young- 
 Squire and Miss Applegarde were engaged to be married. 
 Miss Levison had unwillingly made up her mind, at last,. 
 
IN SEARCH OF A HORSE. 
 
 ST 
 
 that it must come to tliis ; and tried to persuade herself 
 that she had had her brother's happiness at heart, even 
 when she had informed Gloriana, on the important evening 
 described above, that her brother had made up his mind 
 to go abroad, because he was so persecuted by the matri- 
 monial snares which mothers and daughters were laying 
 for his bachelorhood in the county. It was a good trait 
 in her future sister's character, that, although often re- 
 proached by her now happy lover, for the cruel coldness 
 of the words which had driven him from her side, she never 
 betrayed his sister's treachery to him ; but, on the contrary,, 
 did everything in her power to conciliate her, and make 
 her feel as little as possible the difference in position, which 
 her brother's Avife would have it in her power to make, if 
 so inclined. 'Let bygones be bygones,' she would say 
 gravely, when the subject was bruited ; ' and tell me, 
 Kalph, what am I to ride to-day — Birdseye, or War Eagle,, 
 or Hetty, or the O'Donoghue f for there was hardly a 
 horse in the Park stables that Gloriana had not mounted 
 and ridden, under the auspices of her sporting squire. 
 
 ' I have ordered War Eagle for you to-day, if you will 
 promise to ride steadily; but she is getting dreadfully wild,' 
 he added, turning to Mrs. Applegarde ; ' she will beat me 
 across country soon.' 
 
 'I am not afraid as long as you are with her,' was the 
 reply. ' I cannot say that I quite liked her cantering about 
 the country by herself; but James did so set his face 
 against a groom.' 
 
 ' James is a muff,' replied the reckless Ralph ; ' and how 
 he could allow you to be so cheated by that rascal Ned, I 
 can't conceive.' 
 
 For the stable expenses during the time of that wor- 
 thy's reign and rule had been submitted by Mrs. Apple- 
 garde to the critical inspection of her future son-in-law.. 
 * My dear lady,' he had remarked, after running his eye 
 down the items, and arriving at the wonderful total, which. 
 
58 THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY 
 
 the ingenuity of ' Knowing Ned' had run np, ' all I can 
 say is, that yon must have been keeping np a hunting 
 establishment at the Cottage during my absence : how 
 many breakfasts have you given to the hunt % and when 
 did you pay up your last subscription to the hounds f 
 
 'AVas it not shameful '?' said Gloriana, with her face in 
 a glow. ' I could have forgiven him all that, though, if he 
 had not made me believe that I killed Taffy ; but that was 
 really sinful.' 
 
 ' Here comes War Eagle,' said Kate, who had been on 
 the watch ; and the stately horse came stepping like a 
 stag down the Park glade. 'He is a real beauty. 
 Glorry ! I envy you your ride to-day, and only wish that 
 I had the courage to get upon a horse's back.' 
 
 ' We must teach you,' said her future brother ; ' but how 
 is it, Kate, that you are such a little coward, when Glorry 
 is afraid of nothing f 
 
 ' I remember when she was afraid of you,' said Kate, 
 who never missed a favourable opportunity for repartee ; 
 ' and where is your chair,' she added saucily to her sister, 
 as War Eagle exhibited signs of impatience, and began 
 some stately curveting at the door, ' to help you to c^et up, 
 you know, as Wells used to say?' 
 
 Gloriana frowned slightly at the merry girl, to depre- 
 cate all chaff in the presence of the grooms, and poising 
 her foot lightly in Ralph's hand, the getting up was easily 
 disposed of; in a second she was in the saddle, and ap- 
 peasing the impatience of War Eagle by patting him on 
 his glossy neck, and speaking to him low honeyed words of 
 love and admiration, to which he seemed to listen with the 
 condescension of a prince of the blood. W^ar Eagle was a 
 powerful, thorough-bred horse, and as he bounded with 
 long strides over the elastic turf, his nostrils dilated, and 
 his eye flashed, and he looked as if his untamed spirit 
 would prove too much for the girlish form and slender 
 hands of his rider to subdue. Equal to the occasion, how- 
 
AV SEARCH OF A HORSE. 
 
 59 
 
 ever, Gloriana's colour rose, and eager with exciteraent 
 and with her own overflowing happiness, she exclaimed — 
 ' Oh ! let me take him over something, Ralph ; you 
 know you promised that I should.' 
 
 'I don't know,' was the reply; 'he is pulling you 
 enough as it is : he gets mad sometimes when he thinks 
 that he is to go.' 
 
 'So do I ; let us go together. There is a nice little 
 fence that I used to take Taffy over, just at the end of the 
 glade ; just this once, Ealph, please,' she added coaxingly ; 
 and receiving no positive injunction to the contrary, she 
 rode steadily on in the direction of the fence. 
 
 ' Don't interfere with him,' was all the caution she re- 
 ceived ; ' he'll do it himself.' 
 
 The good horse, indeed, wanted no hint that his rider 
 could give him on the subject ; he dropped gently on the 
 other side of the fence, with his fair burden safe on his back. 
 ' Oh, it is glorious !' she exclaimed, as she followed 
 Ralph upon Birdseye, across the open fallow. ' Oh ! I 
 ■should enjoy a day with the hounds.' 
 
 ' That is what I was afraid of,' said the young Squire 
 gravely ; and he will perhaps be set down as very strait- 
 laced and particular by his sporting brethren, when I 
 admit that, with all his own love of sport, and admiration 
 of courage in men and women, he disliked the idea of see- 
 ing young, gentle, refined women habituees of the hunting- 
 field. ' That is what I was afraid of,' he said ; and then 
 he added still more seriously, ' Gloriana, you will oblige 
 me very much if you will never ask me to let you hunt — 
 you know I can refuse you nothing.' 
 
 'I will never mention the subject again, if you dislike 
 it,' she replied ; ' but I thought you would have liked it — 
 that is, if you knew that I could ride.' This she said 
 doubtfully, and inquiringly — she thought that his remark 
 contained an imputation upon her riding — and feeling her- 
 self a novice in the art, she was perhaps a little hurt. 
 
6o THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY 
 
 ' It is because I think you ride so well, that I,[shoulcI 
 dislike it for you. I could not bear to have yoiJ the object 
 of vulgar admiration and comment. Do you understand 
 me now, Glorryf 
 
 ' I do, indeed, and I should dislike it above all things 
 myself,' she said, blushing at the very idea. 
 
 ' I cannot fancy either you or Kate ever becoming fast 
 young ladies ; you would not have believed that of me, 
 perhaps, who am a sportsman to the backbone ; but mas- 
 culine women are my favourite aversion. I should have 
 offered you War Eagle before now,' he added; 'but he 
 does not come up to my standard of a lady's horse — he 
 requires too much strength for graceful riding.' 
 
 'He does, indeed,' said Gloriana, who had found during 
 the last gallop, that he was rather too much for her ; ' he 
 is quite quiet, but very hard to hold.' 
 
 The words were scarcely uttered, before the horse, 
 starting at a man in a hedge-row, broke away with Glori- 
 ana, and proceeded with great strides across the open 
 meadow, in the direction of a wide brook that ran through 
 it. He was not going at his full speed, but he was running 
 away, inasmuch as she could not stop him. She did not^ 
 however, lose her nerve or her presence of mind; but 
 turning her head, she said to Ralph, who kept a little in 
 the wake, knowing what the horse was when he was col- 
 lared — 
 
 ' I am not frightened : but I can't hold him. Will he 
 jump the brook f 
 
 " Yes ; give him his head, and let him go ; then pull 
 him with all your strength, and turn his head towards 
 me.' 
 
 Gloriana obeyed these instructions carefully, and no 
 sooner found herself safe on the other side, than with a- 
 final effort she pulled the gallant horse round, while Birds- 
 eye, gallantly clearing the brook also, brought Ralph to her 
 rescue, who caught her bridle at once in his firm and 
 
62 ADVENTURES OF A LADY IN SEARCH OF A HORSE. 
 
 young mistress was about to make, acted as balm to liis 
 wounded heart; and although he winced a little under 
 the railleries of the Squire, he yielded the palm to him 
 with a pretty good grace, as far, at least, as horses were 
 concerned. There is nothing more to be said of Paragon 
 than that he was perfection, as his name implied. Perfect 
 in his paces, with the courage of a lion and the gentleness 
 of a dove; his mouth, his temper, his shape, his legs, his 
 head, his eyes, his mane, his tail, his colour, his pedigree 
 — all made him worthy of his name and of his mistress ; 
 who, as she turned, in the exuberance of her joy, to thank 
 her lover for his munificent gift, said, 'Oh! what a dear 
 old man was Sir Erasmus when he ordered me exercise 
 upon four legs: and what a divine horse was Brutus, who, 
 when he kicked me off on the common, commenced a 
 series of adventures, which have ended,' she added softly, 
 and with eyes beaming with affection, '• which have ended 
 in Paragon and youl 
 
THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX.. 
 
 THE LAST RUN WITH THE HARRIERS, 
 
 It was the very day after one Christmas, when all Eng- 
 land had a bilious headache, and Napoleon, had he but 
 known the proper time, might have come over, landed, 
 conquered, and dictated a new coup d'etat from Windsor 
 Castle, that Mr. Samuel Felix found himself the possessor 
 of 4000/. a year. I saw it in his face. Hitherto, it must 
 be said, Mr. Felix had never been an interesting person. 
 He had a poor wit. He had neither a good wine-cellar 
 nor a pretty sister, and how therefore was he to win the 
 respect of his fellow-men ? But on this morning his dull 
 dry countenance underwent a sort of transfiguration. 
 AVhen he told me of his good fortune he became quite 
 lovely in my eyes ; he was no more plain Mr. Felix, of 
 Great Tower-street, but a noble and handsome gentleman,, 
 -whom any one might be proud to know. 
 
 With a gushing generosity of confidence he flew into 
 a recital of what he was about to do with his newly-dis- 
 covered treasure. He would buy a house in Kent ; he 
 would go off to a wine-merchant's that very day; he 
 would take in the Field; he would purchase a stud, but 
 would begin by buying a first-rate hunter. Now there is 
 nothing in which an unwary man may be so easily swin- 
 dled as in buying a horse, and so, out of pure good-nature, 
 I sold him one of mine. 
 
 Mr. Felix assumed the role of a country gentleman 
 
64 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 with a charming dexterity ; but pressure of legal business 
 and other matters prevented his going out with the 
 hounds so soon as he Avould have wished. Towards the 
 end of February, however, I received intimation that I 
 might send down the horse I had sold him, for that he 
 meant to go out with Lord Switchem's harriers the last 
 day of the season ; and could I get myself another mount, 
 he asked, and remain over night at the Beeches ? Now 
 as I had invested the money paid me by Mr. Felix for my 
 former horse in the purchase of another a trifle better — 
 perhaps one might say a good deal better — there was no 
 difficulty about the mount ; and so at an early hour on 
 that fresh March morning, I rode past Mr. Felix's lodge 
 and up to the hall-door of the Beeches. My friend showed 
 me over the house with a graceful and blushing modesty, 
 -for as yet he was not quite accustomed to the grandeur of 
 the place, and at ten o'clock the horses were ordered to 
 be brought round. 
 
 The meet was at half-past ten. Mr. Felix, with a bran- 
 new whip in his hand, went out to look at the hunter, 
 and pretended to regard him with a calmly critical air. 
 
 ' Good long pastern,' he said, with a judicious nod of 
 approval. 
 
 Bobby turned round, with that big, black, full eye of 
 his, to look at his ncAV master, and it seemed to me then 
 that my friend was a little nervous. He went forward 
 and patted the animal's neck, and called him a poor old 
 man and a good old man, while the groom stood by, evi- 
 dently wondering at the delay. Mr. Felix looked all over 
 the horse again; he again patted his horse's neck and 
 addressed him as ' poor old Bobby ;' then he discovered 
 something wrong with the handle of his whip. 
 
 A thought struck me. Had Mr. Felix never ridden 
 before % or was I to be the innocent cause of his death '? 
 He began to caress the animal in quite a hysterical way, 
 with a vain effort to conceal his agitation. Perhaps, too, 
 
THE LAST RUN WITH THE HARRIERS. (^^^ 
 
 I thought, Mr. Felix had not made his Avill, and at this 
 moment Mrs. FeKx, a rosy Httle hidy, came to the Avindow 
 to smile a farewell to her lord. A fareioell ! I turned 
 away : I dared not look that simple creatm'e in the face. 
 
 But at length he managed to struggle into the saddle^ 
 and away we rode. Over the hill and down again, and 
 lo ! before us, far over the fresh green plain, were a num- 
 ber of minute dark speck's that moved hither and thither 
 in the yellow mist of sunshine. As we drew nearer the 
 mass of riders increased ; we saw the whip flourishing his 
 white leather thong, and keeping guard over that stray- 
 ing cluster of speckled dogs which, in despite of him, 
 would sniff about the common, to the amazement of certain 
 long-necked snowy geese. The sight inspired Mr. Felix- 
 He seemed to forget the uncomfortable bobbing in the 
 saddle which he was enduring. He became quite radiant 
 and enthusiastic. 
 
 ' AVhat a morning !' he cried, with an incautious flourish 
 of his whip, which made Bobby swerve, to my friend's 
 evident terror. ' Look at the light along these hills ! And 
 the hedges, how green they are ! By Jove ! I believe I 
 could smell these wild flowers half a mile off. See ! that 
 is Lord Switchem, he with the green coat, on the roan. 
 And there are his two daughters, in front of that old 
 squire. Isn't the youngest a splendid-looking gell ? — full,, 
 fine-blown, pink English face, such as you see in maga- 
 zines, you know ; and how she sits her horse, to be sure ! 
 And do you think this old Bobby' 11 go welH' 
 
 My friend's garrulous simplicity was making him for- 
 getful. Bobby threw up his head at a bit of newspaper 
 lying in the road, and, but for a lucky snatch at the mane, 
 Mr. Felix would have been in the road also. As he shoved 
 himself back in his saddle, he threw a hasty glance towards 
 the ladies to see if they had witnessed the mishap — the 
 ridiculous old fop that he was. 
 
 Brisk and lively indeed was the scene in front of the 
 
 E 
 
66 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 inn — gentlemen dismounting from their dog-carts; two or 
 three rather fresh horses prancing on their hind legs and 
 spattering about the turf of the common ; the master 
 saluting his friends as they arrived; the ladies walking 
 their horses up and down to show the full sweep of their 
 gored skirts; one or two thirsty or timorous riders passing 
 into the inn for a thimbleful of ' jumping-powder;' the 
 whip flicking at this or that stray hound which had so 
 little self-respect as to claim acquaintance with a ragged 
 and forlorn-looking cur that had come out to see the 
 show. Mr. Felix rode up to shake hands with Lord 
 Switchem, the tall, thin, spare man with the keen gray 
 eye and eagle beak. His lordship made a little joke, and 
 Mr. Felix in vain attempted to smile, his face being filled 
 with alarm at a certain friskiness wdiicli Bobby was begin- 
 ning to exhibit. My friend then lifted his hat in a graceful 
 manner to the two ladies, and came back in happy uncon- 
 sciousness of the singular appearance of his elbows and 
 legs. 
 
 Then away we went up the nearest lane, the whip 
 still keeping in sore restraint these dappled heads and 
 flickering sterns, until the master abruptly rode his horse 
 up a bank on the left, the dogs foUoAving him into a long 
 undulating turnip-field. When we were all in the field 
 I noticed that on Mr. Felix's face there dwelt a singular 
 solemnity. Presently he rode over to me and said — 
 
 ' If I see a hare what must I do?' 
 
 ' Keep with the hounds, and they'll see her as soon as 
 you will. And mind, if you ride down any of the dogs, 
 Lord Switchem may perhaps use discourteous language.' 
 
 I lost sight of Mr. Felix then; but in a few moments 
 I had my attention called to him by hearing an unearthly 
 halloo. 
 
 * There she goes !' he shrieked, pointing to a rabbit 
 "which one of the dogs, having imearthed, Kseemed inclined 
 to follow. 
 
THE LAST RUN WITH THE HARRIERS. 
 
 67 
 
 The pack wheeled round in obedience to the ciy, and 
 doubtless he thought he had done something fine, when 
 a frightful torrent of execration was heard, and Lord 
 Switchem, in a furious passion, rode by. The whip, too, 
 quite as incensed, but only grumbling the oaths his master 
 uttered, rode at the hound which had led astray the 
 others, and, coming down with the full force of his arm, 
 curled the lithe leather thong round her body. Then 
 there was a yell. 
 
 ' Why, what do you mean'?' cried Felix, shocked at 
 such cruelty. 
 
 ' Didn't you see it was a rabbit? and you set the whole 
 pack astray,' said another rider, in accents of bitter scorn, 
 the whip being too angry, or too prudent, to reply. 
 
 ' It was the dog's fault, not mine,' grumbled Felix to 
 me ; but there was a great blush of shame on his face, and 
 he willingly fell to the rear. 
 
 The dogs, having been recalled to their duty, began to 
 scour the field once more, and in a very few moments they 
 simultaneously lifted up their voice and sent forth the joy- 
 ful cry. Moved by a sudden instinct, the hounds closed 
 into a dense compact body, and darted off with that sharp 
 plaintive howl. Here and there a horse, grown instanta- 
 neously mad with the piping of the shrill music, carried 
 his rider headlong down the slope at a pace which was 
 certainly uncomfortable over the superterranean turnips ; 
 while the hare, running almost in a straight line, crossed 
 the road at the foot of the incline and went straight up 
 the opposite hill. Here I lost sight of Mr. Felix. There 
 was a nasty bit of hedge at the foot of the turnip-field, 
 which the two ladies took beautifully ; but I knew that 
 Mr. Felix, if he had the least regard for his wife, and if 
 Bobby would allow him, would find some other method 
 .of egress. 
 
 And how well the dogs ran ! You could have covered 
 ;them with a blanket, as the sporting correspondents say. 
 
68 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 But the hare, having been headed, doubled round the hill 
 and made for the road again, not a few laggard riders- 
 profiting by her resolution. Now where was Mr. Felix?' 
 Neither he nor Bobby was within sight, and surely there 
 had been nothing to prevent his at least gaining upon the 
 dogs on their return. On reaching the road the pack 
 suddenly found themselves at fault; the hare having 
 taken a sharp turn to the right, they had overrun the 
 scent, but immediately spreading themselves out, they 
 worked about both hedges, their noses to the ground and 
 their white sterns wagging in and out the thick briers, 
 while the whip kept keen watch for the first i-ecovery of 
 the trail. And, as it happened, a certain Bessy again 
 gave tongue, receiving the warm commendation of her 
 master as she led her companions off in pursuit. 
 
 The hare had evidently made for the turnip -field 
 where we had first found her ; and just as the hounds, in 
 full cry, were struggling up the bank and leaping the 
 hedge, what should jump clean into the road but Bobby ! 
 
 He was riderless. There Avas a little titter of laughter 
 among the men, for presently Mr. Felix walked up to the 
 hedge and looked over. 
 
 ' Make him jump back,' said he piteously, seeing that 
 the other riders were now half way up the turnip-field. 
 
 ' Come along, and take your horse.' 
 
 ' I can't,' he said, apparently almost ready to cry ; ' I 
 shall lose the place v/here my Avhip dropped ; I am sure it 
 was here. And I sha'n't try to ride again over these 
 turnips.' 
 
 'Are you going home, thenf 
 
 He quietly disappeared, leaving me in charge of Bobby. 
 Suddenly, however, I heard a shout from him. 
 
 ' Oh ! by Jove, here they come — straight down on me 
 — what am I to do?' 
 
 The cry of the hounds was coming nearer and still 
 nearer, until, a few feet on the other side of the hedge, there- 
 
THE LAST RUN WITH THE HARRIERS. 69 
 
 vose the slirill ' squeak ! squeak !' of the liare being killed. 
 I left Bobby to his fate, and rode up the bank and through 
 the nearest gap. Here a pretty picture presented itself. 
 Mr. Felix, half-dead with terror, and not daring to move 
 lest the maddened dogs should fly at him, was standing 
 and looking at them worrying the hare from mouth to 
 mouth, while Lord Switchem, riding down the hill, and 
 followed by the whole field, was shouting to him to seize 
 the killed hare from the hounds. Indeed, by the time I 
 had rescued the bleeding carcass there was little need for 
 the master to cut it open. 
 
 ' Shall we send the hare round to your house, IMr. 
 Felix?' said Lord Switchem pleasantly, while there was 
 .a great burst of laughter from the ' field ;' and, indeed, a 
 more pitiable object than my friend, standing there among 
 the hounds, it was not often their lot to see. 
 
 ' Why didn't you tell me what I ought to have done?' 
 said Felix, quite savagely, as he caught Bobby, and 
 mounted. 'You don't expect that one learns to hunt 
 hares in Cheapside?' 
 
 It was useless to point out the fact that I had never 
 undertaken to be his preceptor in these matters, for now 
 .every one was hastening to overtake the hounds, which 
 were already drawing a low piece of meadow some five 
 hundred yards off. Before we could reach the ground 
 the hounds Avere in cry; but as the hare went straight 
 away over several tracts of meadow land, we were ere 
 long up with the crowd. She led the dogs down to a 
 long low clump of alders lying beside a broad but not very 
 deep stream, and here the scent was lost. There ensued 
 five minutes of painful uncertainty. Part of the field kept 
 hovering about the coi-ner of the meadow ; the others 
 .crossed the stream by a ford, and struggled through the 
 alders to the opposite corner of the cover. Now, Lord 
 .Switchem was in the former group, and we distinctly saw 
 him pass, without recognition, a tall, fair-mustachioed 
 
70 
 
 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 young gentleman who stood by a stile, a sliotbelt over hi» 
 shoulder, a gun in his hand, and a large brown retriever 
 at his feet. Not dreaming that we were likely to intrude 
 upon a private conversation, Mr. Felix and I rode up to 
 reconnoitre the ford, and, in so doing, found that we were 
 closely followed by Lord Switchem's youngest daughter, 
 wdio, drawing near to the young gentleman who Avas 
 leaning against the stile, said rapidly to him — 
 
 * Und gehst du heute Abend fort f 
 
 ' Ja wohl, Liebschen,' said this person, in an under tone y 
 ' komme aber um neun Uhr.' 
 
 *Hierf 
 
 He nodded in reply, and she turned to look after her 
 sister, as though she had been diligently observing the 
 water. 
 
 ' I say,' said Felix, ' what did that fellow say to her just 
 nowf 
 
 'He remarked that elderly gentlemen had no business 
 to pry into lovers' secrets.' 
 
 'That's your fun,' said Felix, with a sneer; 'but hark! 
 there go the dogs again ; and see ! they are making across 
 the field yonder.' 
 
 So there was nothing for it but a simultaneous rush to 
 the ford. The younger lady, gracefully lifting up the skirt 
 of her habit, and not even looking at the young gentle- 
 man, urged her horse into the stream, notwithstanding 
 that it tried to stand and paw the water with its fore- 
 foot. 
 
 ' Now, Mr. Felix,' said some one, ' come along.' 
 
 But a slight cry escaped the lips of my friend, and, 
 turning, I just caught sight of him slipping off the saddle, 
 as Bobby, right in the middle of the stream, began to rear 
 up on his hind legs. The next moment Mr. Felix was in 
 the water, whence he emerged puffing and snorting like 
 a hippopotamus ; while Bobby, tempted by the current, 
 was rapidly making his way down the bed of the river^ 
 
THE LAST RUN WITH THE HARRIERS. 71 
 
 With two or three furious pkmges Felix succeeded in over- 
 taking him and hiyiug hold of the bridle. 
 
 'You ought to be ashamed of yourself,' he cried, in a 
 magnificent rage, ' sitting laughing there, when it is all 
 owing to your having sold me a horse which no one could 
 ride. Perhaps you think it fun. I don't ; and in the City 
 we would call the transaction by a harder name.' 
 
 ' ]\Iy dear sir,' I observed, ' I did not bargain to teach 
 you riding, as well as give you a horse, for sixty guineas ; 
 and as you don't seem to want my looking after you, I'll 
 bid you good-day.' 
 
 ' Oh ! I say,' cried Mr. Felix, in despair, ' wait a 
 minute ! Wouldn't I do as much for you % You've no 
 more conscience than a wild bear ; and it is all owing to 
 your confounded horse.' 
 
 Unfortunately, when he did manage to lay hold of the 
 bridle, there was no place on either side of the stream for 
 him to land, and he was therefore under the necessity of 
 walking against the current, Bobby very unwillingly fol- 
 lowing. I soon discovered that my friend's tone of plain- 
 tive entreaty was but a guise ; for so soon as he was again 
 mounted he began ' nagging ' as before. 
 
 ' Serves me right for buying a horse without having 
 tried him first. I daresay you fellows think it rather fine 
 to palm off a vicious horse. Hem ! I don't. Men of prin- 
 ciple don't. And now, you see, they're all away before us ; 
 and I've made myself ridiculous before the whole field.' 
 
 ' There I quite agree with you.' 
 
 ' Do you ? Do you mean to say that one man of the 
 lot could ride this horse f 
 
 ' Why, a baby could ride him.' 
 
 ' But I'm not a baby : and now, I suppose, as they are 
 two or three miles away, we had better go home.' 
 
 Mr. Felix was interrupted by the long yelping whine 
 of the dogs, which were clearly coming down again to the 
 alders, and two minutes thereafter — we standing in perfect 
 
72 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 stillness — the hare leaped from a low bank and took the 
 water gallantly. Louder and louder grew the cry of the 
 hounds m the resonant wood, nearer and nearer came the 
 sound of crackling branches and trampled leaves, and now 
 the hare had just reached the opposite bank. 
 
 'Oh! by Jove, she'll escape!' shouted Felix, as, obli- 
 vious of consequences, he spurred Bobby forward and made 
 a, great cut at the hare with his long whip. 
 
 'Hold hard!' I yelled to him; and the next moment 
 the dogs had simultaneously dashed into the water, splut- 
 tered or swum across, and were up the opposite bank and 
 through the dried white rushes. The hare took to the 
 open, the dogs some thirty yards behind, and 'Now,' I 
 -cried to Felix, ' there is a chance for you.' 
 
 AVe were several seconds in advance of the others, who 
 were as yet struggling through the swamp to reacli the 
 ford, and Mr. Felix fairly laughed out with pleasure. How 
 he managed to stick on I know not ; for Bobby, warming 
 to the work, was determined to have a run, whether with 
 a rider or without. ' Hurrah !' shouted Felix, as he gal- 
 lantly leaped a small drain about two feet Avide, and again 
 urged on his mad career. Several of the others had now 
 overtaken him, however, and pretty much in a line they 
 were approaching a ditch which was broad enough and 
 deep enough to make several of the older hands look out 
 for a safe place. The younger of the two ladies was the 
 first to make the attempt, and her horse refused. 
 
 ' Shall I give you a lead ?' said Felix, who Avas close 
 behind her. 
 
 AVas he suddenly grown insane '? Had the dip in the 
 river, and the subsequent reaction, produced a fever? 
 Whether he shut his eyes or not I cannot say; but he rode 
 full tilt at the ditch. Bobby landed with his fore-feet well 
 planted, but his hind-feet slipped in the soft mud, and my 
 friend went straight as an arrow over liis head, turned a 
 somersault, and found himself lying in the field on his back. 
 
THE LAST RUN WITH THE HARRIERS. 73 
 
 Felix got up, looked about liim for a second in a bewildered 
 manner, and the next second was again in tlie saddle. 
 Had lie been less dazed, he would have noticed, oii rising, 
 that two of his fellow-creatures had similarly come to 
 grief, and that a smaller boy, who had been riding a small 
 pony, was just then creeping out of the water like a half- 
 drowned rat. 
 
 The hounds having overrun the scent near the border 
 of a small plantation allowed the riders to gather together 
 again. 
 
 ' I was not the only one,' said Felix, coming proudly up. 
 
 ^ How the only one V 
 
 ^ There were several tumbled off, and I was the first to 
 get mounted again,' he said, with a fine enthusiasm man- 
 tling in his cheek ; ' and, I say, this horse you sold me goes 
 wonderfully. He's a perfect jewel. You know I don't 
 feel quite at home on a horse while he's trotting ; but in 
 full gallop I sit as easily as in an arm-chair; and you just 
 see when w^e get a good run again ! ' 
 
 Mr. Felix was certainly in a state of considerable ex- 
 citement. It was clear to me that he was quite forgetful 
 of Mrs. Felix — venator tenerw conjugis immemor — ^and deter- 
 mined, irrespective of results, to signalise himself in the 
 last run of the season. Not to speak of Lord Switchem — 
 whose acquaintance he had succeeded with considerable 
 difficulty in making — there were the whole of his neigh- 
 boiu's whom he wished to impress with a sense of his 
 equestrian proficiency ; and it is hard to say how much a 
 man will risk in endeavouring to prove himself a grand 
 cavalier. Mr. Felix kept flourishing his hunting-whip ; 
 he patted Bobby's neck and spoke to him encouragingly ; 
 he began to talk scientifically about the state of the Avea- 
 ther being adverse to the lying of the scent. One would 
 have thought that ]\Ir. Felix had become a ' thistle-whipper' 
 immediately on leaving his cradle. 
 
 The hounds at length started another hare, and were 
 
74 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 presently in full cry after her across the meadows. Mr^ 
 Felix was now determined to show fight. His misfortune 
 at the ditch having terminated without breakage of bone 
 was only an additional incentive, and Bobby very soon 
 replied to his admonitions of whip and spur by putting on 
 full steam. Awciy they went, over the fine level ground, 
 until it seemed to me that Bobby was exercising his own 
 choice of speed and path somewhat markedly. Away they 
 went, by stream, and ditch, and field, while Mr. Felix, 
 ahead of all his companions, was close upon the hounds. 
 It was a beautiful run. If my friend had purposely come 
 out to astonish his bucolic acquaintances with the spirit of 
 a City man, he could not have led off more brilliantly, 
 everything being in his favour. At the same time it must 
 be confessed tliat Mr. Felix, leaning back in the saddle, 
 seemed making futile but vigorous efforts to restrain his 
 steed, though the distance he speedily put between himself 
 and me soon prevented the possibility of my judging. 
 
 The dogs were now going down hill, Mr. Felix being 
 far ahead of the rest of the field. I caught a glimpse of 
 the speckled heads and legs struggling through or jump- 
 ing over a low quickset hedge, and at the same moment 
 saw Bobby rise high into the air. The next moment the 
 whole disappeared ; there was a shrill shriek above the 
 cry of the dogs ; that cry ceased, and there was nothing 
 heard but the clattering of hoofs on the damp meadow 
 land. 
 
 And what Avas this next sound ? Surely it could not 
 be Lord Switchem who was using such horrible language, 
 denouncing Mr. Felix, and himself, and everybody and 
 everything in terms which might have made a prizefighter 
 turn pale. 
 
 As I arrived at the hedge and looked over, a singular 
 tableau was spread out before me. Mr. Felix was on foot, 
 disconsolately wiping the mud off his new coat ; Bobby 
 was half a mile off, at full gallop ; Lord Switchem's favouriter 
 
THE LAST RUN WITH THE STAGHOUXDS. 75 
 
 hound, Bessy, lay dead on the bank ; and his lordship was 
 in a passion, which made his thin dry face as hot as fire. 
 Let me draw a veil over that sad consummation of the 
 day's sport ; the hare had been killed, and the field were 
 willing to return home. 
 
 When Bobby had been caught and restored to his rider,. 
 Mr. Felix observed to me — 
 
 ^ I consider Lord Switchem a most ungentlemanly 
 man. I say he is no gentleman. But let him rave as he 
 likes; it is the last day of the season, and what should I 
 care \ I will avoid, however, for the future, one who has 
 as little command over his tongue as over his temper.' 
 
 When Mr. Felix returned home he was quite triumphant 
 in his tone. He informed the rosy little lady that they 
 had killed two hares, and that he had witnessed the death 
 of both. Mrs. Felix was quite charmed with this new 
 proof of the grandeur and power of her husband. 
 
 * And that horse of yours,' said Felix, ' is quite a trump. 
 And, I say, which champagne do you prefer — Clicquot, or 
 Collin, or Moetr 
 
 IL 
 
 THE LAST RUN WITH THE STAGHOUNDS. 
 
 The infatuation of woman ! No sooner was Mrs. Felix 
 made aware of her husband's prowess in the field than she 
 insisted on his hunting something better than a poor little 
 hare. She began to read up encyclopsedias on all matters 
 concerning the ancient sports of England. She busied 
 herself with the history of the Henries to find how often 
 they went royally chasing the deer. She compelled Felix 
 to order a scarlet coat ; and set her eldest girl — that poor 
 little mite of a thing with a chirping voice so unlike the 
 resonant organ of her mother — to sing ' Old Towler.' She 
 
76 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 was indignant at the pusillanimity of her husband in not 
 adding his uncertain bass to the chorus, 
 
 ' This day a stag must die ;' 
 
 but he escaped by observing that the air was set rather 
 high for him. 
 
 Felix, on the other hand, was by no means loth to 
 cease his connection with the ' thistle-whippers.' After 
 having killed Lord Switchem's best hound, he had no par- 
 ticular wish to see either the pack or his lordship again; 
 .and as a keen barbaric desire to hunt and kill was growing 
 up in his respectable citizen soul, my friend turned his 
 attention to the staghounds. He became acquainted with 
 some gentlemen of the nearest hunt ; he talked of a big 
 subscription ; he made, without seeking my advice, large 
 additions to his stables (a circumstance which had nearly 
 sundered our friendship) ; and at length, having been 
 asked to a breakfast which was to celebrate a grand meet 
 in the south of Kent, he got Mr. Wheatear to include me in 
 the invitation, and together we went. 
 
 The meet was somewhere about eighteen miles from 
 the Beeches ; and as Ave had to send our horses on the 
 previous evening down to the nearest village, I had no 
 opportunity of criticising in a friendly manner the new 
 purchase which ^Ir. Felix proposed to ride. Next morning, 
 however, saw my friend's wagonette drive round to the 
 door of his house ; and I had the pleasure of witnessing 
 3Irs. Felix, in the utmost gorgeousness of her attire, super- 
 intend the disposition of the whole of her children inside 
 the vehicle. She had come forth to witness the achiev- 
 ments of her lord. She had just discovered that Alfred 
 the Great was a famous hunter, and that Edward the 
 •Confessor dearly loved to follow a pack of hounds ; and 
 she was striving to determine whether she would liken 
 ]\Ir. Felix to Sir Walter Tyrrell when her husband took 
 the reins in his right hand, the whip in his left, the groom 
 let the horse's head go free, and away we went. 
 
THE LAST RUN WITH THE STAGHOUNDS. 
 
 77 
 
 But we had not gone twenty yards when Mr. Felix, 
 fumbhng with the reins, had taken the off wheels of the 
 wagonette on to the lawn. He wrenched at the horse's 
 mouth ; down they came again with a bang upon the path ; 
 the horse stood upright on his hind legs for several seconds, 
 and had nearly thrown Mrs. Felix out; then he set off 
 with a great clatter along the gravelled avenue. Felix 
 flung the whip into the road, and held on by the reins with 
 both hands ; but the next moment there was a terrific crash, 
 the wooden post of the gate was hurled down, Mrs. Felix 
 was tilted over upon her four children, while her husband, 
 suddenly resolving to sacrifice his dignity in order to 
 secure the safety of his neck, besought me to add my 
 strength to his in holding the reins. But the horse was 
 in reality no fire-eater, although Mrs. Felix, so soon as he 
 was quieted, hysterically insisted upon her husband selling 
 him ofi'-hand for twenty pounds ; while she kept her arms 
 outstretched in a fluttering manner over her children. 
 Felix, with his white lips and trembling fingers, looked as 
 though he would have parted with him for ten ; and with 
 a great and rather comical effort to appear self-possessed, 
 asked if I would ' take the reins a bit until he lit a cigar. ^ 
 I took the reins, and he lit the cigar ; but as he showed na 
 signs of eagerness to have them back again I changed 
 seats with him, and we placidly drove down the long, 
 quiet, undulating, and not unpicturesque road which here 
 cuts Kent into east and west. 
 
 ' Oh,' he suddenly cried, ' what have I done with the 
 whip f 
 
 * The last I saw of it,' I replied, * Avas the crop sticking 
 out of a laurel-bush. People generally do find a whip 
 held in the left hand rather in the way.' 
 
 ' Of course,' he said, with a look of indiflerence, but 
 with a rosy blush — ' of course I held it there until I should 
 settle in my seat, only that ugly brute broke away without 
 giving me a chance.' 
 
78 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 And as we passed through the quaint little villages 
 and along the pleasant country lanes, symptoms of the 
 coming hunt hegan to show themselves. It was to be a 
 very fine affair, and all the country-side had come out to 
 see the show. Vehicles of every description crept up hill 
 and rumbled down dale in the one direction ; people came 
 out from the cottages and houses and took the same way ; 
 gentlemen on horseback trotted peacefully by, taking as 
 little as possible out of their animals. Then the morning, 
 which had been rather dismal, gave pi'omise of better 
 weather: and as a few faint shafts of misty light broke 
 through the dense dull gray of the south, Mrs. Felix 
 brightened up wonderfull}^, and voAved the scenery was 
 finer than any photographs of Switzerland she had ever 
 seen. 
 
 Felix did not seem so enthusiastic. 
 
 ' How many people would be on horseback, did you 
 say 'V he asked. 
 
 ' Probably over two hundred.' 
 
 ' And many spectators f 
 
 'Half a mile of them : every one a keen critic, from 
 the ladies in their carriages to the clodhoppers along the 
 hedges.' 
 
 ' Well,' said he, almost savagely, ' you may talk of the 
 fun of putting up hurdles for people to jump in presence 
 of all that crowd ; but I don't see it. I say there are 
 plenty of hedges and ditches and streams to be jumped 
 without adding artificial dangers to the hunt.' 
 
 * But a baby could jump them.' 
 
 ' I told you before I wasn't a baby, and if a baby could 
 jump them what's the use of putting them up f 
 
 ' For the amusement of the spectators.' 
 
 ' AVhat you call amusement I suppose means a lot of the 
 riders — joerhaps fathers of families — tumbling and breaking 
 their necks. That may be amusement ; but I shouldn't 
 think it was for the children who were left orphans.' 
 
THE LAST RUN WITH THE STAGHOUNDS. 
 
 79 
 
 Mr. Felix fjpoke quite bitterly, addressing me as if 1 
 liad been busy all night in putting up these frail lines of 
 fences. Indeed his wife was shocked by this exhibition of 
 a morbid dread, and rebuked him severely. 
 
 ' When the Norman princes went out liunting,' she 
 observed, ' they not only risked a fall from their horse, but 
 also being attacked by a hart at bay, and being shot by an 
 arrow into the bargain.' 
 
 'But I'm not a Norman prince,' said he sulkily. ' The 
 Norman princes were a lot of thieves, and I wish they had 
 stayed at home.' 
 
 Now this was a cruel blow to Mrs. Felix ; for not only 
 had she a strong liking for all sportsman-princes, but some 
 friend of hers had further assured her that the name of 
 Felix Avas an old and honourable one, and that an appli- 
 cation to Heralds' College would certainly secure to her 
 husband the possession of a noble ancestry and a neat 
 crest — perhaps with the motto, ' Felix, qui potuit.' The 
 discussion, however, was lost in our approach to Mr. 
 Wheatear's house — a tall peaked building of red brick 
 which stood some distance doAvn a by-road. At the 
 point where this road joined the main road stood a large 
 inn ; and here were congregated such clusters of carriages 
 waiting for sheds, horses waiting for stabling, servants 
 waiting for their masters, and idlers of all descriptions as 
 to wholly block up the thoroughfare. In vain ]\Ir. Felix 
 looked out for his man. Horses there were of every shape 
 and colour, and grooms of all sizes and ages ; but there 
 was no trace of the right groom and the right horse. 
 Finally it was arranged that I should drive j\Irs. Felix to 
 a good position on the by-road, whence she might see her 
 husband's first dash away after the hounds, while he went 
 in quest of his steed. 
 
 Already half a mile of this road was occupied by car- 
 riages placed near to the hedge, and overlooking the 
 course which had been chalked out for the deer. Thicker 
 
So THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 clusters, however, were around those positions whence a 
 good view of the jumping could be obtained ; for across 
 Mr. Wheatear's meadows stretched two long low lines of 
 hurdles, over which all intending huntsmen were expected 
 to leap. Presently Mr. Felix, coming up, brought with 
 him his groom, who was now appointed to look after the 
 wagonette horse, lest Mrs. Felix should be frightened 
 during the interval in which her husband would be at 
 breakfast. 
 
 As we slowly wriggled between carriage-wheels and 
 horses' legs, on our way back to Mr. AVheatear's house, it 
 was plain that Felix was very nervous and not a little 
 angry. 
 
 ' It's all very Avell,' said he ; ' but I don't believe in 
 gentlemen being trotted out like circus-riders for the benefit 
 of a lot of ploughmen. I say it isn't sport at all. I wonder 
 they haven't two or three clowns to make jokes; and it's 
 a pity the meadows aren't laid with sawdust.' 
 
 ' And would you have those ladies drive all this way 
 for nothing ? Surely they ought to see a little bit of 
 the run.' 
 
 ' I wish the ladies would stay at home and mind their 
 own business,' said he snappishly. ' A Avoman even looks 
 better sitting at a sewing-machine, making ridiculous 
 cotton gOAvns, than sitting in an open carriage and gap- 
 ing like a fool at what she doesn't understand.' 
 
 I could not account for this sudden acerbity on the part 
 of the gentlest of men. But cold fowl and champagne 
 sweeten the temper wonderfully. As we wormed our way 
 through the crowd that had gathered in Mr. Wheatear's 
 front garden, and squeezed ourselves into places at the 
 breakfast-table, I observed that a milder influence began 
 to dawn upon my friend's face. He Avas particularly polite 
 in passing things to the master of the hounds, who was 
 within arm's-length of him. He laughed merrily at Mr, 
 Wheatear's joke about the spotless scarlet of his coat — a 
 
THE LAST RUN WITH THE STAGHOUNDS. 8 1 
 
 joke that had done service m welcomnig strangers when 
 Mr. Wheatear was a gawky lad who hung about the doors 
 of his father's big room on occasions Hke the present. 
 There was another gentleman to whom Mr. Felix was 
 profusely civil, handing him all manner of unnecessary 
 condiments and superfluous dishes, which the stranger was 
 courteous enough to pretend to use. He, my friend after- 
 wards, with an awe-struck air, informed me, was the Due 
 de , who never missed Mr. Wheatear's meet. 
 
 As the champagne flowed more and more freely Mr. 
 Felix grew more and more courageous. He said that, after 
 all, there was something noble in hunting a stag — some- 
 thing finer than in prowling about hedges for a miserable 
 hare. As the gentlemen rose in turn to propose the health 
 of the master of the hounds, the giver of the breakfast, 
 and everybody and everything connected with the hunt,. 
 Mr. Felix applauded the speeches in a very vehement 
 manner, and informed me privately that ' if it wasn't for 
 fear of the shorthand- writer who was taking notes, he 
 would like to propose the health of Mr. Wheatear a second 
 time on behalf of the strangers present.' 
 
 It seemed to me that Felix, in company with several 
 others, was rather unsteady in his movements in going out 
 of doors ; but in the universal scrimmage of looking for 
 horses and mounting, this may have been caused by ex- 
 citement. 
 
 'How do you like my coat'?' he said, with a watery 
 smile. ' Isn't it a good shade % Oh, there are our horses. 
 
 That's my new horse, the white one. C , come here- 
 
 Charhe !' 
 
 Charlie was a white animal, with a highly-curved neck^ 
 a singular tail, and sleepy eyes. He looked as though 
 the shafts of a cart would be no unfamiliar object to 
 him. 
 
 * What do you think I gave for himf he asked. 
 
 * Twenty-five pounds.' 
 
 F 
 
82 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 ' That's all you know about horses,' he said contemptu- 
 ously, as he struggled into the saddle. 
 
 At length the deer-cart, which had slowly come along 
 the road, was driven through a gap in the hedge into the 
 meadow fronting Wheatear's house ; and immediately 
 thereafter a dense stream of horsemen poured through the 
 same passage. The latter arranged themselves in two 
 irregular rows, stretching across the whole breadth of the 
 meadow, and waited to see the stag turned out of that 
 cumbrous prison-van-looking vehicle. We heard the heavy 
 gates being swung open, and presently a timid little light- 
 gray creature leaped gently out, and, turning completely 
 round, first looked quietly into the cart, and then calmly 
 regarded us. 
 
 ' There he is ! there he is !' shouted everybody. 
 
 ' Where ? where f cried Felix, gazing wildly around. 
 
 ' There, in front of you,' I said to him. 
 
 ' That's a donkey,' said he, peering with half-shut eyes : 
 ' that isn't a stag.' 
 
 ' It's all the stag you'll get, sir,' said his neighbour on 
 the other side, apparently offended by Felix's contemptu- 
 ous observations. 
 
 ' Where are his horns, then f 
 
 The man turned away his head. He evidently thought 
 that a person who asked for the sawn-off antlers of a stag 
 was not worthy of an answer. 
 
 Meanwhile the pretty little animal wliicli was the object 
 of so much attention turned his head away from us, and 
 took a peep at the long line of carriages and people on 
 the road. Then he looked at the other side of the 
 meadow, which was bounded by a row of trees; and 
 finally, having made up his mind to quit this brilliant 
 company, he composedly trotted away westward. Lightly 
 and gracefully he hopped over the first hurdle, with a fine 
 artistic absence of effort, and continued his course. The 
 second hurdle was passed in the same manner, and then 
 
THE LAST RUN WITH THE STAGHOUNDS. 83 
 
 he broke into a little canter. Suddenly he stopped and 
 turned round. 
 
 ' He's waiting to give the dogs a chance,' said one. 
 
 ' He's wondering why we don't follow,' said another. 
 
 The crowd roared and cheered, some out of derision, 
 others to hasten him on his course ; and as he heard this 
 unmusical bray of human voices he set off at a light 
 gallop, and with a fine high leap cleared a rather broad 
 stream which crossed his path. We could now but catch 
 glimpses of his gray fur shooting past avenues among the 
 distant trees, appearing for a moment on high ground, 
 and then dipping into some hollow, until he seemed to 
 alter his line of route and go away to the south. At this 
 moment a large number of renegades, wishing to shirk 
 the hurdles and overtake the hounds by a cross-cut, retired 
 from the meadow and took to the main road, which led 
 pretty much in the direction the stag was supposed to 
 have taken. 
 
 ' Don't you think we should go with them f said Felix 
 to me, very timidly. 
 
 ' But what would Mrs. Felix think of youf I said. 
 
 ' True,' he replied, rather mournfully ; ' I had forgotten 
 her.' 
 
 Then he burst into a somewhat forced laugh. 
 
 ' What's a tumble, after all !' he cried. 
 
 ' Oh, nothing.' 
 
 ' Besides, Charlie is said to be a nice easy jumper — 
 comes down with all his feet at once on the other side. 
 I say, haven't these ten minutes expired yet"? I don't 
 consider it proper to give the deer so great a start ; it 
 is cruelty to the horses to put such a strain upon them.' 
 
 The ten minutes had just expired when the dogs were 
 turned into the meadow. Almost immediately they hit 
 off the scent, and, with a joyful cry, were across the field 
 and clambering over the first hurdle, whither the two 
 lines of horsemen straightway followed them. Felix cast 
 
84 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 one look in the direction of Lis wife and children, and, 
 with his teeth set hard, pressed into the heart of the great, 
 rushing, noisy throng that now went full tilt at the artifi- 
 cial fence. Over they went, one here and there striking 
 heavily on the top spar, two or three comiug lightly to 
 the ground, and about half a dozen undergoing the plea- 
 sant experience of a refusal, to the no small delight of the 
 crowd. Among these last was Mr. Felix, whose sleepy- 
 eyed animal had rushed straight at the hurdles, and 
 wheeling round, had severely bruised his rider's foot 
 against the spars. 
 
 ' At it again, old un !' shouted a lot of little boys, with 
 that easy scorn incident to pedestrians when a horseman 
 gets into trouble. 
 
 Mr. Felix, clenching his teeth still harder, did go at it 
 again, riding ftiirly at the hurdles ; then, just as his horse 
 was about to swerve, he wrenched at his head and simply 
 drove the beast through the spars, while he himself was 
 seen the next moment to be perched ungracefully on the 
 neck of the animal, which now stood Avith trembling legs 
 among the splintered wood. Maddened with rage, Felix 
 struggled backward into the saddle, and cut into his horse 
 fiercely with spur and whip. Fortunately, Mrs. Felix was 
 posted near the second flight of hurdles, and there still 
 remained a chance for her husband to distinguish himself 
 before her eyes. How he did manage this second leap I 
 had not an opportunity of seeing; but I was told after- 
 wards that, to the great delight of Mrs. Felix, who nearly 
 wept for joy, he rose well and cleared the jump gallantly 
 at the first effort. It should be added, also, that my friend's 
 triumph was enhanced by the fact that two or three 
 horses, after repeated refusals, were withdrawn altogether 
 from the contest by their disgusted riders. 
 
 The stag having taken a pretty straight course over 
 some rather heavy country soon thinned the company of 
 horsemen; and for a long time Mr, Felix was to be seen 
 
THE LAST RUN WITH THE STAGHOUNDS. 
 
 ^5 
 
 painfully toiling over the stiff fields with a large number 
 of stragglers who had not yet given up. At the end of 
 twenty minutes there were not above sixty out of the 
 original two hundred who could be said to be with the 
 hounds at all; and about that time I lost sight of Mr. 
 Felix and his persevering comrades. 
 
 By and by it became evident that the stag had turned 
 his head eastward ; and ' By Jove !' cried some one, ^ he 
 must have gone straight through Tonbridge !' The sur- 
 mise turned out to be correct ; the deer, for once, taking 
 to the road, had gone straight through a dense double line 
 of carriages and nebulous horsemen, who, having tried to 
 overtake the hunt by this near cut, had almost filled the 
 main thoroughfare of the town. As the riders who had 
 really followed the hounds now came cantering up, covered 
 with perspiration and blowing like porpoises, the good 
 villagers cheered them on their Avay, and shouted with 
 derisive laughter after those who unblushingly joined 
 them. Among the latter was a gentleman who had been 
 quietly drinking a glass of ale in front of the Bull ; and 
 no sooner did this person perceive me than he rode up to 
 my side. 
 
 ' You've a friend on a white horse f he asked. 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 * Who sat next you at breakfast f 
 
 'Yes,' I replied, with some alarm, fearing to hear of 
 Mr. Felix's sudden death. 
 
 ' Well,' he said, with a smile, ' he was with me a few 
 minutes ago when the stag came up the street, and, in 
 spite of all I could do, he started off in pursuit. He 
 wouldn't wait for the hounds ; he said they would over- 
 take him in plenty of time. Has your friend been out 
 before?' 
 
 * Not with the staghounds,' I said. 
 
 * I thought so,' he added, with a peculiar look, ^ for I 
 never saw a man so determined to have the chasing of 
 
86 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 the deer all to himself. He seems to consider hounds a 
 nuisance.' 
 
 Mr. Felix, however, was soon forgotten in the imi- 
 versal clamour and hurry. The day was declared, with 
 many an unnecessary ejaculation, to be the finest of the 
 season, for the deer had never taken to the road except 
 during his brief visit to Tonbridge, and the scent was 
 good, and the hounds ran famously, and the field was 
 again speedily thinned, so as to avoid the certainty of 
 being ridden over, and everybody (who could keep up 
 with the pace) was jubilant with a strange and tingling 
 joy. The course was singularly straight, leading almost 
 in a direct line over garden-land and meadow, down intO' 
 moist deep glades and up the sides of trying hills, through 
 park, and wood, and field, and fallow, until we had re- 
 turned to our starting-point, passed it, and were away far 
 to the north. At length the hounds, running by the side 
 of a house, led us down a valley, to get into which we 
 had to ride along a narrow by-path. As we rounded the 
 corner we saw that the main road led up and over the tall 
 hill on the other side of the hollow ; and on this road, a 
 considerable distance ahead of the hounds, stood a man in 
 a scarlet coat. He set up a joyful halloo upon seeing 
 us, and breaking through the hedge, proceeded to come 
 down the steep incline at a pace dangerous for even an 
 experienced rider. 
 
 ' Why, that's your friend,' said the man who had for- 
 merly spoken to me ; ' he is in luck's way to-day.' 
 
 The hounds had just time to pass when Felix arrived 
 at the bottom of the hollow ; and, as we came up, it wa» 
 evident that this down-hill pace had been none of his 
 making. His white horse had, on hearing the hounds, 
 taken him away in spite of himself, and now went crash 
 into a small hedge which the others were about to jump. 
 The brute stuck there ; but Felix, scarcely a second after- 
 wards, found himself lying on the bank of a ditch on the 
 
THE LAST RUN WITH THE STAGHOUNDS. 87 
 
 other side of the hedge, his hat smashed, his whip 
 gone, and scarcely power left within liim to open his 
 eyes. 
 
 ' Give me some sherry,' he gasped, as I got down ; 
 * I'm afraid this is my last jump.' 
 
 His face was deadly pale, and from the utterly help- 
 less way in which he lay extended on the carpeting of 
 matted primroses, wild hyacinths, and dandelions, I 
 fancied that he had really injured himself internally. 
 
 ' Tell my wife she's provided for,' he moaned, after 
 having gulped down some sherry. 
 
 ' Why, get up !' I said to him ; ' you're not hurt, are 
 youf 
 
 ' You'll look after my children ; I know you will,' he 
 said faintly, shutting his eyes ; ' and don't let Jack go out 
 on the pony any more.' 
 
 ' Where are you hurt f 
 
 ' All over,' he said, in a sort of ghastly whisper. 
 
 In order to inspire him with some sort of courage, I 
 insisted that he could not be hurt, having fallen on this 
 soft and opportune bank ; and finally helped or dragged 
 him to his feet despite his repeated moans. I persuaded 
 him to use his limbs one by one, and made him confess 
 that no bones were broken. 
 
 * But what are bones f he said plaintively ; ' it isn't 
 the breakage of bones that kills men, but injury to the 
 lungs, or heart, or liver, or something. And I feel as if I 
 was shaken to pieces inside.' 
 
 ' Mr. Felix,' said I, ' you know how much I esteem 
 you. At the same time I can't wait any longer, and cut 
 off my chance of ever seeing the hounds again. If you 
 get on your horse — he waits for you quietly enough — you 
 will find yourself all right, and you may yet distinguish 
 yourself.' 
 
 ' No,' he said, shaking his head sadly ; ' I have had 
 enough for to-day. I shall have to ride home now ; but if 
 
8S THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 I find myself growing weak, I shall call at Graham's and 
 stay there for the night.' 
 
 He mounted his horse in a melancholy manner, and 
 very slowly and very carefully walked the animal up the 
 hill down which he had come so rapidly. As he disap- 
 peared round the corner of the road, he waved his fingers 
 with a frail hilarity, and I saw him no more. 
 
 But as it is the fortune of Mr. Felix with which we are 
 chiefly concerned, it may be better to follow him and look 
 at the stag-hunt from his point of view. The house in 
 which he proposed, in case of feeling very ill, to pass the 
 night, was about a dozen miles from the scene of his 
 mishap ; and by the time he had reached it the long soli- 
 tary ride had greatly depressed his spirits. He resolved, 
 at least, to enter and rest hiojself, leaving the question of 
 his night's lodging for further consideration. Fortunately 
 Mr. Graham was at home; and in his friend's dining-room 
 Mr. Felix, with the help of a little wine, began to feel 
 himself again. Dusk was coming on ; and our hero be- 
 guiled the lassitude of the afternoon by a history of his 
 morning's adventure. 
 
 Suddenly a terrific crash was heard outside ; a succes- 
 sion of shrill screams followed; and the next moment 
 there was a pattering of hoofs across the lawn, and the 
 noise of a falling tray in Mr. Graham's hall. The whole 
 party started up and rushed to the window, where they 
 beheld an awful scene of devastation. The glass frame- 
 work of a fine conservatory was smashed to pieces, and 
 lay in splinters and fragments upon the path, while trail- 
 ing stems of vines, potted geraniums and azaleas, and 
 innumerable greenhouse plants lay heaped together amid 
 shreds of earthenware. Mrs. Graham was the first to dart 
 to the door ; and she had scarcely done so when, with a 
 loud shriek, she tumbled back into the room. 
 
 ' George !' she cried, ' there's — there's some creature 
 in the hall !' 
 
THE LAST RUN WITH THE STAGHOUNDS. 89 
 
 George, rushing to the door, and expecting to meet a 
 vision of some horrible being with eyes of fire and cloven 
 hoofs, found himself confronted by the very stag which 
 Mr. Felix had vainly attempted to follow; while at the 
 same moment there came the cry of the hounds, which 
 were now coursing along the garden-path. Mr. Graham's 
 hall would soon have become a slaughter-house, had not 
 the gardener, alarmed by the crash of the conservatory, 
 come running forward from the outside, and at once com- 
 prehending the situation, darted to the hall-door, and shut 
 in the deer. But what to do with the frightened animal 
 which was so encaged ? Had it been a famished tiger at 
 bay, the people in the house could not have been more 
 alarmed ; and for a time Mr. Felix and his friends contented 
 themselves by peeping round the corner of the drawing- 
 room door at the unfortunate beast, which stood panting 
 and trembling by the side of the umbrella-stand. In time, 
 however, the gardener came to the rescue, and, with the 
 assistance of a groom, threw a rope over the stag's head, 
 and secured him. 
 
 Such was the position of affairs when I again came in 
 view of Mr. Felix, who now passed outside to meet the 
 members of the hunt. He had taken care to put on his 
 hat ; and doubtless most of us fancied him a terrible fellow 
 to have beaten the very hounds in the run. 
 
 ' All right, gentlemen,' he said blandly, ' he's safe and 
 sound, and ready for another day as soon as you want 
 him.' 
 
 But Mr. Graham, coming forward, and discovering 
 who was the master of the hounds, began to make a 
 grievous complaint about the demolition of his conserva- 
 tory. He became quite angry. He vowed that no money 
 could recompense him for the loss of rare plants he had 
 sustained; and that, for the mere breakage of glass 
 and so forth, five guineas were the least he would 
 take. 
 
90 
 
 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 ' And unless I get the five guineas,' said he, ' you don't 
 get your stag ; that's all.' 
 
 Now the master did not happen to have any money at 
 all with him ; and it was with the greatest difficulty that 
 he w^as enabled to gather by subscription the sum of 
 4/. 105. 
 
 ' I don't believe the whole place is worth five pounds,' 
 said the master, with a great oath ; ' but here, sir, as you 
 bring your shop with you from London down into the 
 country, I'll give you 4:1. 10s. for the article, and if you're 
 not satisfied — ' 
 
 ' Then I shall be responsible for the rest,' observed Mr. 
 Felix, with a grand air. 
 
 As we rode off to the nearest inn to order some dinner, 
 Mr. Felix came to me, and said coaxingly — 
 
 ' You'll come home with me and stay over the night at 
 our place ? And, you know, you needn't say anything to 
 Mrs. Felix about my being in the house when the deer 
 was taken. Let her suppose I rode all the way with the 
 hounds — she will like it, I know. Women do feel grati- 
 fied by such trifles ; and what's the harm of a little bit of 
 innocent deception?' 
 
MR. FELIX GOES TROUT-FISHING. 
 
 91 
 
 III. 
 
 MR. FELIX GOES TROUT-FISHING. 
 
 * Zu neuen Ufern lockt ein neuer Tag.' Mr. Felix be- 
 gan to grow weary of his horses, and hungered for a new 
 
92 
 
 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 amusement. He rebelled, sometimes with savage empha- 
 sis, against that process of idealisation by which Mrs. 
 Felix would transform him into a royal hunter of the 
 stag; and hinted, in no gentle manner, that she had 
 better burn her English history, and not make a fool of 
 herself. She saw this vacillation with profound grief. Her 
 highest hopes had been realised by the brilliant exploit of 
 her husband in being in at the taking of the deer ; al- 
 though it seemed to her very shameful that she should not 
 have been allowed to hang up a pair of antlers in the hall. 
 
 ' There's no more deer to run after,' he said, with un- 
 grammatical force ; ' and what's the use of nagging ? I 
 tell you my name is Samuel Felix, and not William Rufus; 
 and what's more, I'm going to try trout-fishing, as a far 
 more sensible thing than galloping over muddy fields after 
 ^ lot of nasty dogs.' 
 
 Accordingly, Mr. Felix came up to town, and there 
 launched into boundless extravagance in the purchase of 
 such a collection of rods, lines, reels, flies, and treatises on 
 the art of fishing, as surely never before threatened the 
 instant clearance of all English rivers. Nothing which 
 human ingenuity, or the fishing-tackle maker's art, could 
 devise was wanting in my friend's superb list of prepara- 
 tions ; and, burdened by this armful of miscellaneous 
 implements, he made his way back again into Kent. 
 
 For a week I heard nothing of him. At the end of 
 that time I found him, one warm afternoon, busily engaged 
 in throwing a fly-line across the lawn in front of the 
 Beeches. 
 
 ' Everybody thinks he can throw a fly until he tries,' 
 said he. ' Now, do you see that bit of paper lying 
 there r 
 
 He swept the rod forward from his left shoulder, and 
 the point of the line dropped within two inches of the 
 mark. I was surprised at his proficiency. 
 
 ' It has taken me a week's constant practice to do that,' 
 
MR. FELIX GOES TROUT-FISHING. 
 
 95 
 
 said be proudly ; ' and to-morrow, as you know, I'm going 
 to pnt my skill to the test.' 
 
 ' But what have you got at the end of the line V I 
 asked, noticing one or two small black specks. 
 
 ' Oh,' he said, ' these are two or three split shot, just to 
 steady the line as it falls, you know. I wasn't told to do 
 so by any book; but you've no idea how it guides the 
 line against the wind and weather, and enables you to 
 drop the fly precisely where you want.' 
 
 ' It is a beautiful arrangement,' I said to him, ' for fish- 
 ing on the lawn ; and doubtless to-morrow the trout will 
 be grateful to you for giving them such plain notice of 
 the arrival of an artificial fly.' 
 
 ' You'll see,' he replied confidently, ' how gently I shall 
 drop lead and hook and all over their noses.' 
 
 In-doors, Mrs. Felix was in a mood of mingled melan- 
 choly and sulks. As we entered, she asked her husband, 
 with some asperity, when he was going to take his trash 
 off the table, to allow tea to be brought in. The ' trash' 
 turned out to be Mr. Felix's splendid collection of flies, 
 which, for purposes of comparison, he had taken out of his 
 book, and arranged side by side on large sheets of white 
 paper. 
 
 * There !' said he ; ' there is only one maker in Great 
 Britain who can produce a Durham Ranger like that. 
 What do you think of my Spey Dog % — do you think there's 
 a salmon in the world could resist that teal hackle at the 
 shoulder, and that glittering line of tinsel? Now Til 
 wager you haven't in your book an O'Donoghue to be 
 compared with this one — let us see.' 
 
 I informed Mr. Felix that, in preparing to fish in Kent, 
 I did not provide myself with flies for all the rivers in 
 Europe ; a piece of intelligence which seemed rather to 
 annoy him. 
 
 ^How can you call yourself a fisher unless you are 
 ready to fish any water f said he : ^ if I go to the Spey, or 
 
94 
 
 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 the Usk, or the Dee, or the Erne, I am prepared at all 
 points. Besides, I consider that, as mere triumphs of art, 
 these flies are worth having. Look at them ! — look at the 
 Green Drake ! — was there ever anything so like nature % 
 Look at this Parson, and this March brown, and this Soldier 
 Palmer !' 
 
 Mr. Felix lifted a solitary fly, and held it out with a 
 slight bashfnlness appearing on his face. 
 
 ' This is a fly,' he said, ' which I think ought to kill. 
 I propose to call it Count Bismarck. Black silk body, you 
 see, claret hackle, and silver thread : don't you think it is 
 adapted for those lurid afternoons when everything gets 
 a sultry coppery tinge ? Perhaps gold thread would be 
 better ; but the first time I go trout-fishing on a lake, I 
 mean to try my Bismarck, and I have every hope of its 
 success.' 
 
 'It's more than I have of yours, Mr. Felix,' said my 
 friend's wife scornfully ; ' there, you've had the whole 
 house packed with your rods and flies for a week, and you 
 haven't brought home a minnow. Why, the children can 
 do better. Jack brought us a fine trout last night which 
 he caught with a bit of stick, and string, and a worm.' 
 
 'If I find any of the children fishing down in that 
 stream, Mrs. Felix,' said her husband firmly, ' I will give 
 them as good a ducking as ever they got in their life.' 
 
 Mrs. Felix smiled disdainfully. She was not terrified 
 by her husband's flourish of rhetoric. 
 
 I think it was this taunt which made Mr. Felix order, 
 in rather a peremptory way, that tea should be postponed 
 for an hour, to admit of his trying an experiment on the 
 trout inhabiting a mill-head some five minutes' walk from 
 the Beeches. My friend, therefore, disappeared, and in a 
 few moments returned in a full suit of fishing costume. 
 He was resplendent. He seemed to bristle all over with 
 hooks and other implements of piscatorial warfare. His 
 white waterproof fishing-stockings were secured at the 
 
MR. FELIX GOES TROUT-FISHING. 95 
 
 bottom by a pair of thick scarlet socks, which again rose 
 from a pair of large and complicated boots. Spare lengths 
 of gut cm-led round his beaver hat in innumerable rings. 
 In one hand he held a handsome rod, in the other a shiny 
 landing-net : from top to toe he was fearfully and wonder- 
 fully made. 
 
 To give him a fair chance, I resolved to leave him all 
 the water to himself; and thereupon we departed for the 
 mill-head. It was a beautiful evening in the beginning 
 of June ; the air was moist and warm, some rain having 
 fallen half an hour before we set out ; and a slight wind 
 just ruffled the surface of the great pond which Mr. Felix 
 proposed to fish. Nervously, perhaps, but still with some 
 confidence, he approached the margin of the water at the 
 point furthest from the mill, where there was a gentle 
 current coming from underneath a small bridge. 
 
 At the opposite side, a few inches from a low grassy 
 bank, and under the shadow of some bushes, lay a good- 
 sized trout, sleepily motionless, not deigning even to look 
 at the flies dancing above him. Mr. Felix grasped my 
 arm convulsively. 
 
 'Don't stir! Can you catch a glimpse of him over 
 yonder? — you'll see how I shall drop a fly over him !' 
 
 With one or two preparatory casts to get the line out, 
 Mr. Felix at length succeeded in fulfilling his promise. 
 As was to be expected, the ' flop' of his cut shot on the 
 water startled the trout, which with a quick shoot vanished 
 from sight, leaving only a long wave in its wake. It was 
 some time before Mr. Felix could realise the fact of his 
 having been so bitterly disappointed. When he did, he 
 made a few imcalled-for remarks relating to nothing in 
 particular. 
 
 ' I suppose I must take the shot off, after all,' said he 
 disconsolately ; ' but I don't think there will be much diffi- 
 culty in throwing a fly on a night like this.' 
 
 With a clear line, he now proceeded to try a few casts. 
 
96 
 
 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 The first throw brought all the line curling down upon the 
 water, some half-dozen yards in front of him. Amazement 
 seized him ; and then I saw him clench his teeth. Up 
 went the rod ; back went the long fine streak, and then, 
 with a splendid swoop, he threw his right hand forward. 
 There was a sharp crack above his head, as if Felix was 
 urging on a team of coach-horses ; and the next moment 
 the lithe gut, in a rather uncertain manner, alit upon the 
 surface not an inch further out. 
 
 ' You needn't throw again, in the mean time,' I re- 
 marked to him. 
 
 ' Why f he asked fiercely ; for a fine trout had risen 
 opposite us in the middle of the water. 
 
 ' Because the crack nipped the fly ofi".' 
 
 I thought tears of vexation would have come into the 
 eyes of the gentle angler, so downcast did he look, sa 
 thunderstruck, so annoyed. Mechanically he took out 
 his splendid assortment of impossible insects, and selected 
 a fly which would certainly have produced instant vertigo- 
 in any trout coming near it. 
 
 ' The evening is rather dull,' said he, ' and they want 
 colour to attract them. But what's the use of my throw- 
 ing and throwing, if this wretched gut won't go out ? I 
 tell you there's something wrong. I've seen people fish- 
 ing in this very mill-head who did not take half the care I 
 do, and their line, because it was a good line, fell most 
 beautifully and lightly, the fly dropping on the water like 
 the wing of a gnat, and not the least ripple to be seen^ 
 I'll tell you what I'll do : I'll write to the papers and say 
 
 that and Sons are no better than a lot of impostors^. 
 
 and that their rods and lines are not fit to put before 
 swine.' 
 
 So saying, Mr. Felix proceeded once more to lash the 
 water, the line almost invariably curling itself into rings 
 as it fell about a rod's length from the bank. In every 
 position he stood ; every sweep of the arm he tried ; but 
 
MR. FELIX GOES TROUT-FISHING. gj 
 
 his attempts were unavailing ; while, to add to the misery 
 of the situation, the tront were rising everywhere around 
 him. 
 
 * The wind is somehow in the way,' said he, at length, 
 with a great effort to conceal his anger ; ' let us try down 
 by the mill there.' 
 
 Passing over a sluice-gate, we found ourselves in front 
 of a new sphere of action; and Mr. Felix was about to 
 recommence his painful labours, when an unlucky accident 
 befell him. Concealed beneath a group of willows hard 
 by, a swan, as Ave afterwards learned, was hatching ; and 
 no sooner had we appeared in the neighbourhood, than 
 the male swan — a remarkably large handsome bird — took 
 our approach to mean an attack upon his prospective 
 progeny. Dashing through the water towards Mr. Felix, 
 who was nearest him, he struggled up and on the bank, 
 and made a furious charge upon my friend, who, for- 
 tunately for himself, involuntarily retreated. In the first 
 paroxysm of his terror, however, he had not noticed that 
 immediately behind him was a deep ditch, filled with 
 green stagnant water, the leakings from the mill-head. 
 At the first blow aimed at his leg by the wing of the 
 swan, Mr. Felix jumped back, and, therefore, disappeared 
 suddenly from the light of day, leaving the swan master 
 of the situation. As the unhappy sportsman crept up 
 the opposite bank of the ditch, a mass of mud and tangled 
 weeds, his plight was surely sad enough ; but to add to 
 his horror, he found that the mishap had included the 
 breaking of his best trout-rod. 
 
 ' Can you see a boy about f he asked of me, with a 
 strange look, when he had wiped his lips. ' I'll give 
 him a sovereign to run up to my house.' 
 
 ' What for V 
 
 ' For my revolver.' 
 
 * Do you mean to shoot that swan T 
 
 ado.' 
 
 G 
 
98 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OE MR. EELIX. 
 
 'You'll miss it, and kill somebody about tlie mill, if 
 you try.' 
 
 Eventually Mr. Felix was persuaded to remove as 
 much of the mud from his clothes as was possible, and to 
 wend his disconsolate way homeward. I do not mean to 
 lift the veil of domestic privacy, and say anything of the 
 sarcasms which my poor hero bore, during the evening, 
 with more than his accustomed equanimity. 
 
 At an early hour next morning, the wagonette was at 
 the door, and Mr. Felix, once again radiant with hope, 
 ready to jump in. An enormous hamper was safely stowed 
 away ; and when the remaining room was pretty well oc- 
 cupied by spare rods, landing-nets, and what not, there 
 arrived, to complete the party, a Mr. IMearns, an aged 
 Waltonian of short stature, silvery hair, and thin, nervous, 
 brown fingers, which had many a time lured a four- 
 pounder to his doom. 
 
 'Hasn't Lord Switchem some rayther gude fishing 
 about here?' he asked, knowing nothing of the little 
 incident which had broken the intimacy between his lord- 
 ship and Mr. Felix. 
 
 'Nothing to speak of,' said Felix contemptuously; 
 ' besides, he's a coarse ungentlemanly man, fit only for 
 hanging about stables, and talking about dogs and horses. 
 When I made it all right with Sir Harry about our going 
 to-day, nothing could exceed his courtesy : and Sir Harry 
 has something like fishing, as you'll see.' 
 
 A drive of half an hour or so brought us to the out- 
 skirts of Sir Harry's grounds ; and the wagonette having 
 been left at the nearest inn, we soon found our way to the 
 river. The water was in prime condition, as it came cir- 
 cling and flowing down through the low rich meadows, 
 which were yellow with buttercups; and already in the 
 deep pools, whither the rush of the stream sent multitu- 
 dinous drowned flies, there could be seen the quick ' flop' 
 of the rising trout, followed by slowly winding circles on 
 
MR. FELIX GOES TROUT-FISHIXG. 
 
 99 
 
 i:he dull surface. Our fishing-ground extended from these 
 meadows, where the course of the stream was marked by 
 a few polled willows, or a line of low alders, to the lawn 
 in front of Sir Harry's house, which was perhaps two miles 
 off. Here, therefore, was plenty of scope for Mr. Felix's 
 trial of skill. The morning, besides, was cloudy, with 
 liere and tliere a shaft of sunlight breaking through : the 
 air was warm, the stream was not very clear, there was no 
 wind but such as simply to take the mirror off the surface 
 •of the water ; and what more could the piscatorial student 
 want ? 
 
 I observed, however, that Mr. Felix, while preparing 
 for his first effort, kept away from his Scotch friend, and 
 threw his fly in a furtive manner upon a pool where no one 
 could see how it dropped. 
 
 ' Maister Felix,' cried the latter, ' what sort o' flee will 
 ye pit on ?' 
 
 ' I'm trying the Red Palmer,' he replied, with a critical 
 glance up and down the river. 
 
 ' Losh me !' said Mr. Mearns, ' the Red Pawmer on a 
 morning like this? Dinna ye see the May-flee comin' 
 down by the dizzen V 
 
 The words were scarcely uttered when the old man, with 
 a quick motion of the wrist, struck sharply and firmly, 
 and a fine trout leapt clean out of the water. A little run 
 up stream, with the line gripping him stiffly, soon ex- 
 hausted his obstinacy, and presently he was being quietly 
 drawn towards the bank. Mr. Felix's man came running- 
 forward with the landing-net. 
 
 ' Now, my man, be carefu'. Dinna ye break my line, 
 or I'll pit ye in the water after the fish.' 
 
 But no such accident occurred ; and ^Ir. Felix, not very 
 joyfully, perhaps, came up to look at the first capture, 
 which was a good trout of about two pounds weight. 
 
 'You took that with the May-fly, did you]' said he, 
 returning to his own pool, and taking out his pocket-book. 
 
lOO THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR, FELIX. 
 
 But alas for the vanity of human hopes ! The May- 
 flies were coming down in ' clizzens' — hovering upon the 
 water in the most tempting manner ; but the great, sleepy, 
 gray monsters underneath Avonld not look at them. When 
 they absolutely allowed the natural flies to glide over 
 their nose, how was it possible to force upon them an. 
 artificial one % So the old Scotchman set to work to try 
 a series of experiments, and the longer he tried the more 
 astonished did he become. They would not look at his- 
 flies, let alone rise to them; and in vain we both whipped 
 and lashed away at the water. All the time, likewise,, 
 that these rather mournful efforts Avere being made, we 
 could hear the muttered anathemas of Mr. Felix, as he 
 curled his line down upon the water, or hooked a weed, or 
 hung up his fly upon a willow. At times we could see him 
 on his knees, stretching his hand over the water to ex- 
 tricate the hook ; at another he was half-way up a tree, 
 breaking branches and tugging at the elusive gut. Perspi- 
 ration was streaming over his face ; but as yet the fish-bag 
 held only one captive. 
 
 And now the sun came out in its full strength, until 
 the long green meadows and the great chestnuts in Sir 
 Harry's park seemed to quiver in the lambent heat. AVe 
 were forced to leave this part of the stream and seek 
 another portion, where the overhanging trees on the 
 southern side sheltered the water from the fierce glare.. 
 Here, however, we had no better luck. The trout were 
 plentiful, and rose tolerably well ; but no fly which we 
 could throw them would they look at. Deep despair was 
 beginning to fall upon the l^arty, when it was proposed to 
 relieve the Avretched tedium of the day by taking luncheon.. 
 With a sense of glad relief which he could not conceal, 
 Mr. Felix laid aside his rod, and proceeded to open the 
 great hamper which his man, assisted by a boy, had. 
 brought up into the meadow. The champagne was put 
 into a creek of the river, the white cloth was laid on the 
 
MR. FELIX GOES TROUT-FISHING. lOI 
 
 warm dry grass, knives, forks, plates, and what not were 
 fortlicoming, and soon tlie air was redolent of mint sance, 
 and lamb, and tongue, and crisp cool lettuce. Mr. Felix's 
 -spirits revived. He talked of the delights of angling ; he 
 jocularly pointed out to Mr. Mearns that he was only one 
 ahead ; he vowed that, fortified by this luncheon, we 
 should return and do wonders. 
 
 The old Scotchman, on the other hand, was restrained 
 -and silent. A whole collection of artificial flies was evi- 
 dently whirling about in his brain. Mentally he was 
 arguing strenuously with these incomprehensible and 
 abominable trout. 
 
 At this moment Sir Harry's keeper came up, and was 
 persuaded, without much persuasion, to take a plateful of 
 cold lamb and salad. He likewise had some other less 
 material dainties, all of which he consumed some little 
 distance apart, occasionally returning to us to speak of 
 the water and of the fish. Finally, he had some cham- 
 pagne out of a silver mug, and this proved to be the key 
 io unlock the secret chambers of his heart. Cold lamb and 
 pastry he had withstood ; but champagne in a silver mug 
 •overcame him. He came over for the last time, and told 
 lis that Sir Harry had recently tried almost every fly — 
 even the May-fly — without getting a rise ; but so soon as 
 he showed the alder-fly the trout rose, and were slaugh- 
 tered in hosts. 
 
 Mearns jumped to his feet, and was quickly out of sight. 
 
 ' I think I have got some alder-flies,' said Mr. Felix ; 
 '^ but I don't know which they are. I shall label my book 
 .as soon as I get home.' 
 
 Alder-flies were soon upon every rod ; and before half 
 an hour was over eight good fish had been landed. The 
 ease with which the trout took the bait maddened Mr. 
 Felix, who had not yet caught one, his chief performances 
 having been those excursions up trees which I previously 
 mentioned. The stream was in most parts so narrow that 
 
I02 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 there was no difficulty about his dropping the fly on the 
 proper place ; but unfortunately he invariably dropped 
 on the same place two or three yards of curling line, which^ 
 either made the trout shoot out of sight, or caused him to 
 lie still with contemptuous indifference. 
 
 ' It's a gran' water to fish,' said the old Scotchman ;, 
 '- 1 never saw the like o't. But what's wrang wi' ye,. 
 Maister Felix? Ye seem unco doon-speerited.' 
 
 ' It's all this confounded rod !' said Felix, grinding his 
 teeth ; ' a man might have the strength of Samson and 
 not be able to throw a yard of line with it. All it can do 
 is to pin the fly upon alder branches.' 
 
 ' Dear me !' said Mearns compassionately ; ' and ye hae- 
 na brocht a single trout to land. Here, tak' m}^ rod, and 
 I'll play the pairt o' Samson for a while.' 
 
 So the old man took Mr. Felix's rod, and deftly, with 
 those long thin fingers of his, dropped the fly over the 
 head of one of the trout that lay beneath the opposite bank. 
 There was a slight movement in the water, the fly was. 
 sucked in, and then the line grew suddenly tight as the 
 gleaming side of the fish cut through the quiet stream. 
 
 ' It's a wee bit thing, but better than nane,' was the 
 remark, as another pound and a half was added to the^ 
 general stock. 
 
 Suddenly Mr. Felix uttered a loud cry ; and turning, 
 we saw him, with an ashen pallor of face, tugging at the 
 line, and attempting to lift out of tlie water a fish which 
 had at length been enticed into taking his fly. 
 
 'Losh bless me, man!' cried the old Scotchman, 'ye'll 
 break my rod to bits ! Dinna pu' like that !' 
 
 ' What am I to do, then?' cried Felix, in the greatest 
 possible excitement; 'he's a monster! He'll get off I 
 He's a dozen pound weight ! I believe he's a salmon !' 
 
 The next unconscious prompting of his intense desire 
 to secure this leviathan was to let the reel run, lest the- 
 line should be broken and he escape. The consequence 
 
MR. FELIX GOES TROUT-FISHING. 
 
 may be imagined. The efforts of the fish ceased, and Mr. 
 Felix fomid it impossible by any amount of pulling to dis- 
 lodge him from his retreat in the bed of the river. Slowly 
 my friend proceeded up the bank of the stream, winding 
 in the line as he went, until it was clearly demonstrated 
 that Mr. Felix's captive had taken refuge in a bed of green 
 weed half-way across. What was to be done ? The fish 
 would not stir. Stones could never reach him. Then 
 Mr. Felix, moved by the sarcasms of his wife, wore no 
 longer his w^aterproofs of the day before ; he had been 
 taunted into dressing himself like a human being. . 
 
 * I'm not going to lose such a fish for a pair of wet 
 feet,' said he valiantly, as he jumped into the river. 
 
 There, however, progress was no easy matter ; for the 
 current w^as strong, the water considerably more than 
 knee-deep, and the bed of the stream matted with these 
 tangled weeds. Carefully Mr. Felix took the line in his 
 hand, and began to trace the fish to his lair. He kicked 
 away the weeds as he went farther out ; and yet there 
 were no signs of the dislodgment of the line. Kicking 
 and tugging in equal proportions, he had at length reached 
 the middle of the stream, w^hen he uttered a slight 
 cry : there Avas a flash of something cutting through the 
 water; either excitement or a desire to seize the fish 
 caused him to stumble forward, and then our hero went 
 down, face first, into the stream, while the broken line 
 floated lightly back to the rod, which Mr. Mearns held in 
 his hand. Snorting like a young whale, Mr. Felix strug- 
 gled to his feet again. He glared wdldly around : had he 
 caught his man laughing, instant dismissal would have 
 rew^arded his presumption. 
 
 ' As it is,' said he boldly, as he came dripping to the 
 side, ' I hooked the biggest fish of the day.' 
 
 ' The day's no' ower yet,' said Mr. Mearns quietly, 
 watching with his keen eye for the first rise : then, as he 
 saw Mr. Felix was about to depart, he added, ' Ye're no' 
 
I04 1HR SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 ganging back? Hoots, man! in the sun out tliere ye'H be 
 as dry as a red herrin' in twenty minutes !' 
 
 ' I have no ambition to be as dry as a red herring/ 
 repHed Mr. FeHx, with a sneer ; ' and I'm not going to 
 catch a cold for the biggest basket of trout that ever was 
 filled. But I shall take my rod and landing-net with me ; 
 and perhaps when you find me at the inn on your return 
 I may have one or two fish to add to your store.' 
 
 So saying he departed — a mournful spectacle. He had 
 not, however, passed out of sight when I saw him crouch- 
 ing down by the side of the river, apparently going through 
 a singular performance with his landing-net. When I 
 again looked he was gone ; and the circumstance had 
 passed from my mind when we found him, in the evening, 
 seated in the parlour of the inn, comfortably smoking and 
 reading the newspapers. 
 
 'Did you catch anything as you returned?' I asked. 
 ' Look in the landing-net,' said he proudly ; ' it's in 
 the corner.' 
 
 And there, sure enough, was a fine trout, carefully 
 wrapped up in sedge-leaves. Mr. Mearns closely scanned 
 it. 
 
 ' What flee did ye catch it wd' V he asked. 
 
 ' The alder-fly, of course,' replied Felix. 
 
 ^ That's maist extraordinar',' said the old Scotchman. 
 
 ' Why ?' demanded Felix, not without a certain fierce- 
 ness in his tone. 
 
 ' Because the trout's hlin' /' 
 
 'And can't a blind trout swallow a fly?' asked Mr. 
 Felix, grown suddenly angry, ' or how in all the earth 
 could it remain alive ?' 
 
 ' I dinna ken,' replied the Scotchman, ' as I never tried 
 to make a blin' fish see a flee.' 
 
 But, as Mr. Felix pointed out to me, there was no 
 necessity for telling Mrs. Felix that the trout was blind, 
 women having many peculiar and unreasonable prejudices. 
 
MR. FELIX ON THE MOORS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 MR. FELIX ON THE MOORS. 
 
 The elaborate fly-rod which Mr. FeHx had bought, 
 and all its ingenious and complicated accessories, were 
 deposited in the library, and were not used any more. Mr. 
 Rolfe was not commissioned to paint the blind trout which 
 had mysteriously swallowed my friend's fly ; nor yet was 
 the fish sent ofl" to be stufl'ed and framed. He rescinded 
 the order, already despatched to his bookseller, for the 
 'Comjjlete Angle7% in scarlet morocco. He affected to sneer 
 •at fishing as a recreation fit only for school-girls, and 
 was particular to direct Mrs. Felix never again to ofler him 
 trout for breakfast. 
 
 There was great excitement at the Beeches when it 
 Ibecame known that Mr. Felix, seduced by a very tempting 
 advertisement in the Field, was about to rent a moor in 
 Scotland and go off on a hunting and shooting excursion, 
 the vague and mystic sublimity of which seemed to make 
 a great impression on the mind of Mrs. Felix. Her ima- 
 gination, swifter far than the express which puts you down 
 in Aberdeen before the husky smell of London has gone 
 from the nostrils, whirled her into a land of mist and rain, 
 of feudal castles and enchanted lakes, of maidens' bowers 
 -and robber chieftains ; and both Mr. Felix and myself 
 were struck by the eager and happy way she at once pro- 
 posed to startle some of her Cockney friends by inviting 
 them northward to a grand dinner, at which the candles 
 .should be held in the hands of a score of stalwart gillies 
 placed behind the guests' chairs. When Mr. Felix, with 
 •a bashful timidity which need not, I am sure, have made 
 him look so frightened, hinted that his family were not to 
 |)artake of the pleasures of the field, his wife was simply 
 
Io6 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 speechless with amazement. Mr. Fehx, however, gather- 
 ing courage, proceeded to show that hidies and children 
 would find no pleasure in chasing the wild deer and 
 following the roe ; that they w^ould be inappropriate, not 
 to say embarrassing, in the midst of these pathless soli- 
 tudes inhabited only by grouse and inarticulate savages ; 
 and that the correct thing for a mother to do, in such a 
 case, was to take her young ones down to Ramsgate and 
 practise economy for the good of her health. This, in the 
 end, she agreed to ; furnishing her husband Avith a list of 
 the people to whom she wished some game sent. 
 
 But, previous to our setting out, Mr. Felix had provided 
 himself, following his ordinary reckless disregard for cost, 
 with a vast quantity of shooting material. He bought a 
 double-barrelled breecli-loader,two double-barrelled muzzle- 
 loaders, an air-gun, a pair of fancy pistols in case, a big re- 
 volver, and as much powder, shot, and cartridges as might 
 have filled an ammunition-wagon. He had sent to his 
 house one evening (when there was neither proper shelter 
 nor food provided for them) three brace of pointers, a re- 
 triever, and a Highland pony, for the last of which he had 
 given eighteen pounds. When his groom informed him 
 that in the Highlands, Avhither he w^as going, as useful a 
 pony could be got for about six pounds, he pretended 
 he had bought the animal as a curiosity for the children, 
 and directed that Master Harry should take possession 
 of the new purchase next morning. 
 
 The necessary preparations for our long journey ]3i'e- 
 vented Mr. Felix testing any one of the guns he had bought; 
 and I had, therefore, no opportunity of judging how my 
 partner was likely to Avork on the moor. He certainly ex- 
 hibited a goodly amount of learning in talking of the breed 
 of the retriever ; and his technical knowledge of the parts 
 of his gun seemed to be as spick and span new as the gun& 
 themselves. But there was a painful reticence about Mr. 
 Felix whenever he was asked about his previous sporting 
 
MR. FELIX CN THE MOORS. 107 
 
 experiences ; and he invariably, with much ingenuity, 
 changed the subject. Once in the train, however, and Avith 
 nothing to think about but anticipations of good wea- 
 ther, plenty of sport, and decent health, I boldly challenged 
 him. 
 
 ' I suppose you've got quite converted to the breech- 
 loader"?' I asked. 
 
 'Well, yes,' said Mr. Felix uneasily; 'on the whole I 
 prefer the breech-loader.' 
 
 'Done much execution with it V 
 
 ■'No, not exactly. The fact is, I never used a breech- 
 loader; but I believe most people like it.' 
 
 'You've been a late convert, then. What have you 
 been in the habit of shooting %' 
 
 ' Well, to tell you the truth, I'm not much of a shot. 
 I never was in the habit of shooting anything. I remem- 
 ber having tried when a boy to shoot sparroAVS with a — 
 with a pistol, in fact.' 
 
 There w^as a great flush on Mr. Felix's face, which the 
 twilight inside the carriage only partially concealed. 
 Thereafter he seemed greatly preoccupied. On through 
 the gathering darkness rattled the train ; Mr. Felix did 
 not utter a word. Suddenly he broke forth. 
 
 ' It can't be difficult to shoot such a big bird as the 
 grouse, Avhen your No. 6 shot spread well and you get 
 tolerably near.' 
 
 ' You never shot a bird flying V 
 
 ' I don't know that I ever did,' he replied humbly ; 
 ' but then, you see, my eyes are good, and why should I 
 not be able to aim as straight as anybody else ? It isn't 
 like some profound science you've to puzzle over for years.. 
 There's the bird, high up in the air, distinctly visible ; 
 there's you Avith a good gun in your hand, and a tolerable 
 pair of eyes in your head : Avhat should hinder you from 
 bringing him doAvn? I knoAV some people are very expert 
 in shooting, and are able to kill more than their neigh- 
 
I O 8 THE SPOR TING A D VENTURES OF MR. PEL IX. 
 
 t)Oi"irs ; but, after all, I never pretended to have all the 
 -qualifications of a gamekeeper, and I don't measure the 
 sport I get by the slaughter I can accomplish.' 
 ^ Mr. Felix's theory was so beautiful that I considered it 
 would have been cruelty to question it. 
 
 The hamlet of Ballinclough lies a few miles south of 
 Huntly, in the district of Strathbogie ; a Avretched little 
 ■clachan, which nevertheless looked picturesque and pleas- 
 ing in the ruddy evening light as we came in sight of its 
 red chimneys and crumbled gables. It was on the out- 
 skirts of this village we found the person who had sub-let 
 to us the moor ; and, under his guidance, we continued our 
 journey until we reached the rather dismal-looking lodge, for 
 which, with the moor, Mr. Felix had engaged to give one 
 hundred pounds for a month, exclusive of salaries. For- 
 tunately we had been warned to bring provisions with us 
 from Kuntly, which were at once delivered over to the 
 cook. After dinner, Mr. Colquhoun having accepted an 
 invitation to feed with us, Mr. Felix was introduced to his 
 keeper, a man of extraordinary height and bearing, who 
 wore a big brown moustache and beard. Unlike the other 
 men, who spoke broken English with a Gaelic accent, he 
 conversed sententiously in broad Scotch, and puzzled poor 
 Mr. Felix dreadfully. Indeed the picture my friend pre- 
 sented Avhen standing opposite this giant, and trying 
 wistfully to catch his meaning by looking up at the 
 expression of his face, was rather comic in its way ; and 
 Mr. Jamieson, soon perceiving that the gentle Felix had 
 never seen or even smelt heather before, began to address 
 him in a somewhat dictatorial manner. 
 
 ' The birds are geyan wild, sir,' said he, ' but we'll no' 
 begin drivin' just yet till we see hoo ye get on. It's a 
 gran' moor, though.' 
 
 ' Indeed,' said Felix. 
 
 ' I'm thinkin' ye wouldna believe me if I telled ye the 
 bas's that hev been made here.' 
 
MR. FELIX ON THE MOORS. 1 09. 
 
 *Ab. I daresay not,' said my friend, with miconscious 
 sarcasm. 
 
 'If you and the other gentleman'll start early the 
 morn's mornin', ye'll mak' a good day's work, I'se war- 
 rant.' 
 
 If Mr. FeHx did not go to bed, and weep for downright 
 sorrow to think that the night must pass before the mor- 
 row, it was because a strong tumbler of whisky-punch, 
 added to the fatigues of the day, sent him a sound night's 
 rest. At daybreak, nevertheless, he was u^d and dressed, 
 and kept continually going to the window of our break- 
 fast-room to discover Avhat sort of weather we were likely 
 to have. As yet the morning was cold and damp, but no 
 rain had fallen. A pony was soon in readiness to take 
 our guns, ammunition, &c. to the moor, which was in such 
 proximity to the lodge as to admit of our walking to the 
 spot. Mr. Felix was not in very high spirits, as I had 
 expected, though he exhibited sufficient nervous unrest, 
 and seemed very much annoyed to think that he would be 
 followed all day by one or other of the three gillies who 
 now accompanied us. 
 
 ' Of all the disgusting things in life,' said he emphatic- 
 ally, ' waiters are the worst. I hate 'em, whether they're 
 in your own house and keep fidgeting behind your chair 
 and listening to everything that's said, or whether they 
 come out with you like them fellows there and grin at 
 each other if you don't prove to them that your flither was 
 a poacher. I suppose, if we drive the grouse, these men'll 
 do it V 
 
 ' Certainly.' 
 
 * Well, I insist on driving at once. I can't bear to be 
 dodged at the heels all day, and feel that every mischance 
 you have will be laughed at by these critical beggars, who 
 had likely never a gun in their hands. I don't see the 
 pleasure of a day's amusement, if you're tracked ancL 
 watched like that.' 
 
no THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 Mr. Felix spoke Avith emotion ; but by and by he was 
 persuaded to suffer this inconvenience for a season until 
 we saw how wild the grouse were. 
 
 Arrived at the moor, which stretches up into the craggy 
 heights of Cairnantoul, a brace of Mr. Felix's pointers were 
 )set to work, and my friend moved quietly forward, fol- 
 lowed by his attendant sprite, who, along with the game- 
 bag, carried a waterproof coat. i\Ir. Felix, I should have 
 said, was resplendent in a light suit of tweeds ; and, with 
 liis shot-bag over his shoulder, his cap-holder dangling 
 from his button-hole in company with a dog-whistle, and 
 with his glancing double-barrelled muzzle-loader pointed 
 peacefully to the sky, he looked commanding and pic- 
 turesque. So it was that he made his first appearance on 
 the moors ; and I am confident that if grouse-shooting had 
 consisted in his walking up and down in this striking 
 costume, he would have been content and happy, nor would 
 have longed for the vulgar excitement of killing a large 
 number of timorous birds. 
 
 Forward Avent the two pointers, apparently working 
 well enough. Mr. Felix was now in front of everybody, 
 and as he began to feel the tufts of springy heather be- 
 neath the feet, and as imagination filled every trifling 
 hollow with close packs, he seemed to become rather con- 
 strained and nervous. Suddenly he left off following his 
 dogs, and came over to me, with his face full of a conscious 
 embarrassment. 
 
 'I say,' he asked, in a low whisper, ' do you put a wad 
 Ibetween the powder and shot?' 
 
 ' Of course.' 
 
 ' Well, but I haven't. I — I forgot — I mean I made a 
 blunder. What's to be done V 
 
 ' Screw out the charge.' 
 
 ' But I didn't bring a screw with me,' said Felix, in 
 despair, with a side glance at the pointers. 
 
 Shortly after I had shown him that he was the un- 
 
MR. FELIX ON THE MOORS. 1 1 1 
 
 witting possessor of a screw, and sent liim back to his 
 gillie and his dogs, I heard a very peculiar noise. I turned 
 in time to see one of the pointers, which had hit upon a 
 iscent when he was perhaps sixty yards from Felix, rush 
 off upon the trail with all the joyful cry and impetuosity 
 of a harrier. Of course he came upon the pack ; and five 
 ".birds rose. They were at least eighty yards from Mr. 
 Felix, who had just managed to load ; but nevertheless 
 I saw him put his gun up to his shoulder in a slow and 
 bungling way. At the distance I was from him, I could 
 •see the barrels shake ; while, as he fired both charges, he 
 .stumbled backward with the recoil, and had nearly fallen 
 on the heather. He turned quickly to see if any one was 
 w^atching him. 
 
 ' You will never get any birds wis tat tawg,' said the 
 gillie ; ' he will pe sa goot tawg for some things, but he 
 will not to here.' 
 
 ' My dogs have been properly trained,' said Mr. Felix, 
 not without dignity, for he was nettled. 
 
 ' Sey will pe trained not for grouse-shooting,' said the 
 gillie resolutely. 
 
 Fortunately the keeper got up in time to settle the 
 dispute by recalling the ebullient pointer and putting 
 ■another in his place. 
 
 ' The grouse are rather wild,' said Mr. Felix mildly. 
 
 'Yes, sir, they are; but there's nae use shootin' at them 
 when they're oot o' sicht.' 
 
 'When they're what?' 
 
 ' Oot o' sicht. By the time ye fired there wasna a bird 
 to be seen ; they were a' ayont the liillock out there, wi' 
 that deevil o' a dowg after them.' 
 
 Mr. Felix said no more, but directed the giUie to get 
 in the dogs, and, with an unholy light rising in his eyes, 
 came over to me. 
 
 'I suppose we're not bound to pay these fellows, if they 
 turn out to be nothing else than uncivil beasts, are we 1 I 
 
112 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 thought there was to be some sort of pleasure in a part}^ 
 like this : I don't see it. People come here for amusement 
 — and precious expensive amusement it is — and not to be 
 insulted by a lot of rascally poachers.' 
 
 ' Why, what's the matter f I asked. 
 
 * I shall stay with you for a while,' he said, ' and see 
 how you get on. I don't care about shooting just yet. I 
 want to see whether the dogs work decently.' 
 
 Mr. Felix, hoAvever, in rather an excited manner, loaded 
 his gun and put it over his shoulder. The dogs w^orked 
 decently enough, and in a minute or two one of them was 
 struck motionless. 
 
 'Now,' I said to Felix, 'come along cautiously, and be 
 sure you fire at the right-hand bird.' 
 
 We got about fifteen yards from the grouse before they 
 rose, and I saw Felix's face pale with the start which the 
 sudden whirr of their wings gave him. Up went his gun ; 
 he clenched his teeth ; the next moment there was a ter- 
 rific report, followed by the heavy fall of my friend on the 
 heather. There he lay, with white face and closed eyes, 
 while the gillies came rushing up. I tried to rouse him ; 
 he only groaned. 
 
 'What's the matter, Felix? are you hurt?' 
 
 'Bring the pony, and take me home,' he whispered; 'I 
 have broken my shoulder-blade.' 
 
 A little sherry poured down his throat seemed to revive 
 him ; and by and by he recovered sufficiently to be placed 
 upon his legs. One of the men, in the mean time, had lifted 
 Mr. Felix's gun, and tried both barrels with the ramrod. 
 
 ' The shentleman will have put sa two charges in sa 
 one barrel,' said hegravely. 
 
 'Hold your tongue, you impudent thief!' cried Felix, 
 with an electric spasm of rage; 'if you'd bring over that 
 pony, instead of standing there like a diseased hyena, 
 you'd have a better chance of getting your wages at the 
 end of the month.' 
 
MR. FELIX ON THE MOORS. II3 
 
 All persuasion was useless. It was of no avail to point 
 out to Mr. Felix that his shoulder would recover from the 
 temporary blow it had received; he insisted on his at once 
 proceeding homeward and getting to bed. The last I saw 
 of him was the pony and its disconsolate rider disappear- 
 ing over the moor,. Mr. Felix looking no more the bright 
 and gallant creature he had appeared as he set out in the 
 morning. 
 
 But when I returned to the lodge at night, expecting 
 to find our little household hushed and quiet in deference 
 to the whim of the hurt man, I was amazed to hear a suc- 
 cession of strange sounds issuing from the window of our 
 largest room — ringing shouts of laughter, hurried stamp- 
 ings of feet on the wooden floor, and low shrill whoops 
 were blended in wild confusion, Avhich seemed all the 
 madder when contrasted with the stillness outside. Ap- 
 proaching the Avindow, I beheld a scene which can only be 
 paralleled by that which Tam o' Shanter saw in Alloway 
 Kirk. 
 
 The shutters were not closed, and the candles in- 
 side Avere burning brightly, so that Jamieson and myself 
 could see without being seen. The central table of the 
 room had been carried into the passage ; another smaller 
 table stood at the top of the apartment, covered with 
 tumblers, which sent forth reeking fumes of whisky-punch ; 
 seven or eight men— apparently cottars from the neigh- 
 bourhood — and three farm-lasses were dancing a wild pro- 
 miscuous reel, and keeping time by howling rather than 
 singing ' Miss Lawson's Strathspey' at the pitch of their 
 voices, while ever and anon this unearthly music was en- 
 livened by the ear-piercing whoops of the dancers. No 
 thing but the insanity of whisky-toddy could have pro- 
 duced such an amazing saturnalia, which was not the less 
 surprising that it took place in a private house for which 
 I was supposed to be paying rent. 
 
 ' What's this V I said, turning to Jamieson. 
 
 H 
 
114 
 
 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 The tall Scotchman could only look on with open 
 month and eyes. 
 
 ' I never saw such a deevil's dance afore,' said he ; 
 'and to think they should be disturbin' Mr. Felix in that 
 niainner. Losh me ! is that no your friend in the big 
 chair'?' 
 
 My attention having been fixed upon the dancers had 
 prevented my observing, by the side of the table, a large 
 arm-chair, which occupied the place of honour at the head 
 of the room. On this capacious throne sat the gentle 
 Felix; and, as 1 caught glimpses of him through the figures- 
 of the reel, it was apparent that he was beating time on 
 the table with a poker, while he regarded the people before 
 him with a maundering smile. I thought it was time to 
 enter. 
 
 Scarcely had we got inside the door, when the cook 
 came running forward with a dreadful story. Mr. Felix, 
 on reaching home, had ordered some whisky and water — 
 an order which was repeated several times, until there was 
 heard to issue from his room, shortly after dinner, an un- 
 earthly sound, as of some one singing, in a thin and 
 querulous voice, a pathetic ballad. Thereafter Mr. Felix 
 had more whisky and water; and finally went out and 
 sent for all the people round about to come and keep him 
 company. The two jars of whisky which Ave had sent on 
 from Huntly were placed in this big room ; hot water, 
 sugar, and tumblers were demanded ; and then began the 
 orgie which had gradually increased in fury during the 
 evening. 
 
 With difficulty I pushed my way through the dancers 
 towards my friend. 
 
 ' Aha !' he said, Avith an idiotic simper, ' shot many 
 grouse, old boy? I think you had three brace when I left; 
 but you knoAV they were all flukes ; you knoAV they were. 
 Where's old Jamieson? Tell him to come and have a 
 dance or a song.' 
 
MR. FELIX ON THE MOORS. 
 
 1^5 
 
 Suddenly the expression of his face changed, and he 
 struck the poker upon the table. 
 
 ' Silence !' he roared; 'the company will be seated, and 
 a song will be sung.' 
 
 There was a general scuffling towards the chairs, and 
 then ensued a painful silence, for no one would sing, when 
 up got Mr. Felix, and proceeded, in a voice which re- 
 sembled a very faint Jew's-harp, to sing — 
 
 ' When other lips and other hearts 
 Their tales of love shall tell.' 
 
 But he had not proceeded further when he suddenly 
 vacated his throne, and disappeared from the room^ 
 thereby ending a scene which I was not sorry to see 
 curtailed. 
 
 For two days Mr. Felix did not leave his bed, and for 
 two more he remained in the house ; a space of time which 
 he occupied in asseverating that the Government should 
 abolish the sale of that particular poison known as Scotch 
 vdiisky. At the end of that period Mr. Felix again shoul- 
 dered his gun and betook himself to the moor, where, in 
 the meanwhile, I had found the grouse very plentiful. I 
 noticed upon this occasion, however, that my friend, in- 
 stead of keeping near me, avoided me as much as possible, 
 and that there was a deal of unnecessary whispering be- 
 tween him and one of the gillies named John. By and by, 
 indeed, we split up into two parties, and Mr. Felix, his 
 dogs, and attendant, passed from sight over one of the 
 broad slopes which lie around the base of Cairnantoul. 
 
 We had fixed to take luncheon at half-past twelve, by 
 the side of a rivulet which came down from the hill 
 through the moor ; and great indeed was the alteration 
 in my friend's face as he returned to the appointed place 
 at that hour. He was positively radiant; his cheeks wore 
 a fine pinky glow, and his eyes were bright and joyous. 
 
 * I heard you fire several times,' I said, as we sat down 
 upon the dry warm heather. ' Did you kill anything %' 
 
Tl6 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 Felix pointed to the bag which the gillie had deposited 
 at some distance from iis. 
 
 ' Rather !' he said, with a proud look. 
 
 'How many V 
 
 ' Fonr brace and a half.' 
 
 I looked at Felix : his eyes did not quail in the least. 
 Had he not corroborative testimony in the bag? 
 
 ' How many did yon. miss V 
 
 ' Not one the whole morning ; but several packs rose 
 out of shot.' 
 
 ' Why, grouse-shooting has come upon you like an 
 inspiration.' 
 
 Mr. Felix said nothing, but merrily began to cut the 
 string of a champagne-bottle he had fished out of the 
 stream. That night he returned with thirteen brace in 
 the bag ; and a happy man was he, in spite of the oc- 
 casional cjualms of sickness Avhich he even yet felt as the 
 result of his first acquaintance with the national drink of 
 Scotland. 
 
 The following day he was nearly as successful; and, in- 
 deed, he had the hardihood to lay a wager on his prowess. 
 But what puzzled me extremely was the fact that by no 
 enticement whatever could I induce him to give me ocular 
 demonstration of his skill. I wanted him to come with 
 me across the lowest part of the moor, where the grouse 
 were rather wilder ; but he betrayed a strong preference 
 for the slopes of Cairnantoul, where he never failed to dis- 
 appear from sight. For several days this continued, and 
 Mr. Felix gradually grew in our estimation. Jamiesonno 
 longer addressed him with an easy indifference to his au- 
 thority. The gillies no longer winked at him behind his 
 back. When he returned to the lodge in the evening he 
 lay back in his easy-chair with the air of a man who knew 
 he had deservedly won the respect of his fellows, and his 
 general suavity and complaisance now knew no bounds. 
 Nevertheless the problem remained inexplicable. By 
 
MR. FELIX ON THE MOORS. 
 
 117 
 
 what charm did this sportsman, who had never loaded a 
 gmi before in his Hfe, conjm-e the grouse to come to him 
 and be bagged '? One afternoon I was cHmbing up a some- 
 what rocky incHne, the top of which was covered with 
 patches of heather and grass. One of my dogs was point- 
 ing steadily, and as I advanced the pack rose into the air. 
 Instead of two barrels four were discharged, and three of 
 the birds fell. I immediately ascended the few remaining 
 yards of the incline, and beheld before me John the gillie, 
 who, as I could see from the smoke of the barrels, had 
 just fired. Mr. Felix was close behind him, with the game- 
 bag over his shoulder, and clearly keeping as sharp a look- 
 out for observers as for points. The secret was at once 
 revealed : to secure his reputation Felix had bribed this 
 villain John to silence, and had commissioned him to shoot 
 the grouse for him. It was the evil fortune of the gillie 
 to be too successful, and thereby to have awakened sus- 
 picions which were now verified. 
 
 I withdrew gently from my position, where I had been 
 unnoticed, and rounding the slope, appeared on the sum- 
 mit by another side. Felix, having been apprised of our 
 proximity by the firing, had by this time secured his gun, 
 and came forward with a pleasant smile to decide which of 
 us had hit two of the three birds. The unhappy man was 
 now so skilled in imposture, that the easy assurance with 
 which he claimed the two birds as the result of his certain 
 aim was a beautiful thing to witness. But I did not choose 
 just then to confound him with the knowledge of his secret 
 which I had won. I reserved that retribution for a better 
 time, though I was determined that the graceless gilHe 
 should have no more grouse-shooting during the re- 
 mainder of our month. 
 
 On returning to the lodge, however, Felix was con- 
 fronted by intelligence which awoke his concern in matters 
 of more importance than the making-up of a big bag. A 
 railway in which he was a large shareholder had got into 
 
Il8 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 dire difficulties, and his lawyer counselled him to return to 
 London forthwith. Mr. Felix's resolution was taken on the 
 spot. Indeed, could one wonder that his liking for grouse- 
 shooting was a thing easily to be set aside % He left his 
 guns, &c., for a friend to whom he intended offering the re- 
 maining portion of our month, and started for London on 
 the following morning. As yet I have not revealed to him 
 my acquaintance with his method of shooting grouse; and 
 Mrs. Felix is doubtless pleased to know that her friends 
 Avere in due course apprised of her husband's sportsman- 
 like qualities by the arrival of certain perforated wooden 
 boxes. But the story was not long in leaking out in the 
 neighbourhood of Ballinclough ; and the depraved gillie 
 Avho entered into the plot had so little sense of shame as 
 openly to boast of and laugh over the exploit among his 
 companions. 
 
MR. FELIX IN STUBBLE. 
 
 119 
 
 V. 
 
 MR. FELIX IN STUBBLE. 
 
 One deception involves a thousand deceptions, say the 
 approved text-books of morality. Those who took the 
 trouble to read the record of Mr. Felix's adventures in the 
 north will easily recognise the predicament in which he 
 was now placed. He had acquired the reputation of being 
 a first-rate shot, and there now lay before him the option 
 .of maintaining that reputation on some lowland pastures 
 where no depraved gillie could possibly become his proxy, 
 
I20 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 or of discovering and confessing the mendacious trick by 
 which he had sought to impose upon his friends while on 
 the moors. Any one acquainted with the weaknesses of 
 human nature need not be told which course of action Mr. 
 Felix chose, nor that he determined, with all his energy, 
 to acquire skill in shooting during the few days which 
 had to elapse before the slaughter of partridges com- 
 menced. 
 
 Straightway, therefore, the incipient sportsman took 
 to the killing of sparrows, and from morning till night the 
 crack of his gun resounded through the trees which en- 
 compass his house. Several times, as I afterwards learned, 
 he had nearly added peasant-shooting to the list of his 
 performances; his gardener, especially, having to work, 
 during this period, on what might be called the edge of 
 his grave. Mr. Felix had begun by aiming at finches and 
 blackbirds as they sat on the nearest rose-bushes or hopped 
 across the lawn; but from that exciting exercise he 
 speedily diverged into the shooting of flying birds, and 
 here it was that he hovered on the brink of manslaughter 
 for several days. Indeed, a butcher's boy, who had a 
 charge of No. 8 shot pass just over his shoulder, went back 
 to the village, and declared that the owner of the Beeches 
 had gone mad ; that he was roaming through the grounds 
 in a semi-nude state, and trying hard to kill whomsoever 
 approached the house. It needed only one or two repeti- 
 tions of the story to make the whole village believe that 
 my friend had tarred and feathered himself in order to 
 represent a wild Indian, and that he had already shot two 
 of his servants. 
 
 However, by the first of September Mr. Felix was so 
 convinced of his expertness that he had now no more fear 
 of being obliged to tell the story of his Highland escapade. 
 It was arranged that in the mean time we should shoot 
 over a large farm in the neighbourhood of the Beeches,- 
 where the birds were known to be plentiful. Mr. Felix 
 
MR. FELIX IN STUBBLE. 
 
 had himself provided the hens wherewith to hatch, in the 
 meadows aromid the honse, some five or six dozen eggs 
 that had been forsaken ; and doubtless his anticipations of 
 easy shooting Avere greatly raised by the tameness of the 
 yonng birds, which he was accustomed to take in his hand 
 and mentally mark as material for the exercise of his 
 deadly skill. 
 
 ' Now,' he said, ' as soon as breakfast is over I'll show 
 you how far my breech-loader w^ill carry. I suppose the 
 fellows who tell you they always shoot with breech-loaders 
 at the beginning of the season mean you to suppose that 
 they w^ant to give the partridges a chance. Don't believe 
 'em. It is only to excuse themselves when they miss, for 
 then they always declare the birds were out of shot. But 
 I'll show you at what distance my breech-loader can kill.' 
 
 Mr. Felix was indeed so excited that he ventured to 
 accept a cigar — always a hazardous experiment for him. 
 When we at length started to meet the keeper, my friend 
 had loaded his gun, for what purpose w^as not quite ap- 
 parent ; but as we arrived at the corner of the carriage- 
 drive he peremptorily bade me stop. 
 
 ' There's always a blackbird on that birch-tree at the 
 end of the avenue, and when you make any noise he flies 
 across and gives you a capital shot.' 
 
 ' How often have you tried?' 
 
 'Hush!' 
 
 He crept forward a few paces, until he was about 
 twenty yards from the birch-tree. 
 
 ' You will be sure to kill somebody if you fire through 
 the hedge,' I said. 
 
 At that moment Mr. Felix's favourite blackbird, with 
 a loud whirr and cackle, dipped down from the tree and 
 flew across the avenue. Bang ! went the right barrel, and 
 immediately afterwards my friend uttered a most unneces- 
 sary ejaculation. 
 
 * But,' he said, after a moment's hesitation, and not 
 
122 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 without a guilty look, ' I think I knocked a feather out of 
 his tail.' 
 
 It was quite unnecessary to point out to him that the 
 blackbird was out of sight before he fired, for he knew it. 
 But Mr. Felix, determined that he should at once show his 
 own dexterity and the power of his breech-loader, was not 
 to be baffled by the unconscionable swiftness of a black- 
 bird ; and the next moment I saw him level his gun at a 
 robin that had hopped on the top of the hedge which 
 divided the carriage-drive from a meadow wherein some 
 people were working. 
 
 ' Why, it's a robin,' I said. 
 
 ' No, it isn't,' he replied, as he screwed down his right 
 eye to the barrel. 
 
 Presently there was a loud report; the unfortunate 
 bird tumbled down through the bush, and the next thing 
 we saw was the apparition of an old woman who had fol- 
 lowed the explosion with a loud shriek. 
 
 ' master, you've killed me, you've killed me, indeed 
 you've killed me ! You've shot me through and through ; 
 and the poor children as hasn't a bit o' bread to put in 
 their mouths — ' 
 
 ' My good woman,' said Felix, ' what are you talking 
 about r 
 
 She came forward, with her lean brown arm laid bare, 
 and sure enough there was blood trickling down from a 
 scratch which a spent pellet had inflicted. Felix could 
 not quite conceal his dismay, but he affected an air of 
 sublime contempt. 
 
 ' Faugh ! What are you making a noise about % It's 
 .only a scratch, and here's five shillings for you.' 
 
 ' Five shillings ! you monster !' 
 
 Such was the exclamation we heard as we moved on ; 
 for the old woman, calculating on the wound producing 
 her a magnificent sum, was simply struck speechless by 
 the offer of this insignificant salve. It was not until we 
 
MR. FELIX IN S TUDDLE. 1 2 3 
 
 were almost out of hearing that she recovered the use of 
 her voice, and then her indignation and sarcasm had rather 
 lost their point. 
 
 We had not long made the acquaintance of the keeper 
 ■when Mr. Felix's brace of pointers were at work, and my 
 friend had both barrels on full cock. I saw that his hand 
 trembled, and that there was a spasmodic action in the 
 front of his throat similar to that which seems to trouble 
 all gentlemen while making an after-dinner speech. He 
 affected to be particularly interested in the working of 
 the dogs, and yet there was a singular incoherence in his 
 remarks. 
 
 Suddenly the pointer next Mr. Felix became motion- 
 less as though struck with a paralytic shock. Her whole 
 frame trembled with excitement, and there was an invo- 
 luntary crouching about the shoulders, a stretching of the 
 neck and stiffening of the tail, which told its own story. 
 Felix moved forward, his retriever at his heels. As he 
 cautiously advanced a terrific whirr of wings arose imme- 
 diately in front of him ; my friend threw his head up and 
 fairly dropped his gun with fright. 
 
 'All right, sir,' said the keeper coolly, as Mr. Felix, 
 with a crimson face, stooped down to pick up his breech- 
 loader. ' I've marked 'em. They're down near the river 
 there ; and we'd better follow them before going across 
 the meadow.' 
 
 But the rosy flush had left Mr. Felix's face. He was 
 now deadly pale. 
 
 ' I'm afraid,' he said to me, in a mournful voice, '- that 
 your cigar has not agreed with me. Pray go on yourself, 
 and I will rest on this stile for a little time.' 
 
 ' Shall I go back for some brandy, sir X said the keeper, 
 mildly compassionate. 
 
 ' No,' repHed Felix, with a slight shudder. ' Leave me 
 here : I shall be well presently.' 
 
 He must be a very near friend indeed whose illness 
 
124 ^^^ SPORTING ADVENTURES OF AIR. FELIX. 
 
 you remember when the first of September opens with 
 decent weather, plenty of birds, and dogs that know their 
 business. Mr. Fehx was very soon quite forgotten; and 
 the first thing that recalled him to our recollection was 
 the sudden discharge of two barrels near the spot where 
 we had left him. The keeper was looking in that direction 
 at the moment, and saw the smoke slowly rise into the 
 air. 
 
 ' I hope Mr. Felix isn't hurt,' he said. 
 
 ^Why?' 
 
 ' There were no birds on the wing when he fired ; and 
 perhaps some accident has set his gun off — leastways 
 we'd better look : hadn't we, sir V 
 
 When we returned to the spot where we had left Mr. 
 Felix sitting, we found the sick man not only well, but in 
 the best spirits. 
 
 ' Here,' said he, with a triumphant smile, ' look at 
 these !' 
 
 There could be no doubt about it : what he held up 
 were three partridges, in prime condition. 
 
 ' Where did you put 'em up, sir f inquired the keeper. 
 
 ' Here.' 
 
 ^Herer 
 
 'Why,' said Mr. Felix, reddening again, ' do you think 
 I shot them on the ground?' 
 
 ' Oh no, sir ; only I axed the question. But they're 
 fine birds, sir: and are you well enough to go with us 
 now?' 
 
 ' Yes, I'm better,' said Felix, delivering up the birds to 
 the bag in a quite picturesque and imposing manner. 
 
 Thereafter we began to beat up a long field of turnips; 
 and Mr. Felix strode out as manfully as the graceful 
 rotundity of his person permitted. 
 
 * I don't think it bad,' said he, ' to knock over three 
 birds with two charges. You know I'm not a crack shot ; 
 and really I don't think it bad.' 
 
MR. FELIX IN STUBBLE. 1 25 
 
 'Nor I either,' I replied. 'But do yon know, Mr. 
 Felix, that Smith declares there were no birds whatever 
 on the wing when yon shot V 
 
 ' I'll tell yon what it is,' said Felix hotly, ' Smith is an 
 impudent vagabond, who would be a poacher but that he 
 gets well paid for being a keeper ; and I assure you he is 
 celebrated for being the very biggest liar in Kent, and 
 that's saying a good deal. No birds up % Why, the man 
 must either be blind or a raving maniac. I think the dis- 
 gusting impertinence of fellows like him all arises from 
 the Reform Bill ; and I am amazed that a lot of gentlemen 
 and landowners should give over the government of the 
 country to cads and poachers. Conservative ? Bah ! I'll 
 tell you what — this man is not my master yet ; and I'll 
 soon let him find out what his situation is worth if he 
 does not become a great deal more respectful !' 
 
 There is always something wrong with -a man's diges- 
 tion or his temper (though these may be considered to be 
 synonymous terms) when he begins to talk politics on the 
 first of September; and until this day I am of opinion 
 that had there not been some grounds for Smith's insinu- 
 ation, Mr. Felix would not have been so angry when it 
 was hinted that he had butchered three sitting par- 
 tridges. However, there was no need to raise an unne- 
 X3essary disturbance by insisting on the conviction of the 
 murderer ; for Mr. Felix, as he himself admitted, Avas not 
 .a ' crack shot,' and the consciousness that Ave believed in 
 his prowess might nerve him for honester efibrts. 
 
 Now on the very edge of this field of turnips which 
 we had just entered lay a covey of birds, apparently bat a 
 few yards in front of Mr. Felix. With the tread of a cat 
 he went forward, until he must have been able to see the 
 partridges as they sat together among the deep green 
 leaves. They were not over twelve yards from him when 
 they rose, and the sudden flutter of wings was certainly 
 sufficient to startle one not much accustomed to the sound. 
 
126 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 Up went the gun, Mr. Felix clenched his teeth, and the 
 next moment both barrels were sent after the birds. Not 
 one fell. 
 
 For a moment Felix looked after the covey in mute 
 and undisguised astonishment, following their low straight 
 flight as if he expected every moment to see one of them, 
 drop. Then he turned and walked over to me. 
 
 ' I've made a mistake,' he said. 
 
 ^How?' 
 
 ' I fancied this gun would carry as well as my muzzle- 
 loader; indeed my gunmaker warranted it to shoot as 
 hard and close as a Joe Manton. Now I find it will not 
 kill at forty yards.' 
 
 'When did you try it r 
 
 ' Just now, at the covey that rose down my way.' 
 
 'The birds Avere about a dozen yards from you when 
 they rose, and#about twenty when you fired.' 
 
 Mr. Felix paused for a moment, apparently uncertain 
 whether to become angry or treat the whole affair Avith 
 contempt. 
 
 ' That's your fun,' he said, with a sneer, as he walked 
 off, ' and it's a pity you can't find another sort of joke.' 
 
 There were plenty of birds in the turnips, and there 
 fell to the lot of Mr. Felix a sufficient number of those easy 
 shots which even a farmer's boy would be ashamed to 
 take. Felix, nevertheless, invariably fired the moment 
 the birds rose from the ground ; and as invariably missed. 
 By the time we were at the end of the turnips, he had not 
 added one to the bag. 
 
 He sat down upon a stile, and put his gun in a con- 
 templative attitude across his knees. 
 
 ' After all,' he said, ' doesn't it seem an ignominious 
 thing for a man to be going after these poor birds, armed 
 with all the appliances which science can invent, and 
 shooting them down right and left? Why, it's downright 
 slaughter : they have not a chance.' 
 
MR, FELIX IN STUBBLE. 
 
 127 
 
 * Oh yes, they have,' I hinted. 
 
 ' I mean, sooner or later they are sure to be shot,' 
 replied Felix, with a slight blush. ' Now I think there is 
 something noble and fine in being able to shoot a seagull 
 flying with an arrow. That is a triumph of personal 
 skill ; whereas here, it's your gunmaker, or the size of 
 shot you use, or your dogs that do it all. I confess 1 
 don't see the fun of this kind of thing.' 
 
 My philosophic companion having for some minutes 
 drummed on the stile with his heels, proceeded to try the 
 contents of his pocket-flask; after which he began to 
 bestir himself from his reverie. 
 
 'Now,' he said, 'I have a proposal to make. I don't 
 think much of the working of these pointers. Will you 
 take them, and I shall go off through this stubble up here 
 with the retriever only ? I like the idea of stalking game, 
 because it makes you independent of dogs and adds to 
 one's excitement.' 
 
 Without waiting for a reply, Mr. Felix rose and went, 
 and I saw him no more for about an hour. But durins: 
 that time we heard him firing briskly, and kncAv, by the 
 sound of his gun, that he was roaming about in every 
 possible direction, but always keeping far away from us. 
 The number of cartridges he expended in. that hour must 
 have cost a fortune, and I was very anxious to see the 
 result. At last we came upon him, seated on a bank, 
 with a pocket-flask in his hand. 
 
 ' You have had plenty of shooting,' I suggested. 
 
 ' Oh, yes,' said Felix cheerfully, ' and I have something 
 to show for it. Look there !' 
 
 He pointed to the long grass by his side; but his 
 impatience to show us Avhat he had killed caused him to 
 lay down his pocket-flask and fish out the game himself. 
 The gentle reader will probably disbelieve me when I say 
 that there was actually a smile of triumph on his face as 
 he held up — a jay, a rabbit, and two house-pigeons. 
 
128 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 ' That is all yon have shot to-day V ' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 Alas for the unhappy keeper ! He burst out into an 
 uncontrollable snigger of laughter, and in vain tried to 
 conceal his misdeed by turning away his head. The face 
 of Mr. Felix at this moment was awful to behold. I be- 
 lieve he would have given the half of his fortune to be 
 allowed to shoot this man : the anger revealed by his eyes 
 Avas terrible. 
 
 'Don't you think it a fair morning's work?' he said, 
 Avith a forced smile, and with a tremendous effort to look 
 as though he had not heard the keeper. 
 
 ' Well, you know, Mr. Felix, you went out partridge- 
 shooting.' 
 
 ' But if I get a decent shot at things that are much 
 more difficult to kill — mucli more difficult to kill — than 
 partridges, why should I not take it % Now look at this 
 rabbit. You know how hard it is to shoot a rabbit when 
 he's at full speed ; and I say that a dead rabbit is worth a 
 dead partridge any day.' 
 
 All the time he spoke his eyes were fixed upon the 
 recusant gamekeeper, who now, fearful of drawing down 
 vengeance upon himself, moved off under the pretence of 
 taking the retriever to get some water. Felix followed 
 him with that imholy look, and presently said, 
 
 ' If you think it worth while to go over this ground 
 again to-morrow, instead of going at once into Herts, I 
 promise you we shall not be troubled by this man's exube- 
 rant fun.' 
 
 ' But he is the only keeper.' 
 
 ' Then Mr. Summers must get another.' 
 
 ' Who will know nothing about the country.' 
 
 ' I tell you,' said Felix savagely, ' that I will not shoot 
 another day in the company of such a low-bred wretch — / 
 iinll not do it. I'll go into Herts, if you like, or anywhere 
 else you please ; but I come here to-morrow only on con- 
 
MR. FELIX IN STUBBLE. 129 
 
 dition that this man is discharged to-day. Wh}^, he has 
 not even offered to put the game I've shot into the bag !' 
 
 ' He will do so presently,' I hinted ; ' and don't yon 
 think that you yonrself will be the only sufferer by refus- 
 ing to shoot any more here ?' 
 
 ' That's all you know,' said ho, with a horrible expres- 
 sion of malice. ' We get our poultry from Summers, and 
 the moment ho becomes disobliging, not one blessed 
 chicken shall enter the house.' 
 
 After this terrible threat Mr. Felix would speak no 
 more, and even refused to hear some plea of defective 
 education on behalf of the poor keeper. He shouldered 
 his gun, called on the retriever to follow him, and soon 
 disappeared on another of those mysterious excursions 
 which he seemed to love. 
 
 Before long we again heard him firing indiscriminately 
 into space, and no sooner was this signal heard than the 
 keeper came up to me, and said — 
 
 ' Pardon, sir, but was Mr. Felix a-talking of me when 
 he said as how he'd ask Mr. Summers to sack me?' 
 
 ' Well, he was,' I said. ' You know you displeased 
 him by laughing when he spoke of what he had shot.' 
 
 'But who could help laughin', sir?' asked the man 
 plaintively. 'And if Mr. Felix tries to make trouble 
 atween me and Mr. Summers, I hope as you'll tell him, 
 sir, all about it, and how it happened. If Mr. Summers 
 was here hisself, he'd say as he never see sich a sports- 
 man go out shootin' on the first o' September.' 
 
 When we next stumbled upon Mr. Felix, he advanced 
 with an easy consciousness which was evidently meant to 
 conceal his pride. He came rapidly forward to us, hold- 
 ing out at arm's length a singular-looking object which 
 looked more like a tattered scarecrow than a bird. 
 
 ' I've got him this time,' said he. 
 
 'What is it r 
 
 ' Don't you see ? A partridge !' 
 
 I 
 
130 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 Sure enough he held in his hands a partridge, or 
 rather the remains of a partridge, for the unfortunate bird 
 had had his head nearly blown off, while the body was 
 fairly riddled with shot. 
 
 ' I didn't miss liim, at all events,' said Felix, regarding 
 the mass of ragged and clotted feathers ; ' doesn't he look 
 as if he had been speedily put out of pain T 
 
 ' He looks as if he had been tied to the muzzle of your 
 gun before you shot.' 
 
 Mr. Felix replied with an uneasy laugh ; and, having 
 handed the bird to the keeper, passed on with us. Not 
 twenty yards from where he had met us, one of tlie 
 pointers was again struck motionless by a scent. Mr. 
 Felix, forgetting his contempt for partridge-shooting, 
 pressed cautiously forward ; and as a covey of fine birds 
 rose about fourteen yards ahead, he fired both barrels right 
 into the thick of them. 
 
 One bird fell! 
 
 Oh; who shall paint the rapture that now overspread 
 Felix's face, and battled there with the modest simper by 
 which he strove to hide his glowing satisfaction! He 
 spoke quite kindly to the keeper, and reassured the poor 
 man's mind. He took the bird from the retriever's mouth 
 and regarded it with profound wonder and admiration ; 
 he plucked one of its feathers and put it in his cap ; he 
 smoothed down its wings and said ' Poor bird,' and tried 
 to look mournful. What struck me as being rather pecu- 
 liar was the fact that the capture of his previous prize had 
 not in the least affected him in the same way. 
 
 The day's work was now about over, and we prepared 
 to return for dinner. On the way Mr. Felix had two shots, 
 and missed them botli ; but such a small mishap could not 
 lessen the self-glorification revealed by his voice and 
 manner. As we walked through the meadow outside the 
 lawn, and drew near to the house, Mr. Felix declared that 
 he saw a rook on the gravel before the window, and in a 
 
MR. FELIX IN STUBBLE. I ^ i 
 
 jocular way said he would soon cure him of his impudence. 
 The bird hopped from the path on to the lawn, and Mr. 
 Felix, creeping up almost on hands and feet, soon found 
 himself at the railings surrounding the garden in front of 
 the house. I saw him rest his gun on one of the smooth 
 iron bars, and before any one could tell him that he was 
 pointing straight underneath the window, he had fired. 
 Then there was a crash of broken and splintered panes ; 
 for some of the shot had glanced from the gravel and 
 smashed the window of the drawing-room. 
 
 Before Mr. Felix could recover from his surprise and 
 dismay, a female figure appeared at the door, and from 
 the top of the steps surveyed us three in awful silence. 
 It was Mrs. Felix, whose naturally roseate face was now 
 further inflamed by anger. A slight amount of reasoning 
 soon told her that the man from the barrel of whose gun 
 smoke still ascended was the culprit ; and indeed I was 
 sorry for the guilty wretch who had now to confront this 
 terrible creature. 
 
 ' This is partridge-shooting,' she said, with a cold sar- 
 casm which rather belied the fury of her eyes; • to go and 
 kill a poor jackdaw in front of a house, and to fire through 
 a room in which three children are playing. This is par- 
 tridge-shooting, is- it, Mr. Felixil' 
 
 ' My dear — ' said Mr. Felix ; but he was interrupted 
 by a shrill scream from his little girl, who, running down 
 the steps, had come upon the mangled carcass of her pet 
 jackdaw. 
 
 ' mamma, look at Jackie ! He hasn't got any head 
 but a bit of his bill, and he's all over blood. Who was it 
 did it f 
 
 ' It was your papa, my girl, who took a jackdaw for a 
 partridge, and broke the window and a mantelpiece orna- 
 ment, and nearly killed three of his own children !' 
 
 xA.nother of Mr. Felix's children came running out — a 
 .small boy of nine or ten years of age. 
 
132 THE SPORTING ADVENTURES OF MR. FELIX. 
 
 ' Papa, what did you do with the dead partridge that 
 Harry was going to bmy in the meadow behind the sum- 
 mer-house ? Harry found it this morning, and came back 
 for a spade ; and then he said he saw you lift it and carry 
 it away.' 
 
 'I daresay you'll find it among the other jackdaws 
 that your papa has shot,' remarked Mrs. Felix cruelly. 
 ' A dead partridge is a very easy thing to shoot.' 
 
 ' Mrs. Felix !' said the irate husband, with a face purple 
 with rage and shame. 
 
 But Mrs. Felix turned contemptuously away from him. 
 and marched with the gait of a queen along the hall and 
 into the drawing-room. As for Felix, he looked as if he 
 wished tlie earth would cover him; and his embarrass- 
 ment Avas not the less painful and palpable on account of 
 the ghastly smile with which he spoke of 'the ridiculous 
 things a woman always says when she is in a temper., 
 especially if her stock of brains be nothing to speak of.' 
 
MY FIRST DAY'S FOX-HUNTING. 
 
 But tliat was six or seven years ago, and I frankly admit 
 that then I was a very indifferent horseman, although 
 I was in happy ignorance of the fact—- in its integrity. 
 I was quite conscious that I did not ride very gracefully 
 or over-comfortably, but I always discovered that the 
 fault was my horse's and not mine. My cousins used to 
 
134 ^^^y F^KS T DA YS FOX-H UNTING. 
 
 tliink otherwise, and I have spent hours at a time in 
 trying to induce them to give np their opinions on the 
 subject and to adopt mine. I sliould exphiin that my 
 cousins being orphans, and my father being their guardian, 
 they lived with us as part of our family, and that when- 
 ever they rode out they seemed to think they had a right 
 to insist upon my accompanying them. I at length got 
 tired of riding out with my fair cousins, and of hearing 
 them titter as, at their suggestion, we went down steep 
 hills at full trot (I confess I was never great at trotting 
 down hill), and so I resolved to take to hunting. I had 
 heard that some horses, though the worst of hacks, made 
 the best of hunters ; and I thought that something of that 
 kind might apply to horsemen also, and that I myself 
 might shine more in the field than I did on the road. It 
 was the end of February, and the Coverbury pack were 
 meeting three times a week at places within easy reach of 
 the Stonington Station. That was jolly ! I could buy a 
 hunter, keep him at Philley's livery-stables, and on hunt- 
 ing-days send him by train to Stonington, meet him, have 
 a day's hunting unknown to my cousins, and thus enjoy 
 myself with perfect freedom. I at once drew a cheque 
 for 50/., with which I determined to buy the best hunter 
 in all Blankshire ! I called at Philley's and told him of 
 my intention, and asked him how much a week he would 
 require to ' board and lodge' my steed when purchased. 
 The man smiled — he seemed to have a habit of smiling ; 
 but seeing from the seriousness of my manner that I Avas 
 in earnest, he replied that his charge for keeping the horse 
 would be thirty shillings a week ; and he added that if I 
 wished to buy a ' slapping' hunter he'd got just the horse- 
 for my money. ' Of course,' said he, ' you don't want a 
 pony, but a good tall horse as'll keep you out of the dirt; 
 and,' he added, scanning my figure from top to toe, ' you 
 don't want no cart-horse to carry your weight neither.' I 
 admitted that my ideas on the subject coincided with his. 
 
iMY riES T DA Y'S FOX-HUNTING. 13^ 
 
 exactly, and he at once called to a stable-boy to bring out 
 Iron Duke. 
 
 ' There,' said Philley, as the horse was trotted into the 
 yard, ' you might go a day's march and not come across 
 such a hunter as that — extraordinary animal, I assure you, 
 sir.' Not understanding the points of a horse, I deemed 
 it prudent to indorse all that Iron Duke's owner chose 
 to say in his praise ; and I was thus compelled to acknow- 
 ledge that his superior height (over sixteen hands), long- 
 legs, and slender build, gave him an advantage over every 
 other horse I had seen in my life, as regards carrying a 
 light-weight over a high-stone-wall country. 
 
 As we stood discussing the merits of the horse I hap- 
 pened to turn round, and there I saw the stable-boy grin- 
 ning and ' tipping the wink' to a companion. This aroused 
 my suspicions that all mightn't be right ; so instead of at 
 once buying and paying for the horse, I mustered up 
 courage to say, ' Well, Mr. Philley, I like the horse's ap- 
 pearance, but are his paces as good as his looks'? Will 
 you let me try him with the Coverbury pack to-morrow V 
 Mr. Philley paused, thought a few moments, and then ob- 
 served somewhat solemnly, ' Iron Duke, you see, sir, is a 
 very valuable horse, dirt cheap at fifty pounds; in fact, 
 it's giving him away, it is really, and I shouldn't like any- 
 thing to happen to a horse like that whilst he's mine. We 
 don't generally let him out for hunting; he's too good for 
 most of our customers. But I'll tell yer what we'll do ; 
 we'll let you have him to-morrow for two guineas, and 
 then (if you have no accident with him, as of course a 
 gentleman like you won't) you can please yourself whether 
 you have him or not. But if you should have an accident 
 — of course accidents will happen sometimes — why, then 
 the horse will be yours and the fifty pounds mine.' These 
 terms seemed fair, and I accepted them, though not before 
 they had banished my suspicions, and almost induced me 
 to buy and pay for the horse there and then. 
 
136 
 
 MY FIRST DA Y'S FOX-HUNTING. 
 
 Ill the morning I called at Pliilley's for my hunter, and 
 the boy brought him out bridled and saddled. As he stood 
 straight in. front of me his tall slim-built figure looked as 
 sharp as a knife. I ventured to express this idea, but 
 being doubtful as to whether sharpness was a good point 
 or a bad one, I did so in a manner Avliich might be taken 
 as in earnest or in jest. The dealer chose to take it in 
 the latter sense, and after laughing heartily at my ' good 
 joke' assured me that I should find my horse 'as clever as 
 a cat.' I then attempted to mount, and after some time 
 (during which the ostler gave me a ' leg up' and over the 
 other side) I was successful. The stirrup-straps having 
 been adjusted, I set out for the station; and in 1113^ journey 
 thither I was conscious that the commanding presence of 
 my horse and the easy graceful attitude of his rider were 
 fully appreciated by the numerous passers-by avIio stopped 
 to stare at us — doubtless in admiration. One thing, though, 
 nettled me a bit. Just as I got opposite the club, and was 
 waving my whip to Fitz- Jones, De Brown, and some other 
 fellows who were standing in the portico, my horse shied 
 at a wheelbarrow, and I had some diliiculty in getting 
 comfortable in the saddle again. I gently remonstrated 
 with the boy Avho was Avheeling the barrow for not getting 
 out of my way, when the impudent little scoundrel turned 
 round and shouted, ' Oh, crikey ! yer ain't very safe up 
 there! Get inside; safer inside!' Whereupon the whole 
 of the bystanders, including my friends of the club, bm-st 
 out laughing. I of course could not descend from my 
 high horse to chastise the young urchin, and as I couldn't 
 think of anything smart to say to him, I treated him with 
 tlie silent contempt he deserved, and rode on. But still, 
 as I said before, this nettled me. 
 
 With the exception of this iYi^m^contretempsl arrived 
 safely at Stonington Wood, the place appointed for the 
 meet. There was a good muster of ladies and gentlemen 
 on horseback (some ten or Iburteen of the gentlemen in 
 
M V FIRS T DAY'S FOX-HUN TING. 1 3 7 
 
 iscarlet coats), and a condescending old gentleman with 
 gray hair, neatly-trimmed whiskers, and rosy cheeks, re- 
 marked that there was a ' good field,' but I couldn't see it. 
 All that I could see in the shape of a field was a small 
 patch of turnips enclosed with a stone wall, the remainder 
 of the surrounding country being common and wood, or, 
 as I afterwards learned to call it, ' cover.' I soon began 
 to appreciate my Iron Duke, for I found that he was the 
 tallest horse there, and his legs seemed as hght as an 
 antelope's in comparison with the legs of the other ani- 
 mals, some of which seemed almost as heavy as cart- 
 horses'. 
 
 The clock of the village church struck eleven, and 
 three or four of the men in scarlet began to whip the dogs 
 to make them go into the wood. I thought it was the 
 proper thing to imitate their example, and seeing one of 
 the dogs scrambling up the wall I instantly rode up and 
 gave him what I thought a ' lift up behind' with my whip. 
 To my astonishment the animal, instead of going over 
 into the wood, tumbled down at my feet and yelped most 
 piteously. Iron Duke, not liking the noise, turned round 
 suddenly and kicked out, and the hound had an almost 
 miraculous escape of having his skull cracked. All this 
 happened in less than a minute, and seemed to cause a 
 ' great sensation,' for two or three of the roughest of the 
 men in scarlet were instantly attacked with a fit of cursing 
 and swearing, of which I took no notice, believing it to be 
 lavished on the head of the unfortunate hound. But I 
 soon had my doubts ; for one of the gentlemen in scarlet 
 rode up to me, and with much severity informed me that 
 he could not have his hounds ' served in that way.' I pro- 
 tested that it was an accident, and that I thought ' there 
 could be no harm in doing what the others did.' AVith 
 this explanation he seemed quite satisfied, for he at once 
 left me, and even smiled as he did so. The dog must 
 have been a young one, for as I passed two gentlemen 
 
T 38 -i/r FIRST DA rs FOX-HUATING. 
 
 who were doubtless discussing puppies in general, and I 
 suppose him in particular, I overheard one of them say, 
 ' He's evidently green.' The dogs having got safely into 
 cover, the ladies and gentlemen began to ride along the 
 outside of the wood— cover, I mean — and I did the same, 
 taking care, though, to keep well in the rear, that I might 
 see what the others did. I kept clear of every one I could 
 possibly avoid, as I found that the people who hunted at 
 Stonington indulged in a peculiar kind of slang which I 
 could not well understand. I had not gone far before I 
 heard a loud laughing in my rear. I seemed to be 
 fomiliar with the sound. I turned ' about' in the saddle, 
 and who should I see but my cousins not twenty yards 
 behind me ! I was inclined to go home, and I should have 
 done so only I saw that my cousins, besides being at- 
 tended by Evans in livery, were accompanied by their old 
 schoolfellow, Miss Tratford, a young lady to Avliom I had 
 been introduced at our last county ball. To enjoy her 
 presence I determined to brave all. I turned my horse 
 round and raised my hat as much as the tight guard 
 would let me, and in another moment I was at the mercy 
 of my tormentors. ' Ha ! ha ! ha !' laughed my cousin 
 Emily ; ' we saw you stealing out of the garden-gate at 
 six o'clock this morning.' ' Yes,' chimed in Julia, ' and 
 with those splendid top-boots on ! You thought to avoid 
 us, did you V ' I say, Adolphus.' continued Emily, ' when 
 you hire a horse-box again, and don't Avant an}' one to 
 know, don't let your name and destination be labelled on 
 it like an advertisement ! Ha ! ha ! ha !' I was com- 
 pletely sold, and I was obliged to acknowledge it ; and 
 Avhen I heard that my cousins had actually ridden ten 
 miles to the meet, whilst I had come by train, I felt that I 
 must do something to retrieve my reputation in the eyes 
 of IMiss Traflford. 
 
 The cover was a very large one, and whilst we had 
 been talking all the people had disappeared. I told the 
 
MY FIRST DA YS FOX-HUNTING. 13^ 
 
 ladies where the dogs were ; and Emily at once came to 
 the conclusion that, if we went round the other way, 
 which was shorter, we should meet the ' field' at 'Keeper's 
 Clump.' Acting on this suggestion, we turned back and 
 cantered round to the other side of the cover. As we did 
 so I felt that field-riding was \\\j forte; it was so much 
 more comfortable than hard road-riding, and I at once re- 
 solved to make hunting my study and only amusement. 
 My cousins continued to tease me as we went along ; but 
 to my delight JMiss Trafford sided with me, thus giving 
 me confirmation of the hope I had cherished at the ball, 
 that she was not indifiercnt to the attentions I then paid 
 her, slight as those attentions necessarily were. 
 
 Our ]3assage of arms was suspended by our arrival at 
 tlie far end of the cover, Avhere the field were awaiting, as 
 I was informed, the decision of the master as to what 
 cover to ' draw' next. I wondered whether they had any 
 artists with them, and what good could come of draioimj 
 a cover with which nearly every one seemed familiar. 
 But this is parenthetical. A stone wall, about four feet 
 high, separated us from the rest of the field. 
 
 'What have you lostf said Emily to me, as my eyes 
 wandered up and down the wall. 
 
 ' Nothing,' I rephed ; ' I am looking for the gate.' 
 
 ' Then you are looking for something you won't find 
 this side a mile and a half; that's the road — over the 
 wall. Gome ! give us a lead.' 
 
 Here was a pretty state of things ! I, who had never 
 in my life been over anything higher than a mushroom or 
 Avider than a gutter, and who had in my charge three 
 ladies, suddenly required to give them a lead over a four- 
 feet w^all, in presence of the whole field ! The perspiration 
 stood in great drops on my brow, and I would have given 
 any amount if I could but have sunk into my boots. But 
 I couldn't ; and all eyes being on me (including hers) I had 
 no time to say my prayers. I had to choose at once 
 
I40 MY FIRST DA YS FOX-HUNTING. 
 
 between disgrace and the chance of being ' sent to my 
 account with all my imperfections on my head.' One 
 glance at Miss TrafFord decided me ; and I put my horse's 
 head towards the wall and then my spurs into his sides. 
 When I was within three feet my courage failed me, and I 
 pulled up ; but it was too late. Iron Duke had already 
 risen ; and in doing so had nearly rolled me off, first over 
 the cantle and then the pommel. Ten thousand years 
 rolled over my devoted head in these few moments, and 
 then all was ctill — i.e. as regards motion ; but my ears 
 were assailed by a deafening cheer — mixed, I must can- 
 didly admit, wdtli some laughter. When I ' came to' I 
 discovered that T was still alive, and still in the saddle, 
 and that my horse was, in the most matter-of-fact way 
 possible, spanning the wall like a bridge, fore-legs on one 
 side, hind-legs on the other. I hastily congratulated my- 
 self that things were no worse, and then began to consider 
 what was the proper step to be taken by a man in my 
 situation. 'Pull him back!' 'Job him over!' 'Stick to 
 him !' ' Get off!' and similar advice came to me from 
 every quarter. I resolved to act on the ' get off' principle ; 
 aud with some difficulty I did get off, taking care to be on 
 the right side. I then endeavoured to pull the horse over 
 Avith the reins ; but he resisted with all the obstinacy of 
 a costermonger's donkey — which circumstance seemed to 
 add to the annisement of the field, for their laughter 
 increased. Growing desperate, I slashed my whip several 
 times over the animal's neck ; at which treatment he 
 kicked and plunged until, to my great delight, he kicked 
 the wall doAvn ! 
 
 ' Thank you for your easy lead, my dear cousin Adol- 
 phus !' said Emily, as she and the two other ladies came 
 through the breach in the wall. 
 
 ' You're quite welcome,' I was about to reply, when I 
 was interrupted by a coarse-looking lad, whose spindlc- 
 like legs were covered with breeches and gaiters. 
 
M Y FIRS T DA YS FOX-HUN TING. 141 
 
 'I say, giiv'nur,' said he, 'you rode your horse over 
 tliat there wall about as well as I'd a-rode my mother's 
 clothes-horse over ! — do it again, do !' 
 
 The ladies could not refrain from laughter, in which I 
 made a miserable attempt at joining them ; and then I 
 tried to remount. But this Avas a difficult task; for my 
 legs were short, my horse's were long, and his recent 
 adventure had made him fidgety, and I was at last re- 
 duced to the necessity of accepting an offer from the lad 
 with the spindle legs to give me a ' leg up.' With his 
 assistance (for which I gave him sixpence, and I have no 
 doubt he threw his bad joke into the bargain) I managed 
 to scramble into the saddle again. As we rode to the 
 next cover I felt exceedingly sheepish, and the unfeeling 
 laughter of my cousins, added to the now cool manner 
 of Miss Trafford, and the quiet grimaces of old Evans, the 
 groom (who of course kept pretty close to us), made me 
 desperate, and I was determined to do something to 
 recover my lost prestige, even if the next day's Times had 
 to record a ' Fatal accident in the hunting-field at Stoii- 
 ington.' Emily asked me tauntingly, whether I had ' done 
 leaping for to-day V 
 
 ' Not exactly,' I replied ; ' I intend — ' 
 
 ' Will you take a lead from me f she interrupted. 
 
 ^ril take any lead that you dare give me,' I replied 
 haughtily. 
 
 ' Done r 
 
 And she had no sooner said the word than the fox 
 broke from the cover, about tAvo hundred yards in front 
 of us, followed in a few moments by the hounds, so close 
 together that (as I afterwards heard one gentleman re- 
 mark to another) you might have covered them Avith a 
 blanket. AAvay they went, and away Avent we after them. 
 My enthusiasm Avas raised to the utmost pitch, and I was 
 determined to stop at nothing. Emily and Julia kept on 
 my left, a feAv yards in advance, Avhilst Miss Trafibrd, on 
 
142 
 
 MY FIRST DA YS FOX-HUNTING. 
 
 my right, kept about the same distance in my rear. The 
 fox, luckily, had taken the open, and the ladies prophesied 
 a half-hour*s run with no checks. But before ten minutes 
 of it were over, I perceived, about a hundred yards in 
 front of us, a thick, well-laid quickset hedge, about four 
 feet high, and as we neared it I thought I saw water 
 glistening on the other side. There was no escape ; my 
 time had come; I was led in front, and driven in rear; and 
 leap I must. 
 
 ' Now for your lead !' cried Emily, waving her whip in 
 the air as she cleared the fence and the brook beyond it. 
 My horse followed bravely — and so should I, if I hadn't, 
 by some imfortunate mishap or other, rolled out of the 
 saddle, and in the midst of my victory fallen into ihQ 
 brook ! As I lay sprawling on my back, and before I had 
 time to think wliere I was, I saw the belly of ]\Iiss Traf- 
 ford's horse as he carried her over the fence, the brook, 
 and me ! 
 
 ^ Stop my horse ! stop my horse !' I roared, as I came 
 dripping wet out of the brook. ' Stop my horse !' But I 
 earnestly hoped that no one would stop him, for this last 
 contretemps had considerably damped my ardour and cooled 
 my courage ; and I thought that if nobody did ' stop my 
 horse,' he would eventually find his way to the pound ; 
 and his absence would aftbrd me a decent pretext for 
 going home. To my horror, though. Iron Duke was 
 brought back by the wretched lad of the spindle legs. 
 • Be the saddle greased, sir V said he, wiping it with his 
 nasty dirty pocket-handkerchief. I could have kicked 
 him, and should have done so, only I thought he might 
 haye kicked back, and so I swallowed his affront, and 
 actually gave him another sixpence. Having learned 
 from him the road to the station, I was just stealing off 
 when I heard in my rear the cry of ' Tally-ho back !' The 
 fox had come back — doubled, I mean, — and I was forced 
 to join the others and run after him again. But, fortu- 
 
MY FIRST DA Y S FOX-HUNTIXG. 1 43 
 
 nately for me, he did not run far before the dogs caught 
 him and killed him, and then one of the men in scarlet 
 cut off his nice long tail and gave it to Emily. She actu- 
 ally accepted it, although I am nearly sure she had never 
 -seen the man before in her Hfe ! I thought young ladies 
 ought to accept presents from no gentlemen but their 
 relatives and accepted suitors ; and, besides, I don't be- 
 lieve that this man imis a gentleman, for when I whipped 
 the hound to make him get over the wall (wliich, as I 
 liave before stated, he most unreasonably declined to do), 
 this fellow was the loudest in his oaths and curses, which 
 he shoAvered broadcast on the hound, or my horse, or some- 
 thing — I have never ascertained what — and in the pre- 
 sence of ladies ! Emily said something about making a 
 hair-brush of the fox's tail (what an absurd idea ! but she 
 always was queer) ; and as the man cut off the fox's head, 
 she gave me to imderstand that that would be mine if I 
 asked for it. I JiVLask for it ; but for some unaccountable 
 reason or other, I didnt cjet it. The remainder of the poor 
 fox was thrown to the dogs, who soon tore him to pieces 
 and ate him. It occurred to my pliilosophic mind, as I 
 witnessed this spectacle, that the fox, like me, was a hero ; 
 but, also like me, an unsuccessful one. What a number of 
 men, women, horses, and dogs to conquer one little fox ! 
 These and similar reflections were soon cut short, for the 
 dogs having finished their lunch the men and women 
 beccan to think about theirs ; in tact, Sir John Hausie had 
 invited them all, including me, to lunch with him at the 
 Manor House, about half a mile distant. As we journeyed 
 thither I began to feel very uncomfortable, for my coat, 
 waistcoat, and shirt, although not dirty (for the water in 
 the brook was clean), were wet through, and, the warmth 
 of exercise and enthusiasm having subsided, I felt very 
 cold. When we arrived at Sir John's, T was so stiff with 
 cold that I could scarcely dismount, which Sir John ob- 
 serving, he came and very kindly accosted me. He also 
 
144 
 
 MY FIRST DA YS FOX-HUNTING. 
 
 inquirecl as to the cause of my fall — spill, he called it — 
 and oiFered me the loan of a coat whilst mine was hastily 
 dried at the kitchen fire. Sir John was an exceedingly 
 pleasant man, and had a jolly, cheerful, laughing face, and 
 we soon understood each other. I accepted his proffered 
 loan witli many thanks, and then took Miss Trafford in to 
 lunch. As I sat by her side in the baronet's coat, and 
 gracefully helped her to sherry, the frost of her manner 
 gradually thawed; and when we returned to remount Ave 
 were as jolly as topers — sand-boys, I mean. I of course 
 assisted ]ier to get into the saddle ; but I was so stiff and 
 so giddy (from the excitement of the morning) that I very 
 nearly let her down. We were some time without finding 
 another fox ; and as my cousins had gone off Avith old 
 Evans and Captain De la Grace, and as Miss Trafford 
 seemed so amiable, I determined to improve the occasion. 
 We were on the common just outside Sir John's park, the 
 beauties of which I was very particular in admiring ; and 
 having thus got Miss Trafford to lag behind, I took the 
 opportunity of unbosoming my heart to her. I got very 
 excited, and my A^oice trembled Avith emotion (or some- 
 thing of that sort), as I made her a pathetic offer of my 
 heart and hand. I paused (as Avell as my excitement 
 Avould allow me, for it had brought on the hiccups), and 
 she replied. I can't remember exactly Avhat she said, but 
 it Avas something about sparing me the pain of a refusal, 
 and about not marrying a man Avho couldn't take a fence. 
 I offered to jump the park Avail, if she Avould only listen 
 to my suit. She agreed ; and bracing up all my spirits, 
 I rode full tilt at the wall ; and over I Avent, leaA^ng my 
 horse on the Avrong side! And as I turned an involuntary 
 somersault I thought I heard sounds like ' the receding 
 footsteps of a cantering horse.' (Note. — This is a quota- 
 tion from some lines I afterwards wrote to Miss Trafford.) 
 There Avas then a slight break in the thread of my thoughts,, 
 and after that I found myself lying in the midst of some 
 
MY FIRST DA Y S FOX-HUNTING. 
 
 145 
 
 young fir-trees, whilst Iron Diike was quietly browsing 
 on the leafless twigs of a tree on the other side of the 
 wall. Gentle reader! I am sure you must feel for my 
 unfortunate position. I will not torture you further by 
 relating the painful particulars of how I scrambled over 
 the wall ; how I got on Iron Duke, only to tumble off 
 again ; how I nearly broke my neck before I got home ; 
 how Philley declared I had broken the horse's knees ; h'oAV 
 he made me pay 50/. for the animal ; how I sold him the 
 next week for 10/. (less 2/. for carriage) ; and, worst of 
 all, how Miss Trafford jilted me, and my cousins — cruel 
 girls — laughed at my misfortunes and made sport of my 
 troubles. Indeed with all these we have nothing to do^. 
 for they happened after ' My First Day's Fox-hunting.' 
 
MY FIRST AND LAST STEEPLE-CHASE. 
 
 In" the year 1859, the Irish militia regiment in which I 
 had the honour to hold a commission was disembodied; 
 but, as a reward for our distinguished services at Ports- 
 mouth, where we mounted guard daily on the dockyards 
 for more than twelve months, each subaltern was presented 
 with a gratuity of six months' pay — a boon that must 
 have been highly appreciated at the time by our much- 
 enduring and long-suffering tailors, into whose pockets 
 most of the money, in the end, found its way. 
 
 Dick Maunsel, the senior lieutenant, and myself were 
 cousins, and (as the old chief never lost a chance of telling 
 us when we got into trouble) ' always hunted in couples.' 
 Our fathers' allowance had been liberal. AVe were free 
 from debt — that ' Old Man of the Sea,' which too often 
 hangs like a millstone about the British subaltern's neck 
 — and, finding ourselves at liberty, as a matter of course 
 determined to go off somewhere and get rid of our pay 
 to2:ether. Much beer and tobacco were consumed in the 
 various ' corobberys' held to talk the matter over ; and at 
 length it was decided that we should take a lodge at a 
 small watering-place, well known to both, on the south- 
 west coast of Ireland, and there abide until something- 
 better turned up. 
 
 I don't think, under the circumstances, we could have 
 made a much better choice. The salmon and sea-fishing 
 were excellent ; when the shooting season came round, 
 most of the moors in the neighbourhood were free to us. 
 The summer had been unusually hot ; we were tired of 
 town life, and longing to divest ourselves of the ' war 
 
MY FIRST AND LAST STEEPLE-CHASE. 
 
 147 
 
 paint,' 'bury the hatchet,' and get away to some quiet bay 
 by the Atlantic, where we could do what seemed right in 
 our own eyes, free from the eternal pipeclay and conven- 
 tionalities with which we had been hampered. ' Last, not 
 least,' at a ball given before the regiment left Ireland, we 
 had met two girls, sisters, who usually spent the season 
 there, and, if the truth must be told, I believe they had 
 hit us so hard we were ' crippled' from flying very far. 
 So, after an impartial distribution of the regimental plate, 
 and a rather severe night at mess, to finish the remains 
 of the cellar, we bade farewell to our companions in arms, 
 and found ourselves once more in ' dear old dirty Dublin,' 
 en route for the south. 
 
 One evening, about six weeks after our arrival at 
 Aunaghmore, we were lying on the cliffs, watching the 
 trawlers as they drifted slowly up with the tide. The 
 day had been dark and misty, with some thunder far out 
 at sea; but it cleared up as the sun went down, and I wa^ 
 pointing out to Dick, who had been unusually silent, the 
 remarkable likeness between the scene before us and one 
 of Turner's best-known pictures, when he interrupted me 
 suddenly, saying — 
 
 ' I'll tell you a story, Frank. When a boy, I remember 
 starting one morning with poor Ferguson (the owner of 
 Harkaway) to ride one of his horses in a private match. 
 AVe took a short cut across an old mountain road, and 
 coming out on the brow of a hill Avhich commanded one 
 of the finest views in Ireland, I pulled up my horse to call 
 Ferguson's attention to it. '-For heaven's sake, sir," he 
 said impatiently, '•' think on something that will do you 
 good." And just at this moment, old man, I feel half 
 inclined to agree with him. How much money have you 
 leftr 
 
 AVithout speaking, I handed him my purse, the con- 
 tents of which he counted slowly over, saying, 'I think we 
 shall have enough.' 
 
148 MY FIRST AND LAST STEEPLE-CHASE. 
 
 ' Enough for what %' I asked. 
 
 ' For a ball,' he replied coolly. ' The people here have 
 been very civil to ns, and we owe them some return. 
 There are plenty of girls in the neighbourhood to make 
 a very good one : men are scarce ; but Ave can ask the 
 " Plungers" over from Barracks. Besides, I pro- 
 mised Emily last night, and there's no getting out of it.' 
 
 I ventured mildly to suggest that the regiment didn't 
 get out of the last under a couple of hundred, and that 
 w^e had not half that between us. 
 
 ' My dear fellow,' he replied, 'this is quite another affair 
 altogether. We can borrow the club archery tent for a 
 ballroom. There are many things, game, &c., to be had 
 for nothing here. My sisters are coming over on a visit ; 
 they will look after the details. It will be a great success, 
 and we shall only have wine and lights to pay for.' 
 
 ' And how far,' I asked, with a slight sneer, ' will the 
 .money left go in getting those, not to speak of other 
 essentials that must be provided?' 
 
 ' I have arranged all that as well,' answered Dick,- 
 with the air of a man who had thoroughly mastered the 
 subject. ' The races here come off the end of August. 
 There is a 50/. Plate to be run for on the flat, and a 
 steeple-chase as well. I know all the horses likely to 
 start. With one exception (Father B.'s) ours can give 
 them a stone for either event. The priest can't run his 
 horse ; the new bishop has been down on him. We can 
 send for ours : plenty of time for a rough preparation. 
 Thanks to the hot weather, and that confounded drill, you 
 can still ride eleven stone. There now, what more do you 
 want? Come along to the lodge, and we will talk the 
 matter over comfortably.' 
 
 I certainly had my misgivings as to the practicability 
 of Dick's scheme, but knew him too long and well to 
 doubt his attempting it at all events. I could, of course, 
 refuse to join, and leave him to his own devices ; but we 
 
M Y FIRS T A ND LAST S TEEPLE. CHASE. 149 
 
 had pulled through too many scrapes together for that. 
 To do him justice, he generally succeeded in whatever he 
 undertook ; and whether it was owing to his eloquence, 
 some of his father's old claret, or both combined, before 
 we separated that night I had entered heart and soul into 
 his plans. 
 
 We lost no time in commencing our preparations. 
 AVithin a week the horses had arrived ; then Dick's sisters 
 — two fine light-hearted girls, full of fun and mischief — 
 came over. After that there was no rest for me. No un- 
 happy adjutant of a newly-embodied militia or volunteer 
 regiment ever had more or a greater variety of work on 
 hand. Sunrise generally found me in the saddle, giving 
 the horses a gallop on the sands — a performance which 
 had to be repeated twice during the day, Dick's weight, 
 some sixteen stone, preventing him from giving me any 
 assistance. I was overhead in love, besides, and four 
 hours at least had to be devoted to the object of my affec- 
 tions. We kept open house; game and fish had to be 
 provided for the larder, and the girls were always wanting 
 something or other from the neighbouring town, which 
 they declared only I could get ; so between all, my time 
 was fully occupied, and seemed to fly. 
 
 If ]Mr. Mill's bill for giving ladies the franchise had 
 been in force then I think Dick and myself would have 
 had a fair chance of representing the county. So soon as 
 our intention to give a race ball Avas known, we became 
 the most popular men in it. Offers of supplies and assist- 
 .ance came pouring in from all quarters. Plate, china, and 
 glass arrived so fast, and in such quantities, the lodge 
 could not contain them, and we were obliged to pitch the 
 tent. As the time drew near, the preparation and bustle 
 increased tenfold. Our life was one continual picnic. 
 From early morning imtil late at night, the house was 
 crowded with girls, laughing, flirting, trying on ball- 
 dresses, and assisting in the decorating of the tent. We 
 
150 MY FIRST AND LAST STEEPLE-CHASE. 
 
 never tlioiiglit of sitting down to dinner, but took it where, 
 when, and how we could. Ay de mi! I have been in some 
 hospitable houses since, where the owner kept chefs, and 
 prided themselves, not unjustly, on the quality of their 
 cellars ; but I never enjoyed myself so much, and, I fear, 
 never shall, as those scrambling dinners, though the bill of 
 fare often consisted of cold grouse, washed down by a 
 tankard of beer — taken, too, standing in the corner of a 
 pantry, surrounded by a host of pretty girls, all of them 
 engaged in teasing and administering to my wants. 
 
 Early one morning, about a week before the races 
 were to come off, I was engaged as usual, exercising Dick's 
 hunter on the course, when, at a little distance, I saw a 
 horse in body-clothes, cantering along with that easy stride 
 peculiar to thorough-breds. For some time the rider 
 appeared anxious to avoid me, incre'asing the pace as I 
 came near, until the animal I rode, always headstrong, 
 broke away and soon ranged alongside. 
 
 ' Whose horse is that f I inquired of the groom. 
 
 ' My master's, yer honour,' he replied, without a smile, 
 slackening his pace at the same time, as mine raced past. 
 
 When I succeeded in pulling up again, the fellow was 
 galloping away, in another direction. I had seen enough, 
 however : there was no mistaking those flat sinewy legs. 
 So, setting the horse's head straight for the lodge, I went 
 up to Dick's room. He was in bed, but awake ; and though 
 his face slightly lengthened when I told him I was cer- 
 tain the priest's horse had arrived, he answered coolly 
 enough — 
 
 ' You need not look so serious, Frank ; at the worst, it 
 is only a case of selling Madman, and I have had a good 
 offer for him. It is too bad of the priest, though, to spoil 
 our httle game. They told me the bishop had sat on 
 him; but of course he will run in another name. I should 
 have known an old fox like that would have more than 
 one earth. He won't be able to go in for the double 
 
MY FIRS T AND LAST S TEEPLE-CHASE. 1 5 i 
 
 event, that is certain. His horse can't jump. The steeple- 
 chase is ours; so come and have a swim. After breakfast 
 we will see what can be clone.' 
 
 Unfortunately there was no help for it. The priest's 
 horse had carried off a Queen's Plate at the Curragh, and, 
 safe and well at the post, could win as he pleased. It was 
 too late for us to draw back, however, even if we were 
 disposed that way. The invitations for the ball (which 
 was to come off the night of the races) were out. So, 
 consoling ourselves as well as it was possible under the 
 circumstances, we continued our preparations, looking 
 well after the horses, determined not to throw away a 
 chance. 
 
 Misfortunes seldom come alone. The day before the 
 race, so ardently looked forward to, arrived at last. I had 
 been engaged in unpacking the flowers that were arriving 
 all the afternoon from the neighbouring conservatories, 
 while Dick was amusing himself brewing cold punch in 
 the lodge. The girls were out walking ; and, when my 
 work was over, I took a stroll along the beach to meet 
 them. Up to this time the weather had been glorious ; 
 such a summer and autumn as few could remember : but 
 now I saw, with some anxiety, there Avas every appear- 
 ance of an unfavourable change. Although not a breath 
 of wind stirred, the ground-swell broke heavily on the bar, 
 and there was a greenish look in the sky where the sun 
 w^as setting, that boded no good. The curlews were un- 
 usually noisy, their clear shrill whistle resounding on all 
 sides, and large flocks of sea-birds were flying in towards 
 the land. A fishing-boat had just made fast to the pier, 
 and the owner came forward to meet me. 
 
 'What luck this evening, Barney f I inquired. 
 
 ^ Just middlin', yer honour. There's a dozen of lobsters, 
 a John Dory, and a turbot. I'll send them to the lodge. 
 The oysters went up this morning — iligant ones, they w^or ; 
 raal jewels.' 
 
152 MY FIRS T AND LAST S TEEPLE- CHA SE. 
 
 ' All right, Barney — what do you think of the weather r 
 
 ' Sorra one of me likes it, at all. Them thieves of 
 seals are rollin' about like jyur^poses, and it isn't for nothin' 
 they do that same. It'll be a Ballintogher wind, too, be- 
 fore long, I'm thinkin'.' 
 
 ' A what ?' I exclaimed. 
 
 ' The very question the captin axed my brother. It 
 w^as the first time iver he went to say, and they wor lyin' 
 somewhere off Afrikay. The captin was walkin' the quar- 
 ter-deck, when my brother comes up to him, and says, 
 ^' Captain Leslie, you had better shorten sail." 
 
 ' "Why so?" ses the captin, very sharp. 
 
 ' "Bekase it's a Ballintogher wind." 
 
 ' "And what the d — 1 wind may that be ?" 
 
 ' " Oh murther !" ses my brother. " There you are, 
 wandherin' about the world all yer life, and didn't hear of 
 a Ballintogher wind, when there isn't a gossoon in my 
 counthry doesn't know the village it comes from, and that 
 it niver brought anything but cowld storm and misforthin' 
 along with it." 
 
 ' Well, with that, they all tuk to laughin' like to split 
 their sides at my brother, an' the captin, he towld him to 
 go forrid and mind his work; but faith, they worn't 
 laughin' two hours afther, when the ship rowled the masts 
 out of her, and they wor wracked among the haythens. 
 But wind or no wind, yer honour, I su]3pose the races will 
 come offr 
 
 ' So I hear, Barney.' 
 
 ' I'm towld there's to be a fight between the Flahertys 
 and the O'Donnells ; but shure av the priest's there, it's no 
 use for them to try.' 
 
 'Why not, Barney?' 
 
 ' He's mighty handy with a hunting-whip, an' has got 
 a bad curse besides. He hot Mickey Devine over the 
 head, for tryin' to rise a row at the fair of Dingle, and left 
 a hole in it you might put your fist in. It was no great 
 
MY FIRS T AND LAST S TEEPLE-CHA SE. 153 
 
 things of a head at the best of thnes, but faith, he's quare 
 in it at the full of the moon iver since. He cursed Paddy 
 Keolaghan, too, last Easter, an' the luck left him. His 
 nets wor carried away, the boat stove in, and the pig died. 
 I don't give in to the pig myself, for they let him get at 
 the long lines aftlier they wor baited ; and sure enough 
 when the craythur died, there was fifteen hooks in his 
 inside, enough to kill any baste. Besides, his reverence is 
 very partikler, an' wouldn't curse a Christian out of his 
 own parish ; but it's not lucky to cross him anyhow ; an' 
 if he's there to-morrow, sorra bit of fun we'll have. They 
 say yer honours are for givin' a ball afther the races.' 
 
 ' So we are, Barney ; and that reminds me — tell the 
 girls to come up the next night, and we'll give them a 
 dance before the tent is taken down.' 
 
 ' Long life to yer honour ! It's proud and happy they 
 will be to go. Here's the young ladies comin'. Good- 
 evenin', sir ! We'll be on the coorse to-morrow, an' see 
 you get fair play, anyhow.' 
 
 The tent-ropes flapped ominously that night as we 
 turned in, and before morning a storm came on which 
 increased to a hurricane, wdien our party assembled for 
 breakfast, and looked out disconsolately enough at the 
 boiling sea, dimly visible through the driving rain and 
 spray that dashed in sheets of water against the glass. 
 Already numbers of the peasantry, on their way to the 
 course, were staggering along the road, vainly trying to 
 shelter themselves from the furious blast which made the 
 very walls of the lodge shake. Taking advantage of a 
 slight lull, we managed to get a young fir-tree propped 
 up against the pole of the tent, and had just returned to 
 the house when a well-appointed four-in-hand came at a 
 sharp trot up the avenue. 
 
 ' Here come the Plungers,' said Dick. ' Plucky fellows 
 to drive over fourteen miles such a morning.' 
 
 While he was speaking a dozen bearded men got down 
 
154 ^^y FIRS T A ND LAST S TEEPLE- CHA SE. 
 
 and stalked solemnly into the room. In a few minutes 
 tlie ladies of our party made their appearance, and before 
 long the new comers were busily engaged in some fashion 
 or another. I have often admired the way in which Irish 
 ladies contrive to make the ^ lords of the creation' useful, 
 but never saw it more strongly exemplified than on the 
 present occasion. Here you might see a grave colonel 
 employed in the composition of a lobster salad ; there a 
 V.C. opening oysters as industriously as an old woman at 
 a stall ; while in a snug corner, a couple of cornets were 
 filling custard cups and arranging flowers. To do the 
 gallant fellows justice they accepted the situation franklyy 
 and set to work like men, while at every fresh blast the 
 girls' spirits seemed to rise higher; and before long a 
 merrier party could hardly be found anywhere. Twelve 
 o'clock had now come round, at which time, it was unani- 
 mously agreed, the day must clear up ; and a slight gleam 
 of watery sunshine appearing, we all started to carry the 
 things over to the supper-room of the tent. As we mustered 
 a tolerably strong party, in less than an hour this was 
 effected, not, however, without sundry mishaps ; one poor 
 cornet being blown right over a fence, into a wet ditch, 
 with his burden. 
 
 We were all so much engaged laying out the tables, 
 that the increasing darkness of the day was scarcely re- 
 marked until a vivid flash of lightning, followed by a loud 
 peal of thunder which broke directly overhead, made the 
 boldest pause for a moment in his occupation. The storm, 
 which had gone down considerably, burst forth again 
 worse than ever, the tent-pole swayed to and fro like a 
 fishing-rod, and the fir-tree we had lashed alongside for 
 additional security threatened every moment to come 
 down by the run. Matters were beginning to look serious, 
 when Dick, snatching a carving-knife from the table, cut 
 an opening in the wall of the tent, through which we all 
 bolted into the open air. Hardly had we got clear of the 
 
MY FIRS T A XD LAST S JERPLE-CHA SE. 155 
 
 ropes, when the tent-pole snapped, the pegs gave way, 
 the roof flew off clown the wind, and with a crash of broken 
 glass, heard distinctly above the howling of the wind and 
 sea, the whole fabric came to the gronnd, burying all our 
 materials and the greater part of the supper in the ruins. 
 
 All was over now,— 'the stars in their courses' had 
 fought against us. There was no use in contending against 
 fate and the elements ; so, after seeing the girls safe in 
 shelter, and leaving the dragoons to test the merits of 
 Dick's cold punch, I filled my largest pipe with the 
 strongest cavendish, and had walked round to the lee of 
 the house, to blow a cloud in peace, and think over what 
 was best to be done, when a window opened above, and 
 looking up, I saw a bright sunny face framed against the 
 dark scowling sky, and heard a voice call out, ' Wait there 
 one moment, Frank ; I am coming down.' 
 
 Without giving me time to reply, the face disappeared, 
 but immediately afterwards a small slight figure, closely 
 muffled up, glided round the corner, and put its arm in 
 mine, while a pair of blue eyes looked up appealingly in 
 my face. 
 
 'Don't look so downhearted, Frank, or you will make 
 me cry. I could hardly keep from it, when I saw^ the 
 tent in ruins, and heard that dreadful crash. All Lady 
 
 's old china, I promised to take such care of, and the 
 
 flowers, and Mrs. 's dinner service, that has been in 
 
 the family for four generations. It is a downright cala- 
 mity ; but we are determined, happen what will, to have 
 the ball, and I want you to come to look at a barn we saw 
 the other day.' 
 
 ' But you cannot think of going out in such weather !' 
 
 ' Not by the road — the sea is all across it. But we can 
 go by the fields. Come now, and take great care of me.' 
 
 We did reach the barn, though with great difficulty ; 
 and, at first sight, a more unlikely or unpromising place 
 could hardly be found. In one corner stood a heap of 
 
156 M Y F/I^S T AND LAST S TEEPLE- CHA SE. 
 
 straw and a winnowing machine, under wliicli half a 
 dozen rats scampered as we came in. The roof was 
 thatched, and in several places we could see the sky 
 through it. Long strings of floating cobwebs hung from 
 the rafters, and the rough walls were thickly coated with 
 dust. There were two storeys to it, however ; the floor 
 of the upper one was boarded and seemed sound. Taking 
 out a note-book, my companion seated herself on an old 
 garden-roller, saying — 
 
 ' Go down-stairs, Frank, and finish your smoke ; I want 
 to think for five minutes ; or you may stay here, if you 
 promise not to speak until I give you leave.' 
 
 I gave the required pledge, and, lighting my pipe, lay 
 down in a corner watching the rats peering out with their 
 sharp, black beady eyes at the strange visitors, and rather 
 enjoying the confusion of the spiders, who, not relishing 
 the smoke, were making off out of reach as fast as they 
 could. Before long my companion called me over, to give 
 her directions, which were, to go back to the lodge, and 
 bring all the volunteers I could get, as w^ell as some mate- 
 rials, of which she gave me a list. 
 
 On my way I met one of the stewards, who told me 
 the races had been postponed until four o'clock in the 
 afternoon, and on reaching the lodge found Dick and the 
 officers engaged in recovering ' salvage' from the tent. 
 Getting out a wagonette, I soon had it filled with volun- 
 teers, and drove them over to the barn, where we once 
 more set to work, and for the next few hours the rats and 
 spiders had a bad time of it. 
 
 I was hard at work converting some rough deal boards 
 into a supper-table, when a little boy handed me a note, 
 saying — 
 
 ' They are clearin' the coorse, yer honour ; you haven't 
 a minit to lose ; I brought down a "baste" for you.' 
 
 The note was from Dick, telling me the first race 
 would be run off at once. There was a dressing-room 
 
MY FIRST AND LAST STEEPLE-CHASE. 
 
 157 
 
 provided on the groimd, so, jumping on the horse, I rode 
 down. 
 
 The storm, after doing all the harm it well could to 
 us, had now cleared off, and the scene on the course 
 was lively and animated enough. A dozen frieze-coated 
 farmers, headed by an old huntsman in scarlet, were gal- 
 
 loping wildly about to clear the ground, the usual ' dog' 
 being represented, on this occasion, by a legion of curs, 
 barking at the heels of stray donkeys, sheep, cows, and 
 goats, as they doubled in and out, to avoid the merciless 
 whips of their pursuers; and when at last they were 
 driven off, the people broke in on the line, and the whole 
 place appeared one mass of inextricable confusion, until 
 
158 -^ly FIRST AND LAST STEEPLE-CHASE. 
 
 the priest, accompanied by the stewards, was found. The 
 fisherman certainly had not beKed his reverence. More 
 than once I saw his whip descend with a vigour that made 
 itself felt even through the thick greatcoats worn by the 
 peasantry, causing the recipient to shrink back, shaking 
 his shoulders, and never feeling himself safe until he had 
 put the nearest fence between him and the giver. Soon 
 his stalwart figure, mounted on a stout cob, was the signal 
 for a general sauve qui peut, and the mob gradually settled 
 into something like order, leaving the course tolerably 
 free. 
 
 Six horses came to the post for the first race, which 
 was about three miles on the flat, the priest's of course 
 being the favourite, and with reason. It was a magnifi- 
 cent dark chestnut, with great power and symmetry, 
 showing the ' Ishmael' blood in every part of its beautiful 
 frame, Dick's hunter, although thorough-bred, and with a 
 fair turn of speed, looking like a coach-horse beside it. 
 The only other competitor entered worth notice was a 
 light bay, high-bred, but a great, staring, weedy-looking 
 brute, evidently a cast-off from some racing-stable. 
 
 At the word ' Off!' a fair start was effected. The ' bay,' 
 however, had hardly taken a dozen strides, when it came 
 down, giving the rider an ugly fall. After rolling over, it 
 sat up like a dog, and stared wildly about ; then, jumping 
 up suddenly, galloped into the sea, where it lay down, 
 apparently with the intention of committing suicide. 
 Before we had gone a mile, all the other horses were 
 shaken off, and the priest's jockey and myself had it all 
 to ourselves. He was a knowing old fellow, and evidently 
 did not Avish to distress his horse, keeping only a few 
 lengths ahead, until within the distance-post, when he let 
 him go, cantering in a winner by about twenty yards, and 
 receiving a perfect ovation from the people. 
 
 In half an hour the bugle sounded for the horses to 
 fall in for the race. A steeple-chase being always the 
 
. .1/ Y FIRS T A ND LAST S TEE PL E- CHA SE. 1 5 9 
 
 great event on an Irish course, we were about to take our 
 places, when Dick came up with rather a long face, and 
 whispered — 
 
 'I am afraid the luck is against us still, Frank. Look 
 at that gray. He has been kept dark until now. Before 
 seeing him I backed you rather heavily with the priest. 
 It was our only chance to get out.' 
 
 The more I looked the less I liked the appearance of 
 either horse or man. To a casual observer the first was a 
 plain animal, cross-built, rough in the coat, and with 
 remarkably drooping quarters ; but, on closer inspection, a 
 hunter all over, if not a steeple-chaser, although an attempt 
 had evidently been made to disguise his real character. 
 The saddle was old and patched ; the bridle had a rusty 
 bit, with a piece of string hung rather ostentatiously from 
 it ; the rider might once have been a gentleman, but drink 
 and dissipation had left their mark on what was originally 
 a handsome face. His dress was slovenly and careless to 
 a degree, but he sat his horse splendidly, and his hand 
 was as light and fair as a woman's. He returned my look 
 with a defiant stare. 
 
 ' That fellow looks dangerous,' said Dick ; ' but I sus- 
 pect he is more than half drunk. Make a waiting race 
 until you see what he is made of. Above all things keep 
 cool, and don't lose your temper.' 
 
 I had perfect confidence in the mare I rode. She had 
 been broken by myself, and many a long day we' had 
 hunted together over the big pastures of Roscommon and 
 Meath. There was a thorough understanding between 
 us. My only anxiety was as to how she would face the 
 crowd, who were collected in thousands about every jump, 
 barely leaving room for the horses to pass, and yelling 
 like a set of Bedlamites let loose. With the exception of 
 the last fence, there were no very formidable obstacles. 
 It was a stone wall, fully five feet high, built up loose, but 
 strong, and rather a severe trial at the end of a race, if 
 
l6o MY FIRST AND LAST STEEPLE-CHASE. 
 
 the pace was severe tliroughoiit. There was no time for 
 thinkmg now, however. The word was given, and we 
 were away. 
 
 About a dozen horses started — all fair animals, with 
 that cat-like activity in negotiating a fence so remarkable 
 in Irish hunting. We had hardly gone a mile, however, 
 when the want of condition began to tell, and they fell 
 hopelessly to the rear, leaving the race to the gray, my 
 mare, and a game little thorough-bred ridden and owned 
 by one of the dragoon officers. 
 
 Up to this time I had followed Dick's directions to 
 wait on the gray, a proceeding evidently not approved of 
 by the rider, for, turning round in his saddle as he came 
 down on a water jump, he said, with a sneer — 
 
 ' You want a lead over, I suppose.' 
 
 I made no reply, and he went at the river ; but whether 
 by accident or design, when within a few yards of the 
 brink, his horse bolted, dashing in among the crowd. The 
 dragoon's swerved slightly to follow ; the rider, however, 
 would not be denied, and sent him through it ; while my 
 mare, cocking her ears, and turning her head half round, 
 as an old pointer might do at seeing a young one break 
 fence, flew over like a bird, and settled steadily to her 
 work on the other side. 
 
 For some distance the dragoon and myself rode neck 
 and neck, though the pace was beginning to tell on his 
 horse, who was slightly overweighted. Our friend on the 
 gray now raced alongside, and galloping recklessly at an 
 awkward ditch, which he cleared, took a lead of a dozen 
 lengths, and kept it until within a short distance of the 
 last fence, when he fell back, allowing us to get to the 
 front once more. 
 
 I think fear was the last thing uppermost in my mind 
 as I rode at it. My blood was fairly roused, and passing 
 a carriage a minute before, I got a glance from a pair of 
 blue eyes that would have made a coward brave. Still, 
 
J/F FIRST AA'D LAST STEEPLE-CHASE. i6i 
 
 with all that, I could not avoid a slig4it feeling of anxiety 
 as it loomed across, looking about as dangerous an obstacle 
 as the most reckless rider could desire at the end of a 
 race. If stone walls ' grew,' I could have sworn it had 
 done so since I crossed it on Dick's hunter the evening 
 before. The people had closed in on both sides until there 
 was scarcely twenty feet of clear space in the middle, and 
 evidently a row of some sort was going on. Sticks Avere 
 waving wildly about, and a dozen voices shouted for me 
 to stop, while hundreds called to go on. The gray was 
 creeping up, however. I had faced as bad before, when 
 there was less occasion; so pulled the mare up to a trot 
 until within a few yards, when I let her go with a shout 
 she well knew, and in a second we were safe on the other 
 side. The dragoon's horse refusing, the gray, who came 
 up at full speed, chested it heavily, and horse, rider, and 
 wall came rolling over to the ground together, while I 
 cantered in alone. 
 
 I had hardly received the congratulations of the stew- 
 ards, when Dick came up, looking flushed and excited. 
 As he grasped my hand, he said hurriedly — 
 
 * Why didn't you stop when I shouted?' 
 
 'It was too late. But what is wrong?' 
 
 'That scoundrel on the gray bribed a couple of fellows 
 to add six inches to the height of the wall during the 
 storm this morning. They raised it nearly a foot. Some 
 one told the priest, but not until you were in the field. 
 He has caught one of them, the other got away. As for 
 the fellow himself, his collar-bone is smashed, and the 
 horse all cut to pieces. He couldn't expect better luck. 
 It was a near thing, though. I don't know how the mare 
 got over it. She must have known,' he added, patting 
 her neck, ' what a scrape we were in.' 
 
 The usual hack races for saddles and bridles followed, 
 and the day's sport came to an end without a fight, thanks 
 to the priest, whose exertions to keep the peace would 
 
 L 
 
l62 ^-lY FIRST AND LAST STEEPLE-CHASE. 
 
 have satisfied a community of Quakers, althougli tliey 
 might not approve of the mode by which the object was 
 effected. 
 
 We had hardly finished dinner at the lodge, when tlie 
 carriages with om- guests for the ball began to arrive, 
 those from a distance looking with dismay at the wreck 
 of the tent, that still lay strewed on the lawn. They were 
 all directed forward to the barn, however, whither we 
 were soon prepared to follow. 
 
 Although my confidence in the ability and resoinxes of 
 the ladies of our party was nearly unlimited, I could 
 hardly avoid feeling some slight misgivings on entering 
 the barn, knowing the short time they had to work in-, 
 and how heavily the mishap of the morning must have 
 told against them. All, however, agreed that they had 
 seldom seen a prettier room. The walls and roof were 
 completely covered with fishing-nets, filled in and con- 
 cealed by purple and white heath. The efiect was re- 
 markably good; and if the storm had deprived the 
 supper-table of many of the light dishes, quite enough 
 was left to satisfy guests who were not disposed to be 
 critical. 
 
 I shall not detain the reader by giving a description 
 of the ball, which proved a complete success, more than 
 compensating us for the trouble and anxiety we had 
 undergone. It was seldom the girls in the neighbourhood 
 had a chance of enjoying themselves in that way, and 
 they seemed resolved to make the most of it. Human 
 endurance, however, has its limits. Towards morning 
 the band, whose 'staying powers' were sorely tried, began 
 to show symptoms of mutiny. Threats and bribes (the 
 latter too often administered in the shape of champagne) 
 were tried, and they were induced to continue for another 
 hour. The result may easily be anticipated : they broke 
 down hopelessly, at last, in the middle of ' Sir Koger.' A 
 sudden change in the music made us all stop, and to our 
 
MY FIRST AND LAST STEEPLE-CHASE. 163 
 
 dismay we found one half of the performers playing ' God 
 save the Queen.' The others had just commenced ' Par- 
 tant pour la Syrie,' while the 'big drum' was furiously 
 beating the ' tattoo' in a corner. Turning them all out, 
 Ave threw open the windows. A flood of sunshine poured 
 into the room, and the cool fresh sea breeze swept joy- 
 ously round, extinguishing the lights. This was the 
 signal for a general departure. One by one our fair guests 
 drove away, leaving 
 
 'The banquet-hall deserted.' 
 
 The last man to go was the priest. As he mounted 
 his horse, I saw him hand Dick a sheaf of dingy-looking 
 bank-notes, and they parted, hoping to meet again the 
 following season, when the latter pledged himself to bring 
 something out of his own stable to race against the mare. 
 But we only appeared there once since in public, and that 
 Avas at a wedding. Before the next autumn came round 
 Ave had settled down into steady married men. I still 
 hunt, but have grown stouter, and the old mare has given 
 place to a weight -carrier. She draAvs my wife and 
 children to church regularly, hoAvever, and though rather 
 more matronly looking, is as full of life and spirit as when 
 she started with her master to Avin his first and 'last' 
 steeple-chase. 
 
HOW I WON MY HANDICAP. 
 
 TOLD BY THE WINNER. 
 
 It was a foot-racing handicap, run just after Christmas 
 at Sheffield, and how I came to win happened in this wise. 
 At eighteen I fomid myself still living, say, at Stockton-on- 
 Tees, on the borders of Yorkshire, the town of my birth. 
 My trade was that of a wood-turner, and with but half my 
 time served. ' Old Tubby' found me an unwilling appren- 
 tice, who had not the least inclination for w^ork. Stock- 
 ton, though only a little place, is noted for sporting and 
 games of all sorts — but particularly for cricket. I played, 
 of course, but they didn't ' reckon' much of me, except for 
 fielding. ' Sikey,' who was a moulder, and I, kept ferrets 
 and dogs, too, and on Sundays we used to go up the ' Tees- 
 side' after rabbits, or rats, or anything w^e could get. Some- 
 times we stripped and had a ' duck,' and then we ran on 
 the bank barefoot. I could give him half a score yards 
 start in a field's length, and win easily ; but often I didn't 
 try to get up till close upon the hedge we had agreed 
 should be the winning-post. My father had been coach- 
 man to a sporting gent who kept race-horses, and the old 
 man used to talk for everlasting about the ' Chifney rush.' 
 When first Sikey and I ran I tried to beat him, so he 
 made me give a start. Then I thought of the 'cute old 
 jockey, and I used to try and get up and win in the last 
 yard or so. 
 
 One day Locker, who had formerly kept a running- 
 ground at Staleybridge, met me, and asked if I'd go out 
 with him next Saturday and have a spin. I told him I 
 ' didn't mind ;' so we went up the turnpike till a straight 
 
HOW I WON MY HANDICAP. 
 
 '65 
 
 level bit was found, and he stepped 100 yards, leaving me 
 at the start, saying, ' Come away as hard as thou can, 
 whenever thou art ready.' He had his hands in his top- 
 coat pocket all the while, and when I finished, we walked 
 on a bit, neither speaking for a quarter of a mile further, 
 when he looked at his watch and said it was 'getting 
 dinner-time.' Soon after he looked again, and then ' took 
 stock o' me from head to foot,' and as we passed the 
 ground I had run over, he asked, 'Canst run another 
 hundred'?' I told him I could; but this time he pulled 
 off his own coat, and said, ' We'll go together.' He was 
 quickest off, but I could have passed him any time, just 
 as I used to pass Sikey. When we got nearly to the 
 finish I ' put it on' and just got home first. He seemed 
 pleased and told me not to say a word to anybody, but 
 come down and meet him again. I didn't know what he 
 was about at all, but I said ' All right,' and next Saturday 
 went to the same place. Locker was there, and two other 
 coves with him, as I hadn't seen before. One was a tall 
 thin un he called ' Lanky,' and the other was little and 
 wiry, and rather pock-pitted. He said, ' Let's all foiu* run 
 for a " bob" apiece, and you three give me two yards 
 start V But they wouldn't ; so he said, I should run the 
 ' long un' for a crown. That was sooii settled, and just 
 before we started. Locker whispered to me, 'Beat him, 
 lad, if thou canst ; I want him licked, he is such a bragger. 
 We'll share t' croAvn if thou wins.' The little un set us 
 ofi*, and Locker was judge. AVell, we got away together, 
 and I headed him in by five yards easy. Locker fairly 
 danced, he was so pleased ; and though Lanky grumbled 
 a bit at first to part with his ' crown,' he was soon all 
 right. We went to Locker's to dinner, and talked about 
 ' sprinting,' as they called it, all the afternoon. I told 'em 
 I'd never run at all before except for fun, and they seemed 
 'fairly staggered.' They asked if I would run a match 
 for hi. next week, and I told 'em I didn't mind. Locker 
 
1 66 HO W I WON MY HANDICAP. 
 
 said I was a ' good un,' and I might ' win 100/. if I'd nob- 
 but stick tu him.' Well, we agreed that I was to do just 
 as he directed, and receive a sovereign for myself if I won 
 by just a foot, and two pound if I ran a dead heat, letting 
 the * novice' who was to be my opponent catch me at the 
 finish. I never ^ split' to anybody except Sikey, and he 
 went to see the race. Over a hundred people were there, 
 and off we started. Everybody thought I was winning, 
 but I ' shammed tired,' and he beat me about three inches, 
 the judge said. Locker swore it was a dead heat, and as 
 he had laid 2 to 1 on me I thought he'd lost a lot of 
 money. As we went home, he said, ' There's 2/. for thee, 
 lad; thou did it wonderful well; I shall match thee again 
 next Saturday for 20/. : we might as well have it as any- 
 body else.' AVell, during the week I was out with him 
 every night, and he said, ' Stick to me, and we'll mak these 
 coves sit up, Thou'rt a thunderin' good un, and we'll 
 gan to Sheffield together in less nor six months if thou 
 can keep thysel to thysel.' Of course I was pleased, 
 and I bought a new pair of running-shoes with spikes in. 
 He showed me Belts Life next week, with a challenge in 
 that ' " Locker's lad," not satisfied with his late defeat, 
 will take a yard in 100 from the " Stockton Novice," for 
 25/. or 50/. aside. A deposit to the editor, and articles 
 sent to Mr. Locker's running-grounds, Stockton, will meet 
 with immediate attention.' I was quite struck, and said 
 I wondered what '■ Old Tubby' would think if he knew. 
 Locker said, ' Go ask him for thy indentures, and if he 
 won't give 'em up, ask him what he'll tak for 'em.' So I 
 did, and if I hadn't been in such a hurry, he'd have thrown 
 'em at me, and said he was glad to get rid of an idle 
 rascal. As it was, I told him I'd something else to do, 
 and he demanded 3/. for my release. Locker gave me the 
 money next day, and I soon put the indentures in the fire; 
 thanking my stars for the escape. After this I lived at 
 Locker's altogether, and in two or three days an answer 
 
HO IV I WON MY HANDICAP. 1 6 
 
 came from the ' Novice,' to say he'd give 2 yards start in 
 150. Well, that didn't seem to suit Locker, so he repKed, 
 through the paper again, that ' Sooner than not run again, 
 his lad should run the " Novice" 100 yards level at Ken- 
 ham grounds for 25/. a side. To run in three weeks.' 
 Articles came and Avere signed on these terms. Then he 
 said, ' Thou needn't train at all, though I want thee to win 
 this time by nearly a yard ; just stay a bit longer than 
 before, and don't let him quite catch thee. Make a good 
 race of it, but be sure and win.' We often went to the 
 old spot on the turnpike, and once he took a tape and 
 measured the ground. He had stepped it within a yard 
 and a half. At last he showed me his watch that he had 
 won in a handicap. There was a long hand which jumped 
 four times in a second, and he could start it or stop it by 
 pressing a spring whenever he liked. Then I held it 
 while he ran, and found he was just 11 sec. doing his 100 
 yards. I tried, and was ' ten and a beat,' which he told 
 me was reckoned first-rate time. While I stopped with 
 him I found out all about ' sprints' and ' quarters,' and how 
 long a man ought to be running different distances. I 
 asked, too, about the last race; why he could afford to 
 give me 2/. when I lost? He said the two ' fivers' he had 
 bet were with ' pals,' and he lost nothing but my stake. 
 Then he told me about the little man and Lanky, whom I 
 had met with him and run against. The 'long un,' he 
 said, was a very good ' trial horse,' who could keep his 
 tongue in his head and would ' stand in' if I won anything. 
 The little un had been on business in the north, and came 
 round to see him (Locker). It was all chance his being 
 there, but I should see him again, farther south, where he 
 kept a running-ground. Well, the day for our race came 
 at last, and we went to Kenham. I was wrapped in a 
 blanket after we stripped, and a stout man, called Wold- 
 ham, who stood referee, whispered something to Locker, 
 who replied that I was fit and sure to win. They laid 5 
 
1 5 8 HOIV / U 'ON M Y HA NDICA P. 
 
 to 4 against me at first, but presently I heard evens offered, 
 and then 22/. to 20/., on me, and that was as far as Locker's 
 friends would go. We had a lot of ' fiddling,' as they call 
 it, at the mark, but presently we jumped away, I with an 
 advantage of about a yard. I had made the gap quite 
 four yards at half the distance, and then ' died away' till 
 near the post, where, as the Chronicle next Monday said, I 
 ' struggled manfully, and took the tape first by half a yard ; 
 time, 11 sec' Hadn't we a jaw as we went back ! Locker 
 said I was a ' wonderful clever lad,' and that Woldham 
 had told him I should be 'heard of again.' AVe both 
 laughed, and I got 5/. for winning. With this I bought a 
 new rig out, and everybody at Stockton that knew me 
 said I was ' ruined for life.' They all wanted to know 
 wdiere the togs came from, however, but I kept that to 
 myself. 
 
 It was now September, and Locker said, ' I'll enter 
 thee for a handicap.' So he did, and shortly we went to 
 Kenham again, where, by his directions, I was beat for my 
 heat, with 5 yards start in 120. About a week later, we 
 had a long talk, and then he said, ' Dost know what I've 
 been doing, lad f I told him I thought he meant to get 
 me a good start and try if I could win. ' Thou'rt partly 
 right,' he said, ' but I've been running thee 100 yards, and 
 letting thee lose in t' last few strides. This makes 'em 
 think thou can't stay. I know thou'rt as good at 150 as 
 100, so I shall train thee and run thee at Sheffield this 
 Christmas. If thou can win there, we can earn 1000/. 
 between us, and if thou can only run into a place, we shall 
 make 50/. or 100/. apiece ; but mind, we shall let t' cat out 
 o' t' bag : thou'll never get on a mark again after trying 
 once.' Presently, Merling and Stemmerson advertised a 
 40/. handicap at Kenham, and I entered ; then came the 
 big Sheffielder of 80/., and down went my name for that 
 too. I lived very reg'lar all this time, went to bed soon, 
 and practised the distance every day, till Locker said I 
 
HOW I WON MY HANDICAP. 1 69 
 
 ^vas a ' level time' man, and if I didn't win it wonld be a 
 ' fluke.' At last the start appeared : I got in at 7 yards 
 in the 130 at Newcastle, and my mark was 67 in 210 yards 
 at Ryde Park. Locker was delighted: 'Thou can win 
 'em both in a walk, lad,' he said, again and again. Then 
 the betting qnotations were sent up week after week, and 
 I was at 100 to 2 long enough at Sheffield. There wasn't 
 much doing on the 130 yards race, so Locker said I might 
 go there on the Saturday and lose my first heat. He 
 didn't lay out a penny any way till we went into Alf 
 Wilner's, the Punch Bowl, on Sunday night. Somebody 
 presently asked my price, and, to my surprise, up got the 
 little pock-marked man I had met, and said he was com- 
 missioned to take 60 to 1 to 5Z., just for a ' fancy' bet. A 
 big Sheffielder opened his book and said he might as well 
 have the 'fiver' as not, and there I was backed to win 
 300/. already. Locker and I went away to bed about nine 
 o'clock, and next morning in came the little un at six to 
 tell us he'd ta'en five fifties more, then five forties, ten 
 thirties, and ten twenties, and I was now in the market at 
 12 to 1 taken and offered. My heat was the sixth, and there 
 were five starters marked. First came ' old Scratch' of 
 Pendleton, at 59 yards, then Roundtree of Huddersfield at 
 62, and myself at 67 ; the other didn't turnup. The pistol 
 was fired and away we went, and, as Locker had started 
 me hundreds of times, so that I could ' get off the mark' 
 well, I don't think I lost any ground. At about half way 
 I could hear somebody on my left, but I daren't look 
 round. Afterwards I found ' Scratch' had tried to ' cut 
 me down,' but it was all no use, and I took away the tape 
 by two yards good. Everybody cheered, for betting on 
 the heat had been 7 to 4 on ' Scratch' and 3 to 2 against 
 me. At the close of the day there were ten runners left 
 in for the final heat, and ' my price' was 4 to 1, Roper, of 
 Staleybridge, being the favourite at 6 to 4 against him. 
 Locker said he had laid off 250Z. at 5 to 1 directlv after 
 
1 7 O HOW I \ VON M Y HA NDICA P. 
 
 the heat, so that our party stood to win lOOOZ. exactly, of 
 which I was to have 200/. if I ' landed/ We were together 
 till bedtime, and slept in a double room. At seven next 
 morning we took a stroll, and just as we got to Alf 's to 
 breakfast, somebody put a bit of pajDcr into my hand and 
 then shot away. I slipped it in my pocket, and said 
 ' nowt' till after breakfast, when I read on it, ' 150/. for 
 thyself, before the start, if thou'll run fourth.' I asked 
 Locker wdiat it meant, and he laughed, and said they 
 wanted me to ' rope.' When we went out again the little 
 fellow pulled out a roll of notes and showed 'em to me ; 
 but I meant to win if possible, so I shook my head. As 
 the morning passed, I ' sort of funked' the race, but then 
 I thought, 'I were a made man if I copped.' So I just 
 said to mysel, ' Bill, lad, haul in thee slack,' and off we 
 went to the grounds. I never felt fitter either before or 
 since ; and after Hoper got off badly and was beat a short 
 foot, I was sure the final heat was my own. My second 
 heat was an easy win, and ' Lord, how the Shefiielders did 
 shout' when I ran in three yards ahead without being fully 
 extended ! They laid 7 to 4 on me for the deciding race, 
 which was the hardest of the lot. Hooper, of Stanningly, 
 went from the same mark ; we afterwards found out they'd 
 played a similar game with him. They'd ' pulled' him for 
 two handicaps, and let him lose all his matches, and now 
 he had been backed to win 600/. He beat me at starting, 
 and before we got halfway they cried, 'Hooper wins.' 
 I was a good yard behind him, but with a hard strain 
 I got level, and we ran shoulder and shoulder till just 
 on the tape, where I threw myself forward, with the old 
 ' Chifney rush,' and just won by a bare half-yard. Locker 
 fairly hugged me, and half blind though I was with the 
 tough race, the ' tykes' shoulder-heighted and carried me 
 off to the house. 
 
 Li presents, and with my share, I got 230/., and thought 
 I'd put it away in the bank. But that night we all had 
 
HOW I WON MY HANDICAP. 
 
 171 
 
 champagne, and I went to bed quite queer and dizzy like. 
 Next day was the same, and on Thursday, we took train 
 to Manchester, where I was invited to stop a week or two. 
 Locker left me and went home, telHng me to take care of 
 myself. I wish I'd gone too, for what with meeting betting- 
 men, and playing cards and buying swell clothes, to say 
 nothing of dresses for a fresh sweetheart, I soon got awful 
 ' fast.' Then we used to sit up at nights playing * seven's 
 the main,' and I wasn't lucky or summut; but, however, 
 in six weeks I'd got through half my money. One night 
 Ave started cutting through the pack, and then played 
 ' Blind Hookey,' and next morning the little pock-pitted 
 man came up and called me a ' flat,' and said I'd fair 
 thrown my winnings into the fire. He didn't know much 
 about what had gone on, and when I told him ' I'd knocked 
 down close on 150Z.,' he said he daren't send me back to 
 Stockton. Well, I stopped at Manchester altogether ; and 
 during the next two or three years I won heaps of races, 
 learned the 'rope trick,' and found out whose 'stable' 
 every lad trained from. I won hundreds of pounds, which 
 having all come over the ' devil's back,' went the same 
 way. I'm twenty-three now, but I can't do 'level time' 
 any longer without six weeks' training, although even 
 yet, at 100 yards, very few lads can ' pull oif their shirt' 
 every day in the week and lick me. I like the life very 
 well — it's free and easy ; but I wish Locker had ta'en 
 me back and made my matches. He's clever, he is, 
 and knows when to ' let a fellow's head loose' without 
 hallooing. 
 
DICKENS'S DOGS ; 
 
 OR THE LANDSEER OF FICTION. 
 
 One of the pleasant est workings of that enlarged phi- 
 lanthropy of our time, whose only embarrassment seems 
 the discovery of sufficient grist — as it may be called — for 
 its labour, has happily taken the shape of an enlarged 
 sympathy for an oppressed and long-suifering class of 
 fellow-creatures : the odious intoleration of centuries has 
 been at last happily swept away, and the dog no longer 
 skulks in caves and deserts, the Pariah and Cagot of a 
 civilised community. The days of his persecutions have 
 gone by. A price is no longer set upon his head; neither 
 
THE LANDSEER OF FICTION. 
 
 173 
 
 is be compelled to practise the rites of his peculiar worship 
 — Avbatever that may be — in the perilous secrecy of the blind 
 alley and the lonely cul de sac. Nor is be any longer cast 
 out into the Coliseum a canine martyr — butchered, as it 
 were, to make a Saxon holiday. His is not now a pro- 
 scribed tribe — the Israelite caste of the animal world — 
 driven into the kennel ghetto — spat upon — pelted with 
 mud and stones by youthful Arabs of the streets, who are 
 yet Christians and believers. They do not skulk along 
 timorously, with averted eyes and slavish gait, grateful 
 for the withheld kick, or the stone unlaunched, or even 
 for the poor gift of life, which any believer had the privi- 
 lege . of taking from them. The grand day of their re- 
 demption has come about. Liberal men of large hearts 
 have agitated that the blessings of a free constitution 
 might be extended to them. The grand boon of emanci- 
 pation had been conceded to the slave and to the Catholic. 
 It was iniquitous that the dog should rest under disabili- 
 ties. The vile penal laws which had so long disgraced 
 the statute-book should be abrogated. His chains were 
 struck off (morally speaking, for it Avas felt that some 
 little restraint in this shape, under judicious restrictions, 
 was still necessary). He could hold and enjoy freehold 
 estates and dwelling-house without interruption or dis- 
 turbance. He could -enter upon any of the learned pro- 
 fessions open to his race, and rise, if he had gifts sufficient, 
 to the highest distinctions in the hunting-field or the pre- 
 serve. If he elected to pursue the stage as a profession, 
 and exhibited talents of a high dramatic order, his his- 
 trionic efforts were welcomed with the flattering plaudits 
 of an appreciative audience. Nay, the legislature has 
 busied itself with his political status, and passed successive 
 Acts of Parliament, which have received the royal assent, 
 which punish severely all outrages against his person. 
 The newer and healthier tone of society, in his regard, 
 encourages him to raise himself from a debased condition. 
 
174 DICKENS'S DOGS ; OR 
 
 not of his own making; to let the schoohnaster go abroad 
 in his ranks; to develop intelligence; to subject them- 
 selves to moral and decent restraints; to check those 
 bursts of agrarian violence and outrage — that species of 
 rude Whiteboyism, as it were — for which the barbarian 
 code of society was in itself only too responsible — to culti- 
 vate, in short, the virtues of health, strength, and wash- 
 ing. These things have the new philanthropists and the 
 friends of the dog preached and preached effectively. 
 
 This new charity, which takes creatures of all denomi- 
 nations within its pale, and which knows no distinction of 
 paw, or limb, or skin, or hairy coat, has already been 
 attended with prodigious fruit. It has resulted not in 
 a bald grudging toleration, but in an eager welcome 
 and generous enthusiasm. Already it can be gathered 
 even from their eyes and bearing that they feel, and are 
 proudly conscious of their enfranchisement. There is a 
 bold independent port, almost manly, and even a splen- 
 did arrogance, nearly justifiable. They take the wall in 
 the streets. They look down placidly from flying chariots. 
 The more effeminate are dressed with particoloured rib- 
 bons, repose on cushions, and accept with a fashionable 
 indifference the eager caresses of ladies of fashion. There 
 is a special police charged with their protection. But far 
 more effectual than any police, repentant public opinion 
 watches over them jealously. And though, indeed, it hath 
 been insinuated that much of this consideration is to be 
 placed to the account of mere outside and more perishable 
 gifts of form and feature, without regard to that interior 
 worth with which the mind makes the body rich, still 
 Fashion fluctuates so impartially, and veers so steadily 
 from one species to the other, that she contrives, by vary- 
 ing w^him or fancy, to bring all within the circle of her 
 favours. Hence the ugly and ill-favoured are sure to be 
 esteemed for their blemishes, as are the beautiful for their 
 perfection. 
 
THE LANDSEER OF FICTION. 
 
 175 
 
 In this paradise there is room for the sleek because they 
 are sleek; for the rough and unkempt precisely because they 
 are rough and unkempt. There may be seen, too, loose out- 
 casts upon the streets — pauper creatures, who, without pro- 
 test on the part of the humane and those who can feel, are 
 treated with reproach and contumely. But these, it is well 
 understood, are the pauper spendthrifts, the rakes and 
 mauvais sujets of their order, who have taken to evil coiu'ses 
 -and spent their all, and who are now eking out a precarious 
 livelihood by shifty ways and dishonest tricks — specially 
 in the neighbourhood of butchers' stalls, where police are 
 inefficient — having forfeited that fair esteem and protec- 
 tion to which a righteous course of life would have entitled 
 them. And as an instance of the way in which correct 
 public opinion sets itself in protest against such conduct, 
 mark how the respectable tax-paying citizen dog, hurrying 
 down to business with his master — the well-fed, well-clad, 
 canine industrious apprentice — mark with what reproba- 
 tion he hunts, utterly routs, the trembling cowering out- 
 cast and disreputable vagrant. And yet he is wholly 
 justified in such conduct; for is not that other a pure 
 canine scamp, whom no dog of station could decently know, 
 and who has brought discredit on the cloth ? 
 
 Much of this altered tone and liberal toleration is, no 
 doubt, owing to a happy change in the feeling of society. 
 That the old, low, canine bigotry is out of fashion, and a 
 more enlightened sentiment has come in its place, must 
 be, no doubt, set to the account of what is called the 
 spirit of the age. But for the thorough propagation and 
 wholesale popularisation of these views, their extension 
 through the villa districts, in short, for the preaching of 
 the new evangel through the length and breadth of the 
 land, two persons — two incomparable artists each in his 
 own walk — are more directly responsible. To Mr. Charles 
 Dickens and Sir Edwin Landseer a grateful canine pos- 
 terity, if ever it should reach to the necessary develop- 
 
1^6 DICKENS'S DOGS; OR 
 
 ment, shall set up the bronze statue or commemorative 
 pillar ! It must be recollected that it was Lillibulero that 
 whistled King James out of his three Idngdoms. 
 
 The painter has pleaded by his canvas and his multi- 
 plied engravings, the writer by a broad flood of stories, 
 poured out over the face of the land. The one preaches 
 from the wall ; the other, with a far greater command of 
 eye and heart, from a pulpit by the fireside. The painter, 
 with all his wonderful skill, sets his animals in attitudes 
 — gives but canine eposes plastiques — the quick eye and 
 intelligent look ; he manipulates the hair and skin with a 
 touch infinitely marvellous. He does the most that his 
 tools will let him do, and more than could be credited was 
 within the function of those instruments. 
 
 Yet with the novelist, the author of the Thousand and 
 One English Nights' Entertainment, is a far greater power 
 and an infinitely broader variety. For he takes the 
 newly-enfranchised animal within the charmed circle of 
 his characters, sets him down at the fireside and chimney- 
 corner, and furnishes him with quaint reflections of the 
 whims and humours of humanity, playing on them with 
 delicate touches which seem almost earnest, until they 
 really mount to the dignity of a character. The four- 
 footed actors play their little parts, and in a pleasant 
 complimentary manner become as essential to the piece 
 as the more leading human men and women. By some 
 mystery the grand magician is assumed to have special 
 knowledge of the interior working of the motives and 
 emotions of the tribe, and by a pleasant fiction reproduces 
 the whole interior idiosyncrasy with a delightful authority 
 which no one seems prepared to question. By this exqui- 
 site art we are introduced without surprise to dogs of 
 pleasant humours and agreeable oddities, and without 
 astonishment meet Pumblechooks and Mark Tapleys in 
 the ranks of the tribe. They have speaking eccentricities 
 in their wiry hair, droll twists in their whiskers, a know- 
 
THE LANDSEER OF FICTION, 
 
 177 
 
 ing expression about the tail, and habitual oddities of 
 manner, just like the grander bipeds. 
 
 It is curious, certainly, that fuller attention has not 
 been drawn to this power of our great story-teller — a 
 power significant of a profound study, and a yet more 
 exquisite appreciation of the ways and manners, of the 
 delicate lights and shadows, of animal character — greater 
 than the cold pedantries of BuiFon or Cuvier could help 
 them to. It is worth dwelling a little on this famous 
 gallery of animal sketches, and showing by a short 
 meditation on these creations of the novelist what an 
 acute, and at the same time genial and enthusiastic, 
 student he has been. That, out of pen-and-ink uniform, 
 he is a kind patron to animals, is clear. Indeed, we have 
 been told as much in those new prefaces to his novels, 
 which are sometimes as entertaining, if not quite so 
 lengthy, as those prefixed to the Waverley series. He 
 there writes the history of two ravens, and shows us how 
 they sat for famous Grip. Now we shall never be let 
 into the secret of the originals from which his sporting- 
 dog portraits were drawn. 
 
 Room first of all for a dog of the very lowest extrac- 
 tion, utterly unknown to the canine blue books, without 
 pedigree or breed, the disreputable property of that dis- 
 reputable housebreaker and noted ticket-of-leave man Mr. 
 William Sikes, a brutal master of a faithful, uncomplain- 
 ing, patient, much-enduring animal, who is yet of reserved 
 habits, and of intellectuals not very highly developed. 
 Bull's Eye is this creature's name. He has been reared 
 in the worst company — or rather has reared himself — in 
 a desperate shifty way. Nor is it surprising that his 
 normal gait should be a suspicious skulking progress along 
 the public ways, or that he should settle it down that the 
 invariable salutation of his tribe by the great human race 
 was a stick or a stone. 
 
 Here is Bull's Eye making his bow : 
 
 M 
 
178 
 
 DICKENS'S DOGS : OR 
 
 'A white shaggy dog, with his face scratched and 
 torn in twenty different places, skulked into the room. 
 '• Why didn't yon come in afore?" said the man; "you're 
 getting too proud to own me afore company, are you"?" 
 This command was accompanied by a kick which sent the 
 animal to the other end of the room. He appeared well 
 
 used to it, however, for he coiled himself up in a corner 
 very quietly, without uttering a sound, and winking his 
 very ill-looking eyes about twenty times in a minute, 
 appears to occupy himself in taking a survey of the apart- 
 ment.' 
 
 Mr. William Sikes has an appointment presently at a 
 
THE LANDSEER OF FICTION. 1 79 
 
 low public-house in the filthiest part of Saffron Hill. Here 
 Bull's Eye makes his second appearance. 'A white-coated, 
 red-eyed dog, who occupied himself alternately in winking 
 at his master with both eyes at the same time, and in 
 licking a large fresh cut on one side of his mouth, which 
 appeared to be the result of some recent conflict.' 
 
 ' " Keep quiet, you warmint ; keep quiet," ' said Mr. 
 Sikes, suddenly breaking silence. Whether his medita- 
 tions Avere so intense as to be disturbed by the dog's wink- 
 ing, or whether his feelings were so wrought upon by his 
 reflections that they required all the relief derivable from 
 kicking an unoffending animal to allay them, is matter 
 for argument and consideration. "Whatever was the cause, 
 the effect was a kick and a curse bestowed upon the dog 
 simultaneously. 
 
 ' Dogs are not generally apt to revenge injuries in- 
 flicted on them by their masters ; but Mr. Sikes' dog having 
 faults of temper in common with his owner, and labouring, 
 perhaps, at that moment under a powerful sense of injury, 
 made no more ado, but at once fixed his teeth in one of 
 the half-boots, and having given it a good hearty shake, 
 retired, growling, under a form, thereby just escaping the 
 pewter measure which Mr. Sikes levelled at his head. 
 
 ' " You would, would you"?" said Mr. Sikes, seizing the 
 poker in one hand, and deliberately opening with the 
 other a large clasp-knife, which he drew from his pocket. 
 "Come here, you born devil ! Come here ! D'ye hear ?" 
 
 ' The dog, no doubt, heard, because Mr. Sikes spoke in 
 the very harshest key of a very harsh voice ; but appear- 
 ing to entertain some unaccountable objection to having 
 his throat cut, he remained where he was.' Then follows 
 an unseemly contest. ' The dog jumped from right to 
 left, and fi*om left to right, snapping, growling, and bark- 
 ing: the man thrust, and swore, and struck, and blas- 
 phemed; and the struggle was reaching a most critical 
 point for one or other, when, the door suddenly opening. 
 
l8o DICKENS'S DOGS; OR 
 
 the dog darted out, leaving Bill Sikes with the poker and' 
 the clasp-knife in his hands.' 
 
 In his indignation at this interruption of purpose the- 
 gentle housebreaker gives utterance to some pleasant 
 satire on the watchful providence exercised by his country- 
 over the well-being of animals. 
 
 ' " I wish you had been the dog, Fagin, half a minute 
 ago." 
 
 ' '• Why V inquired the Jew, with a forced smile. 
 
 ' " 'Cause Government, as cares for the lives of such 
 men as you, as haven't half the pluck of a cur, lets a man 
 kill his dog as how he likes," replied Sikes, shutting up' 
 his knife, with a very expressive look. '' That's why." ' 
 
 Still the poor quadruped keeps faithful to his master, 
 bearing no malice; for suffering is the badge of all his 
 tribe. At the breaking up of that meeting the two prin- 
 cipal actors departed together, ' followed at a little dis- 
 tance by the dog, who slunk out of a back yard as soon as: 
 his master was out of sight.' 
 
 The details of poor Oliver's recapture on the open 
 highway are familiar to all readers, in which nefarious 
 proceeding it cannot be concealed that Bull's Eye played 
 a considerable part. When Mr. Sikes burst out of the- 
 beer-shop there was a ' white dog at his heels,' in nowise 
 slack to second his master's views. ' " Here, Bull's Eye," 
 said he. The dog looked up and growled. " See herCy. 
 boy," said Sikes, putting his other hand to Oliver's throat, 
 and uttering a savage oath, '•' if he speaks ever so soft a 
 word, hold him! D'ye mind'?" The dog groAvled again, 
 and, licking his lips, eyed Oliver as if he were anxious to 
 attach himself to his windpipe without any unnecessary 
 delay. " He's as willing as a Christian, strike me blind if 
 he isn't," said Sikes, regarding the animal with a kind of 
 grim and ferocious approval. " Get on, young un." Bull's 
 Eye wagged his tail in acknowledgment of this unusually 
 endearing form of speech, and giving vent to another 
 
THE LANDSEER OF FICTION. l8l 
 
 •admonitory growl for the benefit of Oliver, led the way 
 •onward.' 
 
 Later on, among a select company composed of Messrs. 
 Dawkins, Charles Bates, and other gentlemen of the same 
 profession, playful allusion is made to their honourable 
 calling, of which Mr. Dawkins (better known as the Dodger) 
 insists that Bull's Eye is an influential member. ' " He is 
 the downiest one of the lot." "And the least given to 
 peaching," added Charley Bates. " He wouldn't so much 
 as bark in a witness-box — no, not if you tied him up in 
 one, and left him there Avithout wittles for a fortnight," 
 said the Dodger. " He's a rum dog. Don't he look fierce 
 at any strange cove that laughs or sings when he's in 
 company?" pursued the Dodger, "Won't he growl at all 
 when he hears a fiddle playing ; and don't he hate other 
 dogs as ain't of his breed — oh, no!" 
 
 •' "He's an out-and-out Christian," said Charley. This 
 -was merely intended as a tribute to the animal's abilities, 
 but it was an appropriate remark in another sense if Master 
 Bates had only known it; for there are a great many 
 ladies and gentlemen claiming to be out-and-out Christians 
 between whom and Mr. Sikes's dog there exist very strong 
 and singular points of resemblance.' 
 
 Bull's Eye does not reappear again until late in the 
 drama, when he is seen sitting by his master's bed on 
 guard, as it were, ' eyeing him with a wistful look, and 
 now pricking up his ears and uttering a low growl as some 
 noise in the street attracted his attention.' 
 
 Presently enters the pleasant fraternity lately men- 
 tioned, on a visit of comfort to the indisposed burglar, 
 bearing with them several good things in the shape of pies 
 and strong drink. 
 
 ' " Drive him down, Charley," Mr. Sikes said, alluding 
 to Bull's Eye, who was doubtless rendered troublesome by 
 "the sight of the cheer. 
 
 ' " I never see such a jolly dog as that," cried Master 
 
1 82 DICKENS'S DOGS: OR 
 
 Bates, doing as he was desired, " smelling the grub like 
 an old lady agoing to market! He'd make his fortun' on 
 the stage, that dog would, and rewive the drayma be- 
 sides." ' 
 
 But, returning again to Bull's Eye, the fortunes of his 
 master and his own have grown to be overcast, and wicked 
 Mr. Sikes is led into commission of that murder which,, 
 but for an accident, would have subjected him to the 
 penalty of death at the hands of the common executioner. 
 In spite, however, of kicks, blows, curses, and every de- 
 gradation, his faithful dog keeps with him — with, indeed,. 
 an inconvenient fidelity ; for, having done his work, he 
 has to go forth on that wandering journey of his, which 
 reads like a horrid nightmare, ' dragging the dog with him 
 lest he should carry out new evidences of the crime into 
 the streets.' Then, after that awful night's walk, the 
 scenes in the lonely public-houses, and at the village con- 
 flagration, he resolves to go back to London, and to de- 
 stroy his dog, for fear of detection. He resolved to drown 
 him, ' and walked on looking for a pond, picking up a 
 heavy stone and tying it to his handkerchief as he went.. 
 The animal looked up into his master's face while these 
 preparations were making, and, whether his instinct ap- 
 prehended something of this purpose as the robber's side- 
 long look at him was steadier than ordinary, skulked a 
 little further in the rear than usual, and cowered as he 
 came more slowly along. When his master halted at the 
 brink of a pool, and looked round to call him, he stopped 
 outright. 
 
 '"Do you hear me call? come here," cries Sikes, 
 whistling. The animal came from the very force of habit, 
 but as Sikes stooped to attach the handkerchief to his 
 throat he uttered a low growl and started back. " Come 
 back," said the robber, stamping on the ground. The dog 
 wagged his tail, but moved not. Here Sikes made a run- 
 ning noose, and called him again. The dog advanced,. 
 
THE LANDSEER OF FICTION. 
 
 183 
 
 retreated, paused an instant, turned, and scoured away at 
 his hardest speed. The man whistled again and again, 
 and sat down, and waited in the expectation that he 
 would return. ]3ut no dog appeared, and he resumed his 
 journey.' 
 
 But the end is at hand. Mr. Sikes is hunted down, 
 and in that exciting scene where he is all but captured, is 
 hanged in a noose of his own make. ' A dog, which had 
 lain concealed till now, ran backwards and forwards on 
 the parapet with a dismal howl, and, collecting himself 
 for a spring, jumped for the dead man's shoulders. Missing 
 his aim he fell into the ditch, turning completely over as 
 he went, and striking his head against a stone, dashed out 
 his brains.' 
 
 It will be observed with what art Mr. Dickens has 
 managed, by means of this faithful creature, to inspire an 
 interest in the fortunes of his otherwise repulsive master. 
 And thus the reader is led into the agreeable delusion 
 that there must be still some kind spot in that hardened 
 heart which could inspire such faithfulness. Mr. Dickens 
 has worked this dog-portrait skilfully, and with touches 
 that show he observed their habits long and closely, of 
 which that 'running backwards and forwards on the 
 parapet' before his spring, and that blinking with both 
 eyes with chin on the ground, are famous instances. 
 
 Now, while the snow is deep upon the ground, and it 
 is rough and rasping weather outside, and there are light 
 and warmth inside; while the fire has been swept up, and 
 kettle and cricket are singing matches against each other ; 
 while, in short, the sweetest little woman that ever lived 
 and moved inside of a book is waiting for somebody's 
 return, there comes of a sudden the sound of crtmching 
 wheels, and bells most musical, and the lumbering creak 
 of an overcharged wagon ; and that with the voice of a 
 man, the sudden and mysterious appearance of a baby, 
 
184 DICKENS'S DOGS ; OR 
 
 and tlie tearing in and out of an excited dog, there was 
 soon the what's-his-name to pay — which is the first 
 appearance of famous Boxer. Exquisite indeed is every 
 stroke of this sweet Christmas picture. The world could 
 not afford to part with a single figure, or quaint bit of 
 furniture, or cranny, or projecting nob. The withdrawal 
 of the old clock and the unwearied mower would leave a 
 chasm ; but the absence of Boxer, who does chorus after 
 
 the Greek fashion, would be loss irreparable. What would 
 that little domestic circle, now busy at the fire, and think- 
 ing of supper, be without him ? 
 
 ' Boxer, feeling that his attentions were due to the 
 family in general, and must be impartially distributed, 
 dashed in and out with bewildering inconstancy; now 
 describing a circle of short barks round the horse, where 
 he was being rubbed down at the stable-door ; now feign- 
 ing to make savage rushes at his mistress, and facetiously 
 bringing himself to sudden stops ; now eliciting a shriek 
 
THE LANDSEER OF FICTION. 185 
 
 from Tilly Slowboy in the low niirsing-cliair near the fire 
 by the unexpected apphcation of his moist nose to her 
 countenance ; now exhibiting an obtrusive interest in the 
 baby ; now going round and round upon the hearth, and 
 lying down as if he had estabKshed himself for the night ; 
 now getting up and taking that nothing of a fag-end of a 
 tail of his out into the weather as if he had just remembered 
 an appointment, and icas off to keep it.' 
 
 What an unapproachable stroke this last ! Presently the 
 disguised old gentleman, who has been asleep in the cart, 
 is brought in, but under surveillance of Boxer ; ' for that 
 good dog, more thoughtful than his master, had, it seemed, 
 been watching the old gentleman in his sleep lest he 
 should walk off with a few young poplar trees that were 
 tied up behind the cart ; and he still attended on him very 
 •closely, worrying his gaiters in fact, and making dead sets 
 at his buttons.' 
 
 What geniality in every line is here, and thorough 
 appreciation of that humour which in truth lurks in dogs' 
 habits and movements, and which hitherto no one has 
 thought of translating to the world ! Then comes the 
 famous journey to the picnic, and Boxer is of the party. 
 ■' Everybody knew him all along the road, especially the 
 fowls and pigs, who, when they saw him approaching 
 ^vith his body all on one side, and his ears pricked up 
 inquisitively, and that knob of a tail making the most of 
 itself in the air, immediately withdrew into remote back 
 settlements, without waiting for the honour of a nearer 
 acquaintance. He had business everywhere, going down 
 all the turnings, looking into all the wells, bolting in and 
 out of all the cottages, dashing into the midst of all the 
 dame schools, fluttering all the pigeons, magnifying the 
 tails of all the cats, and trotting into the public-houses 
 like a regular customer.' 
 
 Then he meets with the blind girl, and makes ' certain 
 delicate distinctions of his own in his communications 
 
l86 DICKENS'S DOGS; OR 
 
 with her, which persuaded me fully that he knew her. 
 He never sought to attract her attention by looking at 
 her, as he often did with other people, but touched her 
 invariably. What experience he could ever have had of 
 blind people, or of blind dogs, I don't know. He had 
 never lived with a blind master ; nor had Mr. Boxer the 
 elder, nor Mrs. Boxer, nor any of his respectable family on 
 either side, ever been visited with blindness that I am 
 aware of.' 
 
 That long weary night for John Peerybingle follows.. 
 The mystery is then cleared up ; the wrong made right ; 
 and the story closes riotously and in a tumult of happi- 
 ness. Where was Boxer, though? 'There wanted but 
 one living creature to make the party complete ; and in. 
 the twinkling of an eye there he was ; very thirsty with 
 hard running, and engaged in hopeless endeavours tO' 
 squeeze his head into a narrow pitcher. He had gone 
 with the cart to its journey's end, very much disgusted 
 with his master's absence, and stupendously rebellious to 
 the deputy. After lingering about the stable for some 
 little time, vainly attempting to incite the old horse to 
 the jnutinous act of returning on his own account, he had 
 walked into the tap-room and laid himself down before 
 the fire. But suddenly yielding to the conviction that 
 the deputy was a humbug, and must be abandoned, he 
 had got up again, turned tail, and come home.' 
 
 That is our last glimpse of famous Boxer. Sir Edwin, 
 with skilful pencil, has shown us what he was like ; but 
 has made him a little too wicked and ferocious of aspect. 
 Boxer was not a savage mastiff, but a smart, rough, brisk 
 terrier, with a lively sense of the humorous bound up in 
 his nature. 
 
 Koom now for a dog of another order, one bred in 
 drawing-rooms, and that figures briefly in a sort of short 
 dream, in the life of one David Copperfield. He is but a 
 
THE LANDSEER OE EICTION. 1 87 
 
 spectral creature, and passes away along with that deli- 
 cate fairy image of Doady Dora. That tiny abstraction 
 flits by too SAviftly, and in its shadow is seen the dim out- 
 line of Jip, the King Charles's dog, whose nature it is not 
 to fancy strangers exceedingly. For Mr. Copperfield, on 
 his first introduction to Dora, * approached him tenderly, 
 for I loved even him ; but he showed his whole set of 
 teeth, got under a chair expressly to snarl, and wouldn't 
 hear of the least familiarity.' They walk together in the 
 garden, Dora and Mr. Copperfield. 'He was mortally 
 jealous of me, and persisted in barking at me. She took 
 him up in her arms — oh, my goodness ! — and caressed him, 
 but he insisted upon barking still. He wouldn't let me 
 touch him wdien I tried, and then she beat him. It in- 
 creased my suJBferings greatly to see the pats she gave 
 him for punishment on the bridge of his blunt nose, 
 while he wdnked his eyes, and licked her hand, and still 
 growled within himself like a little double bass.' The 
 poor youth is nearly driven distracted by the tenderness 
 with which the little quadruped is treated. 'Jip can 
 protect me a great deal better than Miss Murdstone; can't 
 you, Jip ?' He only winked lazily, w4ien she kissed his ball 
 of a head. ' We find out our own friends,' continues my 
 Dora, ' instead of having them found out for us ; don't we 
 Jip?' Jip made a comfortable noise in answer, a little 
 like a tea-kettle when it sings. 
 
 In the course of a later visit in this pretty history, 
 Copperfield brings flowers as a present. ' Dora held my 
 flow^ers to Jip to smell. Then Jip growled, and wouldn't 
 smell them. Then Dora laughed, and held them a little 
 closer to Jip to make him. Then Jip laid hold of a bit of 
 geranium wdth his teeth^ and worried imaginary cats in 
 it.' He comes again, to break that news of his being a 
 beggar, so comically taken by little Dora: 'whose only 
 association with the Avord was a yellow face and a night- 
 cap, or a wooden leg, or a dog W'ith a decanter stand in 
 
1 88 DICKENS'S DOGS; OR 
 
 his mouth.' Jip has to be kissed, ' which operation she 
 insisted should be performed symmetrically, on the centre 
 of his nose.' Under the new economy he was still to 
 ' have his mutton chop wdth his accustomed regularity.' 
 The evening ends with her ' making Jip stand on his hind 
 legs for toast, when she pretended to hold that nose of 
 his against the hot teapot for punishment, because he 
 wouldn't.' But through Jip's innocent agency all is dis- 
 covered. Miss Murdstone capturing the letter. ' The little 
 dog,' says that lady, ' retreated under the sofa, and was 
 with great difficulty dislodged by the fire-irons. Even 
 when dislodged, he still kept the letter in his mouth; 
 and on my endeavouring to take it from him, at the immi- 
 nent risk of being bitten, he kept it between his teeth so 
 pertinaciously as to suffer himself to be suspended in the 
 air by means of the document.' Jip is subsequently 
 stolen, it is suspected ' by the man with the blue bag, 
 and legs like balustrades of a bridge,' but is happily reco- 
 vered, and found in a ' little house, tied up to a leg of the 
 table.' 
 
 At a subsequent interview with those awful ladies, 
 ]\liss Lavinia and Miss Clarissa, when proper regulations 
 for the meeting of the young lovers were arranged, 
 sounds are heard as of Jip barking in the distance, and 
 ' of being instantly choked.' At the close of which inter- 
 view, 'I found my blessed darling stopping her ears 
 against the door, and Jip in the plate-warmer, with his 
 head tied up in a tow^el.' Then she showed me Jip's new 
 ' trick of standing on his hind legs in a corner, which he 
 did for about the space of a flash of lightning, and then 
 fell down.' 
 
 Then comes that suggestion of the Cookery Book, 
 which is put to no other use than for Jip to beg on. 
 Then comes that marriage (performed in that comical 
 church of Phiz's own building), when Jip had wedding 
 cake, and it did not agree Avith him. Then follows that 
 
THE LANDSEER OF FICTION. 
 
 189 
 
 exquisite detail of housekeeping troubles and miscar- 
 riages, with that hopeless trying of little Doady to be 
 industrious, and bringing forth of the account-book, over 
 the items in which ' Jip would walk, wagging his tail, and 
 smear them all out.' Then 'she would call Jip up to 
 look at his misdeeds, which would occasion a diversion in 
 Jip's favour, and some inking of his nose, perhaps, as a 
 penalty. Then she would tell Jip to lie down on the 
 table instantly, like a lion, wliich was one of his tricks, 
 though I cannot say the likeness was striking, and if he 
 were in an obedient humour, he would obey.' 
 
 Presently draws on that dark evening, which shall 
 close over this little episode of the child- wife — fore- 
 shadowed dimly by the growing weakness of Jip. 
 
 He grows old — at which she wonders exceedingly; 
 leaning out of her couch to look at him : ' He responded 
 by standing on his hind legs, and baulking himself in 
 various asthmatic attempts to scramble up by the head 
 and shoulders.' ' Dora made him lie down by her, and 
 when he was quiet drew one of his long ears through and 
 through her hand, repeating thoughtfully, "Even little 
 Jip ! Oh, poor fellow !" ' 
 
 Then the end approaches, and the little image begins 
 to fade out. Little Doady can walk about no more. ' He 
 is, as it were suddenly, grown very old. It may be that 
 he misses his mistress — something that enlivened him^ 
 and made him younger; but he mopes, and his sight is 
 weak, and his limbs are feeble, and my aunt is sorry that 
 he objects to her no more ; but creeps nearer as he lies on 
 Dora's bed, and mildly licks her hand.' 
 
 In a few minutes more it has grown to be quite dark. 
 And, first, Jip passes away. ' His Chinese house is by the 
 fire ; and he lies within it on his bed of flannel, querulously 
 trying to sleep ' 
 
 The night wears on ; ' more restless than he was, he 
 crawls out of his house, and looks at me, and wanders to 
 
IQO 
 
 DICKENS'S DOGS; OR 
 
 the door, and whines to go np-stairs. " Not to-niglit, Jip ; 
 not to-night." He comes very slowly back to me, licks my 
 hand, and lifts his dim eyes to my face. " Jip ! it may 
 be, never again !" He lies down at my feet, stretches him- 
 self out as if to sleep, and with a plaintive cry is dead.' 
 
 The exquisite working of these pictures, and the truth 
 and pathos that lie in every line, prove, not indeed the 
 master in his art, for that has been proved over and over 
 again, but the marvellous fidelity and accuracy of his 
 observation. 
 
 With the yellow lights hanging overhead, in extem- 
 porised hoops, and ravished village throngs, contemplating 
 those fairy scenes in the circle, which include specially 
 the daring equestrian Act on a barebacked steed of Mr. 
 E. W. B. Childers ; with Mr. Meriman lavishly distributing 
 his exquisite Shakespearian quips and repartees ; and the 
 gentleman in the black evening suit, walking round and 
 round on his eternal beat, inspiriting the flagging pace of 
 bare-backed and draperied chargers : makes entry also 
 that famous member of the company — the highly-trained 
 performing dog Merrylegs! He is but a sketch in this 
 cabinet series ; being, so to speak, merely hinted at, with- 
 out coming on distinctly. And yet he lives (and dies) ; 
 and we know him perfectly. His marks and tokens are 
 unmistakable. He was, likely enough, a French poodle. 
 
 Signer Jupe, his master. Sissy tells, ' was angry only 
 ■one night, and that was not to me, but Merrylegs. Merry- 
 legs (she whispered the awful fact) is his performing dog. 
 .... Father, sot)n after Uny came home from performing, 
 told Merrylegs to jump upon the backs of the two chairs, 
 and stand across them, which is one of his tricks. He 
 looked at father, and didn't do it at once. Everything of 
 father's had gone wrong that night, and he didn t please 
 
 the public at all Then he beat the dog, and I was 
 
 frightened, and said, " Father, father ! Pray don't hurt the 
 
THE LANDSEER OF FICTION. 
 
 191 
 
 creature who is so fond of you ! Oli, Heaven forgive you ! 
 father, stop!" and he stopped, and the dog was bloody; 
 and father lay down, crying, on the floor, with the dog in 
 his arms, and the dog licked his face.' 
 
 Merrylegs is thenceforth lost sight of, and does not 
 reappear for a long interval — not until the close of the 
 story. Then Mr. Sleary briefly tells his history, prefacing 
 it with some admirable observations on the character of 
 the tribe. 
 
 * '• I'm bletht if I know what to call it ; but I have had 
 dogth find me, thquire, in a way that made me think 
 whether that dog hadn't gone to another dog, and thed, 
 'You don't happen to know a perthon of the name of 
 Thleary, in the horthe - riding way — thout man — game 
 eye f and whether that dog mightn't have thed, ' Well, I 
 can't thay I know him mythelf ; but I know a dog that I 
 think would be likely to be acquainted with him.' And 
 whether that dog mightn't have thought it over, and thed, 
 ' Thleary, Thleary ! yeth, to be thure ! a friend of mine 
 mentioned him to me at one time. I can get you hith 
 addreth.' In conthequenthof my being before the public, 
 and going about, there mutht, you thee, there mutht 
 be a number of dogth acquainted with me, thquire, that 
 I don't know. . . . Any way, ith fourteen month ago, 
 thquire, thinthe we wath at Chethter. We wath getting 
 up our Children in the Wood, one morning, when there 
 cometh into our ring, by the thtage-door, a dog. He had 
 travelled a long way ; he wath in very bad condition ; he 
 wath lame and pretty well blind. He went round to our 
 children one after the other, as if he wath theeking for a 
 child he knowd ; and then he come to me, and throwd 
 hithelf up behind, and thood on hith two forelegs weak 
 ath he wath; and then he wagged hith tail, and died. 
 Thquire, that dog wath Merry legth." ' 
 
 In the weary pilgrimage of little Nell and her grand- 
 
l92 
 
 DICKENS'S DOGS ; OR 
 
 father, tliey too come across other wonderful performing 
 dogs — fellows of infinite hmnom- — and who are described 
 with a zest and quaintness infinitely diverting. Steps are 
 heard outside the Jolly Sandboys, just as that most ap- 
 petising stew, which has been simmering on the fire, is 
 ready for being served ; and fresh company enters. 
 
 'These were no other than four very dismal dogs, ivIiO' 
 came pattering in one after the other, headed by an old 
 
 MERRYLEGS. 
 
 bandy dog of particularly mournful aspect, who, stopping 
 when the last of his followers had got as far as the door, 
 erected himself upon his hind legs, and looked round at 
 his companions, who immediately stood upon their hind 
 legs in a grave and melancholy row. Nor was this the 
 only remarkable circumstance about these dogs ; for each 
 of them wore a kind of little coat of some gaudy colour,, 
 trimmed with tarnished spangles, and one of them had a 
 cap upon his head, tied very carefully under his chin, 
 which had fallen down upon his nose, and completely 
 
THE LANDSEER OF FICTION. 
 
 193 
 
 obscured one eye; add to this, that the gaudy coats 
 were all wet through and discoloured with rain, and that 
 the wearers were splashed and dirty, and some idea may 
 be formed of the unusual appearance of these new visitors 
 to the Jolly Sandboys. 
 
 ' Neither Short, nor the landlord, nor Thomas Codlin, 
 however, were the least surprised, merely remarking that 
 these were Jerry's dogs, and that Jerry could not be far 
 behind. So there the dogs stood, patiently winking and 
 gaping, and looking extremely hard at the boiling pot. 
 
 THE DISMAL FOUR. 
 
 until Jerry himself appeared, when they all dropped down 
 at once, and walked about the room in their natural 
 manner. This posture, it must be confessed, did not much 
 improve their appearance, as their own personal tails and 
 their coat tails — both capital things in their way — did not 
 agree together.' 
 
 ' This was addressed to the dog with the cap on, who, 
 being a new member of the company, and not quite cer- 
 tain of his duty, kept his unobscured eye anxiously on 
 
 N 
 
194 DICKENS'S DOGS; OR 
 
 his master, and was perpetually starting upon Ins hind 
 legs when there was no occasion, and falling down 
 again.' 
 
 ' However, he did nothing of the kind, but instead 
 thereof assisted a stout servant-girl in turning the con- 
 tents of the caldron into a large tureen ; a proceeding 
 which the dogs, proof against various hot splashes which 
 fell upon their noses, watched with terrible eagerness. 
 At length the dish was lifted on the table, and mugs of 
 ale having been previously set round, little Nell ventured 
 to say grace, and supper began. 
 
 'At this juncture the poor dogs were standing on 
 their hind legs quite surprisingly ; the child, having pity 
 on them, was about to cast some morsels of food to them, 
 before she had tasted it herself, hungry though she was, 
 when their master interposed. "No, my dear, no; not an 
 atom from anybody's hand but mine, if you please. That 
 dog," said Jerry, pointing out the old leader of the troop, 
 and speaking in a terrible voice, " lost a halfpenny to-day. 
 He goes without his supper." 
 
 ' The unfortunate creature dropped upon his forelegs 
 directly, wagged his tail, and looked imploringly at his 
 master. "You must be more careful, sir," said Jerry, 
 walking coolly to the chair where he had placed the organ, 
 and setting the stop. " Come here ! Now, sir, you play 
 away at that, while we have supper, and leave off, if you 
 dare !" The dog immediately began to grind most mourn- 
 ful music. His master having shown him the whip, re- 
 sumed his seat, and called up the others, who, at his 
 direction, formed in a row, standing upright like a file of 
 soldiers. *• Now, gentlemen," said Jerry, looking at them 
 attentively. " The dog whose name's called Cato. The 
 dogs whose names ain't called keep quiet; Carlo!" The 
 lucky individual whose name was called snapped up the 
 morsel thrown towards him, but none of the others moved 
 
THE LANDSEER OF FICTION. 
 
 95 
 
 a muscle. In this manner they were fed at tlie discretion 
 of their master. Meanwhile the dog in disgrace groimd 
 hard at the organ, sometimes in quick time, sometimes in 
 slow; but never leaving off for an instant. When the 
 knives and forks rattled very much, or any of his fellows 
 got an unusually large piece of fat, he accompanied the 
 music with a short howl; but he immediately checked 
 himself, on his master looking round, and applied himself 
 with increased diligence to the Old Hundredth.' 
 
 What playfulness and gentle trifling is here ! Should 
 the poor trained poodle have ever got on Mr. Dickens's 
 table, and tumbled the ink-bottle on newly- written pages, 
 for which the world was waiting — just as Sir Isaac New- 
 ton's little dog Diamond treated certain precious calcula- 
 tions — we might swear he would take the misfortune as 
 gently as did the great astronomer. 
 
 When Hugh, in the story oiBarnahy Rudge, is led to 
 execution, a hint is given of a dog — no more than a bare 
 hint — which is yet introduced with such art as to raise 
 some sympathy for the wild ruffian who is being brought 
 to execution. A man with a corner in his heart for a poor 
 brute who has been faithful to him is not wholly unre- 
 deemed. 'Unless,' said Hugh, glancing hurriedly back, 
 'unless any person here has a fancy for a dog, and not 
 then unless he means to use him well. There's one be- 
 longing to me at the house I came from, and it wouldn't 
 be easy to find a better. He'll ivJiine at first, hut he'll soon 
 get over that.' 
 
 Thus is skilfully suggested the image of some living 
 creature. 
 
 With the memory of that child for whom it was said 
 half the empire mourned — was there ever such a compli- 
 ment paid to novelist ? — he has bound up the affection of 
 a dog — ' a great, hoarse, shaggy dog, chained up at the 
 back of the house' — whose roughness becomes softened 
 
196 
 
 DICKENS'S DOGS. 
 
 before the influence of little Paul. Going away after that 
 wonderful party at Dr. Blimber's, and seeing the Toots', 
 and Cornelias, and Feeders, and the whole company of 
 schoolboy faces clustered round him in the hall, he thinks 
 of his four-footed friend. ' Ask them,' he says to the Doc- 
 tor, ' to take care of Diogenes, if you please.' Diogenes 
 was the dog who had never in his ' life received a friend 
 into his confidence before Paul.' 
 
 Then after little Dombey had heard what the wild^ 
 waves were saying, and drifted away out of the world, 
 came that well-meant visit of condolence to Florence, by 
 the faithful Toots, who brought with him what was really 
 a delicate offering. ' " He ain't a lady's dog, you know, 
 but you won't mind that, will you?" In fact, Diogenes 
 was at that moment staring through the window of a 
 hackney cabriolet into which, for conveyance to that spot, 
 he had been ensnared on a false pretence of rats among the 
 straw. . . . He gave short yelps out of one side of his 
 mouth, and overbalancing himself by the intensity of 
 every one of those efforts, tumbled down into the straw, 
 and then sprung panting up again, putting out his tongue 
 as if he had come express to a dispensary to be examined 
 for his health.' This, too, was a dog ' continually acting 
 on a wrong idea that there was an enemy in the neigh- 
 bourhood ivJiom it tvas meritorious to hark at.' Not surprising 
 either, that when he came bouncing into the room that he 
 ' dived under all the furniture, and wound a long iron 
 chain that dangled from his neck round the legs of chairs 
 and tables, and then tugged at it imtil his eyes became 
 unnaturally visible.' 
 
 After this is it wonderful that we should apply the 
 term The Landseer of Fiction to our famous novelist ? 
 
SIMPSON'S SNIPE. 
 
 ••'Who is Mr. Simpson?' asked my wife, tossing a letter 
 across the breakfast-table. This same little lady opens 
 my correspondence with the sang-froid of a private secre- 
 tary. 
 
 * Who is Mr. Simpson '?' she repeated. ' If he is as big 
 as his monogram, we shall have to widen all the doors, 
 and raise the ceilings, in order to let him in.' 
 
 The monogram referred to resembled a pyrotechnic 
 device. It blazed in all the colours of the rainbow, and 
 twisted itself like the colom-ed worsted in a young lady's 
 first sampler. 
 
 ' Simpson,' I replied, in, I must confess, a tremulous 
 sort of way, ' is a very nice fellow, and a capital shot.' 
 
 ' I perceive that you have asked him to shoot.' 
 
 ' Only for a day and a night, my dear.' 
 
 ' Only for a day and a night ! And where is Willie to 
 sleep, and where is Blossie to sleep ? You know the dear 
 children are in the strangers' rooms for change of air, and 
 really I must say it is very thoughtless of you;' and my 
 wife's nez retrousse went up at a very acute angle, whilst 
 a general hardness of expression settled itself upon her 
 countenance, like a plaster cast. 
 
 I had a bad case. I had been dining with a friend, my 
 friend Captain De Britska. I had taken sherry with my 
 soup, hock with my fish, champagne with my entree, and 
 a nip of brandy before my claret. What I imbibed after 
 the Lafitte I scarcely remember. Mr. Simpson was of the 
 party, and sat next to me. He forced a succession of 
 cigars into my mouth, and subsequently a mixture of 
 
198 SIMPSON'S SNIPE. 
 
 tobacco, a special thing. (What smoker, by the way, 
 hasn't a special thing in the shape of a mixture % what 
 gourmet a special tip as regards salad-dressing?) We 
 spoke of shooting. He asked me if I had any. I replied 
 in the affirmative, expressing a hope that he would at 
 some time or other practically discuss that fact. Some- 
 how I was led into a direct invitation, and this was the 
 outcome. I had committed myself beneath my friend's 
 mahogany, and mider the influence of my friend's gene- 
 rous wine. I was in a corner ; and now, ye gods ! I had 
 to face Mrs. Smithe. There are moments when a man's 
 wife is simply awful. Snugly intrenched behind the un- 
 assailable line of defence, duty, and with such ' Woolwich 
 Infants' as her children to hurl against you, which she does 
 in a persistent remorseless wa}'", she is a terror. No man, 
 be he as brave as Leonidas or as cool as Sir Charles Cold- 
 stream, is proof against the partner of his bosom when she 
 is on the rampage ; and, as I have ah-eady observed, Mrs. 
 S. was ' end on.' 
 
 ' Another change will do the children good, Maria,' I 
 observed. 
 
 'Yes, I sz^ppose so. It will do Willie's cold good to 
 sleep in your dressing-room without a fire, won't it ? and 
 Blossie can have a bed made up in the bath. Is this Mr. 
 Simpson married or single?' 
 
 Ilinc nice laclirymcc. I couldn't say. I never asked 
 him. 
 
 ' What does it matter ?' I commenced, with a view to 
 diplomatising. 
 
 ' Yes, but it does,' she interposed. ' If he is a respect- 
 able married man, which I very much doubt, he must 
 have dear Willie's room.' 
 
 ' I'm very sorry that I asked him at all, Maria ; but as 
 he has been asked, and as I must drive over to meet him 
 in a few minutes, for Heaven's sake make the best of it.' 
 
 'Oh, of course; I receive my instructions, and am to 
 
Sn/PSON'S SXIPE. 
 
 199 
 
 carry them out. All tlie trouble falls upon me, while you 
 drive off to the station smoking a shilling cigar, when 
 you know that every penny will be wanted to send Willie 
 to Eton.' 
 
 I got out of it somehow. Not that Mrs. S. was entirely 
 pacified. She still preserved an armed neutrality; yet 
 even this concession was very much to be coveted. She's 
 a dear good little creature, but she has fiery moods occa- 
 sionally ; and I ask you, my dear sir, is she one whit the 
 worse for it ? How often does your good lady fly at you 
 during the twenty-four hours'^ How often! The theme 
 is painful. Passons. 
 
 My stained-wood trap was brought round by my man- 
 of-all-w^ork, Billy Doyle. Billy is a tight little ' boy,' over 
 whose unusually large skull some fifty summers' suns have 
 passed, scorching away his shock hair, and leaving only 
 a few streaks, which he carefully plasters across his bald 
 pate till they resemble so many cracks upon the bottom of 
 an inverted china bowl. Billy is my factotum. He looks 
 after my horse, dogs, gun, rod, pipes, and clothes, with a 
 view to the reversion of the latter. He was reared, ' man 
 an' boy,' on the estate, and is upon the most familiar yet 
 respectful terms with the whole family. Billy continually 
 lectures me, imparting his opinions upon all matters ap- 
 pertaining to my affairs, as though he were some rich 
 uncle whose will in my favour was safely deposited with 
 the family solicitor. 
 
 ' We've twenty minutes to meet the train, Billy,' I 
 observed, giving the reins a jerk. 
 
 ' Is it for to ketch the tin-o'clock thrain from Dublin V 
 he asked. 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' Begorra, ye've an hour 1 She's like yourself — she's 
 always late.' 
 
 ' There's a gentleman coming down to spend the day 
 and shoot,' I said, without noticing Billy's sarcasm. 
 
SLUPSON'S SNIPE. 
 
 ' Shoot ! Arrali, slioot what V 
 
 ' Why, snipe, plover — anything that may turn np.* ' 
 
 ' Be jabers, he'll have for to poach, thin.' 
 
 ' What do you mean, Billy V 
 
 ' Divvle resave the feather there is betune this an' 
 Ballybann ; they're dhruv ont av the cunthry.' 
 
 ' Nonsense, man. We'll get a snipe in Booker's fields.' 
 
 ' Ye will, av ye sind to Dublin for it.' 
 
 1 felt rather down in the mouth, for I had during the 
 season given unlimited permission to my surrounding 
 neighbours to blaze away — a privilege which had been 
 used, if not abused, to the utmost limits. Scarce a day 
 passed that we were not under fire, and on several occa- 
 sions were in a state of siege, in consequence of a succes- 
 sion of raids upon the rookeries adjoining the house. 
 
 ' We can try Mr. Pringle's woods, Billy.' 
 
 ' Yez had betther lave tliim alone, or the coroner 'ill be 
 afther havin' a job. Pringle Avud shoot his father sooner 
 nor he'd let a bird be touched.' 
 
 ' This is very awkward,' I muttered. 
 
 * Awkward ! sorra a shurer shake in Chrisendom. It's 
 crukkeder nor what happened to ould Major Moriarty 
 beyant at Sievenaculliagh, that me father — may the 
 heavens be his bed this day ! — lived wud, man an' 
 boy.' 
 
 Billy was full of anecdote, and being anxious to pull 
 my thoughts together, I mechanically requested him to 
 let me hear all about the dilemma in which the gallant 
 Major had found himself 
 
 ' Well, sir, th' ould Major was as dacent an ould 
 gintleman as ever swalHed a glass o' sperrits, an' there 
 was always lashins an' lavins beyant at the house. If ye 
 wor hungry it was yerself that was for to blame, and if 
 ye wor dhry, it wasn't be raisin av wantin' a golliogue. 
 Th' ould leddy herself was aiqual to the Major, an' a 
 hospitabler ould cupple didn't live the Shannon side o' 
 
S/A/PSON'S SNIPE. 
 
 Connanglit. Well, sir, wan mornin' a lettlier cums, sayin' 
 that some frind was comin for to billet on tliim. 
 
 " Och, I'm bet!" says the Mrs. Moriarly. 
 
 "What's that yer sayin' at all at allf says th' oukl 
 Major ; " who bet ye ?" says he. 
 
 " Shm-e, here's Sir Timothy Blake, and Misther Bodkin 
 Bushe, an' three more comin'," says she, " an' this is only 
 Wednesday." 
 
 " Arrah, what the dickens has that for to say to it?" 
 says the Major. 
 
 " There's not as much fresh mate in the honse as wnd 
 give a breqnest to a blackbird," says she ; " an' they all 
 ate fish av a Friday, an' how are we for to get it at all at 
 all ? An' they'll be wantin' fish an' game." 
 
 ' Ye see, sir,' said Billy, ' there was little or no roads 
 in thim ould times, an' the carriers only crassed that way 
 wanst a week. 
 
 "W^e're hobbled, shnre enough," says the Major, "we're 
 hobbled, mam," says he, " an' I wish they'd had manners 
 to wait to be axed afore they'd come into a man's house," 
 he says. 
 
 "Cudn't ye shoot somethin'?" says Mrs. Moriarty. 
 
 "Shoot a haystack flyin', mam," says the Major, for he 
 was riz, an' whin he was riz the divvle cudn't hould him; 
 "what is there for to shoot, barrin' a saygull? an' ye 
 might as well be aitin' sawdust." 
 
 "I seen three wild-duck below on the pond," she says. 
 
 " Ye did on Tib's Eve !" says the Major. 
 ' " Och, begorra, it's thruth I'm tellin' ye," says she ; " I 
 seen thim this very mornin', when I was comin' from mass 
 — an' be the same token," says she, lukkin' out av the 
 windy, " there they are, rosy an' well." 
 
 " Thin upon my conscience, mam," roared the Major, 
 *■' if I don't hit thim I'll make thim lave that!" 
 
 'So he ups an' loads an ould blundherbuss wud all 
 soarts av combusticles, an' down he creeps to the edge av 
 
202 Sn/PSON'S SNIPE. 
 
 tlie wather, and hides liisself in some long grass, for the 
 ducks was heddin' for him. Up they cmn ; an' the minnit 
 they wor within a cupple av perch he pulls the thrigger 
 as bould as a ram, whin by the hokey smut it hot him a 
 welt in the stummick that levelled him, an med him feel 
 as if tundher was inside av him rumblin'. He roared 
 millia murdher, for he thought he was kilt; but howsom- 
 ever he fell soft an' aisy, an' he put out his hand for to 
 see if he was knocked to bits behind, whin, begorra, he 
 felt somethin' soft and warm. " Arrah, what the puck is 
 this ?" sez he ; an' turnin' round, what was he sittin' on 
 but an illigant Jack hare. " Yer cotch ma houchal,^' sez 
 he, "an' yer as welkim as the flowers o' May." 
 
 'Wasn't that a twist o' luck, sir?' asked Billy, pausing 
 to take breath. 
 
 'Not a doubt of it. But what became of the ducks V 
 
 ' Troth, thin, ye'll hear. The Major dhropped two av 
 thim wud the combusticles in the blundherbuss, but th' 
 ould mallard kep floatin' on the wather in a quare soart 
 av a way, an' yellin' murdher. When the Major kemnigh 
 him, he seen that he was fastened like to somethin' undher 
 the wather ; an' whin he cotch him, what do ye think he 
 found? It's truth I'm tellin' ye, an' no lie: he found the 
 ramrod, that he neglected for to take out o' the gun, run 
 right through th' ould mallard. Half av it was in the 
 mallard, an' be the hole in me coat, th' other half was 
 stuck in a lovely lump av a salmon ; and the bould Major 
 cotch thim both. " Now," says he, " come on. Sir Tim 
 an' the whole creel av yez, who's afeard f An' I'm just 
 thinkin', sir,' added Billy, as we dashed into the railway 
 yard, 'that if ye don't get a slice av luck like Major 
 ]\Ioriarty's, yer frind might as well be on the Hill o' 
 Howth.' 
 
 The force of Billy's remark riveted itself in my mind,, 
 and the idea of asking a man so long a distance to shoot 
 nothing was very little short of insult. Mr. Simpson 
 
S/JfPSON'S SNIPE. 
 
 203 
 
 arrived as we drove in, arrayed in an Ulster just imported 
 from Inverness. His hat was new ; his boots were new ; 
 his gloves awfully new^, yellow and stiff, and forcing his 
 fingers very far apart, as though his hands were wooden 
 stretchers. His portmanteau, solid leather, was brand 
 new ; the very purse from which he extracted a new six- 
 pence to tip the porter was of the same virgin type. He 
 Avas mistaken for a bridegroom, and the fair bride was 
 eagerly sought for by the expectant porter whilst re- 
 moving a new rug from the compartment in which Mr. 
 Simpson had been seated. To crown all this newness, 
 his gun-case, solid leather, had never seen the open air 
 till this day, and the iron which impressed upon it Mr. 
 Rigby's brand could scarcely have had time to grow cold. 
 
 ' Begorra, it's in the waxworks he ought for to be,' 
 muttered Billy Doyle, grimly surveying him from head to 
 foot. 
 
 Mr. Simpson's thick moustache possessed a queer sort 
 of curl, his nose too followed this pattern, so that his face 
 somewhat resembled those three legs which are impressed 
 upon a Manx coin. His eyes were long slits, with narrow 
 lids, not unlike a cut in a kid glove : one of these eyes he 
 kept open by means of an eyeglass. This eyeglass was 
 perpetually dropping into his bosom and disappearing, 
 never coming to the surface when required, and only 
 coming up to breathe after a succession of prolonged and 
 abortive dives. 
 
 ' It's very cold,' he exclaimed, grasping my hand, or 
 rather endeavouring to grasp it, for the new gloves w^ould 
 admit of no loving contact. 
 
 'There's likker over beyant at the rifrishmint-bar,' 
 observed Billy, whose invariable habit it was to cut into 
 the conversation with such ' comments or observations as 
 suggested themselves to him at the moment. 
 
 Perceiving an inclination on the part of my guest to 
 profit by the hint, I interposed by informing him that the 
 
204 SLUPSON'S SNIPE. 
 
 refresliment was of the meanest possible character, in addi- 
 tion to its possessing a very inflammatory tendency. 
 
 ' Thrue for ye, sir. The sperrits is that sthrong that 
 it wud desthroy warts, or bm-n the paint off av a hall dure.* 
 
 ' That will do, Billy,' I said, as Simpson's face bore 
 silent tokens of wonder at the garrulity of my retainer. 
 ^ We don't require your opinion at present.' 
 
 ' Och, that's hapes, as Missis Dooley remarked whin she 
 swallird the crab,' said Billy very sulkily, as he mounted 
 behind. 
 
 ' How is our friend De Britska f I asked. 
 
 * Oh, very well indeed. He quite envied me my trip. 
 He says your shooting is about the best thing in this part 
 of the world.' 
 
 ' Oh, it's not bad,' I replied, assuming an indifference 
 that I was far from participating in ; ' but there are times 
 when I assure — ha, ha ! it may appear incredulous, that 
 we cannot stir a single feather.' 
 
 * Have you much snipe, Mr. Smitlie f 
 ' Sorra a wan,' replied Billy. 
 
 ' Your gamekeeper?' asked Simpson, jerking his head 
 in the direction of my retainer. 
 
 ' My factotum. He is one of the family. A regular 
 character, and I trust you will make allowances for him.' 
 
 ' I love characters. Depend upon it we shall not fall 
 out.' 
 
 Simpson chatted very agreeably, and very small. He 
 had read the Irish Times during the rail journey, and was 
 master of the situation. Some men take five-shillings- 
 worth out of a penny paper. This was one of them. He 
 had sucked it all in, and the day's news was coming out 
 through the pores of his skin. As a rule such men are to 
 be avoided. The individual who persistently asks you 
 ' What news f or ' Is there anything new to-day f is a 
 wooden-headed gossiping bore, who cannot start an idea, 
 and oils the machinery inside his skull with the twopenny- 
 
SIMPSON'S SNIPE. 
 
 205 
 
 halfpenny daily currency. Simpson spoke a great deal of 
 the army, quoted the various changes mentioned in that 
 day's Gazette with a vigour of memory that was perfectly 
 astounding. Although personally unknown to the coun- 
 trymen around me, he seemed thoroughly acquainted with 
 their respective pedigrees, their intermamages, their rent- 
 rolls, and in fact with their most private concerns; so 
 that before we reached our destination I knew consider- 
 ably more of my neighbours than I, or my father before 
 me, had ever known. 
 
 His shooting experiences were of the most extensive 
 and daring character. He had tumbled tigers, stuck pigs, 
 iced white bears, and ostracised ostriches. He had been 
 in the tiger's mouth, on the boar's tusks, and in the arms 
 of the bear. His detailed information on the subject of 
 firearms was worthy of a gunmaker's pet 'prentice. 
 
 'I've shot with Greener's patent central-fire choke- 
 bore, and I pronounce it a handy tool. Westley Richards 
 has made some good instruments, and Purdy's perform- 
 ances are crack. I've taken down one of Rigby's with 
 me, as I have some idea of experimentalising ; Rigby is a 
 very safe maker. I expect to do some damage to-day, 
 friend Smithe.' 
 
 What a laughing-stock I should be, when this man 
 unfolded the tale of his being decoyed into the country 
 by a fellow who bragged about his preserves, upon which 
 there wasn't a feather ! Would I make a clean breast of 
 it ? would I say that — 
 
 Whilst this struggle was waging beneath my waist- 
 coat we arrived, and there was nothing for it but to trust 
 to luck and Billy Doyle. 
 
 When we alighted, I asked Simpson into the drawing- 
 room, as his bed-chamber had not yet been allotted to 
 him. My wife was still sulky and did not appear, so I 
 had to discover her whereabouts. 
 
 * Simpson has arrived, my dear.' 
 
2o6 S/MPSON'S SNIPE. 
 
 ' I suppose so,' very curtly. 
 
 ' He is a very agreeable entertaining fellow.' 
 
 ' I suppose so/ snap. 
 
 ' Where have you decided on putting him V 
 
 ' In your dressing-room.' 
 
 ' My dressing-room f 
 
 'Yes, your dressing-room. I wouldn't disturb the 
 children for the Prince of Wales.' 
 
 Now this was very shabby of my wife. My dressing- 
 room was my sanctum sanctorum. There were my papers, 
 letters, pipes, boots, nicknacks, all laid out with a bache- 
 lor's care, and each in its own particular place. To erect 
 a bedstead meant an utter disturbance of my eifects, which 
 weeks could not repair, especially as regards my papers. 
 I expostulated. 
 
 ' There is no use in talking,' said my wife ; ' the bed 
 is put up.' 
 
 Tableau. 
 
 Whilst my guest was engaged in washing his hands 
 before luncheon, I held a conference with Billy Doyle with 
 reference to the shooting, our line of country, and the 
 tactics necessary to be pursued. 
 
 ' Me opinion is that he is a gomnioch. He doesn't khow 
 much. Av he cum down wud an old gun-case that was 
 in the wars, I'd be peckened ; but wud sich a ginteel tool 
 ye needn't fret. We'll give him a walk, anyhow. He'll 
 get a bellyful that will heart scald him.' 
 
 ' But the honour of the country is at stake, Billy. I 
 asked Mr. Simpson to shoot, promising him good sport, 
 and surely you are not going to let him return to Dublin 
 to give us a bad name.' 
 
 This appeal to Billy's feelings was well timed. He 
 knew every fence and every nest in the barony, and it 
 was with a view to putting things into a proper training 
 that I thus appealed to his better feelings. 
 
 Billy scratched his head. 
 
SIMPSON'S SNIPE. 
 
 207 
 
 'Begorra, he must have a bh'd if they're in it; but 
 they're desperate wild, and take no ind of decoyin'.' 
 
 Simpson's politeness to my wife was imbonnded. He 
 professed himself charmed to have the honour of making 
 her acquaintance, took her in to luncheon with as much 
 tender care as though she had been a cracked bit of very 
 precious china ware ; invited her to partake of everything 
 on the table, shoving the dishes under her chin, and ad- 
 vising her as to what to eat, drink, and avoid. He nar- 
 rated stories of noble families with whom he was upon 
 the most intimate terms, and assured my wife that he was 
 quite startled by her extraordinary likeness to Lady Sarah 
 Macwhirter; which so pleased Mrs. S. that later on she 
 informed me that as Blossie was so much better, she 
 thought it would be more polite to give Mr. Simpson the 
 blue bedroom. 
 
 I found this ardent sportsman very much inclined to 
 dally in my lady's boudoir, in preference to taking the 
 field, and encouraged this proclivity, in the ardent hope 
 of escaping the shooting altogether, and thus save the 
 credit of my so-called preserves. But here again I was 
 doomed to disappointment. Mrs. S., who now began to 
 become rather anxious about the domestic arrangements, 
 politely but firmly reminded him of the object of his visit, 
 and insisted upon our departing for the happy hunting- 
 grounds at once. And at length, when very reluctantly 
 he rose from the table, he helped himself to a stiff glass of 
 brandy-and-water, in order, as he stated, to ' steady his 
 hand.' 
 
 I must confess that I was rather startled when he 
 announced his intention of shooting in his Ulster. The 
 idea of dragging this long-tailed appendage across ditches 
 and over bogs appeared outre, especially as the pockets 
 bulged very considerably, as though they were loaded 
 with woollen wraps ; but I was silent in the presence of 
 one who had sought his quarry in the jungle, and shoved 
 
2o8 SIMPSON'S SNIPE. 
 
 my old-fashioned idea back into the fusty lumber-room 
 of my thoughts. Billy Doyle awaited us with the dogs at 
 the stable gate. These faithful animals no sooner per- 
 ceived me than they set up an unlimited howling of 
 delight ; but instead of bounding forward to meet me, as 
 was their wont, they suddenly stopped, as if struck by an 
 invisible hand, and commenced to set at Simpson. 
 
 This extraordinary conduct of these dogs — there are 
 no better dogs in Ireland — incensed Billy to fever heat. 
 
 ' Arrah, Avhat the puck are yez settin' at ? Are yez. 
 mad or dhrunk ? Whoop! gelang ow a that, Feltram! 
 Hush ! away wud ye. Birdlime !' 
 
 'Take them away; take them away I' cried Simpson 
 very excitedly. ' I don't want them ; I never shoot with 
 dogs. Remove them, my man.' 
 
 Billy caught Feltram, but Birdlime eluded his grasp ; 
 and having released Feltram and captured Birdlime, the 
 former remained at a dead set, whilst the latter struggled 
 with his captor, as though the lives of both depended on 
 the issue. 
 
 ' May the divvle admire me,' panted Billy, ' but this 
 bangs Banagher. Is there a herrin stirrin', or anything 
 for to set the dogs this way 1. — it bates me intirely.' 
 
 I naturally turned to my guest, who looked as puzzled 
 as I did myself. 
 
 ' I have it I' he cried : ' it's the blood of the sperm- 
 whale that's causing this.' 
 
 ' Arrah, how the blazes cud the blood av all the Avhales 
 in Ireland make thim shupayriour animals set as if the 
 birds were foreninst them?' dema,nded Billy, his arms 
 akimbo. 
 
 'I will explain,' said Simpson. 'Last autumn I was 
 up whaling off the coast of Greenland. We struck a fine 
 fish ; and after playing him for three-and-twenty hours, 
 we got him aboard. Just as we were taking the harpoon 
 out, he made one despairing effort and spurted blood ; a 
 
sn/pso.vs SXJPE. 
 
 109 
 
 few drops fell upon this coat, just here,' pointmg to the 
 inside portion of his right-hand cnff, ' and I pledge you my 
 veracity no dog can withstand it. They invariably point ; 
 and I assure you, Smithe, you could get up a drag hunt 
 by simply walking across country in this identical coat, 
 built by John Henry Smalpage.' 
 
 This startling and sensational explanation satisfied 
 me. Not so my factotum, who gave vent in an undertone 
 to such exclamations as ' Naboclish ! Win-a, umi^a ! What 
 does he take us for ? Whales, begorra !' 
 
 The riddance of the dogs was a grand coup for me. 
 In the event of having no sport the failure could be 
 easily accounted for, and I should come off with flying 
 colours. 
 
 ' I make it a point,' observed Simpson, ' to shoot as 
 little with dogs as possible. I like to set my own game, 
 shoot it, and bag it ; nor do I care to be followed by trou- 
 blesome and often impertinent self-opinionated game- 
 keepers' (Billy was at this moment engaged in incar- 
 cerating Feltram and Birdlime). ' These fellows are 
 always spoilt, and never know their position.' 
 
 I was nettled at this. 
 
 ' If you refer to — ' 
 
 ' My dear Smithe, I allude to my friend Lord Mulliga- 
 tawny's fellows, got up in Lincoln green and impossible 
 gaiters, who insist upon loading for you and all that sort 
 of thing. You know Mulligatawny, of course f 
 
 I rather apologised for not having the honour. 
 
 ' Then you shall, Smithe. I'll bring you together 
 when you come to town. Leave that to me ; a nice little 
 party: Mulligatawny, Sir Percy Whiffler, Colonel Owl- 
 finch, one of the Guards — they're at Beggar's Bush now, 
 I suppose — Belgum, yourself, and myself.' 
 
 This was very considerate and flattering ; and I heartily 
 hoped that by some fluke or other we might be enabled to 
 make a bag. 
 
 
 
SIMPSON'S SNIPE. 
 
 When we arvived upon the shooting-ground, I observed 
 that it was time to load ; and caUing up Billy Doyle with 
 the guns, I proceeded to carry my precept into practice. 
 My weapon Avas an old-fashioned muzzle-loader, one of 
 Truelock & Harris ; and as I went through the process of 
 loading, I could see that Mr. Simpson was regarding my 
 movements with a careful and critical eye. 
 
 ' I know that you swells despise this sort of thing,' I 
 remarked ; ' but I have dropped a good many birds with 
 this gun at pretty long ranges, and have wiped the eyes 
 of many a muzzle-loading party.' 
 
 'I — I like that sort of gun,' said Simpson. 'I'd be 
 glad that you'd take this,' presenting his, with both bar- 
 rels covering me. 
 
 ' Good heavens, dont do that !' 1 cried, shoving the 
 muzzle aside. 
 
 ' What — what — ' he cried, whirling round like a teeto- 
 tum — 'what have I done?' 
 
 ' Nothing as yet ; but I hate to have the muzzle of a 
 gun turned towards me since the day I saw poor cousin 
 Jack's brains blown out.' 
 
 'What am I to dof exclaimed Simpson. ' Til do any- 
 thing.' 
 
 ' It's all right,' I replied ; ' you won't mind my old- 
 world stupidity.' 
 
 My guest's gun was a central-fire muzzle-loader of 
 Higby's newest type, which he commenced to prepare for 
 action in what seemed to me to be a very bungling sort of 
 way. He dropped it twice, and in releasing the barrels 
 brought them into very violent collision with his head, 
 which caused the waters of anguish to roll silently down 
 his cheeks and on to his pointed moustache. If I had 
 not been aware of his manifold experiences in the shoot- 
 ing line, I could have set him dow^n as a man wdio had 
 never handled a gun in his life ; but knowing his powders 
 and prowess, I ascribed his awkwardness to simple care- 
 
Sn/PSO.YS SNIPE. 
 
 lessness, a carelessness in all probability due to the small- 
 ness of the game of which he was now in pursuit. I there- 
 fore refrained from taking any notice, and from making 
 any observation until he deliberately proceeded to thrust 
 a patent cartridge into the muzzle of the barrel of his cen- 
 tral-fire. 
 
 'Hold hard, Mr. Simpson; you are surely only jesting.' 
 
 SJesting! How do you mean?' 
 
 ' Why, using that cartridge in the way you are doing.' 
 
 ' What other way should I use it f 
 
 ' May I again remind you that I am utterly averse to 
 facetiousness where firearms are concerned, and — ' 
 
 ' My dear Smithe, I meant nothing, I assure you. I 
 pledge you ray word of honour. Here, load it yourself;' 
 and he handsd me the gun. 
 
 'There'll be a job for the coroner afore sunset,' growled 
 Billy." 
 
 'What do you mean, sir?' exclaimed Simpson rather 
 savagely. 
 
 ' Mane I There's widdys and lone orphans enough in 
 the counthry, sir — that's what I mane ;' and Billy started 
 in advance with the air of a man who had to do or die. 
 
 Mr. Simpson was silent for some time, during which 
 he found himself perpetually involved in his gun, which 
 appeared to give him the uttermost uneasiness. First, 
 he held it at arm's length as if it was a bow ; then he 
 placed it under his arm, and held on to it with the 
 tenacity of an octopus ; after a little he shifted it again, 
 sloping it on his shoulder, ever and anon glancing to- 
 wards the barrels to ascertain their exact position. He 
 would pause, place the butt against the ground, and 
 survey the surrounding prospect with tl^e scrutinising 
 gaze of the advance patrol of a Uhlan. 
 
 ' Hush !' he suddenly exclaimed: ' We lost something 
 that time ; I heard a bird.' 
 
 ' Nothin', barrin' a crow,' observed Billy. 
 
212 SIMPSON'S SNIPE. 
 
 ' A plover, sir ; it was the cry of a plover,' evasively 
 retorted the other. 
 
 'Holy Vargin! do ye hear this? Apluvver! Divvle- 
 resave the pluvver ever Avas seen in the barony !' 
 
 ' Silence, Doyle !' I shouted, finding that my retainer's 
 observations were becoming personal and unpleasant. 
 
 ' Troth, we'll all be silent enough by an' by.' 
 
 AVe had been walking for about half an hour, when 
 Mr. Simpson suggested that it might be advisable ta 
 separate, he taking one direction, I taking the other, but 
 both moving in parallel lines. Having joyfully assented 
 to this proposition, as the careless manner in which he 
 handled his gun was fra,ught with the direst consequences,. 
 I moved into an adjacent bog, leaving my guest to blaze 
 away at what I considered a safe distance. I took Billy 
 with me, both for company and for counsel, as my guest's 
 assumed ignorance of the fundamental principles of shoot- 
 ing had somewhat puzzled me. 
 
 ' It's a quare bisniss intirely, ]\Iasther Jim. He knows 
 no more how to howld a gun nor you do to howld a baby, 
 more betoken ye've two av the finest childre — God be 
 good to thim! — in Europe. I don't like for to say he's 
 coddin' us, wud his tigers an' elephants an' combusticles, 
 but, be me song, it luks very like it. I'd like for to see 
 him shootin', that wud putt an ind to the question.' 
 
 At this moment, bang ! bang ! went the two barrels of 
 my guest's gun. Billy and I ran to the hedge, and, 
 peeping through, perceived Simpson running very flist 
 towards a clump of furze, shouting and gesticulating 
 violently. I jumped across the fence, and was rapidly 
 approaching him, when he waved me back. 
 
 ' Stop ! don't come near me ! I'm into them. There- 
 are quantities of snipe here.' 
 
 'Arrah, what is he talkin' about at all at all?' panted 
 Billy. ' Snipes ! Cock him up wud snipes ! There ain't 
 a snipe — ' 
 
sn/pso.vs sy/P£. 213 
 
 Here Simpson, who had been groping amongst the 
 fm-ze, held, up to our astonished gaze two brace of snipe. 
 
 Billy Doyle seemed completely dnmbfounded. ' That 
 iDangs anything I ever heerd tell of. Man nor boy ever 
 •seen a snipe in that field afore. Begorra, he's handy 
 enough wud the gun, after all.' 
 
 I was very much pleased to find that our excursion 
 liad borne fruit, and that my vaunted preserves were not 
 •utterly barren. 
 
 ' That's a good beginning, Simpson,' I cried. ' Go 
 •ahead ; you'll get plenty of birds by and by.' 
 
 ' I'll shoot at nothing but snipe,' he replied. ' Here, 
 you Billy, come here and load for me.' 
 
 ' Let's look at the birds, av ye plaze, sir,' said Billy, 
 who began to entertain a feeling akin to respect for a man 
 who could bring down his two brace at a shot. ' I'll be 
 l)ound they're fat an' cosy, arter the hoighth av fine 
 fee din' on this slob.' 
 
 ' They're in my bag. By and by,' replied Simpson 
 -curtly. ' Now, my man, follow your master, and leave me 
 to myself;' and my guest strode in the opposite direc- 
 i:ion. 
 
 Bang ! bang ! 
 
 ' Be the mortial, he's at thim agin. This is shu- 
 payriour,' cried my retainer, hurrying towards the place 
 whence the report proceeded. 
 
 Simpson again held up two brace of snipe, and again 
 plunged them into his bag ; nor would he gratify the 
 justifiable longings of our gamekeeper by as much as a 
 peep at them. 
 
 ' This is capital sport. Why, this place is swarming 
 with snipe,' cried my guest whilst his gun was being 
 Teloaded. 'Depend upon it, it's a mistake to take 
 dogs. The birds smell them. Til try that bit of bog 
 now.' 
 
 ' Ye'll have to mind yer futtin',' observed Billy. ' It's 
 
14 S/MPSON'S SNIPE. 
 
 crukkecl an' cruss enough in some spots ; I'd betther be 
 wid ye.' 
 
 'Certainly not,' said my guest. 'I always shoot 
 alone.' 
 
 ' Och, folly yer own wish, sir ; only mind yer futtin'.' 
 
 Mr. Simpson disappeared into the hollow in which the 
 bog was situated, and, as before, bang ! bang ! we heard 
 the report of both barrels. 
 
 ' Be jabers, I'm bet intirely. Thim snipes must have- 
 been dhruv from the say, an' have come here unknownst 
 to any wan. kj, bawl away ! Whishst ! be the hokey^ 
 he's into the bog!' 
 
 A dismal wailing, accompanied by cries for help, arose 
 from out the bog, where we found poor Simpson almost 
 up to his chin, and endeavouring to support himself by 
 his elbows. 
 
 ' Ugh ! ugh ! lift me out, for heaven's sake ! My ne^^ 
 clothes — this coat that I never put on before' (his whaU 
 ing garment) — 'why did I come to this infernal hole? 
 Ugh! wghV 
 
 We dragged him up, leaving his patent boots and 
 stockings behind him. Billy bore him on his back to th©- 
 house, where he was stripped and arrayed in evening" 
 costume. 
 
 From the pockets of his Ulster, which it was found 
 necessary to turn out for drying purposes, Mr. William 
 Doyle extracted no less than six hrace of snipe. Unfortu- 
 nately for Mr. Simpson the bill was attached to the leg- 
 of one of the birds. They had been purchased at a 
 poulterer's in Dublin. 
 
 *• -H-- * * * 
 
 Mr. Simpson did not remain to dine or to sleep. He- 
 pleaded a business engagement which he had completely 
 overlooked, and left by the 4.50 train. 
 
 ' Av all th' imposthors! and his tigers an' elephants no- 
 less, an' bears an' algebras ! An' goin' for to cod me into- 
 
SIMPSON'S SNIPE. 215 
 
 believin' there was snipes growin' in a clover-Iield, an' thin 
 never to gi' me a shillin' ! Pah! the naygurl' and Billy 
 Doyle's resentment recognised no limits. 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to observe that I was not 
 invited to meet Lord MulKgatawny, Sir Percy Whiffler, 
 Colonel Owlfinch, and one of the Guards, and that my 
 wife holds Simpson over me whenever I hint at the 
 probability of a visit to tlie metropolis. 
 
THE FIRST DAY OF THE SEASON, AND ITS 
 RESULTS. 
 
 • When at the close of the departing year 
 Is heard that joyful sound, the huntsman's cheer, 
 And wily Eeynard with the morning air 
 Scents from afar the foe, and leaves his lair.' 
 
 I QUITE agree with the distiiigiiished foreign nobleman 
 who declared, that ' Nothing was too good to go foxing 
 in ;' and with the immortal Jorrocks of Handley Cross 
 
FIRST DAY OF THE SEASON, AND ITS RESULTS. 217 
 
 notoriety, I exclaim, ' Unting, my beloved readers, is the 
 image of war with only ten per cent of its dangers.' 
 
 Ever since I was an nnbreeched nrchin, and my only 
 steed a rough Shetland pony, across whose bare back my 
 infantine legs could scarcely stride, I have looked forward 
 to a day's hunting with the keenest relish. The prelimi- 
 nary sport of cub-hunting — ^with its early-dawn meets ; bad 
 scent, consequent upon fallen leaves and decayed veget- 
 able matter ; riotous young hounds, Avhich can scarcely be 
 brought to hunt upon any terms ; timid, nervous young 
 foxes, who hardly dare poke their sharp noses out of 
 covert — only serves to give a greater zest as it were to the 
 opening day. One or two woodland runs, just sufficient 
 to breath the well-trained hunter or take the exuberant 
 spirits (the accompaniments of high feeding and no work) 
 from the young one, after a stripling Reynard, who as yet 
 has no line of country of his own, and hardly dares to 
 venture far from the place of his birth, ending with a 
 killing just to blood the young hounds, only makes the 
 longing for the first day of the season more intense. 
 
 Not one of her Majesty's subjects throughout her vast 
 dominions — so vast indeed are they that, as the song 
 tells us, ' the sun never sets on their might' — not one, I 
 say, of her ]\Iajesty's lieges looked forward more anxiously 
 than I did to the first day of the hunting season of 18 — , 
 for why should I be too explicit about dates, or let all the 
 world know that I am so ancient as to remember anything 
 so long buried in the past ? I had just returned to old Eng- 
 land Avith a year's leave from my regiment, then in India. 
 I was possessed of capital health and spirits, was only just 
 six-and-twenty years of age, had five hundred pounds at 
 my banker's, and two as good nags in my stable as ever 
 a man laid his leg across. ' Hunting for ever !' I cried, as 
 I strolled into Seamemup and Basteemwell's, the un- 
 rivalled breechesmakers' establishment in the Strand, to 
 ■order a few pair of those most necessary adjuncts to the 
 
THE FIRST DA Y OF THE SEA SOX, 
 
 sporting man's toilet previous to leaving town. ' Hunting- 
 for ever,' and of all the packs in England, commend me to 
 my old acquaintance, those friends of my boyhood, the 
 Easyallshire Muggers. I am not sure but that, strictly 
 speaking, the term mugger ought only to be applied ta 
 those packs of hounds which are used for that peculiar 
 pastime which, to again quote the immortal Jorrocks, ' Is- 
 only fit for cripples, and them as keeps donkeys,' viz. 
 harriers. Be that as it may, the pack I now speak of 
 were, though called muggers, honCi fide foxhounds, and 
 as such, only used in the ' doing to death' of that wily 
 animal. 
 
 The country which had as it were given birth to this 
 distinguished pack presented to the hunting man very 
 much the same features as do most parts of England^ 
 There were the same number of ditches and dingles to be 
 got over somehow, the same gates Avhich would and would 
 not be opened, the same fences, stiles, and heavers to be 
 cleared, the same woodland parts to be hunted, from 
 which it w^as next to impossible to get a fox away, and to 
 which every one said he would never come again, but 
 for all that no one ever kept his word, for there were 
 just the very same number of sportsmen to be seen at the 
 very next meet held in the district ; thus proving that 
 foxhunting, even under difficulties, is still a most fascinat- 
 ing diversion ; and there were the same snug-lying gorse 
 coverts, from which a run was sure to be obtained over a 
 fiat well-enclosed country, which gave both man and 
 horse as much as ever their united efforts could accom- 
 plish, to be there or thereabouts at the finish. Nor were 
 the meets of the Easyallshire Muggers, advertised in 
 Bells Life, dissimilar in any respect to those of other 
 packs of hounds, for there were an equal number of cross 
 roads, turnpike gates, public houses, gibbets, woods, sign- 
 posts, andmilestones, as elsewhere. Well, to enjoy a season's 
 sport with this so distinguished hunt was my intention ;. 
 
A XD I TS RESUL TS. 2 T 9- 
 
 and no sooner had I completed the requisite arrangements- 
 with regard to my hunting toggery, which a residence of 
 some half-dozen years in India had rendered necessary, 
 than I took up my abode in the little town of Surlyford, 
 at the comfortable hotel rejoicing in the mythological sign 
 of the Silent Woman, a fabulous personage surely, to be 
 classed with Swans with Two Necks, Green Men, and 
 other creatures who never had any existence. The first 
 meet of the Easyallshire Muggers was advertised, so said 
 the county paper, to take place at the fourth milestone on 
 the Surlyford road. Thither I repaired fully equipped in 
 all the splendour of a new pink, immaculate cords, brown- 
 tinted tops, my blue birds'-eye scarf, neatly folded and 
 fastened with a pin bearing a most appropriate device, 
 viz. a real fox's tooth. In my impatience to be up and 
 doing on this our opening day, I arrived at the trysting- 
 place, from whence I was to woo my favourite pastime, 
 some half hour or more before the master and his pack 
 were due. I had, therefore, ample leisure to receive the 
 greetings of my numerous old friends and acquaintances, 
 as they came up from all parts, and in all directions, on all 
 sorts and all sizes of nags, and at all kinds of paces, to 
 the place of meeting. First to arrive on that useful steed 
 yclept ' Shanks's pony,' slouching along, clad in rusty 
 velveteen, baggy brown cord breeches and gaiters, billy- 
 cock, as he termed his wideawake hat, on head, a stout 
 ashen stick, cut from a neighbouring coppice, in hand, and 
 ten to one a quantity of wires in his pockets, was hand- 
 some, dark-eyed, good-for-nothing, scampish, dishonest 
 Gipsy Jim — the some time gamekeeper, when he could 
 get any to employ him, but oftener the poaching, drinking,, 
 thieving vagabond of the neighbourhood. A broad grin 
 of recognition and a touch of the hat on the part of the 
 Gipsy one, and an exclamation on mine of ' Bless me, Jim ! 
 not hanged yet'f placed us once again on the old familiar 
 footing of ' I will tell you all I know about foxes' (and 
 
THE FIRST DA Y OF THE SEASON, 
 
 who could afford better information than one whose habits 
 and disposition partook more of the vermin than the 
 man ?), ' providing yon give me a shilling to drink your 
 health.' Gipsy Jim and I had hardly interchanged these 
 civilities, when, trotting along on a stout, handsome, six- 
 year old, in capital condition, though, if anything, a little 
 too fat (not a bad fault, however, at the beginning of the 
 season), came farmer Thresher, of Beanstead, a florid, 
 yellow-haired, red-whiskered, jovial, hard-riding, inde- 
 pendent agriculturist, who, on the strength of having 
 been at school in years gone by with some of the neigh- 
 bouring squires, myself amongst the number, called us all 
 freely by our surnames, forgetting to prefix the accus- 
 tomed Mister, and thus giving great umbrage to some and 
 causing them always to pointedly address him as ' Mr. 
 Thresher.' Our mutual salutations had hardly come to 
 an end when we are joined by half a dozen more sturdy 
 yeomen, able and willing to go, let the pace be ever so 
 severe, and all of them contributing their five pounds 
 yearly to the support of the ' Easyallshire Muggers, spite 
 of wheat, sir, at fourteen shillings a bag.' 
 
 Young Boaster next turns up, a swaggering blade from 
 a neighbouring hunt, who is always abusing the Easyall- 
 shire hounds, and bragging of his own prowess, which 
 consists of riding extraordinary distances to far-off meets, 
 and doing nothing when he gets there, save telling won- 
 derful and fabulous stories of v/hat he had done last time 
 he was out, and what he intended to do then. He is suc- 
 ceeded by Dr. Bolus, 'the sporting Doctor,' as he is called, 
 who must be making a very handsome fortune in his pro- 
 fession, if his knowledge of medicine is anything like his 
 judgment in horse-flesh, his skill in the pigskin, or his 
 acquaintance with the line of a fox. After Bolus, on a 
 three-legged screw, a wonder to every one how it is kept 
 at all on its understandings, comes Aloes, the veterinary 
 surgeon, a pleasant-spoken, florid, little old man, skilful in 
 
AiVD ITS RESULTS. 
 
 221 
 
 liis business, ever agreeing, with his ' That I would, sir,' 
 and one who I would much prefer to attend me when 
 sick than many a professor of the healing art among men.. 
 The majesty of the law is next upheld by Mr. Sheepskin, 
 the attorney, a gentlemanly man, a light weight, and one 
 who rides, when need be, as hard, if not harder than any 
 one. Nor is the Church absent (for we have not a few 
 clerical subscribers to the Easyallshire Muggers), but is 
 well represented in the person of the Rev. Mr. Flatman, a 
 good-looking, well-built, foxy -whiskered divine, whose 
 handling of the ribbons on the coach-box, and seat on 
 horseback, would entitle him to a deanery at the very 
 least, could the Broad-Church party but come into power. 
 His small country parish, however, does not suffer by the 
 fondness of its rector for the sports of the field ; a hard- 
 working and most exemplary curate, he is still a pains- 
 taking and estimable parish priest, and much preferred, I 
 doubt not, by all his parishioners to any more busy and 
 interfering divine of either of the other two schools of 
 divinity. I myself am by no means the sole member of 
 the military profession present, for we are here of all 
 ranks, from the just-joined ensign to the gallant colonel 
 of the county militia, a stout fine-looking veteran, none 
 of your feather-bed soldiers, and one who, spite of his 
 Aveight, is an exceedingly difficult man to beat across 
 country. 'Mammon,' as it is the fashion nowadays to- 
 call that useful article, money, is seen approaching in the 
 person of the Surlyford banker, who, wisely flinging busi- 
 ness to the winds at least twice in the week, gets astride a 
 good-looking, nearly thoroughbred nag, and finds accept- 
 ing bullfinches, negotiating ditches, and discounting gates, 
 stiles, &c., a much more healthy and more pleasant, if not 
 more profitable, occupation than everlastingly grubbing 
 after filthy lucre. 
 
 The master now makes his appearance, tall and up- 
 right, knowing thoroughly the duties of his office, and if 
 
.2 2 2 THE FIRST DA V OF THE SEASON, 
 
 not quite so bold and determined a rider as in years gone 
 by, still making up for want of nerve in knowledge of the 
 country, and for lack of dash in careful riding and judi- 
 cious nicking-in. Suffice it to sa}^, that at the finish, his 
 absence is never observed, though how he came to be 
 there is better known to the second-rank horsemen than 
 to the fliers. The huntsman and whip are much the same 
 as those worthies are everywhere ; but the houuds, how 
 to describe them I know not. 
 
 The Easyallshire Muggers set all rules regarding 
 the make, size, and symmetry of foxhounds at defiance. 
 They show almost better sport, and kill more foxes, than 
 any pack in the kingdom ; and yet they are as uneven as 
 a ploughed field, and as many shapes and sizes as a 
 charity school. I can only say, ' handsome is what hand- 
 some does ;' and if my canine friends are not pleasant to 
 the eye of the connoisseur — if they comenot up to Bective, 
 Somerville, and other writers on hunting description of a 
 perfect foxhound, still they act beautifully — which to my 
 mind is far preferable to looking beautiful — and will run 
 and kill foxes with any hounds in England. The hunts- 
 man and whip, though not so well mounted (economy is the 
 ■order of the day with the Easyallshire Muggers), as we 
 would wish to see them, yet manage somehow to get 
 across the country, and to be with their hounds ; though 
 for the matter of that, such is the sagacity of the Easyall- 
 shire pack, they can very frequently do quite as well 
 without the assistance of their ruler and guide as with it. 
 The Easyallshire Hunt, as the name implies, is an easy- 
 going sort of concern, in which every man, gentle and 
 simple, has a finger in the pie; every subscriber imagining 
 that he has a perfect right, on the strength of his sub- 
 scription, to hunt, whip-in, or otherwise direct the move- 
 ments of the hounds whenever opportunity occurs. But 
 for-rard ! for-rard on ! or I shall be at the fourth milestone 
 ■on the Surlyford road all day, instead of drawing that 
 
AXD ITS RESULTS. 22 
 
 inviting piece of govse covert which lies so pleasant and 
 warm, with its southern aspect on yonder bank. A guinea 
 to a gooseberry, a fox lies there ! 
 
 Joe, the huntsman, now trots along through the some- 
 what bare and brown pasture-fields towards the covert ; 
 the pack, eager and keen for the fray, clustering round the 
 heels of his horse. A few moments only elapse and the 
 sea of gorse is alive with hounds poking here, there, and 
 everywhere, seeking the lair of sly Reynard. Old expe- 
 rience having taught me that Gipsy Jim's knowledge of 
 the fox and his habits (for being half-brother to the var- 
 mint in his nature, how can it fail to be otherwise?) would 
 serve me in good stead, I station myself near to him in 
 order to have a good view of ' Mr. Reynolds,' as Jim calls 
 the cunning animal, when he breaks covert. Nor am I 
 wrong in my conjecture ; for after a few pleasant notes 
 from old Bellman, who hits upon the place where master 
 fox crossed a ride early this morning, and a 'hark to Bell- 
 man' from Joe the huntsman, out jumps, almost into Jim's 
 arms, as fine a fox as ever wore a brush. Master Reynard 
 looks somewhat astonished at being brought so suddenly 
 face to face with a two-legged monster, and seems half 
 inclined to turn back again to his hiding-place ; but, per- 
 haps judging from Jim's varmint look that no danger 
 might be apprehended from that quarter, and being- 
 warned by the deep notes of old Bellman that his late 
 quarters were untenable, he throws back his head as if to 
 snifi" the pleasant morning breeze, and giving his brush a 
 gentle wave of defiance, boldly takes to the open, and 
 starts across the field which surrounds the covert at a 
 good rattling pace. Gipsy Jim grins from ear to ear with 
 delight, showing his white regular teeth; at the same 
 time holding up his hand as a warning to me to keep 
 silence for a few seconds, so as not to spoil sport by 
 getting the fox headed back. The moment, however. 
 Master Reynard is safely through the neighbouring hedge, 
 
224 
 
 THE FIRST DA Y OF THE SEASON 
 
 Jim's tremendous view-lialloa makes the whole country 
 ring again. This is the signal for every bumpkin and 
 footman to shout and halloa with might and main, thus 
 making the necessary confusion of the find worse con- 
 founded still. ' Hold your noisy tongues,' shout the 
 master, huntsman, Avhip, and all the horsemen ; but ' Hold. 
 
 your noisy tongues' they cry in vain. ' Tallyho ! tallyho ! 
 tallyhol' yell the footmen, totally regardless of all expos- 
 tulation. But crafty Jim, knowing the idiosyncrasy of 
 the yokels, has made all safe by his silence, until the red- 
 coated rascal is well away. 'Hark! halloa!' 'Hark! 
 halloa !' roar the field. ' Tootle, tootle !' goes Joe's horn,. 
 
AND ITS RESULTS. 225 
 
 reechoed by an astlimatical effort in the same direction, 
 •on the part of the worthy master, who blows as if his 
 horn was full of dirt. The homids, however, are accns- 
 tomed to the somid, feeble as it is, and all rush to the 
 spot where master, huntsman, and Gipsy Jim are all 
 cheering them exactly at the place where foxy broke 
 away. What a burst of music now strikes upon the ear, 
 far superior to the delights of any concert it has ever 
 been my lot to be present at, as the hounds acknow- 
 ledge with joy the rapture they feel at the strong scent 
 left behind by him they had so unceremoniously disturbed 
 from his comfortable lodgings ! But the scent is too good 
 for us to dwell long for description, and away they go at 
 .a killing pace, which, if it lasts long enough, will see to 
 the bottom of many a gallant steed there present. And 
 now comes the rush of horsemen amidst the cries of 'Hold 
 hard ! don't spoil your sport !' of the master, and the 
 * 'Old 'ard !' of the huntsman, who has an eye to tips, and 
 therefore restrains his wrath in some measure. But the 
 Easyallshireans are not to be kept back by any such 
 remonstrances and expostulations as these, and those who 
 mean to be with the hounds throughout the run, hustle 
 .along to get a forward place; whilst the knowing and 
 cunning ones, with the master at their head, turn short 
 round, and make for a line of gates which lie invitingly 
 open, right in the direction which the fox has taken. I 
 set a good start, and being well mounted, sailed away, 
 and am soon alongside of Joe the huntsman, whose horse, 
 though a screw, and not very high in condition, is obliged 
 to go, being compelled thereto by its rider. A stiff-look- 
 ing fence, which I charge at the same moment as Joe, who 
 takes away at least a perch of fencing, and thus lets many 
 a muff through, lands us into the next field, and affords a 
 fair view of the hounds streaming away a little distance 
 before us. But why should I describe the run"? BelVs 
 Life, weekly, gives much more graphic descriptions of 
 
 P 
 
2 26 THE FIRST DA Y OF THE SEASON, 
 
 such things than I am able to write; let me, there- 
 fore, confine my narrative to what befell my individual 
 self. 
 
 A rattling burst of twenty minutes rendered the field, 
 as may be well imagined, very select, and it would in alt 
 probability have become still more so, had not a fortunate 
 check given horses and men a few moments' breathing 
 time, thus enabling the cunning riders to get up to the 
 hounds. ' Away we go again, and I will be there at the 
 finish,' I exclaimed, as pressing my cap firmly on my head, 
 and shutting my eyes, I ride at a tremendous bullfinch, 
 the thick boughs and sharp thorns of which nearly 
 scratch my eyes out and decapitate me as I burst 
 through it. But, as in the case of the renowned John 
 Gilpin, it is — 
 
 ' All, luckless speech and bootless boast, 
 For which I paid full dear.' 
 
 Another ten minutes' best pace and the fox is evi- 
 dently sinking before us ; but, alas ! it was not to be my 
 lot to see the gallant animal run into and pulled down in 
 the open, after as fine a run as was ever seen. Trim-kept 
 hedges, well-hung, stout, and newly -painted white gates, 
 had shown me that for the last few moments he had 
 entered the domain of some proprietor, whose estate cer- 
 tainly presented the very pink of neatness. Little indeed 
 did I dream that there would exist in the very heart of 
 Easyallshire any one so benighted as to object to the 
 inroads made upon him by that renowned pack, the Mug- 
 gers. But I reckoned without my host, or rather, as the 
 sequel will show, with my host ; for as, in my endeavours 
 to save my now somewhat exhausted horse, I rode at what 
 appeared an easy place in a very high fence, bounded on 
 the ofi'-side with a stifi" post and rail, an irate elderly gen- 
 tleman, gesticulating, shouting, and waving an umbrella 
 in his hand, suddenly rose up as it Avere from the very 
 bowels of the earth, just as my steed was preparing to- 
 
AXD ITS A'ESL/LTS. 
 
 227 
 
 make his spring, thus causing the spirited animal to rear 
 up, and, overbalancing himself, to fall heavily to the 
 ground with me imder him. When I next recovered con- 
 sciousness and opened my eyes, I was being borne along 
 on a hurdle, by the author of my misfortunes — a gray- 
 haired, piebald-whiskered, stout, little, red-faced old gen- 
 tleman — and two of his satellites, whom I rightly conjec- 
 tured to be the coachman and gardener ; but the pain of 
 my broken leg made me relapse into unconsciousness, 
 nor did the few wits I by nature possess return to me 
 again until I was laid on a bed, and a medical practitioner 
 of the neighbourhood was busy at work setting my frac- 
 tured limb. To make a long story short, I remained under 
 the roof of Major Pipeclay — for that was the name of the 
 irascible little gentleman whose hatred of hunting, hounds, 
 and horses had caused my suffering — until my wounded 
 limb was well again, the worthy old major doing all in 
 his power to make amends for the catastrophe his absurd 
 violence had brought about. 
 
 At the expiration of six weeks I was able to move 
 about on crutches ; at the termination of twice that period, 
 I was well again, and had, moreover, fallen irretrievably in 
 love with the bright eyes and pretty face of Belinda Pipe- 
 clay, one of the major's handsome daughters. Thinking, 
 in my ignorance of the fair sex, that the child of so irasci- 
 ble a papa — having been in her juvenile days well tutored 
 under the Solomonian code of ' sparing the rod, and spoil- 
 ing the child' — must therefore, of necessity, make a sub- 
 missive and obedient wife, I proposed, was accepted, 
 obtained the major's consent, and became a Benedict. 
 
 Dear reader, I am really ashamed to confess the truth : 
 ' I have been severely henpecked ever since.' Whether 
 Belinda possesses the same antipathy to hounds, horses, 
 and hunting men as her progenitor, I cannot possibly tell ; 
 for returning to India soon after my marriage, I had no 
 opportunity of there testing her feelings in that respect. 
 
2 28 FIRST DAY OF THE SEASON, AND ITS RESULTS. 
 
 Now the increasing number of mouths in our nm'sery com- 
 pels a decreasing ratio of animals in my stable, and I am 
 reduced to one old broken-winded cripple, which I call 
 'the Machiner.' He takes Mrs. Sabretache and myself 
 to the market town on a Saturday, and mamma, papa, 
 and the little Sabretaches to church on the following 
 day. 
 
A NIGHT AMONG WILD-FOWL. 
 
 There are fevv- matters connected with our field-sports 
 Avliich have provoked so much superfluous satire and 
 angry recrimination as the feud between ' flight-shooters' 
 and punt-gun shooters. Into this question it is unneces- 
 sary, in giving a description of a night's adventures with 
 wikl-fowl, that I should enter. I merely remark that a 
 man may be a flight-shooter without being an outrageous 
 villaiD, and that a punt-gun shooter need not necessarily 
 be an abandoned wretch. Both have got much to say on 
 their respective sides of the dispute. It must be remem- 
 bered that the wild-fowl along our coasts and marshes 
 have to be slain for the table ; and that, whether sports- 
 men adopt the plan or not, the shooting down of the 
 birds in large quantities by punt-guns will not be discon- 
 tinued. If a man finds his highest notions of sport in 
 stealing along a creek in a wet punt and discharging 
 suddenly upon a mass of sitting widgeon the contents of 
 a huge gun — if the utmost point of his ambition is to kill 
 his seventy wild-duck with one shot, why should he not 
 so enjoy himself? No one would seek to limit his plea- 
 sures ; for, after all, these birds have to be shot for the 
 market. But surely he might be satisfied with the number 
 of his slain and the brilliant adventures of the pursuit, 
 without constantly accompanying them with much illogi- 
 cal abuse of those who prefer to shoot mallard and teal as 
 they shoot partridge and pheasant — that is to say, by the 
 exercise of their individual skill directed against the 
 natural safeguard of the birds, their flight. The man 
 who brings down his two or three couple of duck as they 
 
230 
 
 A NIGHT AMONG WILD-FOWL. 
 
 pass to and fro between their places of rest and feeding 
 is accnsed of frightening away the wild-fowl from our 
 shores; and the accusation comes from a man who de- 
 scends upon a whole flock and kills them by the fifty ! 
 
 However, there was no question of theoretical com- 
 parison on that evening which saw us assembled in the 
 warm kitchen of Marshlands House, hastily donning those 
 great boots, warm wrappers, and furry caps with which 
 we were about to face the cold night air. 
 
 'It is werry cold, sir,' said the ancient and faithful 
 Peter, coming in from without, and rubbing his hands 
 briskly. 
 
 ' And clear?' asked Peter's master. 
 
 ' Yes, sir ; clear starlight. The moon isn't up yet, sir 
 — at least, not to speak on — law ! sir, you'll ha' your coat 
 on fire !' 
 
 The last exclamation was addressed not to Peter's 
 master, who was a small, thin, neat gentleman, but to a 
 large and corpulent Scotch Bailie, who had come down to 
 the Marshlands on a visit, and was at this moment so 
 torturing his gigantic frame with the effort to get on his 
 boots, that his coat-tails, sticking out, had almost touched 
 the glowing cf)als. 
 
 ' Losh, me I' cried the Bailie, as he tugged and gasped ; 
 ' I had nae thocht that doon here a man had to pit on 
 boots to gang a-shootin' in — for a' the world as if he was 
 aboot to stand in a burn a' day and fish for sawmon. And 
 I'm feared it'll be unco cauld if we've got to wade at the 
 dead o' nicht through a lot o' sheughs and ditches.' 
 
 ' A man of your figure, Bailie, should not feel the cold,' 
 said Mr. Penley, whose firm, muscular, nervous constitu- 
 tion was much better fitted to withstand cold than Bailie 
 Gemmill's soft sensitive adiposity ; ' and, besides, you have 
 as many wrappers there as might make your outfit for an 
 Arctic cruise.' 
 
 The Bailie proceeded to wind himself up in these wTap- 
 
A NIGHT AMONG WILD-FOWL. 231 
 
 pers, until, at last, liis dimensions were simply enormous. 
 He seemed one huge mass of gray wool, muffled up so 
 that his neck had to be kept stiff, and so that he could 
 scarcely stoop to pick up his gun. The dogs, on seeing 
 him lift the well-known implement, jumped up and began 
 io bark with delight, the stout gentleman endeavouring 
 to pacify them with husky endearments which half-stuck 
 in his throat. 
 
 ' Doon, dowgs, doon ! Doon, Teeger ; doon, Walnut, 
 je'll wauken the whole house ! Dear me, Peter, why dinna 
 ye tak the dowgs outside V 
 
 Peter, being appealed to, speedily silenced the dogs ; 
 and a few minutes thereafter we left the ruddy comfort- 
 able kitchen, and passed out into the open air. 
 
 The Bailie shivered. 
 
 ' The wind's aff the sea,' he said, as if he had suddenly 
 plunged into a cold bath. 
 
 It was really a fine night, clear and bright, with just 
 sufficient moonhght to detect the outlines of objects. 
 Our party were almost wholly dressed in gray; and as 
 we passed silently away from the immediate environs of 
 Marshlands House, we might easily have been taken for a 
 ■company of restless spirits by any unfortunate yokel who 
 happened to be out at that unearthly hour. 
 
 We were now bound for one of those wild-fowl haunts 
 which are every day becoming rarer — one of those secluded 
 districts of our sea-coast which have escaped the perils of 
 becoming famous, where wild-fowl find a retreat which is 
 only invaded by one or two local guns, and where the 
 possibilities for getting near the birds are unusually facile. 
 I do not think a punt-gun had ever been used in this par- 
 ticular corner of the world; the owner of Marshlands 
 House, who did the most of the shooting in the district, 
 being far too great a lover of the ordinary method, and 
 too great an admirer of his personal prowess with a double- 
 barrel. 
 
232 
 
 A NIGHT AMONG WILD-FOWL. 
 
 At one point Mr. Penley's shooting-ground went right 
 clown to the sea ; and our first move was in that direction, 
 where, as he promised, Ave were to witness a pretty sight. 
 We were walking qnietly along the side of a bit of cover, 
 in order to reach the open land near the shore, when we 
 were startled by a loud clack ! clack ! and the breaking 
 away of a pair of tolerably large birds from out the bushes. 
 They rose as they flew, and just as the dark specks were- 
 visible against the clear sky, up went Penley's two barrels 
 and down came both birds in fine style. The rattle the 
 barrels made in the deep stillness of the night seemed 
 rather to have disconcerted the Bailie, who had, as he 
 said, received no warning that a gun was to be fired close- 
 to his ear. The dogs soon brought in the birds; and 
 these proved to be — as their cry of danger had led us to 
 expect — a brace of woodcocks, which Penley considered, 
 for his country, a quite Avonderful stroke of luck. 
 
 As we neared the shore, the greatest precautions were^ 
 of course taken to prevent the slightest noise carrying on 
 an intimation of our approach to the birds we expected 
 to find there. Presently, however, we heard distinctly 
 through the deep silence that continued, varied, and loud 
 whistling, which tells that a company of widgeon are 
 sailing about in the neighbourhood. They had probably 
 been startled by the double shot fired by Penley ; and as 
 they would now be more strictly than ever on the watch,, 
 the greatest caution was necessary in approaching them. 
 By and by we found ourselves in front of a sort of bank, 
 covered with clumps of farze-bushes, and towards the top 
 of this height we quietly crept. The bank overlooked the 
 long shelving plain that the receding tide had left exposed ; 
 and as we gained the summit and met the strong cold 
 sea-breeze, it brought us a confused sound of the waves, 
 which, too far out of sight to be distinguished as any- 
 thing but a dense purple mass, were wearily lashing the- 
 coast. 
 
A NIGHT AMONG WILD-FOWL. 
 
 233 
 
 'It's extraorclinar' dark!' muttered the Bailie, as he 
 puffed and panted with his previous exertions. ' I can 
 see naething ava !' 
 
 'Hush!' said Penley, as he kept carefully scanning 
 that long expanse of sea-board before us. 
 
 The clamour of the cock-widgeon had ceased, and it 
 was almost certain the company had settled somewhere 
 in our neighbourhood. In time, as our eyes became accus- 
 tomed to the place, we perceived a large black patch on 
 the dull gray plain — a broad dark stain, as if a great 
 stretch of the shore were covered with sea-weed. My 
 friend pointed this out to the Bailie. 
 
 ' That dark place, that looks like a broad island, is one 
 mass of birds as thick as ever they can sit.' 
 
 I fancied I saw the huge man tremble. He raised his 
 elbow and brought up his gun. 
 
 'What are you going to do?' I asked. 
 
 ' Shoot !' he whispered. ' Ane might kill a dizzen out 
 o' such a lot !' 
 
 ' Nonsense !' muttered Penley angrily ; ' you might as 
 well try to kill them with a pea-shooter. Let us go back 
 now, and try the lakes.' 
 
 We descended from the bank and struck inland in 
 another direction. Our course was now over a tract of 
 marsh which was intersected with deep gullies, many of 
 which had runnels of water in their depths. We did fol- 
 low a certain path and crossed one or two of the deeper 
 gullies by means of planks that had been thrown across ; 
 but on the whole our method of travelling was a severe 
 one, and the Bailie groaned in spirit. At last he came to 
 a standstill on the brink of a gully which seemed to have 
 a dangerous assortment of succulent water-plants along 
 its course. 
 
 ' I winna stir a foot/ he said firmly. 
 
 'Whyf 
 
 'I'll wait here till the birds begin to pass overhead; 
 
234 A NIGHT AMONG WILD-FOWL. 
 
 I'm no used to jiimpin' ower bogs in the middle of the 
 night like a will-o'-the-wisp.' 
 
 ' The birds won't begin their flight for a couple ofhom's 
 jet,' I said. 
 
 ' I dinna care. I'm no a gutta-percha ball to stot, and 
 stot, and stot from ditch to ditch, and look as if I liked it. 
 I don't like it.' 
 
 ' Hold your tongue and listen, Bailie,' said Penley. 
 
 He did as he was desired ; and then we heard clearly 
 and distinctly the different cries of the wild-fowl — the 
 quacking of the mallard, the hoarser cry of the teal, and 
 even an occasional plaintive scream from a curlew. 
 
 ' There's music for you ! Can you resist the invita- 
 tion? These birds are wheeling about the small lakes 
 over there, or paddling about on the water.' 
 
 'There's plenty of water here,' grumbled the Bailie. 
 
 ' What's the use o' stoppin' 'ere, sir V said Peter re- 
 spectfully, but firmly. ' The duck won't come near you, 
 if you stand out on the marshes like this.' 
 
 Bailie Gemmill was at length goaded into following us ; 
 and in time we left the roughest part of the marsh behind 
 us, and drew near the partially wooded hollow in which 
 lay several patches of water which Penley dignified with 
 the name of lakes. Peter now took the lead, having both 
 dogs leashed, and guided us down a narrow valley which 
 was well filled with bushes. Behind these bushes we 
 -crept along, scarcely daring to breathe, and feeling care- 
 fully for our footing before making each step. Then he 
 halted, and we crept to the front. Peering over the 
 thickest part of the bushes and through the bare twigs of 
 the top, we saw before us a quiet little tarn which, on one 
 side especially, where the thin moonlight fell upon it, was 
 of a faint gray. Penley moved further along, and, in 
 passing, whispered, 
 
 ' Do not fire for a few minutes, until I get into a good 
 position. Pick out a diver for your first shot.' 
 
A NIGHT AMONG WILD-FOWL. 235 
 
 The Bailie and Peter remained with me, the latter 
 Laving a spare gun with him. The Bailie shivered per- 
 ceptibly, either through cold or the agonies of anticipa- 
 tion. 
 
 On the darker side of the tarn were a lot of rushes and 
 sedge ; and it seemed to me that I could vaguely distin- 
 guish certain black forms moving through this tall vege- 
 tation. The surface of the water was quite blank, until 
 a diver suddenly popped up and began slowly paddling 
 away. 1 fancied he was a golden eye, and he offered an 
 easy shot, had it been worth while to shoot him singly. 
 By and by there was a loud quacking among the rushes, 
 and presently we could distinguish a number of black 
 objects swimming out into the gray of the tarn. On they 
 came, one after the other, apparently quite unconscious 
 of the danger lurking near them, until the surface of the 
 pond was thickly dotted with their dusky forms. I touched 
 Peter on the arm, and pointed to the spare gun. He nodded 
 in reply. 
 
 One or two divers now made their appearance, bobbing 
 up and down continually. Watching my chance, I caught 
 sight of one which had just risen, and at the same mo- 
 ment I uttered a short whistle. He turned instantaneously, 
 his head slightly thrown up, and in the same second he 
 received the contents of my right barrel. The sharp ring 
 of the gun was the signal for such a noise and confusion 
 as fairly astounded me. I had no idea that the sedges 
 round this little tarn contained such a mass of birds as 
 now rose into the air, screaming and whirring. The 
 signal was repeated by a couple of shots from the post in 
 which Penley was placed, followed by a couple of splashes 
 in the water, and at the same time the Bailie let drive 
 into ' the thick of them' with his two barrels, while I dis- 
 charged my remaining barrel, and managed also to pick 
 off a couple of late and frightened stragglers with the 
 spare gun which Peter handed to me. 
 
236 A NIGHT AMONG WILD-FOWL. 
 
 'Where did yonr birds fall, sir?' asked Peter of the 
 Bailie. 
 
 'How should I ken?' retorted the other indignantly.. 
 ' I fired into the birds : how could mortal man tell where 
 they drapped?' 
 
 Peter was soon down by the side of the water, and the 
 two dogs swimming about in search of the dead birds. 
 In a few minutes they had recovered two couple of mal-^ 
 lard, a couple of teal, and a bird which we, in the semi- 
 darkness, concluded to be a golden eye. The latter must 
 have been killed at once, as these birds when they are 
 wounded dive, and very frequently never return to the 
 surface. 
 
 'There's another bird somewhere, Peter,' said the 
 Bailie. 'Ye have only seeven, and we fired eight shots. 
 It's no possible that I could ha' missed, for ye see I ha' a 
 bit o' paper on the barrel, and I fired as straught as a 
 line.' 
 
 There was something exceedingly ingenuous in the 
 Bailie's supposing that we would of course accuse him of 
 the missed shot ; but Penley comforted him by saying that 
 Peter should return at break of day to see if some wounded 
 bird had concealed itself among the rushes. 
 
 'And seeven out o' eight is no bad, Mr. Penley,' he 
 remarked, in reply, ' when ye conseeder that we are 
 shootin' in the deed o' the nicht.' 
 
 ' This isn't the dead of night, Bailie,' said Penley, as 
 he reloaded. ' This is a fine clear morning.' 
 
 ' May be,' said the Bailie, * may be. But I'd like to see 
 ye read a chapter in Nehemiah the noo.' 
 
 We pushed on to the next tarn, which was in size 
 about the same as that we had just left. 
 
 ' The birds will be very wary,' said Penley, ' for they 
 must have heard the sound of our guns. Indeed, we may 
 find none at all there.' 
 
 We advanced very circumspectly ; and as we neared 
 
A NIGHT AMONG WILD-FOWL. 
 
 237 
 
 the tarn, we were skirting the edge of a ditch in which 
 there was a little runnel of water. Here a most milucky 
 accident occurred. By some means or other Bailie Gem- 
 mill had got on a little in front, and was picking his steps 
 carefully by the side of the gully, when a loud and sudden 
 noise caused him fairly to spring back. About half a dozen 
 wild-duck had been down in the ditch, and had risen 
 almost from under his feet with that clatter and whir 
 and crying which mark the fright of the mallard. The 
 Bailie received such a shock that in springing back he 
 stumbled or slipped, and the next moment he had tumbled 
 down into the ditch, while a terrific report announced to 
 us that both barrels of his gun had gone off. Penley did 
 not even look after his friend. He saw in a moment that 
 the cries of these mallard would ruin our only chance of 
 getting a shot on the adjoining tarn ; and so, with admir- 
 able presence of mind, he put up his gun and brought 
 down the last couple of the ducks which had caused the 
 mishap. All this had occurred so simultaneously that it 
 was only as an afterthought that he remembered the ex- 
 plosion of the Bailie's gun, which had taken place with 
 his own; and then, as he turned to the watery hole in 
 which our friend had sunk, Peter said, as he scrambled 
 down the bank, 
 
 ' Lor, sir, I fear he's hurt hisself. But a deal o' the 
 shot just passed my ear.' 
 
 The Bailie was clearly not dead. There was a splashing 
 and heaving among the reeds, as though a hippopotamus 
 were washing himself in the place ; and there was a hoarse 
 -sound — a stream of ejaculations and expletives in broad 
 resonant Scotch. 
 
 ' You're not hurt, sir f said Peter. 
 
 ' Hoo do ye ken %' growled the maddened Bailie. ' Lend 
 me a hand, I tell ye ; and if ever ye catch me come 
 
 shootin' in such a place as this — ye — why don't ye 
 
 •come nearer^' 
 
238 A NIGHT AMONG WILD-FOWL. 
 
 A large and dark form now made its appearance on 
 the bank. 
 
 ^Where's the gmi, sir?' asked Peter. 
 
 ' the gun ! Let it rot there ! If I get safe out, the 
 
 gnn may stay in.' 
 
 ' I beg yom- pardon, Bailie ; but the gun is mine,' said 
 Penley. 
 
 ^And so is the ditch, I suppose,' said the Bailie, 
 struggling into the moonlight. 'I tell ye, Maister 
 Penley, if ye left a place like that in Scotland with- 
 oot puttin' a paling round it, the law would hang 
 ye. And it's a perfect meeracle ye havena my life to 
 answer for ; for I declare I felt the wind o' the shot on 
 my face.' 
 
 ' But why did you tumble in f said Penley, who could 
 not repress a smile on meeting the melancholy figure now 
 presented by the half-drowned Bailie. 
 
 ' I've got the gun, sir,' said Peter, from below. ' And 
 lucky it is it didn't fall into the water.' 
 
 'What way lucky f exclaimed the Bailie. 'Do ye 
 expect me, Maister Penley, to conteenue this madcap 
 business, and risk my life for the pleasure o' shootin' at 
 birds in the daurk?' 
 
 ' Come, come. Bailie,' said Penley. ' You must do 
 something to keep your circulation going ; and you may 
 as well load again and go with us. You would never find 
 your way home from here.' 
 
 ' Deed, I'll no try,' said the Bailie earnestly. 
 
 There was nothing for it, therefore, but that he should 
 accompany us ; and so, having ascertained that his powder- 
 fiask, wads, &c., were dry, we again started. 
 
 Of course, there was not a bird on or around this 
 second tarn when we approached it. The report of the 
 Bailie's gun had been followed by a succession of quacks 
 and screams which told that, had we reached the water 
 in silence, we should have had some sport. The couple 
 
A NIGHT AMONG WILD-FOWL. 239. 
 
 of mallard shot by Penley were the only spoil which fell 
 to us from this second effort. 
 
 The third and last piece of water was larger than its 
 predecessors, and might even, with some stretch of 
 com'tesy, have been called a small lake. Its shores were 
 very level, and we experienced great difficulty in ap- 
 proaching it with safety. At some distance the cries of 
 the wild-fowl could be distinguished, and were so nume- 
 rous as to convince us that here, at least, the birds had 
 not been scared off. 
 
 Then the Bailie stopped. 
 
 ' I'm sayin',' he remarked, ' I think I'll no gang forrit 
 to the water. I'm too cauld to be able to shoot. I'll sit 
 down here and take a drop o' whisky and a sandwich I 
 have in my pocket ; and ye can come back here when ye 
 have done. Losh me, what's that T 
 
 ' A hare, sir,' said Peter, as some dark object darted 
 past, and scuttled away among the long grass. 
 
 'As you please. Bailie,' said Penley. 'And if you are 
 not going to shoot, you may give me your gun.' 
 
 ' Wi' pleasure,' said the Bailie, with a sigh of relief. 
 
 We now proceeded to seek the shore of the lake at a 
 spot Avhere there was a small creek, in which lay a broad 
 flat-bottomed punt. The jDunt was moored beside some 
 bushes, and it was to these bushes we looked for means 
 to get down unperceived to the water. When we had 
 finally crept down to the margin, and could look abroad 
 over the still surface of the water, it was soon apparent 
 that the wild-fowl were present in considerable numbers. 
 They seemed to be more on the outlook, however, than 
 they were on the first tarn ; and several times we feared 
 lest some wheeling duck might spy out our hiding-place 
 and give the alarm to his companions. 
 
 No such awkward accident occurred, however; and 
 for several minutes we stood, admiring the slow circles 
 made on the surface of the water by the dark forms of 
 
240 
 
 A NIGHT AMONG WILD-FO WL. 
 
 the birds. The moonlight was now a little stronger, and 
 the water was of a decided bluish-gray tinge, on which 
 the wild-fowl seemed quite black. Now and then a stray- 
 wanderer came sailing down and alighted on the water with 
 a loud 'swish,' which caused all his companions to jerk 
 their heads about. There was one especially erratic fellow, 
 who went on long circular excursions all by himself; and 
 on one of these we saw that he was evidently coming 
 straight towards us. Afraid of being taken unawares, we 
 simultaneously rose up, exposing the upper half of our 
 bodies above the bushes. In an instant the whole place 
 was a scene of wild clamour, excited quacking and croak- 
 ing, and rapid wheeling up into the air. Bang ! bang ! 
 went Penley's first gun, simultaneously with my own; 
 and then again the barrels of the remaining guns echoed 
 through the silence of the place. 
 
 Peter jumped into the punt with his dogs. 
 
 ' Come quick, sir — we'll push across, and find one or 
 two hiding in the rushes.' 
 
 We got into the punt, and loaded as quickly as pos- 
 sible, allowing Peter to paddle us silently across. On the 
 way we passed more than one dead bird, towards which 
 the dogs would fain have leapt, had we not restrained 
 them. 
 
 Scarcely had the broad prow of the shallow punt 
 rustled in upon the sedges when a couple of mallard flut- 
 tered up and flew off right and left. One fell to each of 
 us, Penley's bird dropping well up on shore. This was a 
 good beginning ; but we found that the sedgy margin did 
 not contain the number of birds we had begun to antici- 
 pate. Another wild-duck did get up ; but it rose far out 
 of shot, and we were about to return when I heard a 
 flapping and splashing in among the reeds. 
 
 ' It is a wounded bird,' said Peter, unleashing one of 
 the dogs. ' Go in, Walnut — go in, good dog, and seek 
 liim out.' 
 
A NIGHT AMONG WILD-FOWL. 241 
 
 Walnut sprang boldly into the water, made for the 
 rushes, and after a little plunging about returned with 
 the bird in her mouth. It was a duck which had onl}^ 
 been winged, the coup de grace being reserved for Peter's 
 experienced fingers. 
 
 This being the finish of our lake-shooting, and there 
 being still some time to elapse before the morning flight- 
 shooting would commence, we began a brisk hunt after 
 the killed. The Bailie, being whistled for, came down 
 to the punt and took a seat, though he was greatly in- 
 commoded — as were we — by the wet dogs. He main- 
 tained, however, that he now felt very comfortable, that 
 he no longer experienced any cold, and that he was 
 willing to do anything or go anywhere so long as the 
 sport could be continued. 
 
 ^ I think it is an astonishin fine sensation to be out 
 here, a' by yoursel', in the deed o' nicht, and they great 
 birds fleein' about your head. I dinna wonder, Maister 
 Penley, that ye are glad to live in this oot-o'-the-world 
 place, when ye have such sport aye before ye ; and my 
 wonder is that ye are na out every night in your life.' 
 
 ' If we kept continually popping at them, they'd soon 
 leave us,' said Penley, as he took a mallard out of Walnut's 
 mouth. 
 
 The Bailie grew enormously loquacious. He became 
 quite poetical in describing the enchanting pleasures of 
 wild-fowl shooting, and said he should remember this 
 night so long as he lived. 
 
 ' By the way, Maister Penley,' he remarked, in a sort of 
 bashful way, 'have ye anything left in your flask?' 
 
 ' I thought you had filled your flask before we started,' 
 ^aid Penley, ' and it is twice as big as mine.' 
 
 ' And so I did,' said the Bailie, with a little hesitation ; 
 ' but I was extraordinar' thirsty after that cauld bath, and 
 I couldna exactly get at the water, so I — so I had to 
 empty the flask. But never mind. I feel very comfort- 
 
 Q 
 
242 A NIGHT AMONG WILD-FOWL, 
 
 able, and doubtless ye'll need a' you have got before the 
 night's over.' 
 
 ' Very likely/ said Penley, ' for we have now got to 
 tramp over to the river side, where I hope we shall get a 
 little shooting.' 
 
 The Bailie rose from his seat with a half-stifled sigh, 
 and as the boat touched the corner of the creek he stepped 
 ashore. The birds we had shot, already too heavy for 
 one man to carry, were locked up in the spacious locker 
 of the punt; and then Ave set out on our journey towards 
 the river. This small stream, in flowing towards the sea, 
 passed Marshlands House, and was not only a valuable 
 resort for grebe, moor-hens, and similar birds, but also 
 offered excellent shelter in wdiich to await the passing 
 and repassing, at early morning and dusk, of the flocks of 
 wild-fowl which haunted the locality. The Bailie looked 
 forward to this bit of flight-shooting with an animation 
 which was not altogether the result of the whisky he had 
 drank. The mere consciousness that we were going in 
 the direction of home, that daylight would soon break, 
 and that along the banks of the river there were no 
 treacherous pitfalls, cheered him ; and he even volun- 
 teered to sing, in a hoarse cawing way, some guttural 
 Scotch drinking-song, which was, perhaps fortunately, 
 quite unintelligible. 
 
 Along the side of the stream whither we were now bound 
 there lay a strip of marshy ground, chiefly covered with 
 yoiuig willows. The underwood was considerably thick, 
 especially at the point to which Peter led us ; and we had 
 little difficulty in choosing successive spots, some fifty 
 yards separate, where we could easily lie concealed, while 
 leaving a tolerably large open space around us. Peter's 
 chief care was to hide away the elephantine bulk of the 
 Bailie ; and when that had been done, he was cautioned 
 to remain perfectly still and invisible. 
 
 A dead silence hung over the place for several minutes,, 
 
A NIGHT AMONG WILD-FOWL. 
 
 243 
 
 broken only by the rippling of the dark water round the 
 sudden curves of its course, and the creaking of willow 
 stumps in the wind. A fresh breeze was blowing, and 
 we knew the birds, if they passed our way at all, would 
 fly low and offer an easy shot. In the midst of this still- 
 ness, I heard the even heavy tramp of the Bailie's foot- 
 steps approaching. 
 
 ' Tell me,' he said, in a loud whisper, as he came up, 
 ' am I to shoot at the birds as they flee towards me, or as 
 they're fleeing past?' 
 
 ' You'd better let them get past,' I said ; ' but how do 
 you expect they'll come here if you stand out in the oj)en 
 and talk ?' 
 
 ' Mercy me ! hoo could a bird see ye on a night like 
 this? It has got quite dark — and — preserve us!' 
 
 He was struck into silence by a great whirring of 
 wings overhead that sounded as if the prince of the power 
 of the air were himself rushing past. The ring of my 
 two barrels, followed by the double report of Penley's 
 gun, did not lessen his astonishment. 
 
 ^What did ye fire at? What was that? What a 
 fricht I got !' 
 
 'Why, a fine string of wild-duck,' said I; though 
 how they came so near while you were standing there I 
 don't know. I wish you'd go and hide yourself again, 
 Bailie.' 
 
 * Do ye mean to tell me ye shot anything ?' 
 
 ' Of course I did.' 
 
 'And Maister Penley?' 
 
 ' Yes. Didn't you hear the birds fall ?' 
 
 ' That's maist extraordinar',' muttered the Bailie, as 
 he returned to his post. 
 
 For some time thereafter the plashing of the water 
 resumed its hold on the ear; not even the distant cry of 
 a bird could be detected. A faint gray tinge now be- 
 came visible in the eastern sky, and the moon sensibly 
 
244 
 
 A NIGHT AMONG WILD-FOWL. 
 
 paled her light. The advance of the dawn, as every one 
 must have noticed who has had leisure to sit and watch 
 its approach, is exceedingly i-apid, while it appears to be 
 quite the reverse. The change is so gradual that one 
 does not notice how objects, hitherto invisible, come into 
 relief. The bushes on the other side of the stream grew 
 out of the darkness, and the black branches above us 
 were beginning to be defined against the clear sky. For- 
 tunately the wind still kept up, and I was momentarily 
 expecting to hear the report of the Bailie's gun, to him 
 having been accorded the best position. 
 
 It was certainly a quarter of an hour before any new 
 flock of birds came near us — this time a compact skein of 
 duck, about fifteen or twenty in number. They flew 
 right over the bushes in which the Bailie was hid; I 
 heard both his barrels ; but, of course, could not distin- 
 guish at that distance whether anything fell. The birds 
 redoubled their flight, two or three going ofi* in one direc- 
 tion, two or three in another, all making the loudest noise 
 possible. One came directly over me, and fell; another 
 flew behind the trees on the other side of the river, and 
 him I missed. Penley did not get a shot. 
 
 We were again lapped in silence ; but we could hear 
 that the general flight of the wild-fowl was taking place. 
 We could distinguish the cries of the mallard and the 
 croaking of the teal in large numbers. We lay as silent 
 as a fox : but the repeated firing of the guns had appa- 
 rently taught them to suspect the locality, and, although 
 we occasionally heard the passing whir of a string of 
 birds, they kept carefully beyond reach. 
 
 The gray was now telling upon the sky, and a com- 
 parative twilight reigned in the hollow which secreted 
 us. I could now make out the red bill of a moor-hen, 
 which, having been frightened by my approach, had 
 paddled into the nearest refuge, and now sat quietly in 
 the water, at the root of a willow on the other side of 
 
A NIGHT AMONG WILD-FOWL. 245 
 
 the stream, lier head only being visible. I am almost 
 certain she could see me, and concluded she was too 
 afraid to leave her present hiding-place for a more shel- 
 tered one. 
 
 I was watching the occasional twitching of the red 
 beak when another rushing of wings in the neighbour- 
 hood caught my attention. A dark cloud of birds noAV 
 swept overhead — I fired right and left — they broke in 
 wild confusion, and at least half a dozen went over Pen- 
 ley. By that time, however, they had risen high into 
 the air, and only one fell to his two shots. 
 
 After this the cries of the wild-fowl died down; it was 
 now broad daylight, and it had become evident that no 
 more business was to be done that morning. Before 
 leaving Peter and the dogs, however, to recover the birds 
 we had shot, I called the Bailie, and pointed out to him 
 the moor-hen which still sat in the water. I am ashamed 
 to say that he lifted his gun, and would have murdered 
 the bird then and there, had he not been interrupted. I 
 prevailed on him to allow Walnut to cross, and this the 
 dog speedily did. The moor-hen remained until the dog 
 had almost touched her, then she swam quickly out and 
 disappeared into another hole. Here she refused to be 
 dislodged ; and the end of it was that the dog dragged 
 her out in his mouth, punishing her severely in the pro- 
 cess. 
 
 When he had swum back I took the moor-hen from 
 him, and found her quite lively. 
 
 ' Now,' I said to the Bailie, ' look out !' 
 
 I threw the bird up into the air ; the Bailie did not 
 fire; she dropped on the water, and dived. Of course 
 she was seen no more ; but two seconds after she had 
 dived the Bailie fired at the place where she had disap- 
 peared. Peter made an insolent grimace behind the 
 worthy Bailie's back ; and at the same moment — whether 
 startled out of her retreat by the report, or whether put 
 
246 A NIGHT AMONG WILD-FOWL. 
 
 up by Walnut, I cannot say — another moor-lien rushed 
 out and flew straight up the stream. As she again de- 
 scended on the water, leaving a long line of light in her 
 wake, the Bailie fired his second barrel; the unhappy 
 moor-hen jumped a foot into the air, fell into the river, 
 and then came slowly floating down stream, her pale- 
 green legs uppermost. 
 
 The Bailie marched home in the proudest way, and 
 carried his gun in a quite masterly manner. I foresaw 
 that we should be treated to a few sporting reminis- 
 cences after dinner that evening, graced with such efforts 
 of the imagination as should appear to the Bailie to be 
 most suitable. In the mean time, however, we went 
 straight to bed on reaching Marshlands House, for we 
 had to be present at some coursing which was to take 
 place in the neighbourhood towards mid-day. 
 
MISS MIDDLESEX ON THE MOORS 
 
 TO MISS SARAH JANE MIDDLESEX, GREEN ELM GROVE COTTAGE, 
 BAYSWATER. 
 
 to our journey. 
 
 August , 
 
 Lodge of DonashuisUuagnish. 
 
 ON'T attempt to pronounce it? 
 dear ; you will spoil the shape of 
 your nose; but try to imagine 
 your beloved Delia (in her new- 
 tartan gown and the Balmorals) 
 sitting at a bare table in a low- 
 roofed room, with very little in- 
 side it save a smell of peat-smoke, 
 but the most wonderful and beau- 
 tiful view in the world out of its 
 windows. 
 It was less adventurous and ro- 
 
 than I would have desired. The impressions that 
 
248 MISS MIDDLESEX ON THE MOORS. 
 
 I had brought ready-made with me were far more Kke Sir 
 Walter Scott's Highlands than the reality. To tell the 
 truth, I was asleep when we passed Edinbm*gh, Perth, and 
 Stirling, and missed seeing the combat of the clan Chattan 
 and clanKhay on the Inch, and the frowning passes of the 
 Grampians, for which I had prepared myself. Not till we 
 had passed Dnnkeld, and had quitted the main road for a 
 most precipitous and sterile route, did we feel ourselves 
 really in a new country, and even then my first feeling 
 was one of disappointment. I looked in vain for kilted 
 clansmen roving over the heather ; for eagles' feathers and 
 waving plaids. Dirty-white sheep, and stones without 
 end, clothed the hill-sides, and the kilt — literally speaking 
 — was only worn by the ivomen that we encountered. It 
 was dark when we reached this dear unpronounceable 
 little lodge. Charlie and Uncle Tom received us. I was 
 in ecstasies with all I found here. 
 
 It is quite unlike anything near Bayswater. Heather 
 everywhere, and hills all round. Heather not like the 
 pink thing one gets at ' Foster's' for wreaths, but tall knots 
 and knobs of stiff, sti^' brown and purple — most beautiful 
 and glowing in colour at a distance, and terribly scratchy 
 to walk on. 
 
 Not a tree anywhere. Aunt Jane was disconsolate at 
 first — she called it a desert ; but since she found cabbages 
 and gooseberry-bushes in the garden, and a pigsty behind 
 the kennel, she has taken courage, and says it is 'ex- 
 tremely rural.' The Lodge is a long low building, rather 
 like a shed, with very small rooms and very stiff doors — 
 no staircase to the upper story, but a big ladder by which 
 I mount to my bedroom. I chose of my own accord to 
 have my room up there, and it feels, oh, so delightfully 
 romantic to go up a ladder every evening — just like Romeo 
 and Juliet — only, as the trap-door at the top is very small, 
 I have great difiiculty with my crinoline, which has twice 
 refused to accompany me downwards, and nearly kept me 
 
MISS MIDDLESEX ON THE MOORS. 
 
 249 
 
 suspended in mid-air all this morning. ... I must post- 
 pone further description till I have given you a graphic 
 account of our expedition to the Tilt Meeting, from which 
 we have just returned, and where, dear Sarah Jane, I may 
 as well tell you, I have lost my heart — lost it once and for 
 ever. Charlie took us — Aunt Jane and me. We started 
 early on Monday; Charlie wearing the kilt for the first 
 time, and I an eagle's feather in my hat, as like Flora 
 Macdonald as possible. 
 
 After a long drive through the wildest country, we 
 reached a great green field near Blair, just as a tremendous 
 yelling of pipes annoimced the approach of the grand 
 mufti and his suite ; in other words, the Athole High- 
 landers, headed by their noble chief. 
 
 Such a crowd there was ! 
 
 Such carriages and coaches full I People on, in, and 
 under them ; and at a little distance from us who but the 
 Joneses ! Yes, the Joneses of Hammersmith, and Emma in 
 the old pink bonnet. Judge of my feelings ! 
 
 Sarah Jane, there were Highlanders everywhere! 
 It was like Hoh Roy and Waverley, and all Sir Walter's 
 novels put together ; and some of them (the Highlanders 
 I mean) were exactly like the boy who plays the bagpipes 
 in Edgware-road. 
 
 They strutted about, and swung themselves so grandly 
 when they moved ; but Charlie looked nicer than any, I 
 thought, for his kilt was so long, and his knees so much 
 whiter and smoother than theirs. 
 
 1 was so overpoAvered by tlie pibrochs and the tramp- 
 ing of armed men, that I scarcely know what I thought of 
 it all ; but I am sure it was astonishing and magnificent 
 to a degree. 
 
 The games began directly, and were exactly like the 
 pictures in the Illustrated Neics. Highlanders dancing to- 
 gether on their tiptoes, and then throwing big sticks and 
 stones about, and taking ofFnearly all their clothes. I was- 
 
.250 MISS MIDDLESEX ON THE MOORS. 
 
 rather horrified, till I observed that those who undressed 
 most completely were given the first prizes, after which I 
 supposed it to be part of the exhibition. 
 
 A hideous noise went on all the time, subdued slightly 
 by distance, and which they told me was a trial of pipe- 
 playing — not the applause of the lower regions, as I 
 suggested. 
 
 We saw an aristocratic lunch going on in the tent to- 
 wards mid-day ; all the outsiders sat down on the grass 
 to eat and drink, and so did we. It was most romantic, 
 dear Sarah Jane. We had nothing to drink (Charlie hav- 
 ing left the ginger-beer in the carriage), and 1 was com- 
 plaining of thirst, when a beautifully-dressed person in 
 purple-and-scarlet tartans, and buckles, and belts, and 
 chains to no end, who was near us, came and offered me 
 his sherry-and-water in a silver cup. At least I tliought it 
 had been sherry-and-water till I tasted it — and it was 
 very polite of him all the same, and I daresay he took me 
 for a real Scotcliwoman from my eagle's feather — only it 
 was whisky-and-water, and made me sneeze and cough 
 so ! and he told us he was ' The Macslmeishan,' and he 
 made great friends with Charlie, and stayed by us all 
 day. 
 
 I had been in alternate wonder and delight at all I 
 saw till, at the end of the ' games,' when I was talking to 
 The Macslmeishan about ' Prince Charlie,' a great shouting 
 and shrieking startled me. All the people were rushing 
 past us, over us almost. The Macslmeishan jumped up, 
 seized me by the arm. I found myself running as hard as 
 I could, I knew not whither. One glance behind me 
 showed what fearful cause I had to run! Half- naked 
 savages, with hair and beards streaming in the wind, were 
 flying after us, tearing over the ground with lightning 
 speed ! 
 
 Terror overcame me. I should have fallen, but for the 
 arm of my gallant chieftain ! 
 
A//SS MIDDLESEX ON THE MOORS. 
 
 251 
 
 One moment after the air rmig with shouts of applause. 
 The crowd stood still and clapped their hands. 
 
 They told me the cheering* was for the winner of a race 
 that had just been run. But, dear Sarah Jane, I do not, 
 I cannot believe it. j\Iy firm conviction is (and Aunt 
 Jane agrees with me), that tlie gallant conduct of The 
 
 ]Macshneishan alone saved me from a too terrible fate, and 
 that, the danger once averted, it was judged wisest to 
 pass over the incident hi silence. These fierce Highland 
 clans must be gently dealt with. This is my idea and 
 Aunt Jane's. At all events, dear, you will agree with me, 
 in beino- thankful to Providence that in our country the 
 
252 M/SS MIDDLESEX ON THE MOORS. 
 
 men run in sacks^ where there can be no doubt as to their 
 intentions. 
 
 We returned to the inn. Aunt Jane and I tea'd to- 
 gether on the top of my big box, for the hotel was so full 
 that we had no sitting-room. Charlie dined at the ordi- 
 nary, and we heard shouts and stamping that shook the 
 house whenever a toast w^as given. 
 
 They are so enthusiastic, these dear Highlanders ! 
 
 At nine o'clock, Aunt Jane and I, duly equipped, 
 descended to tlie ballroom, and were met by Charlie and 
 my noble acquaintance of the morning, who claimed me 
 for the first dance. I was just going to put my hand on 
 his arm for a waltz when the pipes burst forth in a loud 
 discordant strain, and all the room with one accord began 
 to hop and turn. I did not know what to do : I had 
 learnt the Highland Fling years ago ; but how to kick out 
 one leg, when I had a long dress and a crinoline — 
 
 Opposite to me first danced my partner, and then 
 another Highlander, springing high into the air, and twirl- 
 ing his arms, and from time to time we all changed places 
 at once. I was bcAvildered, and half despaired. Suddenly 
 the tune changed, the dancers shouted, and I found my 
 arm seized by the elbow, and spun round and round, till I 
 was dizzy. My dear, they were dancing a Hoolachan I 
 No wonder they give their dances odd names ! I would 
 have run off to Aunt Jane, if I could have escaped from 
 the flying plaids and garters that surrounded me, and my 
 relief was enormous when the noise stopped, and my 
 chieftain, suddenly becoming calm and silent, took mc to 
 my seat. 
 
 What surprised me most during the evening was the 
 extraordinary control these wdld people exercised over 
 themselves during the other dances. They quadrilled, 
 they waltzed, they Lancered as quietly as if they had 
 never heard a bagpipe ; but when a reel began, the room 
 shook with their leaping and shrieking. 
 
MISS MIDDLESEX ON THE MOORS. 
 
 253 
 
 I watched the ladies, who were as demure as their 
 partners were excited, and I adopted their step before 
 long. It is perfectly easy — only to shake your dress 
 violently, and run from side to side, and at a change in 
 the tune to run into the middle of your ' set,' and turn 
 about so as to make as much confusion as possible. I will 
 teach you when we come home, dear. 
 
 I saw Emma Jones green with envy, because I danced 
 with a real Highlander ; so I walked about as much as 
 possible before her, arm-in-arm with him: was not that 
 capital ''I 
 
 There was a great supper. We sat on the narrowest 
 of benches, at long tables, and the grandees were placed 
 according to rank, at the top of the room. I strained my 
 neck to look at them, and after all they were much like 
 other people, and not half so smart as Aunt Jane and my- 
 self (Aunt Jane wore the topazes, and I had my green- 
 and-gold wreath, with two new lilac feathers). 
 
 There were some long speeches,, with thumpings and 
 stampings of applause, and when the healths were drunk, 
 all the gentlemen stood up on one leg on their seats, and 
 put the other leg on the table, and sneezed violently.* It 
 was a most exciting, I may say, a most terrible noise, and 
 has doubtless some deep significance. Aunt Jane's feel- 
 ings were too much for her. ' Delia,' she whispered across 
 the table to me, — 'Delia, I desire you will follow me, 
 directli/,' and she actually got up, and would have left the 
 room, had not the foot of a gentleman on each side of her 
 pinned her gown to the bench. ' It is most indecent,' she 
 said, over and over again, and put her fan up to her face, 
 and spoke so loud, that I trembled lest the high-spirited 
 mountaineers might hear and resent her speech. Luckily 
 the noise was too great for the words to reach any ears 
 but mine ; and for my part, I only wished the ladies also 
 
 * N.B.— Miss Middlesex probably alludes to the Highland toast, Neish— ueish 
 aieesh — ha ueish. 
 
254 
 
 M/SS MIDDLESEX ON THE MOORS. 
 
 might stand on the table. I was so excited — quite liors de 
 moi, as the French saj. 
 
 Friday Evening. 
 
 Dearest Sarah Jane, — I left off yesterday in order 
 to accompany Aunt Jane in a mountain ramble, and now 
 — in a different, alas ! far different frame of mind — I 
 resume my pen. I have had a blow, a sad blow, Sarah 
 Jane ; but wait — I will begin at the beginning — you shall 
 know all. Calmness may return to your agitated Delia, 
 while she writes of the trivialities that preceded her bitter 
 disappointment. 
 
 Unaccompanied by maid or footman (people walk 
 quite alone in Scotland), we set out ; and after an hour's 
 walking over hill and dale, found ourselves — we knew not 
 where — opposite a small hovel or bothie. 
 
 Too tired to proceed further or to return, Aunt Jane 
 began to bemoan her fate, and I — with that confidence in 
 the natives that the perusal of the Cottagers of Glen- 
 hiirnie ever inspires — proposed that we should seek rest 
 and shelter from the noonday sun in the humble abode 
 before us. 
 
 When I reached the aperture — there was no door — 
 out rushed a howling trio of dogs, gaunt, hungry, bright- 
 toothed dogs. Our shrieks, as we clung to each other, 
 brought the mistress of the house to our rescue ; an un- 
 lovely person, in scanty garments, who kicked the dogs 
 off us, and uttered nasal sounds of objurgation to them 
 and consolation to us, pointing a welcome to the bothie 
 with her hand. 
 
 We w^ere very tired, but the interior seemed so unin- 
 viting a mixtm-e of darkness and dogs, that Ave declined 
 entering, and sat on turf benches close to the door. Con- 
 versation was impossible, for our hostess could not speak 
 English, and when I said ' Come-er-ashen-doo,' over and 
 over again (that is the Gaelic phrase for a greeting), sh& 
 
A//SS MIDDLESEX ON THE MOORS. 
 
 255 
 
 only shook her head, and said, ' Noo, noo,' in melancholy 
 tones not nnlike those of her canine companions. 
 
 However, she Avas a good creature, and brought us a 
 bowl full of the most delicious creamy milk, wliich greatly 
 refreshed us, and for which she would receive no pay- 
 ment. 
 
 We were ready to retrace our steps, when it struck 
 both Aunt Jane and me that one hill looked so exactly 
 like the other, that we had not the slightest idea by which 
 hill-side to go, in order to reach home. Our perplexity 
 interpreted itself to our hostess, who with gesticulations 
 and strange sounds disappeared behind her house, and 
 returned speedily followed by a grim tall husband, with 
 courtly manners and very black hair, who slowly, but 
 in tolerable English, offered to show us the way to the 
 Lodge. We accepted gratefully, and he strode beside 
 us, along a sheep-trodden path in silence. It was not 
 the route by which we had come; and w^e arrived pre- 
 sently at a broad, rapid, though shallow stream, full of 
 rocks and pools. How were we to cross it ? we had not 
 even galoshes ! 
 
 Aunt Jane and I reproached our cicerone. 
 
 ' How in the world,' we said, ' are we to get over % we 
 shall wet our feet !' 
 
 The Highlander looked earnestly at Aunt Jane, and 
 put the little black pipe out of his mouth into his pocket, 
 moved a step or two forward, and then without a word — 
 but with a sudden dexterous toss — he hoisted her on his 
 back, strode into the water (unheeding her frantic screams, 
 and the clutches Auntie made at his throat and ears), and 
 deposited her safe on the opposite shore. 
 
 I shuddered — in spite of my irrepressible laughter — 
 when I thought that, in like manner, I must be shouldered 
 and borne aloft by that grim knight ; but Aunt Jane 
 threatened from the other side to disinherit — to disown 
 me, if I ventured to take off my shoes and stockings; and 
 
256 
 
 M/SS MIDDLESEX ON THE MOORS. 
 
 she adjured me by all I held most forcible to resign my- 
 self, and to hold tight. AVell, dear, I did. 
 
 We were in the middle of the stream — he was in the 
 act of stepping from one stone to another, when over his 
 head, from my high position, I descried close to Aunt 
 Jane — walking up to her in fact — a tall figure — a High- 
 lander. Sarah Jane, it was The Macshneishan ! 
 
 Had I not told you how, by a strange coincidence, we 
 discovered that his moor and ours were contiguous — 
 marched together, as they say hereabouts ? Had I told 
 you that in the tenderest manner he had said, ' It would 
 be no wonder if we were to meet again?' and now — to 
 meet thus ! What could I do ? 1 screamed, ' Let me go !' 
 I kicked, I struggled, the shepherd tottered forward, and 
 dropped me into a pool, clutching as long as he could at 
 my petticoat. Can words describe the scene or my feel- 
 ings '? There I stood, dripping, draggled; my hat floating 
 round and round in a small whirlpool, beyond me ; Aunt 
 Jane scolding, and stretching her parasol at me ; the 
 shepherd with one hand outstretched to catch me, the 
 other holding on to a bunch of heather on the bank ! I 
 will draw a veil over this too-harrowing picture. Suffice 
 it to say, I got out, and walked with streaming boots and 
 a battered hat home to the Lodge. 
 
 And The Macshneishan ! 
 
 My dear, The Macshneishan was very rude; he didn't 
 attempt to help me ; he laughed quite loud, and swung 
 himself about, and was horrid ! And only think what we 
 have found out! — he is not a chief at all — he is a shop- 
 keeper, 'a weaver boddie,' our shepherd told us, with 
 great scorn ; he has neither a clan, nor a castle, nor a 
 badge, nor anything ! 
 
 I have caught a dreadful cold in my head. My ' Bal- 
 morals' turn up at the toes like Chinese boots, and are 
 quite spoilt, and I lost my eagle's feather. I have knocked 
 all the skin off my knees, and broken my ' cage' with that 
 
J//SS MIDDLESEX ON THE MOORS. 
 
 257 
 
 nasty ladder. Charlie lias got rheumatism from tvearing 
 bare legs, and Aimt Jane and I vote Bayswater far prefer- 
 able to the Highlands. 
 
 Ever, dear Sarah Jane, yom* affectionate but saddened 
 
 Delia Middlesex. 
 
SALMON-SPEARING. 
 
 llei mild prcrteQ'ittim tempiis ! That is, the past time when 
 new Fishery Laws did not forbid, and we young sports- 
 men might combat the salmon in his own element, armed, 
 like the Retiarins, with a trident, but, unlike him, without 
 a net. Itl-omened word ! is it not to thee that the inter- 
 dict is owing ? — blockading the mouth of every river with 
 thy cowardly meshes, only Avithdrawn for the barest 
 minimum of hours out of the twenty-four to give free 
 passage to the home-sick fish and lusty grilse to re-seek 
 the dear old pools of his birth. For the grace now ex- 
 tended, and the check put upon the rapacious suppliers of 
 Billingsgate and Leadenhall, we shall ever be grateful to 
 the Commissioners, even though the same powers that 
 have removed the stake-nets have prohibited the use of 
 the spear, whose operation, as numbered amongst the 
 things past, we purpose to record. 
 
 And first for the science of the sport. Salmon-spear- 
 ing, as we used to perform it, was of two kinds. First, 
 that by day; second, that by night. For the first, we 
 choose that day when the more noble art of the rod and 
 fly would be exercised in vain — a clear sunny day, with 
 as little ripple as possible, and the water low, the field of 
 operation being generally the upper pools, or, in prefer- 
 ence, the larger 'burn' or mountain -stream whence the 
 river took its source. 
 
 The implements, a spear, or rather iron trident of three 
 prongs, barbed like a fish-hook, the prongs being about 
 two inches apart, with a shaft some ten feet in length ; two 
 
SALMON-SPEAKING. 259 
 
 or three long poles, whose uses will be seen presently, and 
 either a ' gaff* or a landing-net. The essentials, a hawk- 
 like keenness of eye sharpened by long practice, a goat- 
 like agility amongst rocks and stones, and a philosophical 
 indifference to all such minor discomforts as a complete 
 wetting and a frequent fall or bruise. The night-work 
 differed hi the change of locality, the favourite spot being 
 the long shalloAV ' reach' at the river's mouth, and in the 
 substitution of fir-torches for the poles of the day's pro- 
 gramme. Thus much for tlie nature of the sport ; for a 
 description of it let the reader lend a kindly ear while we 
 suppose the scene by the banks of the river Arkail, in the 
 Northern Highlands of Scotland (a name which, by the 
 way, he w411 in vain try to establish in the best of educa- 
 tional atlases or tourists' guides). 
 
 ' What a baking day ! No use taking out the dogs ; 
 there's not a breath of scent along th(.' whole hill-side ; 
 and one might as well try to fish in a tub as throw a line 
 over the looking-glass-like pools to-day. What's to be 
 the order of the day, Frank ? I think I shall take a walk 
 up to the top of Ben Voil and " spy" if there are any deer 
 lying near the ground.' 
 
 ' I don't think you can do better. We have already 
 planned a foray with the spear in the Upper Pools ; but 
 you don't care about that sort of work ; so good luck to 
 you, and adieu for the present. I suppose you'll take 
 Stuart with you f 
 
 Even as he spoke a cheery voice outside had sum- 
 moned Frank, warning him that his set were waiting; 
 so, with a parting remembrance from Charles Marston, the 
 eldest of our party, and the tacitly-acknowledged head, to 
 ' mind and " crimp" your fish directly you get him out of 
 the water,' Frank Gordon hastened to the gravelled square 
 in front of the lodge, and found his brother amongst a 
 group of keepers and • gillies,' who, by the arms they bore, 
 gave sufiicient evidence of their intended occupation. 
 
2 6o SALMON-SPEARING. 
 
 With the exception of a ' forester,' Hugh Ross, who, by 
 virtue of his position and his long GaeHc descent, perse- 
 vered in the traditions of his ancestors, and robed his 
 Hmbs in a kilt of homespun tartan, the rest of the sports- 
 men were clad in knickerbockers, master and man alike. 
 And now they were off, and making down the ' brae' with 
 the long dropping action which marks the practical moun- 
 taineer, being greeted as they passed the kennels by the 
 most dismal howling from the dogs, who evidently did 
 not comprehend that spears were not guns, and that there 
 were occasions, such as salmon-spearing, on which their 
 services might be dispensed with, and who further inter- 
 preted the volley of mingled Gaelic and Sassenach ejacu- 
 lations hurled at them as a command to increase their 
 note from forte to fortissimo, a proceeding accordingly 
 executed with the most painful exactness which the 
 canine intellect could suggest. 
 
 A short half-hour's walk, and the hollow moaning of a 
 Avaterfall told of the journey's end. Brushing through a 
 small birch-wood that clothed the high banks of the 
 stream, our party stood on the edge of a sheer rock about 
 thirty feet high, and, looking down on the scene of their 
 intended operations, assigned to each his post and duty. 
 A long, narrow, black pool, shallowing towards the tail 
 into a rushing stream, dashing madly against the boulders 
 scattered at random in its course ; the rocks rising steep 
 and bare on either side, but fringed on their summits with 
 the drooping birch-trees and overhanging heather nestling 
 round the delicate little ferns and rock-plants that peeped 
 timidly out here and there ; and away at the head of the 
 pool, the finishing charm of the lovely spot, the tumbling 
 waterfall, which ever filled the air with its clamorous 
 voice, and beat the red waters below into a mad whirl of 
 eddies and bubbles and leaping foam. Truly as sweet a 
 pictm-e as Nature ever limned, which, had it been a few 
 degrees farther south, might have been an unfailing trap 
 
SALMON-SPEA RING. 2 6 : 
 
 for excursionists to expend their savings on a ' pack' in a 
 covered carriage, and a cheap ride uninsured, or might 
 have had its heath -covered banks dotted with picnic 
 parties, and its waters sweetened with the chicken-bones 
 so deftly thrown by the playful Miss Holiday ; but being, 
 alas, poor Monar — only one of many such scenes in the 
 bosom of the Highland hills, all inaccessible by steam or 
 jaunting-car — it must e'en remain imknown, save to the 
 privileged few, who now looked at it with the less noble 
 view of how they might draw a fish from its black depths. 
 
 ^ Ah, wunna ye look at him ? Hech, doon he comes ; 
 ye maun e'en try again, my bonny mon.' 
 
 This address was called forth from honest Sandy Mac- 
 gregor, one of the gillies of the party, by the sight of a 
 salmon leaping at the falls, but who, having failed to 
 clear them, hit with a heavy whack against the rock, and, 
 with a vain wriggle and struggle, fell back into the pool 
 beneath. 
 
 ' You may see more of him yet, Sandy,' said Alick 
 Gordon, the elder of the brothers, ' if meanwhile you will 
 try and get me a little gravel.' 
 
 A few minutes, and Sandy returned, bringing his cap 
 full of sand and small stones, whicli Alick, taking, threw 
 in handfuls down the pool, close by the edge of the rock. 
 The result of this mysterious proceeding, being closely 
 watched by the group, was announced by a general mur- 
 mur of satisfaction as, almost straight beneath them, a 
 string of bubbles rose to the surface of the stream and 
 floated idly away. (For the benefit of those who have 
 never seen this piece of fishing-craft, we may explain that, 
 as a fish is lying at the bottom with his head up stream, 
 allowing the water to run into his mouth and out through 
 his gills — his mode of breathing — some of the gravel as it 
 sinks down enters his mouth, and, as the fish ejects it, he 
 sends up a few bubbles, which mark the spot he is 
 lying in.) 
 
262 SA LMON-SPEA RING. 
 
 'Is that your friend, Sandy?' cried Alick, on seeing 
 the success of his device. ' You ought to know him if 
 you saw him again, so come along down here with me.' 
 
 Away went the speaker to the farther end of the pool, 
 where, by scrambling and swinging, he managed to let 
 himself down the rock, and plunged knee deep into the 
 rapids. Closely followed by Sandy, he made his way to- 
 wards the deep water, keeping close beneath the high 
 bank, where he knew that, at about the depth of his waist, 
 a small ledge ran along the rock which would afford him 
 a footing. Quietly and carefully he arrived at the spot 
 where the bubbles had been seen to rise; and telling 
 Sandy to hold him round the waist, as he stood beside 
 him on their precarious footing, he took off his cap, and 
 holding it over the water so as to throw a shade in which 
 the smallest objects at the bottom of the stream were 
 visible to his practised eye, he bent down, and began a 
 long and wary search. One unaccustomed to the work 
 might have looked till nightfall without seeing more than 
 the changing lights and shadows playing over the deep- 
 sunk stones ; but Alick's experience soon showed him a 
 long black object, like a shade, lying close by the rock, 
 and in about nine feet of water. Having satisfied himself 
 as to the exact position of his treasure-trove, he shouted 
 a warning to the group above, and told Sandy to take a 
 look. 
 
 ' Ah, the big blackguard !' whispered the gillie, as he 
 lifted his dripping face after his subaqueous search. ' Have 
 a care, Mister Alick, and give him the point well over the 
 shouther.' 
 
 ' Hold up tight then, Sandy, and give a shade with 
 your cap as I tell you. That's right ; no, a little further 
 out — now then, steady !' 
 
 As he spoke, Gordon was slowly letting down the 
 spear a little behind the salmon, till, when it was about a 
 foot above the fish, he paused, and braced liimself for the 
 
SALMON-SPEARING. 263 
 
 stroke his left hand grasping the spear about halfway- 
 down, to guide the aim, and the right hand holding it 
 near the top to give the blow, while his face was nearly 
 buried in the water, as he kept his eye on his prey. 
 
 ' Further out yet with the cap, Sandy. Now, hold 
 on !' 
 
 Down shot the spear : for one instant the shaft shook 
 violently as the struck salmon struggled beneath the 
 weight which was pinning it to the bottom, and the next, 
 with a loud splash and flurry, the strong fish bore to the 
 surface, and shaking himself off the barbs, dragged Gordon 
 still holding on to the spear, headlong into the pool. 
 
 A loud shout from the watchers on the top of the ^yq- 
 cipice greeted this ' coup,' and on the gillie who had been 
 posted near the bottom of the pool announcing that ' the 
 fish had ne'er come his way,' all those who had, up to this 
 time, been mere passive spectators, made the best of their 
 way down the rocks, to take their part in the coming 
 struggle. 
 
 With a few strokes, Alick gained the shallows at the 
 tail of the pool, and as the stream divided into two chief 
 courses, himself commanded one with his spear, and 
 deputed the other to Hugh Ross. Meanwhile, Frank was 
 directing the gillies, who were ' poking' the fall and deep 
 water with the long poles w^e mentioned, a proceeding in- 
 tended to drive any fish that might be lying about there 
 down to the lower end of the pool, where they would 
 meet the spearmen, or else to take refuge behind the big 
 rocks and boulders, where they might be discovered after- 
 w^ards. All was noise and eagerness, save with the two 
 spearmen, who, silent as statues, were keenly watching 
 the few yards of clear water in front of them, ready to 
 spring into life the moment they detected the approach 
 of a fish. And as Hugh Ross looked, a black shadow of a 
 sudden swept down with the current before him, and as 
 he moved a step to meet it, whisked away, and shot past 
 
264 SALMON-SPEARING. 
 
 liim with the arrow-like speed Avhich a sahiion, better 
 than any fish that swims, can command; but the active 
 Highlander was a match for the occasion, and with a dex- 
 terity which mnst be seen to be appreciated, gave a back- 
 ward spring, and struck sharp down with his spear a good 
 two feet in front of his mark ; and as he held the strug- 
 gling fish down by bearing with his whole weight on his 
 weapon, the shaking shaft told of the good quarry he had 
 secured. "With a wild shout of triumph, Ahck rushed to 
 the rescue, and throwing himself down in the water, 
 seized the salmon under the gills, and quickly bore him to 
 land, where Marston's injunction was acted upon, and the 
 crimping-knife brought into play. 
 
 ' Ye took a good shot, too. Mister Alick,' said Hugh 
 Ross, looking at the wound behind the head which Gordon 
 had given; 'but he was a clean-run fish, and as full of 
 life as a stag in August ; and I'm thinking he will not 
 have joost right justice at fifteen pounds' weight.' 
 
 'I'd be sorry to carry him at that weight, Hugh,' 
 answered his master. ' But all the merit belongs to you, 
 for little should we ever have seen of him again but for 
 that flying shot of yours. However, there he is, and a. 
 beautifully-shaped fish too ; so tie him up, and let's carry 
 him off" to the house, where you'll get glory enough from 
 both Mr. Marston and the cook. Come along, Frank.' 
 
 So saying, Alick marched away, followed by the rest 
 of the party. On arriving at the lodge, they found that 
 Marston had not yet returned ; so it being yet early in the 
 day, they debated as to the best method of employing the 
 time yet left them ; and as the bright still weather efiec- 
 tually negatived all propositions of going after grouse or 
 taking a cast with a fly in any of the Upper Pools, the 
 suggestion of Hugh Ross, who had become unusually keen, 
 after his triumph of the morning, to rest till the evening 
 and then make a night of it with the spear at the mouth 
 of the river Arkail, was unanimously adopted. There was^ 
 
SALMON-SPEARING. 
 
 265 
 
 a good thirteen miles' walk over the hill between the 
 lodge and the intended scene of the night's operation, bnt 
 our hardy young sportsmen regarded that only so far as 
 to order their dinner at an earlier hour than usual, so as 
 to start in time in the evening, and employed the inter- 
 vening time in tying up bundles of fir-splinters to make 
 torches, and in providing themselves with dry suits of 
 clothing, after the wetting they had just received. 
 
 Shortly before seven o'clock they were ready to start, 
 and having left a note for Marston, who had not yet 
 returned from the hill, they set out, following Hugh Ross 
 in single file, as he led the Avay over the darkening moor. 
 All were too well accustomed to the work to come to 
 much grief over the broken ground, beyond an occasional 
 stumble or sudden fall as the foot slipped into an unseen 
 hole in the moss ; and before long the autumn moon roso 
 full and bright to light their Avay, promising an idle time 
 of it to the torches, which some of the gillies bore pati- 
 ently on. 
 
 It was not yet eleven o'clock when the sportsmen 
 stood on the banks of the Arkail, looking happily across 
 the broad river, which flowed musically over its shallow 
 bed, showing almost clearer in the silver radiance of the 
 moon than in the dazzling splendour which lit it up dur- 
 ing the day; but across on the opposite bank the trees 
 which fringed its sides stood out black and heavy as a 
 Avail of rock. 
 
 ' What a glorious night I' exclaimed Alick, as the scene 
 first burst upon him. 'Look, Frank, away over there^ 
 where the river runs into the Firth ; that bit of it you see 
 by the farthest corner gleams like a sheet of pure silver, 
 and the Inch-na-coul hills look as if they were touched 
 with hoarfrost. Isn't it pretty? and what a night for 
 us ! Come on, Hugh and Sandy there, let's be getting to 
 work, but warm the cockles of your heart first with a drop 
 of whisky. Here, try my flask, Hugh. That's right — 
 
2 66 SA LMON-SPEARING. 
 
 the same to you, 'thanks, and good luck to us both,' as the 
 forester drank his young master's health ; *' and I thmk I 
 shall stay about here with Mr. Frank, if you will go a 
 little lower down and post the boys, and tell them to keep 
 a sharp look-out, and mind and "hollow" in time; and I 
 say, Donald there, don't you be giving us any stones for 
 fish to-night, you rascal.' (This was in reference to a 
 false alarm raised on a previous occasion by the imhappy 
 Donald, who had mistaken the ripple caused by a stone 
 lying in the way of the stream for the wake made by a 
 travelling salmon, and had given notice accordingly : and 
 while here, we may explain that the modus operandi in 
 salmon-spearing by night is to post watchers down the 
 bank at regular intervals, who on seeing the wake of a 
 fish going steadily up stream — and remember that salmon 
 only travel or run up a river at night — shout to the spear- 
 men above to give notice, who, being put on the alert, 
 wait till they also see the little wave which marks their 
 prey, and then walk into the river to meet it.) 
 
 Away went Hugh and his subordinates, leaving the 
 brothers to choose their own positions ; and as Alick 
 walked off announcing his intention of crossing the river 
 and taking one of the gillies with him to command the 
 opposite side, Frank remained alone gazing at the run- 
 ning stream before him, and taking stock of all the ripples 
 and eddies caused by the larger stones in the bed of the 
 river, so that in the heat of the moment, when instantly 
 expecting the salmon of whicli notice might have been 
 given, he might not fall into Donald's error, and confound 
 the inanimate with the living agent. . The witching still- 
 ness of the night, broken only by the monotonous gurgling 
 of the running waters and the soft whispering of the trees, 
 before long lulled the young watcher into a state of semi- 
 consciousness, in whicli he sat with open eyes staring for- 
 ward into the space before him, with a dim remembrance 
 that he was lookina: out for salmon, and that the white 
 
SALMON-SPEA RING. 267 
 
 flood beneath him was a river and the appointed subject 
 of his closest observation ; but a whole shoal of salmon 
 might have passed and dnbbed him wisest of men for the 
 blissful ignorance he would have manifested of their pre- 
 sence, had not a sudden shout of 'Mark!' roused him from 
 his somnolence and recalled his wits to full life and activity. 
 With ear and eye painfully alert, he heard the shout taken 
 up by the next gillie, and the sound of his feet over the 
 gravel as he ran along the river's side to keep his prey in 
 view; then the noise of some one cautiously wading out in 
 the water, a sudden rush and splashing, and the next min- 
 ute a clamour of voices, amongst which he could discern 
 that of Hugh Ross calling for a light; and as he looked far 
 down the stream he saw a torch coming down the bank 
 and borne into the river, and the flare of the smoking pine- 
 wood showed him a dark group standing in the water, 
 and for one moment he fancied he saw the gleam of a fish 
 being lifted out ; and then, as the group retreated to the 
 bank, he again distinguished Hugh's voice good-humour- 
 edly depreciating his own prowess, by proclaiming the 
 miimportance of his capture, which was 'j cost a sma' 
 grilse, and no worth the mentionin', and it were not for 
 makin' up the number.' 
 
 The commotion created by this incident had barely 
 subsided, when again a sharp cry through the stillness of 
 the night announced the approach of another fish, and 
 again Frank heard the warning taken up by one watcher 
 after another, when, as he stayed expecting each instant 
 to hear Hugh anticipate him in the encounter, his eye 
 caught a moving ripple in the water, a small advancing 
 wave tailing into a broad wake, and with a wild feeling of 
 excitement he dropped into the river and waded carefully 
 in to meet it : he was yet six or seven yards above it, as 
 he stood nervously grasping his spear, and still he stood 
 motionless as a statue, till the wave washed up close be- 
 side him, when sharp and sudden he launched out his 
 
268 SALMON-SPEARING. 
 
 spear — swish ! — and the iron rattled on tlie pebbles in the 
 river, as the salmon dived down beneath the blow which 
 had grazed its back, and shot away np the stream. 
 
 ' Alick, Alick, come here, I'm sm-e I struck it !' shouted 
 the eager boy, as he rushed headlong after his prey, ever 
 and anon tripping over a stone and falling with a loud 
 splash into the shallow water, which for more than a mile 
 from the mouth of the Arkail was rarely more than three 
 feet deep ; but though he every now and then fancied he 
 saw the salmon's wake still bearing on before him, he ran 
 to little purpose but to cover himself with wounds and 
 bruises from head to foot, and was on the very point of 
 giving up his fruitless chase, from sheer exhaustion, when 
 a cry from his brother, sounding ahead of him, urged him 
 on, and as he turned a corner round which the river swept 
 in a sharp curve, he came upon Alick standing near the 
 bank and pinning something down with his spear to the 
 bottom of the water. ' Go down and get him under the 
 gills, old boy,' was his brother's greeting, as Frank stum- 
 bled breathlessly up; 'he's a regular monster, and will 
 take you all you know to carry him in ; but I think he's 
 your friend, and he will count as yours, if we find your 
 mark on him. " First spear" always counted in the Sun- 
 derbunds' (a precedent advanced by the speaker from his 
 reminiscences of pig-sticking in Lower Bengal). 
 
 ' There it is then, Alick,' said Frank, as he laid the fish 
 down on the river's bank and pointed to a jagged cut a 
 little behind the dorsal fin. * I did not allow enough in 
 front, and should never have seen him again but for you ; 
 but isn't he a thick fellow, and I can answer for his weight 
 already. I shouldn't care about carrying him to the lodge, 
 I know ; but I suppose we had better take him back to 
 the others, so we may tie him up, if you have a bit of 
 string with you. Thanks, — that Avill do capitally.' 
 
 Reader, I hope we have not failed by this time to give 
 you an insight into the mysteries of a sport which, though 
 
SALMON-SPE AIDING. 
 
 269 
 
 now defended by stringent penalties, was no unworthy 
 one in its time, requiring, as it did, the utmost dexterity, 
 training, and endurance : three objects which in themselves 
 are sufficient to elevate any pursuit which can promote 
 them, and which many seek to acquire amongst the moun- 
 tains of Switzerland or the hills of Scotland. In a lesser 
 way, after the fatigues of the London season, the gentler 
 sex strive to attain the same end by walking, riding, sail- 
 ing, or otherwise recruiting with fresh country air. 
 
CARPE DIEM. 
 
 HEN one gets ever such a 
 little older, one gets very 
 much more disinclmed to 
 take much trouble, much 
 physical trouble that is, 
 about hobbies which once 
 Avere ridden to death. A 
 few years ago it was a 
 pleasure to get up at two 
 o'clock in the morning, 
 and have six hours' fish- 
 ing before it became ne- 
 cessary to get to work at 
 Blackstone and Chitty, 
 and the endless Avriting 
 of ' common forms ;' now 
 I prefer keeping Avithin the sheets until breakfast-time, 
 and leaving fishing expeditions for legitimate holidays. 
 So that, as holidays are not very frequent, and often 
 necessarily taken up in other ways, and as fishing sta- 
 tions are distant, and not easily accessible, my hand is in 
 danger of forgetting its cunning in wielding a fishing- 
 rod. I do not so much miss my favourite sport, until, 
 in an unfortunate hour, I get hold of a book of angling 
 reminiscences, of which there are plenty, and reading in 
 its pages vivid descriptions of days by the riverside, such 
 as I used to experience myself, my fancy sets to work,. 
 
CARPE DIEM, 
 
 271 
 
 and, aided by memory, conjures up such deliglitful visions 
 that at last I cannot sit still ; the room, ay, and the town, 
 seem to stifle me, and I long for a glorious ramble, rod in 
 hand, as much as I ever did. 
 
 Following close upon the perusal of such a book, and 
 the feelings awakened by it, I was pleased beyond mea- 
 sure to find myself possessed of a few days of leisure, 
 and once more in the bonny border land of Wales. I 
 took care to make the most of my time, and seize the 
 opportimity of renewing my acquaintance with some of 
 those charming spots with which, as an angler and a 
 writer, I had in times past identified myself. 
 
 One day I spent in tracing the wanderings of the burn 
 whence a lusty trout had been transferred to my pannier. 
 Another afternoon I set out for a carp pool, not the carp 
 pool far excellence of our boyish days, but one nearly as 
 good, where I had caught some six-pounders years ago. 
 I walked to the place — it was two miles and a half away — 
 burdened with three rods and a huge bagful of worms, 
 intent upon slaughter. I neared the field, I crossed the 
 hedge. I stood still and gazed in astonishment. I rubbed 
 my eyes and looked again. There teas no pool there, I 
 walked round the field and across the field, which was 
 strewn with clumps of rushes. A peewit had laid four 
 eggs on the very spot, as I calculated, where I had hooked 
 my biggest carp. A small boy hove in sight. I seized 
 him, and asked him where the pool had gone. He an- 
 swered, ' Wlioy, mun, it ha' been drained dry these three 
 years.' I sat upon a gate and smoked four cigarettes, 
 then walked home, my rods feeling twice as heavy as 
 when I came that way. 
 
 I was to be recompensed, however, for my disappoint- 
 ment by a day at the carp pool on the hill at Craigyrhiw, 
 Coed-y-gar, or Penycoed, for it goes by all three names, 
 the first being the most proper. By accident I met an 
 old friend from a distance, who, when he heard where I 
 
272 
 
 CARPE DIEM. 
 
 Wcis bound to, offered to accompany me. I was glad of 
 his companionship for more than one reason. He had 
 affected to disbeHeve my accounts of the big fish to be 
 caught there, and this was an opportunity of vindicating 
 myself from the charge of exaggeration. He got his 
 rods and we started, pausing on the way to get a couple 
 of small Melton Mowbray pies for lunch. My friend, 
 whom I shall call A., left the commissariat department to 
 me, and I, having just had a good breakfast, did not con- 
 template the possibility of becoming very hungry during 
 the day, so considered we should have quite sufficient to 
 recruit ourselves with. Leaving the town, we passed 
 under the beautiful avenue of limes in the churchyard, 
 musical with rooks and sweet with the spring fragrance, 
 and so on to Oswald's Well. Under a tree at this spot 
 King Oswald fell in battle, and out of the ground after- 
 ward sprang water, said to be endowed with healing 
 power. The well is neatly arched over with stone, and 
 has an effigy of King Oswald at the back ; but the latter 
 offered too good a mark for the stones of the grammar- 
 school lads to remain undefaced. Oswaldestree is now 
 corrupted into Oswestry, or more commonly among the 
 country people, Hogestry or Osistry. Just above the 
 well is the present battle-ground, where affairs of honour 
 among the schoolboys are, or used to be, settled by an 
 appeal to fisticuffs. 
 
 Crossing Llanvorda Park we enter Craig vorda woods, 
 at once the most beautiful and picturesque of the many 
 similar woods on the borders. The ground is mossy 
 underfoot, the trees meet overhead, glossy green ferns 
 pave the noble corridors, which have for pillars straight 
 and sturdy firs and larch, and for a roof the heavy foliage 
 of interwoven sycamore and oak. At intervals the chest- 
 nut too lifts its gigantic nosegay of pink and white and 
 yellow flower-spikes, and near it, out of some craggy 
 knoll, the ^ lady of the forest,' the silver birk, bends ten- 
 
CARPE DIEM. 273 
 
 derl}^ over the masses of blue hyacinths below. ' The 
 shade is silent and dark and green, and the boughs so 
 thickly are twined across, that little of the blue sky is 
 ^een between ;' but there is no lack of blue underfoot, 
 for the hyacinths seem to have claimed the wood as their 
 own property, and shine like a shimmering sea of blue 
 between the tree-stems, quite putting out of countenance 
 with their blaze of colour the modest violet, growing by 
 the side of the runnels leaping downward to join the 
 noisy brook. 
 
 We crossed the Morda, a purling trout stream, out of 
 Avhich you may easily basket a score of trout in the 
 spring ; up a lane, the banks of which were crowded so 
 thickly with spring flowers, starwort, and other snow- 
 white flowers, deep-blue germander speedwells, red 
 ragged robins, and wild geraniums, monkshood, daisies, 
 dandelions, and buttercups, that the green of the leaves 
 and grasses was quite absorbed and lost in the brighter 
 hues ; up and up, until our legs began to ache, and at 
 last we came to the crest of the hill, in the hollow a few 
 feet below which lay the tarn, gloomy enough, but weirdly 
 beautiful. The water itself looked green from the pre- 
 vailing colour of the rushes and flags, and the deep belt 
 of green alders, which grew half in and half out of it all 
 round. 
 
 'Look,' I said, 'there are two herons, a couple of wild- 
 ducks, with their young brood just hatched, twenty or 
 thirty coots and waterhens, and some black leaves stick- 
 ing up out of the water, which are the things we are 
 after.' 
 
 'What do 3^ou mean?' asked A. 
 
 ' They are the back fins of carp.' 
 
 A.'s rods — he had two, as I had — were put together 
 with remarkable quickness. I took it more leisurely, and 
 watched him searching about for a place to cast his line 
 in, with some amusement. 
 
 s 
 
2 74 CARPE DIEM. 
 
 ' I say, how are we to get at the water f he 
 cried. 
 
 ' Wade.' But this he was averse to doing. He found 
 a log of wood, and pushing it out beyond the bushes, 
 where it was very shallow, he took his stand upon it in a 
 very wobbley state, with a rod in either hand. I took 
 up a position a short distance from him, and we waited 
 patiently for half an hour without a bite. Suddenly I 
 heard a splash, and looking roimd, saw that A. had slipped 
 off his perch, and was halfway up to his knees in water, 
 with a broken rod and a most rueful expression on his 
 face. 
 
 ' I have lost such a beauty.' 
 
 ^ Serves you right. You can't pitch a big carp out 
 like you could a trout. This is the way — see.' 
 
 I struck at a decided bite, and found that I was fast in 
 a good fish, which, after a lively bit of splashing and 
 dashing about (the water was only knee-deep, though so 
 muddy the fish could not see us), I led into a little haven 
 or pond, where the inmates of a cottage in the wood 
 came to get their water, and lifted him out with my 
 hands — a tidy fish of three pounds in weight. In about a 
 quarter of an hour A.'s float moved slightly. He was all 
 excitement directly. He had never caught anything larger 
 than a half-pound trout. Some minutes elapsed before 
 another movement took place. 
 
 ' He has left it,' said A. 
 
 ' No, he has not. Don't move ; you will get him pre- 
 sently.' 
 
 Then the float or quill gave a couple of dips ; then in 
 a few seconds more moved off with increasing rapidity. 
 ' Now strike.' A. did so, and soon landed a carp of two 
 pounds. From that time we had steady sport throughout 
 the day. Every quarter of an hour one of us had a bite ; 
 and although we missed a good many through striking 
 too soon, our respective heaps of golden-brown fish (very 
 
CARPE DIEM. 275 
 
 few of the carp there are at all white) grew rapidly in 
 size. 
 
 As we were coming back from a small larch-tree where 
 we had found a beantifully constructed golden-crested 
 wren's nest, suspended from the under side of a branch, 
 A. suddenly clasped me round the middle, and gave me a 
 very neat back throw. 
 
 ' Hullo ! Avhat's that for f I exclaimed, considerably 
 astonished as I sat on the ground. 
 
 ' Your foot was just poised over that beggar,' he said, 
 pointing to a big brown adder, which was gliding away 
 like an animated ash-stick. 
 
 ' Ah, thanks ; there are too many of those felloAvs here.' 
 
 We had eaten the two pies, and as four o'clock drew 
 near we got mighty hungry again. 
 
 ' Just hand me over another pie, old fellow. Nature 
 abhors a vacuum,' said A. 
 
 ' I haven't got any more,' I ansAvered. 
 
 ' Not got any more ? dear !' After a pause, * I am 
 hungry.' In a little while longer A. started off, saying, 
 ' You mind my rod while I am away. I am going foraging 
 for food. I'll try and catch a rabbit, and eat him alive, 
 oh! I've been meditating upon those fish, but I don't 
 like the look of them.' 
 
 He Avas gone for about half an hour, during which 
 time I had landed three fish. When he came back he 
 had the countenance of a man who had dined well. He 
 said to me, 
 
 ' Go as straight as you can through the wood in that 
 direction, and you will come to a cottage where there is 
 plenty of hot tea, a loaf of bread, and some butter await- 
 ing you. I never dined better in all my life, and I forgive 
 you for only bringing two pies.' 
 
 I obeyed his directions, and the tea certainly was re- 
 freshing, although I could not get any sugar with it. 
 
 It was time to be going. We counted our fish. I had 
 
276 CARPE DIEM. 
 
 eleven (my usual number at that pool, by the way), and 
 A. had ten, most from two to three pounds each, but one 
 or two heavier. We selected the best, and as many as 
 we could conveniently carry, and gave the rest to some 
 cottagers. 
 
 From the shooting-box, which is at the top of the hill, 
 and is, by the way, in a state of dilapidation, we had a 
 most magnificent view, one well Avortli the walk to see. 
 It was a view which embraced Shropshire, Cheshire, Mont- 
 gomeryshire, Denbighshire, and Merionethshire. In the 
 vividly green valley below us the little village of Llan- 
 silin slumbered, scarcely noticeable were it not for the 
 dark and massy yew-trees in its churchyard. 
 
 From the rocks farther on we saw a pretty sight. A 
 fox was standing on a stone, and on a sloping slab be- 
 neath her ^^Q> cubs were sprawling and gambolling about 
 like a lot of Newfoundland puppies. 
 
 Presently the vixen trotted off a little way and lay 
 down ; and while we were watching her a rabbit popped 
 out of his burrow, and came several yards towards Rey- 
 nard without seeing her. With one bound fox was upon 
 bunny, and the pair rolled over and over down the hill. 
 The captor then slunk off with her captive, not to her 
 young ones, but to a quiet hole in the cliff, to have a 
 gorge all by her greedy self. 
 
 In a hollow tree in the cliff we found three jackdaws* 
 nests, each with four eggs in; and we were amused at 
 watching a woodpecker tapping away at a tree. The 
 noise produced was like that made by drawing a stick 
 very rapidly over some wooden palings, and quite as 
 loud, or even more like a watchman's rattle worked rather 
 slowly. A curious spectacle was presented in the lane on 
 going home. It was a warm damp night, and every dozen 
 yards or so a glowworm exhibited its eerie light, and 
 each successive one seemed to shine more whitely and 
 brightly than the last. 
 
CARPR DIEM, 
 
 277 
 
 The day was done, its pleasure seized, and — no, not 
 gone, for a pleasant memory remains wherewith to delight 
 myself, and perchance please my friends, among whom I 
 would fain number all angling readers. 
 
FOR SALE— A THOROUGHBRED NAG, 
 UNBROKEN.' 
 
 The nag was a mare. Father bought her of a sharp 
 horsey innkeeper in the neighbouring town, who had had 
 her of a man who had taken her in payment of a bad debt 
 of Captain Pumpkin, bankrupt. When she was brought 
 home, with her foal of three weeks trotting by her side, 
 we all gathered round with the warmest interest. Nobody 
 ^ould enough admire the beauty of the pair. What a 
 graceful deer-like creature was the foal ! How clean and 
 elegant were the limbs of the mother ! (' I could break 
 'em wi' my boot,' cried little Bill, with a heroic look, deal- 
 ing an aimless kick into the air.) What spring and speed 
 there were in that long pastern, and this great muscle in 
 the thigh down to the hock! 'And her tail,' remarked 
 Sissy — (which did not hang limp and nerveless between 
 her hips, as is the habit of most equine and vaccine tails, 
 but which had a kind of defiant cock) — ' her tail,' said she, 
 standing back, with her head on one side, ' has as fine a 
 curve as an ostrich-feather.' 
 
 ' Well, Joe,' said my father, after smiling placidly on us 
 all, observing the old groom standing apart rubbing his 
 nose in quizzical silence, *what do you think of her?' 
 
 Joe put his finger to his cap and came forward. He 
 seized her by the nostrils and the nether lip, and looked 
 into her mouth. 
 
 ' Rising four-year-old, Joe,' said my father. 
 
' FOR SALE— A THOROUGHBRED NAG, UNBROKEN: 279 
 
 ' Umph !' grunted Joe. 
 
 He stepped back, and ran his eye all over her for a 
 moment, as if for something he had lost; then, again 
 stepping forward, he bent down and lifted her forefoot to 
 tap the frog. With a mischievous flash of the eye she 
 turned her head, and seized in her teeth the most obtru- 
 sive part of Joe's garment. Joe dropped on his hands. 
 AVe all laughed ; how could we help it '\ Joe rose in some 
 perplexity, and turned to me quietly with * Slie ain't no 
 good.' 
 
 'Rising four, Joe,' said my father, 'and quite im- 
 broken.' 
 
 * Umph !' said Joe to me, ' she's out six, if she's a day.' 
 'He,' said my father, pointing to the foal, who was 
 
 staring and snifling at us, ' is a son of Cavalier, Joe.' 
 
 ' Umph !' said Joe again to me, in an undertone, ' she 
 ^in't no good ; an', as the sayin' is, if ye want to know 
 wot 'e'll be, arx his dam, so 'e ain't no good, nuther.' 
 
 II. 
 
 One day a clever talkative neighbour passed along 
 with my father. 
 
 ' Ha,' said he, ' a new horse ?' stopping and leaning on 
 the paddock-fence ; ' a brood-mare, eh V 
 
 'Ye-es,' said my father, getting through the fence, 
 followed by his friend ; ' isn't she a beauty ?' 
 
 ' She looks very handsome.' 
 
 Then the gentleman rushed at her, hooting and rat- 
 tling his stick in his hat to make her show off her paces. 
 Away she went at a tremendous trot round the field, with 
 her tail cocked high and her foal gallopping by her side. 
 
 * She steps well,' said he, coming back to my father. 
 ' A little wide behind ; but all the better for that — shows 
 speed. That's a very pretty creature of a foal, though, 
 as swift and graceful as a fawn. Where did you pick 
 'em up ?' 
 
28o 'FOR SALE— A THOROUGHBRED NAG, UNBROKEN.' 
 
 Then my father related all about the purchase, I sup- 
 pose; for T did not hear, bemg outside the fence, and 
 father not having so loud a tongue as his friend. 
 
 ' 0, /know her,' cried his friend; ' she used to belong 
 to Captain Pumpkin.' 
 
 Father nodded. 
 
 'By all accounts, then,' said his friend, shaking his 
 head, ' that / have heard — mind you, that / have heard, 
 for I don't swear to their absolute truth — slies a horrid 
 vixen /' 
 
 My curiosity had by this time carried me through tlie 
 fence. 
 
 ' How can they tell f asked my father, with the least 
 touch of impatience in his voice. 
 
 The fact is, from various dark hints that had been 
 hovering around him for some days, the suspicion was 
 beginning closely to press him that he had not made so 
 keen, so prudent a piu'chase after all. 
 
 ' How can they tell, when s-he's never been tried f 
 
 ' Tried, Mr. Turnham ? Lor' bless you ! she's been 
 tried — if she's the mare — and gone over two trainers, 
 Davenwick and Mossfoot ; and if she's the same, she has 
 a bit out of one ear, as if nibbled by a rat, and she has a 
 fore-pastern fired.' 
 
 So saymg he approached the mare again. 
 
 ' AVoa, lass ; woa, little wifie.' 
 
 With a toss of her head and a scornful glance of her 
 eye she dashed off, but not before we had observed the 
 marks on the pastern of the near forefoot — an appearance 
 of tightness, with rebellious little ridges of hair running 
 from top to bottom, about an inch or so apart. 
 
 I remarked to my father that I had observed these 
 marks from the first, but had not understood them. 
 
 * Hadn't you better, James,' said he, turning on me, 
 ' go and feed that dog ? He's been howling for at least 
 half an hour.' 
 
'FOR SALE— A THOROUGHBRED NAG, UNBROKEN.' 28 1 
 
 Thus civilly he ordered me off ; and I went. 
 
 I was out riding the rest of the morning. When I 
 returned I heard from Joe, while he was hissing over the 
 hot flanks of my horse, that my father had sent the pretty 
 mare with her foal off to a distant field. 
 
 ' 'E 'ad 'er in fust, though,' said Joe, with a wink. 
 
 ' Well/ said I eagerly, ' and did you see the — the — 
 mutilated ear, and the fired pastern f 
 
 ' Bless you. Master James,' said Joe, stopping and 
 looking up, ' I seen 'em afore.' 
 
 * Seen them before, and never mentioned it, Joe V 
 
 'Mentioned it, Mister James, d'ye say? Now you 
 knows better'n that. You knows 'ow master, your father, 
 does. 'E won't a 'ear uv 'es bein' tuk in from nobody; 
 hut when 'e sees 'e is tuk in, away 'e packs the thing wot 
 tuk 'im in out uv sight somewheres, which 'e's done this 
 blessed day.' 
 
 And Joe with a chuckle resumed his hissing and 
 thumping. 
 
 ' Joe,' I said, after having considered a moment 
 whether I should reveal my ignorance, ' what do they fire 
 a pastern for f 
 
 'Fire a pastern for. Mister James?' 
 
 He rose slowly, and began absently to feel for the 
 horse's ribs. 
 
 ' 'Cos it's cruel, Mister James ; 'cos the 'oss 'as smashed 
 'isself some time or nuther, an' it's swelled big, an' they 
 lays somethink over it an' lays the iron on 'issin' 'ot — that 
 precious soon lays the swellin'. That's wot they does it 
 for, Mister James, 'cos they thinks the 'oss likes it, I 
 
 At lunch says father to me, 
 
 ' I don't see, James, what's to hinder you from trainings 
 that mare.' 
 
 'No more do T, father,' I answered, after a moment of 
 surprise. 'I don't see why she shouldn't be managed. 
 
2 82 'FOR SALE— A THOROUGHBRED NAG, UNBROKEN: 
 
 I'll sit her if she don't lie down and roll with me ; and 
 if she does, I can stand over her till she gets up 
 again.' 
 
 My father looked at me steadily, and demanded, 
 
 ' AVho said she laid down and rolled f 
 
 I looked foolish, and replied that I had heard no one 
 say that — only — 
 
 ^ Only,' repeated my father, waxing warm, getting as 
 nearly angry as I ever saw him get, ' that's how a poor 
 brute's character, like many a man's, is whispered and 
 winked and nodded and hummed and hawed away, be- 
 fore — Take and try her.' 
 
 I was overwhelmed with the unusual volume and 
 warmth of my father's speech. I felt hurt, too; but I 
 promised to do my best and gentlest with the mare. But 
 here my mother interposed. The whispers defamatory of 
 the mare that had got abroad had crept insidiously into 
 her busy household ears, and she now, in some anxiety 
 for the life and limb of her firstborn, hinted that it might 
 be better to let an experienced horse-breaker have her 
 iirst. 
 
 ' That's just the fault I have to find with these men, 
 my dear,' said my father, ' that' they are Yiox^Q-hreakers, 
 If an animal shows any Avill or spirit of its own, they have 
 no thought of trying to bend it — they must break it. If 
 they can't, the horse is a vixen — full of vice — they can do 
 nothing with her. She passes from their hands — or rather 
 from their fists and whips and feet and the sound of their 
 coarse voices — with a mortal dread upon her of any human 
 being, so that it will be difiicult, very difficult, for any 
 one to do anything with her, except' — and he gave me a 
 straight kind look (as a peace-offering, I suppose, for the 
 sin of his warm words) — 'with the most patient and 
 thoughtful treatment, which I hope — I think James will 
 give her.' 
 
 Such words from my father, who seldom spoke either 
 
FOR SALE— A THOROUGHBRED NAG, UNBROA'EN.' 283 
 
 in praise or blame, sounded to me the rarest flattery. I 
 blushed, and resolved to do my best. 
 
 However, I found that in private my mother had pre- 
 vailed upon my father to let the mare remain imhandled 
 till the harvest was past, by which time, perhaps, her 
 high fierce spirit (if she had it) might have sunk to a very 
 tame ebb on an exclusive grass diet. 
 
 III. 
 
 In the mean time fresh evidence of the depravity and 
 wide reputation of the mare kept coming to light in a 
 most sprightly irritating fashion. One market-day, for 
 instance, while I was looking on at the sale of some store- 
 pigs, I became conscious that a man, who looked like a 
 respectable groom or coachman, was fidgeting about and 
 eyeing me as if he longed very much to speak, but could 
 not find enough assurance either in his pockets or within 
 his ample w^aistcoat. Feeling for the man, and seeing no 
 harm in him, I made up to him with some remark about 
 the pigs, with which he agreed. He very soon took occa- 
 sion to ask if we hadn't that mare up at our place. 
 
 'I don't know,' said I; 'we have several mares;' 
 though I was quite sure which he meant. 
 
 Yes, yes ; but it was that vicious thoroughbred that 
 had belonged to Captain Pumpkin ; that was the one he 
 was a-speakin' of. 
 
 * 0, you know her too, do you?' I said. 
 
 ' Know her % Bless ye, know 'er as well 's I know my 
 own mother ! Warn't it me as saw 'er grow up a colt, 
 an' as fust tuk 'er in '? You know that mark on 'er ear % 
 she's got a big ear an' a ugly cartey 'ead, too big for her 
 blood. Well, that 'appened when she was fust tuk in, an' 
 was just a-bein' bound wi' the 'alter in the stall, when up 
 she rises on 'er 'ind legs, playin' this yere in the air, a- 
 sparrin'-like ; up she rises an' strikes 'er 'ead agin a beam, 
 
284 '^OR SALE— A THOROUGHBRED NAG, UNBROKEN.' 
 
 an' cuts 'er ear clean off; 'twas just a-'angin' by a rag o' 
 skin. So off I goes for the vet, an' when 'e come we 
 casts 'er, an' 'e sews it on. Ye'll see the marks of the 
 stitches yet, sir, if ye look. Fired in the pastern? I 
 don't know nothin' about that, sir. Very like that was 
 done by one o' them trainers. She went over two on 
 'em, you know, sir.' 
 
 I hinted an opinion that they had not understood, and 
 had bungled her, and that I meant to try her myself. 
 
 He looked me up and down in surprise, till I blushed. 
 
 ' Excuse me, sir, but lies your family insured your life ? 
 You'll excuse me, you know, sir,' said he, advancing 
 nearer, 'but she's a spoiled brute. She ain't good for 
 nothink. Kind gentle treatment, sir, do you say ? Well, 
 that's just where it is. If she 'ad, sir, or if she 'ad 'ad, 
 as you may say. But, ye see, she's been 'ashed and 
 knocked about, by them fellers, she 'avin' a devil uv a 
 temper uv 'er own to begin with. Well, ye see, they've 
 come off second best, as the sa3dn' is, an' she knows it. 
 It's too late, sir ; she's got off too long with it.' 
 
 ' Why, how old is she f 
 
 ' How old, sir ? Let me — ' (' scratch my beard,' he 
 might have said, for that was what he did) — ' she was 
 dropped, sir, the year Blenkiron won the Derby; she's 
 gettin' on for six, sir. Well, sir, you may, after a while, 
 manage to ride her, but — ' 
 
 The ellipsis of speech was made fully explicit by a 
 portentous nod. 
 
 On our way home from market I retailed to father 
 what I had been told. ' And,' I concluded, ' he said we 
 might get her to be ridden, but as for harness — ' 
 
 ' You see, James,' said my father, ' these men have so 
 mismanaged her, that our work will be more difficult than 
 if they had never seen her.' 
 
 ' Yes; that's just what he said.' 
 
 ' Who said f asked my father, looking at me keenly. 
 
FOR SALE- 
 
 -A THOROUGHBRED NAG, UNBROKEN.' 285 
 
 I felt the rebuke to the full; he needn't have said 
 another word ; though he did add, after I stammered in 
 reply, ' The — the man — ' 
 
 'Do you usually accept as gospel all the gossip you 
 may pick up from this and that creature you know 
 nothing off 
 
 I was nettled. 
 
 'But surely, father, in this case — this gossip — there is 
 a probability — ' 
 
 He saw I wished to entangle him in an argument. 
 
 ' Now, James,' said he. 
 
 The tone and the gaze subdued me. I was dumb. 
 
 It will thus be seen that my father still believed that 
 the mare, notwithstanding the many serious rents and 
 holes in her credit, had something of a character to lose ; 
 and he was resolved that, if she could not be rehabilitated 
 with a new one, no one should be encouraged by him to 
 spy and point out other blemishes in the old — not even 
 his son. He seemed determined to stick by her to the 
 last. 
 
 IV. 
 
 I SAY seemed now; but who then would ever have 
 dreamt of reading at Michaelmas in a catalogue of a 
 neighbour's sale the following entry by my father? — -'A 
 Tlioroughhred Nag, four yeay^s, tuith Foal; unbroken.' I was 
 astonished, for I had overheard not the faintest whisper 
 of an intention to sell her. I could not help showing my 
 astonished face to my father. He turned away, explain- 
 ing the entry by, 
 
 ' Your mother's afraid of you Avith her' (meaning the 
 mare). 
 
 I submitted to be thus saddled with the blame as 
 gracefully as I could. 
 
 But there was no such luck as to be rid of her so 
 easily. She was as well known among the gentlemen 
 
2 86 ' FOR SALE— A THOROUGHBRED NAG, UNBROKEN: 
 
 with the knowing Httle tufts and the tight trousers — ay, 
 and among the ffxrmers too — as any lady who has been 
 defamed is Avhen she ventures into society : she was in- 
 famously well known. And she stood in the yard, with 
 her innocent little son, quiet and placable, as meek as 
 milk. It was no doubt to her a matter of indifference 
 who possessed her, if she was left undisturbed in the en- 
 joyment of her small maternal cares, and of the sweetest 
 of grass and other provender. 
 
 And, of course, in a little while every mortal man and 
 boy knew her bad points and her vices off by heart. Tf 
 one man did not know quite all, others (who had never 
 spoken to the man in their lives before) strove for the 
 pleasure of pouring into his ear their gratuitous informa- 
 tion. The deuce! it made me quite wroth. Two men 
 were talking her over quite openly. Some little distance 
 off another man was eyeing her with the dubious balanced 
 look of a possible bidder, when suddenly he overheard 
 from the others a derisive, ' Unbroken ! ha, ha ! Why, 
 she,' &c. They were turning away, when the man in 
 alarm sidled up to them. Did he just — did they know 
 anything of that mare with the foal? Did they? They 
 hoped they did ! Ha, ha ! I grew more and more angry. 
 Why could they not give the poor brute a chance for her 
 — sale? One of them was arrested in the full flow of 
 imparting all he knew by chancing to cast his eye over 
 his shoulder and observe me. ' Sh !' said he, ' his son !' 
 ' Where f asked the stranger; and when he knew, he 
 stared at me as if I were a pestilent swindler, till I turned 
 away red with rage and confusion. 
 
 But when the old gentleman in green spectacles and 
 white gaiters asked the boy who was standing with the 
 mare whether she went quietly when ridden, and the boy 
 replied, ' 0, bless you, yes, sir ; why, I rode uv 'er over 'ere 
 myself this morning, an' she went as quiet as a lamb,' I 
 chuckled with delight, though I knew that boy would not 
 
'FOR SALE— A THOROUGHBRED NAG, UNBROKEN: 287 
 
 dare to lift a leg towards her. I, at least, did not register 
 the lie against the boy, it was told in so good a cause. 
 
 But the worst was yet to come. Her turn came, and 
 she was trotted out before the auctioneer. 
 
 'Now, gentlemen,' &c. 
 
 ' How old is she?' demanded an oldish nondescript 
 fellow in a wideawake hat and a blouse, who was reputed 
 to possess the fastest trotter in the district. 
 
 * Four year old, gentlemen ; and quite unbroken,' said 
 the auctioneer, consulting his catalogue. 
 
 ' Now, gentlemen, what's — ' 
 
 ' It's a lie !' shouted the old fellow. ' She's six, if she's 
 not seven ; an' as for her being unbroken — ' 
 
 But here a sense of fairness and of privilege stirred 
 the breasts of many, who interrupted him with, 
 
 'A bid! A bid!' 
 
 ' Ten pounds !' shouted he. 
 
 ' Ten pounds, gentlemen. Ten pounds is bid for this 
 thoroughbred mare with foal — ' 
 
 ' Who is the foal by V asked a voice from the crowd. 
 
 * Cavalier,' whispered my father from behind the auc- 
 tioneer. 
 
 ' By Cavalier, gentlemen !' shouted the auctioneer. 
 
 ' It's a lie !' muttered the old fellow. 
 
 'Mr. Cross, gentlemen' (that was the old fellow's 
 name), ' is cross because she is not a cross.' 
 
 Here there was a loud bucolic laugh from the crowd. 
 
 'No, gentlemen, she's no cross, she's thoroughbred. 
 There's blood, gentlemen. Trot her out again, Tom.' 
 
 Bill cracked his whip, and shouted, and Tom trotted 
 her out, but with little enthusiasm. The bucolic audience 
 laughed, wagged its head, and winked. 
 
 ' Well, gentlemen, what do you say % Mr. Cross, let 
 me start with twenty.' Mr. Cross shook his sulky head. 
 * No ! Have a catalogue, Mr. Cross V 
 
 ' I don't want a catalogue,' said Mr. Cross. 
 
2 88 'FOR SALE— A THOROUGHBRED NAG, UNBROKEN.' 
 
 ' No, gentlemen, but Mr. Cross wants a tlioronghbred 
 mare, with foal, for 10/., gentlemen — a nag tliat could win 
 'im a trotting-matcli. Out with her again, Tom ! There, 
 gentlemen, what action and spring ! She'd do a trotting- 
 match for you every day in the year, Cross — Sundays, 
 excepted. On Sundays, gentlemen, Mr. Cross is too good 
 a man to run matches.' 
 
 But it was of no use ; he might fire off the most pointed 
 wit he could invent, no higher Lid would be thrown to him 
 in return ; the crowd grinned and giggled, or'stood silent 
 and suspicious. Mr. Auctioneer turned and whispered to 
 my father, and the mare was walked off covered with 
 ignominy. 
 
 As we drove home, I ventured a remark, amongst 
 others, upon the unseasonable interference of the old idiot 
 in the blouse. 
 
 'I'm pleased she's going to stay with us,' said my 
 father curtly, and gave the horse a cut with the whip. 
 
 I could not make my father out ; I Avas silent. 
 
 v. 
 
 It was November, and the height of the shooting- 
 season, when father reminded me tliat an attempt must 
 be made to train that mare ; had we not better begin at 
 once'? I agreed that we had. It was always great 
 trouble to take and halter her. But, for the most part, 
 once in a corner she submitted to be led off quietly. 
 
 AVe tried the saddle on her, just to see how she would 
 wear it ; for nothing serious could be attempted till that 
 precious baby of hers should have been weaned. She 
 submitted to the saddle as if she had been mider it all her 
 days. She seemed so quiet, I thought I might try how 
 she would endure one seated in the saddle. It Avas a 
 safe- enough venture for me, for there Avere two or three 
 men about who had helped in her capture, and father 
 
FOR SALE— A THOROUGHBRED NAG, UNBROKEN. 
 
 289 
 
 was at her head. I did not hke the glance of her eye as 
 I placed my foot. I sprang into the saddle and stuck, 
 prepared for the worst. But she could not have stood 
 more quietly if she had been made of wood. I walked 
 her up the lane, with her foal trotting by her side, or 
 behind, or in front, and I walked her down again. I 
 walked her about the green, and tried to excite her to a 
 merry prance or two, but no — she was as sober as an old 
 cart-horse. I will confess I felt rather disappointed that 
 she had shown not a spark of the wild devilry that was 
 said to be in her. I got off in disgust. Then I thought 
 I would try a remount alone, she seemed so meek a brute. 
 I had no sooner reached the saddle than she kicked up 
 like a donkey, and trotted off with her beautiful springy 
 step, trying to rub me off against hayricks and stable- 
 walls and fence-posts. 'AVell,' thought I, 'this is more 
 promising,' and dismounted the first opportunity. 
 
 I shall not trouble you with a detailed account of the 
 weaning of that blessed baby : how he was penned into 
 a large stall adjoining that in which his mother was bound, 
 with a great deal of litter strewed deep about the floor 
 and piled high against the wall ; how he screamed and 
 neighed (never have I heard so deep, so fierce a neigh as 
 mother and son both possessed) ; how to escape his pur- 
 suers he leapt up among the piled litter to climb over to 
 his dam — and would have climbed, and broken limb or 
 neck, had I not fortunately been in his rear and seized his 
 tail, and hauled till he rolled over in the litter, and was 
 lost for the moment, all except his thin legs, which fought 
 desperately with the air ; how, when taken and securely 
 haltered, he danced and pranced about the green, threw 
 himself down and screamed, once twisting me over with 
 him; how, after he had worked himself into the last state 
 of perspiration and excitement, he leant — absolutely leant 
 — up against me to rest, poor little fellow ! He was at 
 length, though nothing like cowed, led away to a distant 
 
 T 
 
290 
 
 FOR SALE— A THOROUGHBRED NAG, UNBROKEN.' 
 
 part of the farm, and introduced to the company of other 
 colts who had lately passed through the same bewildering 
 experience as himself and had survived it, and who now 
 knew no more of mother or father than does an Arab in 
 the streets. He raced about and screamed for his mother,, 
 to the no small surprise and contempt of his comrades. 
 
 Parted from her first-born son, that mother led us such 
 a life ! If ever there was a real nightmare of flesh and 
 blood, it was she. Three, four nights running, father, Joe, 
 and I sat up with her (all three the first night, the other 
 nights by turns), and if we had not she would have 
 hanged herself over and over again. A very legion of 
 devils seemed to possess her. She neither ate nor drank, 
 nor lay down day or night, but made violent wrenches at 
 her halter (which she broke again and again), threw her- 
 self against the walls and on the floor of her stall, like a 
 lunatic. I never saw or heard of a horse behaving so 
 before. 
 
 ' Lor' bless you, yes, sir,' said Joe, raising his eye- 
 brows, ' at weanin' wuss — much wuss, sometimes.' 
 
 Well, I never had seen it; but I was young, and I 
 ventured to doubt whether the mare would not rather 
 die than give in, and whether we were not acting a very 
 cruel part. In expressing as much, I looked at my father ; 
 but he stood and smoked, fixed and inscrutable as an 
 Indian chief. Her last paroxysm must have been very 
 violent and peculiar. I was with her on the fourth day 
 alone, and had run indoors to my mother to get a mouth- 
 ful of something warm, when suddenly there came from 
 the stable the most dreadful clatter and snorting. I 
 rushed out, and found her lying with her tail where her 
 head should be, but with her head still bound to the 
 manger, so that it was dragged over her shoulder towards 
 her tail in a most constrained position ; she had one hind- 
 leg over the halter. I saw I could do nothing for her — 
 she must lie there till she could burst herself free. She 
 
'FOR SALE— A THOROUGHBRED NAG, UNBROKEN: 291 
 
 made a few ineffectual dashes, kicks, and snorts; then, 
 with swelHng ribs and a tremendons snort, she put out 
 her strength. The leather snapped beneath her chin, and 
 she stood with all her feet out apart (as if she meant to 
 fly), and looked about her. Then, with a big sigh, she 
 lay down and was quiet. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Soon after this, it was possible to begin the work of 
 breaking in. For two or three nights after the weaning 
 and watching my sleep was over-ridden by that mare. In 
 wakeful intervals I endeavoiu-ed to mature my green 
 opinions on the best mode of training. I convinced myself 
 by certain links of reasoning, which I lost in my sleep, 
 that the too common whack and halloo — ' crack whip and 
 dash away'— method (if method it were) would never do 
 with a creature of her high mettle. I would use her 
 gently. I recalled the saying of an old gentleman, who 
 had been much in the society of horses, that he had often 
 struck a horse, but had never known the blow do any good, 
 and I resolved that under no provocation would I strike 
 her. I sleepily argued with myself that the doctrine of 
 original sin was inapplicable to horses : there was no such 
 thing as inborn vice among them ; what seemed such was 
 only either youthful mischief, or ignorance, or, at the very 
 worst, fear. 
 
 One evening, in the absence of my father, I flaunted 
 forth these revolutionary notions before a sympathetic but 
 unpractical female audience, consisting of my mother, 
 Sissy, the village schoolmistress (an old maid of prodigious 
 learning and vast powers of utterance), and the old re- 
 triever dog. The ladies applauded my humane opinions ; 
 the old dog barked and howled as if in dissent and lamen- 
 tation. Then the lady of prodigious lore, with a delicious 
 roll in her voice, asked Mister James if he had never heard 
 
292 
 
 FOR SALE— A THOROUGHBRED NAG, UNBROKEN: 
 
 how it was that man was at all able to restrain and domi- 
 nate so noble and fiery an animal as the horse. 
 
 Well, I replied, casting about in my mind, perhaps I 
 had. 
 
 That Nature, in her beneficent wisdom, had so con- 
 structed the lens of the horse's eye that a man appeared 
 to him of gigantic size, huge and towering'? 
 
 ' Dear me !' said I, ' I never heard that before !' 
 *Have you notf said she. 'It's one of the many 
 marvellous facts science has demonstrated to us. If it 
 were not for that, a small boy like Billy there' (Billy tried 
 to look unconscious, and pulled up his stockings) ' would 
 never be able to lead about a horse and manage him.' 
 'Indeed !' I exclaimed. 
 
 Here Billy interposed the irrelevant fact that he had 
 ridden the old gray mare to water and back again, and all 
 alone too. 
 
 * No ; not quite alone, Billy,' suggested Sissy. 
 ' Well,' quoth Billy, rather sulkily, ' there was only Joe 
 besides ;' who, no doubt, was a considerable figure of 
 authority to the gray mare, if not to Billy. 
 
 It occurred to me afterwards — keen objections or smart 
 answers never do occur to me till the occasion for their 
 application has slipped past — that if the lens of the horse's 
 eye had this enlarging power, then everything he saw 
 through that lens — not men and little boys alone — must 
 be of monstrous size ! Why does a horse, then, not run 
 away when he sees a fellow-horse % Ha, ha ! He does 
 shy, though, when he sees a dark bush in the twilight. 
 Can it be that he imagines it a great tree % 
 
 However, I resolved to be as big and important in the 
 eyes of that mare as her lens would possibly allow. But 
 in a day or two, I must confess, I lost in dignity and self- 
 respect. The mare had run with open mouth at that boy 
 who had lied so well on her behalf. Possibly some moral 
 lens she kept somewhere had a more than nullifying efiect 
 
'FOR SALE- A THOROUGHBRED NAG, UNBROKEN.' 293 
 
 •upon her physical, and had shown her him as a very small 
 boy indeed, as a mere worm of a boy. She struck him 
 down with her fore-feet as soon as he entered her box, and 
 she would have trampled him to death had he not con- 
 trived to creep away, very sore, under the manger, where 
 he lay beneath her watchful eye till I entered, and found 
 and released him. I tied her np and began to groom her 
 (I had begun thus to make myself intimately acquainted 
 with her temper, and with all her little ways) — I say, I 
 began to groom her. She was rather dirty about the 
 hocks, and I suppose I must have scratched her a little in 
 applying the currycomb there. She struck out a fierce 
 high kick, which just missed me. I instantly dug her in 
 the ribs with the comb. I at once regretted it. She 
 plunged about a little ; and I saw from her evil eye and 
 flattened ears she had taken it in great dudgeon. I had 
 lost whatever slight hold I had got of her equine affec- 
 tions ; but the worst was, I had broken my resolution at 
 the first trial. 
 
 VII. 
 
 To-morrow was the day when she was to have her 
 first 'iDlunge,' as Joe phrased it, and my mother's anxiety 
 visibly deepened. 
 
 Why could we not, she urged my father, let her plunge 
 about for a few days with a man-of-straw or a sand-man 
 on her back ? She had seen that done at home. 
 
 ' With a good result f asked my father. 
 
 My mother did not know with what result ; but she 
 thought we might try it. 
 
 I suggested as a compromise that she might wear a 
 man-of-straw in the night ; but my father at once put that 
 aside by reminding me that the mare lay down in the 
 night now, and that if she found she could lie down com- 
 fortably with the man-of-straw — (here my father could not 
 
2 94 '^OR SALE— A THOROUGHBRED NAG, UNBROKEN: 
 
 refrain from laiigliter — whatever at, my mother wondered?) 
 — she would try and lie down with me. 
 
 ' No, my dear,' said he ; ' we must try her with this 
 man-of-straw first,' looking at me and langhing. My 
 father was nnusually facetious. 
 
 When I was mounted for the 'plunge — 
 
 ' Always a short stirrup,' said my father emphatically, 
 ' when youre on a horse youre not sure of.' 
 
 While he on the one side and Joe on the other were 
 shortening the leathers, the mare kept treading and tread- 
 ing (as if she had been in the army and had learnt to mark 
 time), cocking and switching her long switch-tail, till she 
 almost whisked old Joe's withered head off. 
 
 'Woa!' cried Joe, 'you — ' he felt my father's calm 
 eye on him, and said, ' you bonny Bess !' 
 
 ' We must cut it off,' said my father. 
 
 He meant the mare's tail, not Joe's old head. 
 
 But before my father's sharp knife was produced, and 
 while he was still smiling at Joe's mishap, round came 
 the terrible tail on his side and whisked his hat away ; 
 some of its loose longer hairs even reached and stung 
 my nose. I believe she knew well what she was about ; 
 I could detect the ardent mischief in her eye and the 
 backward prick of her ear. But we soon had her tail 
 abridged to some inches above her hocks. 
 
 She trod and trod in her easy springy style, catching 
 at and chewing her bit (it was a simple champ-bit with 
 keys), but she would not step an inch forward in obe- 
 dience to my mild requests and entreaties. My father, 
 at length out of patience, gave her a smack on the 
 shoulder with the end of the rein he held, and away she 
 dashed. But she found in a little that, what with me 
 on her back and father and Joe with a rein on either 
 side, there was little room for the ^Dlay of her own free 
 will. 
 
 She submitted sullenly : sullenness and design were 
 
'FOR SALE- A THOROUGHBRED NAG, UNBROKEN.' 295 
 
 always expressed to me by lier .Jewish cast of nose and 
 long narrow forehead. There are no points so attractive 
 in a horse as an open frank nostril and a broad forehead. 
 
 ' I don't like that head of hers/ said I to Joe ; ' I can't 
 think she's thoroughbred.' 
 
 ' Thoroughbred ? Lor' bless you, ]\Iister James, ye've 
 jest got to twig that carty 'ead to know that; though it 
 wouldn't do,' added he in an undertone, 'to say that to 
 master. No.' 
 
 I went to feed her (I always fed her myself). I mixed 
 in a sieve a quantity of chaff and bran, with a sprinkling 
 of salt and two or three handfuls of oats, for we thought 
 that full measure of hard food might make her like Jeshu- 
 run. She observed my movements over her shoulder in 
 sullen expectancy. I put it in her manger. She sniffed 
 at it, tasted it, tossed as much as she could out with her 
 nose, and then turned and glowered at me ; till, with a 
 ^ound more like a pig's grunt or a testy man's ' humpli !' 
 than an honest equine snort, she returned to her manger 
 and began eating. 
 
 ' There,' cried Joe, wagging his head at me, ' not she ! 
 'O, no ! Don't you make no mistake !' 
 
 After these oracular words from Joe, I resumed, 
 
 ' I'm sure she and I will never be good friends. She 
 looks so secret, so crafty and designing, there can never 
 be any confidence between us.' 
 
 ' Ah !' said Joe, looking puzzled. 
 
 * I shall never be able to trust that Jew nose.' 
 
 Joe laughed, and kept repeating to himself, ' Jew 
 nose,' as if it were a very rich joke. 
 
 We plunged and trained her in the soft field the next 
 day, and the third day, and the fourth, and the fifth ; and 
 my father said every day with increasing confidence as 
 the days passed, ' I don't see anything about that mare 
 that should make folks say she plays such tricks. She's 
 ^s docile and good a thing as can be.' I was silent. 
 
296 'FOR SALE— A THOROUGHBRED NAG, UNBROKEN.' 
 
 At the end of the week she seemed so submissive and 
 tractable that my father thonght she and I might very 
 well be trusted alone. I, however, still distrusted the 
 sullen craft of her eye ; and that Jew nose, I said to my- 
 self, I could never be reconciled to. I saddled and bridled 
 her, with the least tremor of anxiety disturbing me. I 
 was going, for security's sake, to put a curb-bit in her 
 mouth ; but father said, ' 0, fie, no ; you'll spoil her 
 mouth.' So I allowed her the usual champ-bit. She 
 grabbed at it when it was presented to her mouth, as if 
 she understood how near she had been to losing it. I 
 led her out ; Joe came forward to hold her head. 
 
 * Let him mount by himself,' said my father. ' She 
 must learn to stand Avithout being held.' 
 
 She stepped round and round in a staid funereal style,, 
 as if performing at a circus. At length I got into the- 
 saddle, and, quick as thought, she bolted with me, past 
 Joe, back into the stable. I had just time to think of 
 Absalom's fate before I leant far back over her tail and 
 passed under the low lintel of the door. I Avas much 
 nettled, but I restrained myself. I got off and ]ed her 
 out again in silence, exchanging with the brute a glance- 
 of defiance. She wanted to go through the circus per- 
 formance again. My blood was rising; I shut my lips 
 and was resolute. I held the rein, but made no efibrt to 
 mount, till she stopped and looked at Joe, and from Joe 
 to me, as much as to say, 'What does this mean?' AVhilst 
 she was considering this, I leaped to the saddle, and away 
 she went, as on the first day I bestrode her, to scrape me 
 off against a fence. Failing in this, she darted forward 
 a few yards into the road, stopped dead, and kicked clear 
 up like a donkey. 
 
 'Grip 'old o' the saddle be'ind!' cried Joe. 
 
 Again was she disappointed. She whisked her tail 
 smartly and dashed away up the lane, as if possessed by all 
 the devils that drove the herd of swine to commit suicide.. 
 
'FOR SALE— A THOROUGHBRED NAG, UNBROKEN.' 297 
 
 I pulled my very hardest to rein her in ; but the champ- 
 bit could restrain her no more than a rotten stick. 'Well, 
 my pet,' said I aloud, ' go as hard as you can pelt, but 
 I'll stick to you.' Forthwith she began to prance and 
 rear. A gate by chance stood open, and before she was 
 aware I had touched her with my heel and she was in 
 the ploughed field. After plunging and rearing for some 
 time, till I thought the next moment she would fall back- 
 ward and crush me beneath her, she played what I had 
 been led to understand was her great trump-card — she 
 lay down and rolled. But her feet were clogged with 
 the soft loam, and the action was not so quick but that I 
 had time to get my foot free from the stirrup. I stood 
 over her, as I had promised myself I would. She glared 
 back at me in surprise. She planted out her forefeet, 
 preparing to rise. I was ready ; remembering Joe's last 
 words, I grasped the saddle behind me. It was well I 
 did, for with the jerk with which she rose she almost 
 jerked me over her head. She seemed to have expected 
 thus to get rid of me. She looked round and stood still 
 a moment to consider what she would do next. 'Do what 
 I w^ant you to do,' said I, then touched her with my heel,. 
 and guided her across the field. She stepped along stea- 
 dily enough till she reached the farther side. I had begun 
 in my triumph to despise the clumsiness and fewness of 
 her tricks, and to laugh at myself for having looked for- 
 ward to her playing of them with such anxiety, when she 
 espied under a wide-spreading oak a breach in the wattle- 
 fence between the field and the road, and dashed straight 
 at it, will I, nill I. Again I thought of Absalom, this 
 time with more propriety. Before I could count six we 
 had passed imder the tree ; a crooked finger of one of its- 
 great arms had snatched my hat— luckily leaving me my 
 head— we were down the steep bank, and tearing along- 
 the road as hard as she could gallop. 
 ' This is nice,' thought I, ' very nice.' 
 
298 ' FOR SALE— A THOROUGHBRED NAG, UNBROKEN.' 
 
 I must confess I thought bitterly of my father. He 
 had allowed me to be carried off by this brnte ; he -would 
 now be sitting down quietly to lunch at home; but I 
 would lunch at — icliere 2 The road was straight and firm, 
 and her feet covered mile after mile ; while I, hot, tired, 
 and hatless, resigned myself to a Gilpin ride. Ten good 
 miles, through sun and shade, without the interruption of 
 a single turnpike. Up Sharpthorne Hill she slackened 
 |)ace a little, and I got her danced down the long street 
 of the village of Cripley and into the George yard, twelve 
 miles from home. I shouted eagerly for the ostler, for she 
 seemed inclined to return to the road. A little bow-legged 
 man appeared. 
 
 ' Had a stiff run, sir ?' said he, as he stood at her head 
 and glanced at her lathered shoulders. 
 
 ' Rather,' said I. 
 
 I swung myself off, and walked away to find the inn- 
 parlour. 
 
 I lunched oft' the remains of a leg of mutton the inn- 
 keeper's family had had for dinner. I rested a little, and 
 then, in a hat borrowed of the landlord, walked out to the 
 stables to look at the brute. The little ostler had scraped 
 her down and thrown a cloth over her, and she was 
 munching some fragrant hay as if nothing had hap- 
 pened. 
 
 ' Come from Captain Pumpkin's, sir V asked the ostler. 
 
 I shook my head and looked at him ; I guessed what 
 was coming. ^ 
 
 'Not?' said he. 'I thought this yere mare was his.' 
 
 ' Yes, it was,' I replied ; ' but my father bought it.' 
 
 * Ah !' said he, with a look which added plainly, 'What 
 a green fellow your father must be !' He added aloud, 
 ' P'raps 'e got 'er cheap V 
 
 ' I can't say,' said I. 
 
 'Well,' said he, 'I thought I knowed 'er. If ye once 
 clap eyes on 'er, you'll easy know 'er agin, you know, sir,' 
 
'FOR SALE— A THOROUGHBRED NAG, UNBROKEN.' 299 
 
 he continued, with a hoarse laugh ; ' this yere ear, and the 
 fired pastern. Woa, tit !' 
 
 ' Ye-es,' said I, in a tone of dolour, and related to him 
 some of our adventures. 
 
 ' Ah,' laughed he, getting quite lively, ' she is a bad 
 un, ain't she ? She's the tippest-topper at badness ever I 
 see. So sly, too. Lor' bless you, sir !' 
 
 He seemed about to relate some remarkable anecdote 
 of her history, but thought better of it, and said, 
 
 ' Don't you wear of yerself out with her, sir. She'll 
 break your neck, or break 'er own, afore she's done.' 
 
 'Ah!' said I. 
 
 ' Ride 'ome on this yere 'oss, an' let me walk 'er over 
 in the mornin'.' 
 
 0, no, I wouldn't hear of such a thing. I'd ride her 
 back, though heaven should fall. So I mounted and can- 
 tered away. I thought I was going to get her home 
 pretty easily ; but at the head of the village she turned 
 and gallopped back into the George yard. 
 
 Little bow-legs laughed, and asked, 
 
 ' What will you do, sir T 
 
 ' Go in and have a smoke,' said I, ' and try again.' 
 
 I went in and smoked a cigar. Then I returned to 
 the brute. I was determined she sJioidd go home now. 
 
 She danced and capered, to the no small dismay and 
 delight of the village children and gossips. This seemed 
 to furnish her cunning head with a new idea ; for every 
 time she caught sight of a house or cottage with a child 
 or two about she played off these pranks. Not only so, 
 but she played off again upon me all the tricks of the 
 morning. She lay down and rolled in the road, and 
 managed to give my foot something of a bruise. My 
 patience was entirely gone ; I whipped her with a will. 
 She rose, filled with rage and surprise, and tore away 
 home like the wind. When we came to that gap in the 
 fence again, up the bank she shot and under the tree — in 
 
300 'FOR SALE— A THOROUGHBRED NAG, UNBROKEN: 
 
 whose branches I left my second hat — and away across 
 the field. Now came her final, her grand coup. I rode 
 her straight at the hedge, expecting her to clear it, from 
 the way she took the ground ; but she stopped dead, with 
 her forefeet in the roots of the hedge, and over I'd have 
 gone head foremost into the ditch, like a sack of coals 
 shot by a coalheaver, had I not feared some such catas- 
 trophe and gripped the saddle, according to Joe's advice. 
 
 I got home about tea-time. 
 
 ' 0, 'ere you are ! I thought it was all up with you,' 
 said Joe cheerfully. 
 
 ' Well,' said my father, ' how did you get on, James f 
 
 ' Get on, father ? It was not the getting on — it was 
 the keeping on !' 
 
 ' That's it,' laughed Joe. 
 
 My father was silent. 
 
 I entered the house. I saw my mother had been 
 crying. 
 
 ' My dear boy,' she exclaimed, ' what a figure ! You're 
 crusted with dirt! Where's your hat? Are you hurt 
 much ? Get the tea made. Sissy. 0, it's a mercy you've 
 a whole bone left in your skin !' 
 
 ' That you haven't walked home with your head under 
 your arm,' said Sissy. 
 
 ' I did almost leave it stuck in an oak,' said I. 
 
 ' No-o !' exclaimed Sissy incredulously. 
 
 'I've been so dreadfully alarmed,' said my mother, 
 looking tenderly at me, * all the day. You've been gone 
 six or seven hours.' 
 
 ' Five and a half, mother,' said I. 
 
 'Wherever have you been so long?' 
 
 Whilst I was relating my adventures, my father came 
 in and sat down. When I had finished, 
 
 ' Now promise,' said my mother, ' that you will never 
 ride that brute again.' 
 
 ' We-el,' I hesitated, and looked at my father. 
 
'FOR SALE— A THOROUGHBRED NAG, UNBROKEN.' 301 
 
 ' 0. he's going to try her again to-morrow/ said he, 
 with a twinkle in his eye. 
 
 ' I'll go out myself,' cried my mother, * and shoot the 
 nasty brute, before he shall mount her again !' 
 
 'You don't reckon the loss, my dear,' said father 
 calmly, smiling. 
 
 * I'd rather lose her ten times over than lose my son.' 
 
 'Well, well, my dear, we'll put her down to "The 
 Warren.'" 
 
 Where she may be seen by any gentleman in want of 
 a 'Thoroughbred Nag, fourteen and a half hands, young, 
 and unbroken,' and unbreakable; for let who will possess 
 her, she has not yet seen the man who can be her master. 
 
FOWL IN THE BAY. 
 
 SIGHT of joy ! through sedge and sand I've held my wary 
 
 way, 
 And gain'd the shelter of the rock that marks the mimic bay. 
 And after all my breathless toil my prize is nearly won ; 
 There gleam the glossy heads and wings beneath the wintry 
 
 sun; 
 There, just in shot, the mass of fowl are feeding by the shore : 
 My pulse throbs quicker at the sight, as in the days of yore. 
 
 Let those who call it shooting stand within the level ride. 
 While beaters push tame pheasants up in clouds on ev'ry side,. 
 Or seek the sport in Norfolk that relays of guns may yield, 
 When the driven coveys far and near are crowded in a field : 
 Give me the shore where breezes salt blow gloriously free. 
 And brace the limbs that tireless track the dwellers by the sea. 
 
 1 crouch behind the friendly rock, and watch the flock at play — 
 What varied beauties dip and dive within the tiny bay ! — 
 The widgeon and the mallard in their wealth of colour vie. 
 And the graceful teal in timid pairs that dart like arrows by. 
 0, this is sure the sight that sets the shooter's blood aflame : 
 A brace of ducks well stalked is worth a hecatomb of game ! 
 
 One moment more a breath to draw, and then my trusty gun 
 Must do the work it oft before triumphantly has done. 
 Heavy the charge and fair the range, and good the bag will be. 
 If my hand retains the cunning and my eyes the distance see ; 
 And never in my memories has Fate bestow'd a day 
 When a grander chance was ofFer'd than is now within the bay. 
 
HUNTINGCROP HALL. 
 
 • Reputation, reputation, 
 reputation ! oh, I have 
 lost my reputation!' 
 It was, I believe, one 
 Michael Cassio, a Flo- 
 rentine, who originally 
 made the remark; and I 
 can only say I sincerely 
 wish I were in Michael 
 Cassio's position, and 
 could lose mine. It 
 may be a ' bubble,' this 
 same reputation; in- 
 deed, we have high 
 authority for so term- 
 ing it. But 'bubble' 
 rhymes with * trouble,' 
 and that is the con- 
 dition to which such a 
 reputation as mine is apt to bring you ; for it supposes 
 me to be a regular Nimrod, whereas I know about as much 
 of the science of the chase as my supposititious prototype 
 probably knew of ballooning : it sets me down as being 
 ' at home in the saddle ;' whereas it is there that I am, if I 
 may be allowed the expression, utterly at sea. 
 
 When, last November, I was seated before a blazing 
 fire in Major Huntingcrop's town house, and his too 
 charming daughter, Laura, expressed her enthusiastic ad- 
 
304 
 
 HUNTINGCROP HALL. 
 
 miration for hunting, and everything connected with it — 
 mildly at the same time hinting her contempt for those 
 who were unskilled in the accomplishment — could I pos- 
 sibly admit that I was amongst the despised class % Was 
 it not rather a favourable opportunity for showing our 
 community of sentiment by vowing that the sport was the 
 delight of my life, and firing off a few sentences laden 
 with such sporting phraseology as I had happened to pick 
 up in the course of desultory reading ? 
 
 Laiu-a listened with evident admiration. I waxed 
 eloquent. My arm-chair would not take the bit between 
 its teeth and run away; no hoimds were in the neigh- 
 bourhood to test my prowess ; and I am grieved to admit 
 
 that for a fearful ten minutes ' the father of stories' 
 
 '(what a family he must have!) had it all his own way 
 with me. 
 
 ^Atra cur a sedet post equitem indeed !' I concluded. ' You 
 may depend upon it, Miss Huntingcrop, that man was 
 mounted on a screw! Black Care would never dare to 
 intrude his unwelcome presence on a galloper. Besides, 
 why didn't the fellow put his horse at a hurdle ? Probably 
 Black Care wouldn't have been able to sit a fence. But 
 I quite agree with you that it is the duti/ of a gentleman 
 to hunt ; and I only wish that the performance of some of 
 my other duties gave me half as much pleasure !' 
 
 Where I should have ended it is impossible to say; 
 but here our tete-a-tete was interrupted by the advent of 
 the Major, who heard the tag-end of my panegyric with 
 manifest delight. 
 
 ' Huntingcrop is the place for you, Mr. Smoothley,' 
 •said he, with enthusiasm, *and I shall be more than 
 pleased to see you there. I think, too, we shall be able 
 to show you some of your favourite sport this season. We 
 meet four days a week, and you may reckon on at least 
 one day with the Grassmere. It is always a sincere plea- 
 •sure to me to find a young fellow whose heart is in it.' 
 
HUNTIXGCROP HALL. 
 
 305 
 
 As regards my heart, it was in my boots at the pros- 
 pect ; and, despite the great temptation of Lam-a's pre- 
 sence, I pansed, carefully to consider the fvos and cons 
 before accepting. 
 
 How pleasant to see her fresh flxce every morning at 
 the breakfast-table : how unpleasant to see a horse — 
 most painfully fresh also — waiting to bear me on a fear- 
 some journey as soon as the meal was concluded ! How 
 delightful to feel the soft pressure of her fingers as she 
 gave me morning greeting: how awful to feel my own 
 fingers numbed and stiff with tugging at the bridle of a 
 'wild, tearing, unmanageable steed ! How enjoyable to — 
 
 ^Are you engaged for Christmas, Mr. Smoothley?' 
 Laura inqiured, and that query settled me. It might 
 freeze — I could sprain my ankle, or knock up an excuse 
 of some sort. Yes, I would go ; and might good luck go 
 with me. 
 
 For the next few days I unceasingly studied the works 
 of Major Whyte-Melville, and others who have most to 
 say on what they term sport, and endeavoured to get up 
 a little enthusiasm. I did get up a little — very little ; 
 but when the desired quality had made its appearance, 
 attracted by my authors' wizard-like power, it was of an 
 extremely spurious character, and entirely evaporated 
 wdien I arrived at the little railway-station nearest to the 
 Hall. A particularly neat groom, whom I recognised as 
 having been in town with the Huntingcrops, was awaiting 
 me in a dog-cart, and the conveyance w^as just starting 
 when we met a string of horses, hooded and sheeted, 
 pa,ssing along the road: in training, if I might be per- 
 mitted to judge from their actions, for the wildest scenes 
 in Mazeppa, Dick Turpin, or some other exciting equestrian 
 drama. I did not want the man to tell me that they w^ere 
 his master's : I knew it at once ; and the answers he made 
 to my questions as to their usual demeanour in the field 
 plunged me into an abyss of despair. 
 
 u 
 
3o6 
 
 HUNTINGCROP HALL. 
 
 The hearty welcome of the Major, the more subdued 
 but equally nispinting greeting of his daughter, and the 
 contagious cheerfulness of a house full of pleasant people, 
 in some measure restored me; but it was not until the 
 soothing influence of dinner had taken possession of my 
 bosom, and a whisper had run through the establishment 
 that it was beginning to freeze, that I thoroughly recovered 
 my equanimity, and was able to retire to rest with some 
 small hope that my bed next night would not be one of 
 pain and suffering. 
 
 Alas, for my anticipations ! I was awakened from 
 slumber by a knock at the door, and the man entered my 
 room with a can of hot water in one hand and a pair of 
 tops in the other; while over his arm were slung my — in 
 point of fact, my breeches ; a costume which I had never 
 Avorn except on the day it came home, when I spent the 
 greater portion of the evening sportingly arrayed astride 
 of a chair, to see how it all felt. 
 
 ' Breakfast at nine, sir. Hounds meet at Blackbrook 
 at half-past ten ; and it's a good way to ride,' said the 
 servant. 
 
 ' The frost's all gone, I fea — I hope?' I said inquiringly. 
 ' Yes, sir. Lovely morning !' he answered, drawing 
 up the blinds. 
 
 In his opinion a lovely morning was characterised by 
 slightly damp, muggy weather; in mine it would have 
 been a daybreak of ultra-Siberian intensity. 
 
 I ruefully dressed, lamenting that my will was not a 
 little stronger (nor were thoughts of my other will — and 
 testament — entirely absent), that I might have fled from 
 the trial, or done something to rescue myself from the 
 exposure which I felt must shortly overwhelm me. The 
 levity of the men in the breakfast-room was a source 
 of suffering to me, and even Laura's voice jarred on my 
 ears as she petitioned her father to let her follow 'just 
 a little way' — she was going to ride and see the hounds 
 
HUNTINGCROP HALL. 307 
 
 ' throw off,' a ceremony which I devoutly hoped would be 
 confined to those animals — ' because it was too hard to tnrn 
 back when the real enjoyment commenced ; and she would 
 be good in the pony-carriage for the rest of the week.' 
 
 ' No, no, my dear,' replied the Major ; 'women are out 
 of place in the hunting field. Don't you think so, Mr. 
 Smoothley ?' 
 
 ' I do, indeed, ]\lajor,' I answered, giving Laura's little 
 dog under the table a fearful kick as I threw out my foot 
 violently to straighten a crease which was severely galling 
 the inside of my left knee. ' You had far better go for a 
 quiet ride, Miss Huntingcrop, and' — how sincerely I 
 added — 'I shall be delighted to accompany you; there 
 will be plenty of days for me to hunt when you drive to 
 the meet.' 
 
 ' No, no, Smoothlcy. It's very kind of you to propose 
 it, but I won't have you sacrificing your day's pleasure,' 
 the ^lajor made answer, dashing tlie crumbs of hope from 
 my hungering lips. ' You may go a little way, Laura, if 
 you'll promise to stay Avith Sir AVilliam, and do all that 
 he tells you. You Avon't mind looking after her, Heather- 
 i:opper V 
 
 Old Sir William's build would have forbidden the sup- 
 position that he Avas in any Avay given to activity, even if 
 the stolidity of his countenance had not assured you that 
 caution was in the habit of marking his guarded Avay ; and 
 he made suitable response. I Avas just debating inter- 
 nally as to the least circuitous mode by Avhicli I could 
 send myself a telegram, requiring my immediate presence 
 in toAvn, Avhen a sound of hoofs informed us that the horses 
 were approaching; and gazing anxiously from the Avin- 
 doAV before me, Avhich OA^erlooked the drive in front of the 
 house, I noted their arrival. 
 
 NoAv the horse is an animal A\diich I have ahvays been 
 taught to admire. A ' noble animal' he is termed by zo- 
 ologists, and I am perfectly Avilling to admit his nobility 
 
3o8 
 
 HUNTINGCROP HALL. 
 
 when he conducts himself with reticence and moderation ; 
 but when he gyrates Hke a teetotum on his hind legs, and 
 wildly spars at the groom he ought to respect, I cease to 
 recognise any qualities in him but the lowest and most 
 degrading. 
 
 Laura hastened to the window, and I rose from the 
 table and followed her. 
 
 ' You pretty darlings !' she rapturously exclaimed. 
 ' Oh, are you going to ride the Sultan, Mr. Smoothley ? 
 How nice ! I do so want to, but papa Avon't let me.' 
 
 ' No, my dear ; he's not the sort of horse for little girls 
 to ride; — but he'll suit you, Smoothley; he'll suit you, 
 I know.' 
 
 Without expressing a like confidence, I asked, ' Is that 
 the Sultan V pointing to a large chestnut animal at that 
 
HUNTINGCROP HALL. 309 
 
 moment in the attitude which, in a dog, is termed ' beg- 
 ..ging.' 
 
 ' Yes ; a pictm-e, isn't he ? Look at his legs. Clean as 
 a foal's ! Good quarters — well ribbed up — not like one of 
 the wasp3^ greyhounds they call thoroughbed horses now- 
 adays. Look at his condition, too : I've kept that up 
 pretty well, though he's been out of training for some 
 time,' cried the Major. 
 
 'He's not a racehorse, is he?' I nervously asked. 
 
 'He's done a good deal of steeplechasing, and ran once 
 or twice in the early part of this season. It makes a horse 
 rush his fences rather, perhaps; but you young fellows 
 like that, I know.' 
 
 ' His — eye appears slightly blood-shot, doesn't it V I 
 hazarded ; for he was exhibiting a large amount of what 
 I imagine should have been white, in an unsuccessful at- 
 tempt to look at his tail without turning his head round. 
 ' Is he quiet with hounds'?' 
 
 'Playful — a little playful,' was his unassuring reply. 
 ' But we must be off, gentlemen. It's three miles to 
 Blackbrook, and it won't do to be late !' And he led the 
 Avay to the hall, where I selected my virgin whip from the 
 rack, and swallowing a nip of orange-brandy, which a 
 .servant providentially handed to me at that moment, 
 went forth to meet my fate. 
 
 Laura, declining offers of assistance from the crowd of 
 pink-coated young gentlemen who were sucking cigars in 
 the porch, was put hito the saddle by her OAvn groom. I 
 think she looked to me for aid, but I was constrained to 
 stare studiously in the opposite direction, having a very 
 vague idea of the method by which young ladies are 
 placed in their saddles. Then I commenced, and ulti- 
 mately effected, the ascent of the Sultan : a process which 
 appeared to me precisely identical with climbing to the 
 •deck of a man-of war. 
 
 ' Stirrups all right, sir f asked the groom. 
 
310 
 
 HUNTINGCROP HALL. 
 
 ' This one's rather too long — No, it's the otiicv one, I 
 think.' One of them didn't seem right, but it was impos- 
 sible to say which in the agony of the moment. 
 
 He sm'veyed me critically from the front, and then 
 took np one stirrnp to a degree that bronght my knee 
 into close proximity with my waistcoat : the Snltan 
 meanwhile exhibiting an nncertainty of temperament 
 which caused me very considerable anxiety. Luckily I 
 had presence of mind to say that he had shortened the 
 leather too much, and there was not mucli difference be- 
 tween the two, when, Avith Lanra and some seven 
 companions, I started down the avenue in front of the 
 house. 
 
 The fundamental principles of horsemanship are three: 
 keep your heels down ; stick in your knees ; and try to 
 look as if you liked it. So I am informed, and I am at 
 a loss to say Avhicli of the three is the most difficult of 
 execution. The fact that the Sultan started jerkily, some 
 little time before I was ready to begin, thereby consider- 
 ably deranging such plans as I was forming for guidance, 
 is to be deplored; for my hat was not on very firmly, and 
 it was extremely awkward to find a hand to restore it to 
 its place when it displayed a tendency to come over my 
 eyes. Conversation, under these circumstances, is pecu- 
 liarly difficult; and I fear that Laura found my remarks 
 somewhat curt and strangely punctuated. The Sultan's 
 behaviour, however, had become meritorious to a high 
 degree ; and I was just beginning to think that hunting 
 was not so many degrees w^orse than the treadmill, when 
 Ave approached the scene of action. 
 
 Before us, as Ave rounded a turning in the road, a group 
 of some thirty horsemen — to AA'hich fresh accessions were 
 constantly being made — chatted together and AA^atched a 
 hilly descent to the right doAvn Avhich the pack of hounds, 
 escorted by scA^eral officials, Avas approaching. The Major 
 and his party AA^ere cordially greeted, and no doubt like 
 
nUNTINGCROP HALL. 
 
 311 
 
 civilities would have been extended to me had I been in 
 a position to receive them ; but, mifortunately, I was not ; 
 for, on seeing the hounds, the ' playfulness' of the Sultan 
 vigorously manifested itself, and he commenced a series of 
 gymnastic exercises to which liis previous performances 
 had been a mere farce. I lost my head, but mysteriously 
 kept what was more important — my seat, until the tempest 
 of his playfulness had in some measure abated ; and then 
 he stood still, shaking with excitement. I sat still, shaking 
 — from other causes. 
 
 ' Keep your horse's head to the hounds, will you, sir ?' 
 was the salutation which the master bestowed upon me, 
 cantering up as the pack defiled through a gate ; and in- 
 deed the Sultan seemed anxious to kill a hound or two 
 to begin with. ' Infernal Cockney !' was, I fancy, the term 
 of endearment he used as he rode on ; but I don't think 
 Laura caught any of this short but forcible utterance, for 
 just at this moment a cry was raised in the wood to the 
 left, and the men charged through the gate and along the 
 narrow cart-track with a wild rush. Again the Sultan 
 urged on his wild career — half-breaking my leg against 
 the gate-post, as I was very courteously endeavouring to 
 get out of the way of an irascible gentleman behind me, 
 who appeared to be in a hurry, and then plunging me into 
 the midst of a struggling, pushing throng of men and 
 horses. 
 
 If the other noble sportsmen were not enjoying them- 
 selves more than I, it was certainly a pity that they had 
 not stayed at home. "Where was this going to end ? and 
 — but Avhat was the matter in front? They paused, and 
 then suddenly all turned round and charged back alon^ 
 the narrow path. I was taken by surprise, and got out of 
 the way as best I could, pulling my horse back amongst 
 the trees, and the whole cavalcade rushed past me. Out 
 of the wood; across the road; over the opposite hedge, 
 most of them — some turn off towards a gate to the right. 
 
HUNTIXGCROP HALL. 
 
 and away up the rise beyond ; passing over which they 
 were soon out of sight. 
 
 That the Sultan's efforts to follow them had been 
 vigorous, I need not say ; but I felt that it was a moment 
 for action, and pulled and tugged and sawed at his mouth 
 to make him keep his head turned away from temptation. 
 He struggled about amongst the trees, and I felt that, 
 
 ^^//^!/;)^ 
 
 under the circumstances, I should be justified in hitting 
 him on the head. I did so ; and shortly afterwards — it 
 was not exactl}^ that I was tliroimi, but circumstances 
 induced me to get off rather siiddenhj. 
 
 My foot was on my native heath. I was alone, appre- 
 ciating the charms of solitude in a degree I had never 
 before experienced ; but after a few minutes of thankful- 
 
IIUNTIXGCROP HALL. 
 
 Z^Z 
 
 iiess, the necessity of action forced itself on my mind. 
 Clearly, I mnst not be seen standing at my horse's head, 
 .gazing- smilingly at the prospect — that would never do, 
 for the whole hunt might reappear as quickly as they had 
 gone ; so, smoothing out the most troublesome creases in 
 my nether garments, I proceeded to mount. I say, ' pro- 
 ceeded,' for it was a difficult and very gradual operation, 
 but was eventually managed through the instrumentality 
 of a little boy, who held the Sultan's head, and addressed 
 him in a series of forcible epithets that I should never have 
 dared to use : language, however, which, though repre- 
 hensible from a moral point of view, seemed to appeal to 
 the animal's feelings, and to be successful. 
 
 He danced a good deal when I was once more on his 
 back, and seemed to like going in a series of small bounds, 
 which were peculiarly irritating to sit. But I did not so 
 much mind now, for no critical eye was near to watch my 
 hand wandering to the convenient pommel, or to note my 
 taking such other little precautions as the exigencies of 
 tlie situation, and the necessity for carrying out the first 
 law of nature, seemed to suggest. 
 
 Hunting, in this way, wasn't really so very bad. There 
 did not appear to be so very much danger, the morning 
 air was refreshing and pleasant, and the country looked 
 bright. There always seemed to be a gate to each field, 
 which, though troublesome to open at first, ultimately 
 yielded to patience and perseverance and the handle of 
 my whip. I might get home safely after all ; and as for 
 my desertion, where every one was looking after himself, 
 it was scarcely likely they could have observed my defec- 
 tion. No ; this was not altogether bad fun. I could say 
 with truth for the rest of my life that I ' had hunted.' It 
 would add a zest to the perusal of sporting literatm-e, and, 
 above all, extend the range of my charity by making me 
 sincerely appreciate men who really rode. 
 
 But, alas, though clear of the trees practically, I was. 
 
314 
 
 HUNTINGCROP HALL. 
 
 metaphorically, very far from being out of the wood. 
 When jnst endeavouring to make up my mind to come out 
 again some day, I heard a noise, and, looking behind me, 
 saw the whole fearful concourse rapidly approaching the 
 liedge which led into the ploughed field next to me on 
 the right. Helter-skelter, on they came ! Hounds popping 
 through, and scrambling over. Then a man in pink top- 
 
 ^ 
 
 ping the fence, and on again over the plough ; then one 
 in black over with a rush ; two, three, four more in dif- 
 ferent places. Another by himself who came up rapidly, 
 and, parting company with his horse, shot over like a 
 rocket ! 
 
 All this I noted in a second. There was no time to 
 watch, for the Sultan had seen the opportunity of making 
 up for his lost day, and started off with the rush of an 
 
HUNTINGCROP HALL. 
 
 315- 
 
 express train. We flcAV over the field; neared the fence. 
 I was shot into the air hke a shuttlecock from a battledore 
 — a moment of dread — then a fearful shock, whicli landed 
 me lopsidedly, somewhere on the animal's neck. He gives 
 a spring which shakes me into the saddle again, and is 
 tearing over the grass field beyond. I am conscious that 
 I am in the same field as the Major, and some three or 
 four other men. We fly on at frightful speed — there is a 
 line of willows in front of us which we are rapidly 
 nearing. It means water, I know. We get— or rather 
 it comes nearer — nearer — nearer — ah-h-h ! An agony of 
 semi- unconsciousness — a splash, a fearful splash- — a 
 struggle .... 
 
 I am on his back, somewhere in the neighbourhood of 
 the saddle : without stirrups, but grimly clutching a con- 
 fused mass of reins as the Sultan gently canters up the 
 ascent to where the hoimds are howling and barking round 
 a man in pink, who waves something brown in the air be- 
 fore throwing it to them. I have no sooner reached the 
 group than the master arrives, followed by some four or 
 ^ve men, conspicuous among whom is the Major. 
 
 He hastens to me. To denounce me as an impostor ? 
 Have I done anything wrong, or injured the horse ? 
 
 ' I congratulate you, Smoothley, — I congratulate you ! 
 I promised you a run, and you've had one, and, by Jove ! 
 taken the shine out of some of us. My Lord' — to the 
 master — 'let me present my friend, Mr. Smoothley, to 
 you. Did you see him take the water ? You and I made 
 for the Narrows, but he didn't turn away, and went at it 
 as if Sousemere were a puddle. Eighteen feet of water if 
 it's an inch, and with such a take-off and such a landing, 
 there's not a man in the hunt who'd attempt it ! AVell, 
 Heathertopper ! Laura, my dear,' — for she and the bulky 
 Baronet at this moment arrived at the head of a strag- 
 gling detachment of followers — 'you missed a treat in not 
 seeing Smoothley charge the brook : 
 
3i6 
 
 HUNTINGCROP HALL. 
 
 " Down in the hollow there, sluggish and idle, 
 
 Runs the dark stream where the willow-trees grow ; 
 Harden your heart, and catch hold of your bridle — 
 Steady him — rouse him— and over we go !" 
 
 Isn't that it ? It was beautiful !' 
 
 It might have been in his opinion ; in mine it Avas 
 simply an act of unconscious insanity, which I had rather 
 die than intentionally repeat. 
 
 ' I didn't see you all the time, Mr. Smoothley ; where 
 were you V Laura asked. 
 
 'Where was he'^ cried the Major. 'Not following 
 you, my dear. He took his own line, and, by Jove ! it was 
 a right one !' 
 
 It was not in these terms that I had expected to hear 
 the Major addressing me, and it was rather bewildering, 
 fetill I trust that I was not puffed up with an unseemly 
 
HL'NTINGCKOP HALL. 
 
 317 
 
 vanity as Laura rode back by my side. She looked lovely 
 with the flush of exercise on her cheek, and the sparkle of 
 excitement in her eyes; and as we passed homewards 
 through the quiet country lanes I forgot the painful creases 
 that were afflicting me, and with as much eloquence as 
 was compatible with the motion of my steed — I ventured ! 
 
 The blushes deepen on her cheek. She consents on 
 one condition : I must give up hunting. 
 
 ^ You are so rash and daring,' she says softly, verij 
 softly, • that I should never be happy when you were out.' 
 
 Can I refuse her anything — even tliis ? Impossible ! 
 
 I promise ; vowing fervently to myself to keep my 
 word, and on no account do anything to increase the 
 reputation I made at Huntiugcrop Hall. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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